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angelicyoongie · 9 months

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The Obsidian Pearl (II)

— pairing: mermaid seokjin x (f) reader — word count: 8.1k — warnings: yandere, descriptions of death/blood/violence, explicit sexual content! dub-con touching/oral sex (f. receiving) - the smut is marked with * if you want to skip it — summary: Sailing through The Dead Man’s Passage is a death sentence and the whole crew knows it. But with the ship’s stocks dwindling fast, your captain is left with no other choice. When a haunting melody makes the crew jump ship one by one, you find yourself alone with the demon lurking in the murky red water. As the creature beckons you to jump into the icy ocean – “come to me, pet” – you find that you can’t do anything but obey.

Part 01 - 02

It's almost night when the siren, Seokjin, visits you again.

Enough time has passed for the air to turn chilly, carrying small gusts of wind that pass right through your clothes. The sunshine that warmed you only hours ago feels like it might never return, not when your surroundings are so terribly dark. You can feel the chill deep in your bones, fear nipping at your skin, clinging to you like frost on a dark winter night.

You're huddled as deep in the cave as you can go, hugging your knees to your chest. You're exhausted, eyes as dry as sand, but you know you can't rest. Call it instinct after being on the sea for so many years – of constantly being trapped on a vessel with people who might turn on you at any second – you tend to develop a hunch of when bad things are going to happen.

You can feel it in your body now, the low buzz that keeps you alert, reminding you that you are not safe no matter how tired you may be.

The reason for it comes only a few minutes later, a terrible scraping sound reverberating through the silence as something heavy is pushed up on the ledge of the stone dock. You free your stiff limbs, wincing as you whip around to face the source of it. It looks to be some sort of chest, the short distance and the faint moonlight not doing much for your vision.

As the item is pushed forward with another forceful shove, your heart jumps to your throat. You've seen this chest before – the iron insignia on the top is all too familiar to you. It belongs, no, belonged, to your captain. You don't dare to move closer though, not when there's only one creature who could've brought it to you.

Seokjin emerges from the water just seconds later, heaving himself up on the rock. He looks like something out of your worst nightmare, long hair covering his face as he claws his way forward. The shadows make him look all the more terrifying, the dark night blending together with his tail and hair like the perfect camouflage. If it wasn't for his strikingly pale skin, you never would've been able to make him out at all.

He settles back against the same rock as he did before, parting his hair to expose his face. Shivers run down your spine as Seokjin's black eyes find yours through the darkness. They strike just as much fear into you as they did last night, this morning, the emptiness just another reminder of how unearthly he really is.

It was foolish perhaps, but you had found yourself hoping that Seokjin had forgotten about you. That he had come across another ship to terrorize and another human to keep for his little experiments. You wouldn't have minded rotting away in the cave alone if it meant you never had to look upon him again.

The siren clicks his tongue. "I bring you a gift and you dare to look disappointed? This won't do. Come closer, little human."

You don't move, self-preservation rooting you to the ground.

"You humans freeze to death if you get too cold, do you not? Your skin is quite thin, fragile." Seokjin delivers his point by parting his mouth more than necessary, those horrible teeth coming to view behind his plush lips. "Your brain might be too small to remember but the water I dragged you out of was ice cold, pet. The air will only grow colder the longer you wait."

Seokjin doesn't have to use his thrall to make you understand that you have no choice in the matter. If you don't come forward willingly, he'll will either drag you there himself or let the elements do you in. The part of your brain that fears the unknown more than the creature in front of you, urges you to move.

You don't even have it in you to feel humiliated as you crawl forward, terror and cold stiff limbs making it impossible to walk. Seokjin's stare hangs over you like a heavy cloud, slowing you down even further.

He's close, way too close, as you kneel in front of the chest. You would be able to touch his stomach, feel where his skin transforms into scales if you just stretch your arm out.

Seokjin huffs as you linger, the sound making you jump as he impatiently says, "Go on."

You reach for the iron key that's miraculously still in the lock, your busted shoulder aching with pain as you have to twist it with more force than usual. A small stream of water is forced out, running down the side of the chest as you slowly open the lid with shaking hands. You've never held much gratitude for your captain, but for once, you can't be more thankful for his arrogance. He always left the key in the lock and never worried about a greedy crew, because, as he would always say; who in their right mind would dare to steal from a Captain?

You release a shuddering breath as you push it open, the iron hinges voicing their displeasure with a long squeak as the contents are revealed to you. The fur-lined coat your captain bought in the East lays on top of an array of shirts and pants, the fabric hardly even damp as you pick it up. You had assumed everything to be drenched, but it seems the carpenter your captain had been boasting about was the real deal after all.

You pull the coat into your lap, warmth immediately swaddling your legs.

A gift, Seokjin had called it, but you doubt the siren is simply that generous.

"How did you get this?" You quietly ask, voice trembling.

You know the stories of how the ships make it out unscathed, of how it's only the crews that go missing. But unless Seokjin can sprout legs, there's no way he was able to grab it on his own. The siren has a tail and a heavy one at that. As unearthly as he is, you doubt he's strong enough to drag himself all the way up the ship and into your captain's quarters. Never mind that he would do all of that for a chest he didn't even know existed.

"I sank the ship," Seokjin sounds like he's rolling his eyes, although you're not too sure he's even capable of doing so. "It took you too long to wake from your slumber and I was bored. I have not explored a wooden vessel in many moons and this chest looked interesting. I was foolishly hoping for treasure, not silly human clothes."

The siren smacks his tail against the water, irritated.

Even though the chances of getting out of here were slim, you were holding out hope that if you only got to the other side of the mountain, you might be able to use the ship to get away. It would be near impossible to do with only one person and not the whole crew it actually needs, but when something as ludicrous as a siren exists, manning one ship by yourself doesn't sound all that far-fetched in comparison.

You release a shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that gather. With that escape route gone, the ship now resting on the bottom of the sea with the remains of your crewmates, you are truly helpless.

Trapped.

You hope the darkness hides the way your face crumples. Lip wobbling, you try to focus on the chest in front of you, not wanting to give into panic with Seokjin so close. You have to save the freakout and the despair for when you're alone. It wouldn't surprise you if the siren can smell your fear.

Leaning forward, you notice what looks like a thick scarf, the material soft enough that it might serve as a decent pillow. You're not sure if Seokjin is planning on leaving the chest or taking it with him, so this might be your only chance at grabbing items you'll need to survive.

Just as your fingers close around the scarf, picking it up, you feel something sharp poke into your cheek.

Your whole body goes rigid at the touch, your muscles locking up as you realize that one of Seokjin's claws is currently digging into your skin. You hold your breath as he slowly trails it down your throat, the sharp nail leaving a sting in its wake. You don't have to touch it to know that it's a deep scratch, blood rushing to the surface to clot the damage.

"Look at me."

You don't. You can't. You don't want to know what will happen when you do.

"Look at me," Seokjin repeats, more force in his voice.

It makes something in the back of your mind tickle.

You clutch the coat in your lap tighter, focusing on the soft fur between your fingers as the siren's voice grows in annoyance.

You're not sure how many times he repeats his command but between one blink and the next, you suddenly find yourself staring right at him. Your mind feels hazy like it's been stuffed with cotton and shaken around, turning everything upside down.

The hard set of Seokjin's mouth disappears as you finally meet his gaze. The siren hums under his breath as he moves his hand to your face, cupping your jaw. It's like being a spectator in your own body, your eyes refusing to waver no matter how much you want them to. You can feel the ghost of his claws on your skin, not quite digging in but present enough that you know it's a threat. That he can mess you up beyond repair if he feels like it.

Seokjin leans in, watching you curiously as your throat bobs, lips struggling to part.

Your tongue feels like lead, awkward and too heavy, but you use all of your willpower to open your mouth, slurring as you ask, "What did you do?"

Seokjin breaks into a grin, a forked tongue peeking out to lick his terrible teeth. You can feel his breath wash over your face as he speaks, the stench of decay and death making your stomach roll. "You're quite the strong one, pet, I'm glad I brought you here. I think you'll prove to be very entertaining."

The siren gives you one last look, his cold fingers leaving your face as he leans back. You feel some of the thrall leave you as Seokjin turns and slowly sinks back down into the dark water, the small distance making it a little easier to think. You still can't look away from him, eyes tracking his movements even as he submerges himself completely under the surface. He's only gone for a moment before he returns, one of his pale hands coming into view above the water just before something wet splatters at your feet.

"Eat."

Seokjin doesn't wait for an answer. The thrall snaps the moment he's gone, his strong fin carrying him away in seconds.

You gasp, hand shooting up to feel your throat. The scratch he left behind aches and your head is beginning to throb from whatever he did to it. You tear your eyes away from the lake, glancing down at the thing that Seokjin left you with.

The moment you manage to make out what it is, you flinch back, jerking your body away from the mangled fish at your feet. The blood pooling beneath it has already soaked the hem of your trousers, staining it dark.

The sight disgusts you but you can't ignore the hunger gnawing at your stomach. The water in the lake felt fresh enough to drink, but it's been almost two days without any food and you're starving.

There's not a bone in your body that trusts Seokjin but you can't turn away a free meal. You have no guarantee that he'll bring you something again and you'll have no chance of escaping if you're too weak to move.

You poke at the fish, shuddering as its half-torn body twitches.

If only you still had your knife. At least then one of you could be shown some mercy.

You wake with a gasp, chest heaving with panicked breaths as the fog lifts. It's like someone snaps their finger right next to your ear, violently jerking you out of a slumber you weren't even aware you had fallen into. Your awareness always comes back to your first, keeping your mind awake and trapped while the rest of your body slowly shakes off the thrall you've been under.

You're near the edge of the dock again, kneeling in front of Seokjin. The siren has his head tucked against your neck, his long tongue dragging over your skin, licking off the sweat that rolls down your throat. Every part of you feels sticky and damp, the top of your head burning from the blazing sun. You have no way of knowing how long you've been sitting here but judging by the way your brain is practically mush from the prolonged exposure, it must've been a while.

You shudder at the next flick of his tongue, nausea swirling in your stomach. The days have been passing much in the same manner, every new turn of the moon leading you closer and closer to Seokjin. This isn't the first time you've felt his cold skin against yours, you've woken up to your hands and face being touched many times, but it's never been this intimate before. Never this dangerous, with his sharp teeth so close to your delicate skin.

Seokjin pauses, his tongue pulling away from your skin as he muses, "That lasted shorter than expected, little human."

There's no emotion in the siren's voice, nothing that gives you an indication of whether he's happy or angry. He's simply just... observing. Treating you like the experiment he's decided you are. The siren seems fascinated with your ability to somewhat resist his thrall and he has made it his mission to test out how well your resilience works. That seems to be the only reason he's keeping you here.

You can't quite tell how long he's been at it, though. Time feels wonky when you don't know how much of it has passed. The only thing you can be certain of is that it's already been well over a week, maybe even two since Seokjin trapped you here.

"Please stop," You whimper, voice shaking as you feel his hot breath against your throat, teeth skimming lightly over your skin.

To your surprise, Seokjin listens. The siren pulls back, the corner of his lip curled into a displeased snarl. He looks nothing short of irked that his fun was cut short, a series of clicking noises gurgling in his throat as he gives your shoulder a shove, breaking the last of his thrall.

You scramble backward the second your limbs feel like they're once again attached to your body, dragging yourself into the safety and shade of the cave. Nothing is stopping Seokjin from following after you, he's strong enough to pull himself into your makeshift shelter, but he seems content to stay on the edge of the stone dock - always resting against the same flat rock.

You sprawl out on the ground, panting from the heat. The cool stone seeps slowly through your clothes, bringing your temperature down to something that feels less like you're boiling alive in your own skin. But even as the heat begins to recede, you still feel terrible. The thrall always leaves you nauseous and the shock of snapping out of it in such close proximity to a dangerous predator doesn't exactly help. You're constantly on edge, heart locked in such a rapid beat that you're worried it's shaving years off your life.

Biting back a groan, you sit up, using your captain's chest for support. It wasn't easy moving it into the cave, not with a shoulder that ached with every push. The fear that Seokjin might take it back if you left it was the only thing that kept you going, the clothes inside were far too precious for you to take that risk.

The siren hasn't mentioned the chest since the night he left it but it's impossible to tell if your actions bothered him. He's too good at masking his emotions, his face a blank canvas. Some nights, you do admit that you wonder if he even has them – if he can feel the same things that you do.

You're not quite sure which answer scares you the most.

One thing you do know though, is that you need to learn more about him. You're not one to be a sitting duck and this is driving you insane. Seokjin must have some weakness, something you can use against him or that might aid you in your escape. Perhaps he hibernates in the colder months or he needs to swim for a set amount of hours for his body to function. You refuse to believe he's invincible.

"So," You swallow thickly as Seokjin turns his lifeless eyes to you, "You mentioned that you have brothers?"

Your voice is barely audible enough to carry over to Seokjin but it sounds much too loud within the walls of the cave. You ball your hands in your lap, hoping your expression doesn't show just how terrified you are of willingly calling upon his attention.

"Indeed, pet."

"How many do you have?"

The siren raises one hand to the sky, inspecting his sharp claws. "Enough."

He obviously doesn't want to answer that topic – move on.

"Y-you said something about a sea witch. How did you find them?"

"Now why would you want to find a sea witch, little human? Unless you want to get turned into a fish, they are of no use to you."

"Right, o-of course," You exhale, biting back the urge to throw some colourful language his way.

You try a few more, but there are only so many meaningless questions you can ask before you give up, tired of the aloof answers you get in return. It's like he knows exactly what you're trying to do. Considering Seokjin isn't willing to disclose any type of information, even knowledge that is worthless to you, it's pretty clear that you can't bait him into revealing anything useful.

He's too smart.

Seokjin stretches his arms above his head, showing off his lean muscles as his back pops. The crunches sound terribly loud, like he's trying to crack open every vertebra in his spine.

He lets out a satisfied sound, head tipped back to soak up the sun as he says, "Now that I have answered all of your questions, little human, you should give me something in return. Tell me something interesting about yourself, pet, something that you deem worthy of a meal. It is horribly tiresome to fetch your food at the time."

You suppose it was absurd to think that the siren would continue to feed you without demanding something in return. Perhaps he's already starting to tire of his little experiments.

You pick at your nails, the splintered edges uncomfortable and raw.

There's only one story a creature like him will find interesting – one you swore you would never tell anyone that wasn't there to witness it when it happened. But, as twisted as it is, the siren might be the only one who won't judge you.

The faded scar on your throat burns as you swallow, the phantom pain of a knife digging into your skin flaring up as you say, "I killed someone."

Glancing up, you find Seokjin staring straight at you, his dark eyes glittering under the sun. His tail does a small wiggle, fin smacking the water in what you can only assume to be intrigue.

"Tell me more, pet."

"He was sick," Your hand flies to cover your mouth as your lips move without your permission. You didn't even feel the thrall this time, no push or tug to indicate that Seokjin was in your head. There's only a small tickle at the back of your brain, like you need to scratch your scalp.

Seokjin has never used the thrall on you twice in one day before now. It must be that you're already tired from earlier that he can affect you so easily, that he can slither his way back in without you even noticing he's trying.

Seokjin grins, lips stretched into a terrible smile as he says, "Go on."

"W-we had been out on the sea for many months, five full moons, and we still had a few to go before we would reach the nearest port," You say, taking a measured breath.

"One of our cooks starting acting strangely – he was suddenly anxious and angry, exploding at any minor inconvenience. He started picking fights with the crew, causing too much tension. It was cabin fever, we all had it, but for him, it was worse. It made him sick."

You let your hands fall to your side, fingers uselessly grasping for the knife that isn't there anymore.

"He attacked one of the cabin boys in the kitchen, sliced two of his fingers clean off as he delivered him a freshly caught fish. He followed the poor lad up on deck when he ran, waving his knife around and screaming at anyone that tried to calm him down. The sea... she can be brutal, too big. Staring at the same unchanging horizon every day had chipped away at his sanity, left him with nothing but fear and anger at being trapped by the same water day in and day out."

Seokjin says nothing, his black eyes staring you down as he waits for you to continue.

"He tackled me to the ground before I even knew what was going on. When I looked him in the eyes, I knew he wasn't there anymore. There was no recognition, no emotion. Just survival. He managed to give me this while I was trying to fight him off," You lightly touch the scar on your neck, tracing it from the bottom of your jaw down to your collarbone.

"The others couldn't pull him away either, he was like a beast. I am, was, vice-captain of the ship. It was my duty to protect my crew. I couldn't let him hurt anyone else," Your voice falters as you stare at the monster in front of you, at the creature you couldn't protect your crew from. The cook was a weak mouse in comparison.

"So, I... I killed him. He wouldn't have made it even if we had locked him up, he was simply too far gone. It was more merciful to let him die."

The siren is silent for a beat, his eyes roaming over your face before he tips his head forward and laughs. At least, that's what you think he does, the series of weird clicking noises that gurgle in his throat sounding oddly joyful despite how grating the sound is.

"You truly are fascinating, pet. I made a good choice letting you live."

The hand by your hip clenches, your heart beating painfully in your chest. You wish you still had your knife, that you had something you could drive into Seokjin's throat to hear him choke on his last breaths. You weren't expecting sympathy, but you also didn't think he would find your story entertaining – funny, even. He truly is terrible.

You say nothing in return, your anger making it hard to think; to feel anything but the hatred stirring in your heart.

Seokjin, seemingly pleased with what he heard and not at all bothered by your silence, does what he always does and leaves the moment he gets what he wants.

You stare at the empty spot he left, the wet imprint of his long body the only thing left behind.

You're not sure how long you sit there, caught up in old memories and emotions you've tried to ignore for so long, but the sun has started its descent by the time the siren makes his presence known again.

This time, you watch as Seokjin leaves you not one, but five fish, all half mangled and twitching as the life drains out of them. He flings a few pieces of driftwood up on the dock, staring at your curled-up form for a minute before he swims away.

It's only when your stomach starts to rumble that you force yourself to rise to your feet, walking slowly over to the haul the siren brought you. The wood is wet and soggy, but a few days out in the sun should hopefully dry it enough that it might be used to start a fire.

You let out a humorless chuckle as you drag your hands across your face. You truly are little more than a mutt, waiting for your master to reward you when you do something he finds amusing. How embarrassing. How weak.

No matter how rabid you feel, you know that biting the hand that feeds you will do you no good here. If you want to survive, to live, perhaps it's time to roll over and accept your fate.

You're not sure if you're getting better at resisting the thrall or if Seokjin just isn't bothering to use it at full force anymore, but you no longer blackout when he comes to visit you. It feels like you're in a dream, vision spotty as you watch yourself move forward on unsteady feet, falling right into Seokjin's waiting arms. The siren holds you close to his chest, arms squeezing you so hard the pain registers even through the haze.

Weeks have passed since the day you told Seokjin your story, since you slowly began to surrender to your situation. The siren still follows the same routine but he seems to have sensed your compliance – your defeat. Your mind is still blocked off, barred from taking control of your body, but now you're able to feel everything that was only a dull memory before. Perhaps the darkness, the blissful ignorance, was a small mercy compared to this.

Seokjin lets out a guttural sound as he pushes his face into your neck, his sharp claws slicing through your shirt. His tongue drags over your skin with a desperation you haven't felt before, teeth nicking your skin.

As terrible as it is, you've grown used to Seokjin's touches, his presence. On lonely nights, you find that you almost wish to see him, just so that you don't have to face the darkness all alone.

You have come to know what to expect from Seokjin but this is new, dangerous, a far cry from the stoic and in-control creature you've been around for the past months.

The siren's hold on you is crushing, your bones aching under the strong pressure. He skims his nose along your skin, huffing as he breathes in your scent. There's a pause, a stretch of heavy silence, and then blinding pain as sharp teeth sink into your already injured shoulder.

Your vision whites out, ears ringing as the thrall suddenly snaps and everything comes rushing in at once. Your shoulder is spasming, muscles jerking with agony as Seokjin digs his teeth in deeper, an animalistic sound tearing from his throat as he draws blood.

It hurts. Gods, it hurts.

A wounded scream rips from your throat as you attempt to claw at his face, desperate to get his teeth out of your shoulder. Seokjin growls as you deliver a deep scratch on his cheek, pulling back just a smidge to create the sound. Seeing an opening, you tangle your hand in his long hair, jerking it back with all your might. You're lucky Seokjin doesn't tear a chunk of your shoulder out as his head snaps back, surprise making his tight grip around you lessen. It's just enough for you to fight your way out of his embrace, body shaking with fear and adrenaline as you roll onto the stone.

Grabbing your shoulder, you try to scoot backward on the slick ground, your own blood making it hard to get enough friction.

Your legs falter as Seokjin turns in your direction, the siren looking like he crawled right out of hell. His expression is crazed, hungry, blood dripping from his unhinged jaw. You can see straight down his throat from how open his mouth is, his stained teeth and black eyes creating the perfect picture of a demon.

Seokjin hisses as you attempt to move, a horrible sound that makes every strand of hair on your body stand straight. He digs his claws into the rock in front of him, using his strong arms to drag himself forward.

"Come here, pet," Seokjin gurgles, his voice hardly even human.

"No no, please don't," You whimper, a newfound urgency propelling you back.

Something in the siren's expression flickers at your broken pleading, like he can't decide if his hunger or entertainment is more important. The confusion, the small sliver of hope it gives you, only lasts for a few seconds before he shakes himself out of it, Seokjin's clawed hand reaching out for your ankle.

Just as he's about to wrap his hand around your foot, your feeble kicks doing little to deter him, you both hear the distant sound of people.

It must be another crew daring to brave the mountains, their rambunctious singing and laughter so terribly out of place. They're either obvious to the stories haunting the pass or trying to compensate for the oppressive silence they no doubt felt the moment the ship entered it. Your heart flutters with longing at the sound of humans singing and laughing, your chest constricting with a yearning you thought died weeks ago. They sound happy and lively – everything the siren is not.

You watch as the same realization hits Seokjin, as he registers the sound of food entering his territory. The siren's jaw pops back to normal as he licks his lips, his empty eyes flickering up to the darkening sun as he says, "The ocean appears to be smiling kindly on you tonight, little human."

Frozen to the spot, you feel your heart drop to your stomach as the siren twists around and dives back into the water with an urgency you haven't seen from him before.

The moment he's out of sight you let out an ugly sob, hope draining out of you alongside the blood that runs down your arm. You tear at the sliced fabric that's barely holding on to your body, wrapping it around your wound with shaking fingers. It's a poor excuse for a bandage, the material soaked through in seconds, but you still tighten it as much as you can, hoping it'll be enough to stop the bleeding. Only left with your undershirt, you can feel the shivers begin to set in, your adrenaline crashing.

You had given up hope on being rescued a long time ago but to have it this close, just on the other side of the mountain, is torture. You can't even alert the unsuspecting crew of what's coming, of the deadly creature that's lurking below their ship.

Scream, scare them off.

Just as the futile thought strikes you, you hear it – him. The gentle hums that cause a hush to fall over the ship.

You cover your ears, not wanting to hear what comes next. You don't know if Seokjin's thrall can still affect you here but you'd rather not take the chance and risk waking up at the bottom of the lake. Closing your eyes, you try to pretend that none of this is real, that all of this is just a terrible, terrible dream.

You let out a weak sob as the first scream pierces the air. Their terrified yells echo between the mountains as they're forced to jump one by one, their final moments brutal and panicked. There's no gentleness in Seokjin's song this time, only urgency as he compels them to their deaths.

He was starving.

For some unfathomable reason, the siren must have been starving himself to the point of breaking, trying to withhold from killing you. It all adds up to why he was acting so out of character over the past few days, his behavior more erratic than normal. He had been trying to fight off the urge to eat you.

If the ship hadn't arrived when it did, if it had only been one second too late, you would've been dead by now.

You curl up into a small ball, body cold and numb to the pain as your shield your ears, wrapping your arms securely around your head. "Thank you," You whisper to the faint moon, guilt twisting your stomach into knots.

Tears drip down your face as the screams continue to reverberate into the night, choked apologies passing through your lips until you feel them going slack. You don't fight the darkness that pulls you under, your soul begging for rest, for a place the screams of Seokjin's massacre can't reach you.

You jolt as a cold hand wraps around your shin.

Eyes flying open, you manage to push yourself up on your elbows before your shoulder gives out, the movement sending a sharp pain all the way down to your fingers. You grit your teeth, breathing through your nose to steady yourself as you glance up at Seokjin.

The siren wraps his hand tighter around your leg, using it for leverage as he drags himself up on the rock. You were close to the mouth of the cave when you passed out but now you're almost at the edge of the dock, feet only a few steps away from the still water below. Seokjin's thrall must've been too strong, urging you to come closer even when you were unconscious.

Perhaps you have truly lost your mind or maybe the night is playing tricks on you, but for once, there's actual emotion on Seokjin's face. The siren grins, his black eyes ablaze with something as he pushes forward. He tugs your legs apart, fitting his body between them. His hands rest on either side of your ribcage, his face so close that you can practically taste the stench of death that washes over your lips with every breath. The water cascading from his skin makes you shiver as it hits your own, the droplets soaking through your undershirt in seconds.

"Pet," Seokjin purrs, inching his face closer.

You hold your breath, limbs frozen with fear, as the small distance between you disappears.

You can only watch and you're horrified to find that the first thought that strikes you is how mesmerizing the siren looks. The moon shines brightly behind him, giving the scales climbing up his stomach and the small patches on his arms an iridescent shine. It's no wonder sirens have been described as beautiful creatures, not with how Seokjin's pale skin is illuminated, practically glowing, under the night sky.

You see his head tilt down, his dark eyes roaming over your bandaged shoulder. The wound only seems to ache more under the pressure of his gaze.

"Good work, little human," Seokjin comments, pleased, "You patched yourself up just to stay with me longer. I am not cruel, I will reward you for this."

What a good dog you are, licking your wounds for your master just so that he can tear them open again.

Your legs twitch on each side of Seokjin's body, resisting the urge to kick at his tail. Angering him will do you no good and you're ashamed to admit that the spark of excitement in his features leaves you curious – makes you want to know just what a siren considers a reward.

Seokjin ducks his head lower, pressing his nose right against your throat. The sharp bite you're expecting never comes – instead, there's only the soft press of his lips roaming over your skin, hurried kisses scattered across your neck. He lowers himself to get more access, nudging your head back as he settles more of his weight on your body. It leaves your hips completely immobile, your arms trembling with the effort it takes to keep yourself raised off the ground.

You hold your breath, scared to move as much as a muscle.

The siren's tongue flicks out to taste your skin with every kiss, leaving a trail of saliva covering your neck. The cold air only heightens the contrast between his warm lips and the slick skin he leaves behind. You're caught off guard when he suddenly attaches his lips to the underside of your jaw and sucks, pulling the sensitive skin there between his lips.

You let out a startled gasp at the sensation, small shudders traveling down your spine as your reaction only seems to spur Seokjin on, the siren quickly finding more spots to mark up.

Your whimper, surprised, as he uses a claw to slice through the bottom of your undershirt, exposing your waist and stomach. His cold hand finds the exposed area immediately, rubbing and squeezing at your skin as he drags his hand up and down your waist. He somehow manages to keep his claws off your skin, only digging them in faintly whenever you grow too quiet. He seems to enjoy the involuntary sounds you make, his actions only growing more and more frenzied as he tries to pull more of them from you.

"Touch me," Seokjin growls against your throat, his voice half strangled as he pushes you down to lie flat on the ground.

Mindful of your aching shoulder, you raise a tentative, shaking hand up towards his arm, grasping his toned bicep. You can feel the power thrumming under his skin, how strong he is from that simple touch alone.

Seokjin is quiet as you slowly glide your fingers up his arm and over his shoulder, feeling how the texture keeps switching between soft skin and hard scales whenever you encounter a small gathering of them. It's a curious feeling, one your brain struggles to fully comprehend.

You continue your touch down his back, careful to steer clear of the fin that protrudes along his spine. He lets out a harsh breath, low clicks gurgling in his throat as you let your hand fall away, not daring to go further than his waist.

You glance up as he pulls back, breath stuttering in your chest as you take in how wild he looks. Seokjin's expression is hungry, but it's nothing like the empty, ravenous stare you saw before he tried to take a chunk out of your shoulder. No, this one is pure desire – lust.

Your stomach flips with disgust as you realize that the hunt, that killing that innocent crew, actually turned him on.

Seokjin pushes himself back, emerging his lower body in the lake before he wraps his arms around your knees and pulls. You slide across the rock, thighs meeting Seokjin's torso as your legs fall over the edge of the dock, the water hitting just above your ankles.

You cry out from the harsh yank, pain flaring up in your shoulder as the still-open wounds are dragged across the uneven surface. The bandage does little to lessen the burn of it, your vision growing spotty as you struggle to breathe.

"You humans are so weak," Seokjin scoffs, his voice swimming in your ears. *

The siren tugs at your trousers, annoyed at how the fabric doesn't budge. He uses his claws, meeting no resistance as he slices right through them the moment it takes a little too long to get them off.

You jerk as Seokjin settles his hands on your exposed thighs, mapping out your skin.

Your vision begins to clear as you get your breathing under control, heat creeping up the back of your neck as you register just what the siren is looking at. Seokjin's torso is blocking you from closing your legs, exposing everything to him.

His dark eyes never waver from your cunt, in fact, you're not so sure he even blinks as he watches you squirm.

"Be still, pet," Seokjin says, the points of his claws pricking into your delicate flesh to get his warning across. He squeezes your thighs, his forked tongue swiping across his lips, "I was right. Your thighs do look delectable."

Horrified, you feel your hole pulse with arousal at Seokjin's words, wetness slicking up your folds.

The siren makes a curious sound at the sight, one hand drifting closer to your cunt as he lowers his head. You tense up, muscles locked tight, as Seokjin runs his finger over your clit. A choked moan makes it past your lips as he begins to rub at it, eyes bright as he lightly pinches your nub.

Receiving pleasure from the creature that has trapped and hurt you is the last thing that you want, but it's been so long since you've been intimate with someone like this. Your body gives in easier than your mind, eager to feel any touch as long as it'll make you feel good.

It's a reward, just take it. Who knows if you'll ever get to feel like this again.

"You're so wet, little human," Seokjin comments as he drags a finger up and down your folds, spreading your arousal around.

"You can't– no, no claws," You hurriedly say as you feel his knuckle graze your hole, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. "We-we're fragile, remember?"

The siren purses his lips, contemplating the information as he moves his hand back to your thigh. Arms curl under your knees before you can even breathe a sigh of relief, the air being punched right out of you as Seokjin dips his head down to lick a stripe between your folds.

"Oh Gods," You gasp, fingers clawing at the stone below you as the siren's forked tongue flicks over your clit with every pass, making your clenching hole gush with slickness.

You let out a broken moan as Seokjin prods his tongue at your entrance, black eyes flickering up to meet yours just as he pushes it inside.

Seokjin has lowered his body even more into the water, leaving him at the perfect height to feast on your cunt. His tongue worms his way into your hole, the wet muscle reaching deeper than what should be possible. Your veins feel like they're on fire, your body burning up with arousal as Seokjin licks and sucks at your folds, nose bumping against your clit. You can't stop yourself from grinding against his face, hips twitching with the little leeway he gives you.

"Seok-seokjin," Your hand flies down to his head at a particularly harsh suck, his teeth skimming over your delicate heat. The mixture of fear and pleasure leaves you lightheaded, your heart beating erratically in your chest.

The siren growls as your fingers curl into his long hair, the sound vibrating against your skin as you tug at his locks. You can't tell if you're trying to pull him away or press him closer, but either way, Seokjin doesn't listen.

You keen as his movements only seem to grow more frenzied, the siren drunk on your taste as he continues to lap up your slick. His grip around your legs is bruising, locking you in place to let him use you as he pleases. You continue to whimper out his name, your little cries only spurring him on further.

The white-hot pleasure in your stomach only continues to build the longer Seokjin eats you out, the pleasure mounting so quickly you don't know what to do with yourself.

You don't want this but you also do – and those conflicting emotions only intensify every suck and lick from Seokjin.

"Good pet," The siren groans, his warm breath fanning across your folds.

You finally erupt as he attaches his lips to your clit and sucks, your orgasm ripping through you so violently you almost feel like you're going to pass out. Your back bows off the ground as you let out a loud moan, your knuckles white from the tight grip you have on Seokjin's hair. You ride out the waves of pleasure that seem to hit you over and over, the siren lapping up your essence like a starving man – like he's never tasted anything as good before.

Your legs are trembling with oversensitivity once you come back to yourself, your cunt clenching helplessly around Seokjin's tongue as he keeps trying to lick up more of your slick. You hastily remove your fingers from his hair, weakly pushing at his head to make him back away.

"Stop, it's too much," You whimper.

Seokjin makes a displeased sound in the back of his throat, tongue dragging through your folds one last time before he pulls back. There's something in the siren's gaze that looks even more predatory than it's ever done before, his plush lips slick with your wetness. *

"You did well, little human. It was about time you gave yourself to me," Seokjin says as he brings his hands to your hips, the corner of his mouth quirked.

"What do you mean?" You say, voice faltering, "You told me to touch you, you made me touch you – made me enjoy this."

The siren tsks, shaking his head as he pushes you down on the stone dock, fingers gliding over your stomach. "Did you feel me using my thrall, little human? You touched me because you wanted to, you gave in because you wanted to feel good. This was all you, pet."

"No, that's not..." You trail off, biting the inside of your cheek. You didn't feel the ticklish sensation that usually comes with Seokjin's thrall when he asked you to touch him. You don't feel sick now, not like you always do whenever you snap out of it.

You... You did all of this on your own volition.

Seokjin sees as the realization dawns on your face, the blooming devastation making his fin hit the surface with excitement.

"That's right," He murmurs silkily, "Accept the fate that the sea has bestowed on you, pet. You were made to be my little plaything."

You feel Seokjin move away as you stare mindlessly up at the twinkling stars. You pull your aching legs together the moment he's gone, bringing them up to your chest. Without the siren's body shielding you from the frigid night air, you just feel cold. So awfully cold.

Just accept your fate.

You hear the water move as the siren ducks under the surface. The lake ripples as he swims, only a few flaps of his tail bringing him up on the side of the dock, where your head has turned. His dark eyes burn holes into your face as he drops something on the stone in front of you, the metal clinking as it bounces off the surface.

Heart stuttering in your chest, you reach out and snatch up your old knife, your shoulder burning as you put pressure on it. Your eyes grow wet as you turn it around in your hand, the familiar weight and polished grain of the wooden handle the closest thing you have to anything that feels like home.

You thought you had lost your knife forever when you jumped off the ship, that it was sacrificed to the sea together with your crew and vessel.

The siren's face is unreadable as you glance up at him, expression flat as always. One thing is for sure though – there's no part of Seokjin that views you as a threat, that's concerned you'll use your knife against him.

It breaks your heart to know that he's right. Even if you kill him, you have no way to get out of here.

Seokjin's pale hand emerges from the water to place something delicately on the edge of the dock. You let out a small gasp as he removes his fingers, the round sphere beautiful as it reflects the stars shining above. It looks to be a massive pearl made out of obsidian, the surface glossy and smooth.

You lay your knife down, meeting Seokjin's burning stare as you bring your trembling fingers forward to pick it up. The pearl is heavy in your palm, your hand barely even managing to close around the size of it.

The moment you pick it up, Seokjin lets out a pleased chitter, his mouth showing off that terrible smile again as he says, "You've proven to be a fascinating pet, I don't think I'll tire of you just yet."

"You're mine now, little human."

a/n: i really hope you enjoyed the final chapter of TOP! writing mer!seokjin was a nice break from my usual stories and it was fun to revisit the tcs-universe. i would love to hear what you think about the chapter – comments and reblogs make my day!! 🥺💖

if you enjoyed the story and would like to support me, you can do so here! 💖

#yandere au #yandere bts #yandere seokjin #mermaid bts #mermaid seokjin #seokjin smut #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #yandere x reader #bts smut

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blkkizzat · 7 months

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ღ𝙏𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙨 & 𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙨 ღ

11/14: Werewolf!Toji Part 2 up now!

Halloween is my fav holiday and Horror is my fav movie genre so how could I not participate in a SPOOKY KINKTOBER!

All inspired by my favorite horror villains!

Song Inspo: Thriller & Smooth Criminal General CW: Blood play might be heavy in a few of these. Dubcon or Noncon in most of these but the reader will enjoy/consent by the end. Death but only of minor/NPC no name characters(ie, your fuckass bf, bitchy chem professor, next door neighbor, mailman, etc) and manipulation. Schedule: There will be no order. But for the month of October I will only be focusing on these until I finish. Subject to change if I hit writers block or I may add more (but doubt it as classes start end of this month). Tag: will tag works #☾﹒✖☠𝘬𝘪𝘻𝘻𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳

ღ𝙂𝙞𝙧𝙡, 𝙄 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙂𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙙𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙮ღ

FreddyKruger!Sukuna

Kink Tags: Teratophilia, Size Difference, Virgin, Chasity Synopsis: Teens in town have been dying in their sleep from horrible dreams. Hard up virgin Y/N won't take sleeping pills to stop dreaming because she only gets relief in her wet dreams. What will happen when Sukuna (true form) enters them? WC: ?

Sadako!Geto

Kink Tags: Voyerism, Squirting, Overstimulation Synopsis: Camgirl!Reader hasn't been able to make herself squirt yet and is teased by her chat. She buys a new toy and downloads a random porn an anon user sent her "guaranteed to make you squirt" but is it just a normal porn? Or is there something more sinister on it? WC: ?

Werewolf!Toji

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] - Finished! Kink Tags: Breeding, Dacryphilia, Aphrodisiac Synopsis: Catching him in a lie, you suspect your boyfriend Toji is cheating on you. Where does he keep disappearing to once a month that keeps him away for often days at a time. You're fed up. You've made up your mind this time to follow him but are you ready for what you discover? WC: 10.4k

ღ𝙔𝙤𝙪’𝙫𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙪𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙮 𝙖 𝙎𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝘾𝙧𝙞𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡ღ

Ghostface!Choso

[Part 1 ღ Part 2] - Finished! Kink Tags: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? WC: 15.4k

Hannibal!Nanami

Kink Tags: Olfactophilia, Body Worship, Menophilia Synopsis: You're immensely grateful for your kind, empathetic and open-minded (not to mention very handsome) psychiatrist Nanami who has gotten you through some very rough patches in your life. However when you show up at his home office for unannounced session and discover him preparing dinner, are you whats next on the menu? WC: ?

InvisibleMan!Gojo

Kink Tags: Mirror Sex, Frottage, Stalker Synopsis: Fed up with his antics and him ignoring you, you breakup with your tech genius boyfriend Gojo. It's been a month and you've started to move on with your life but odd occurrences have been happening around you and you have the feeling you are being watched 24/7. You need a vacay and your friend Shoko offers up her lake cabin. Will you be safe there? Or will whoever is watching you have you right where they want you? WC: ?

BONUS: Free for all section of general Halloween themes if I finish all the rest or need to do a quick drabble to cure writers block.

Why you can’t watch scary movies with JJK men - Drabble, 2k words

Trick or Treat Anthology or Halloween Fluff with JJK Men - Fic 10k

JJK Men Slutty Halloween Costumes - Ask

If i have time I will do Cult/Ritual Sex/Gangbang on reader. With most if not all JJK men listed here

Not poppin' enough for an official taglist but if you are interested in any of these stories let me know and I will tag you. ETA - 11/21 still taking adds as I do plan to finish the rest, eventually.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜ��ɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

Glitter text created @ Pookatoo.com

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alijuan · 20 days

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Ascended Astarion is true unlike Spawn Astarion who pretends to be good for Tav

If i see that opinion again i will explode🫠

It's funny because Astarion will only approves if you persuade him not to perform the ritual.

A lot of people don't understand the concept of grey morality and it shows. Many people justify him but this type of AA fan thinks worse of him than he really is. He needs the ritual not because he's a power-hungry villain, but because he needs safety for himself and his lover. Depending on Tav/Durge's actions, he either stays with the feeling of fear (AA is still afraid deep inside, the game files confirm this) or he fights against it and becomes truly free of Cazador and fear (spawn ending). The dialogue with Durge about not being afraid is wonderful and shows difference between SA and AA.

Astarion: This little adventure of ours has taught me that we can't let our lives be ruled by fear. Or else we never really live. Astarion: I'm not afraid. Not of you, not of your darkness, and not of our future.

The point of the spawn ending is that Tav/Durge saw him as more than just an outward image of a power-hungry killer incapable of becoming a better person. But if you can't see beyond that image, he will think that he has no choice but to continue living in the world that Cazador has built for him. If you think that AA is his best ending because he is evil then you have failed to understand his whole personality.

I feel safe with you. Seen.

Despite of his love of killing (he is a vampire after all), he repeatedly showed compassion and guilt for luring people. Before the ritual, he literally convinced himself that he should kill spawn for power. Astarion rationalises this to protect his psyche, because he’s clearly not the type of guy who can sacrifice thousands of people to the devil and not feel anything about it.

Durge/Tav: This isn’t you, Astarion. Not really. Astarion: It should be.

I really like that the player technically makes the insight check and that there’s an advantage when they're romancing Astarion. Tav/Durge could see through the image Astarion was trying to create. They saw an elf whose fear prevented him from seeing all the possibilities.

Astarion: When I look at my future, anything and everything feels possible now.

Just as Astarion saw Durge not just as serial killer, but as someone who could defeat Urge and become a better person.

Durge: I am myself at last. You don't need to fear anything from me ever again. Astarion: I knew you had that sweat heart all along. I was alarmed by you sometimes, scandalised even, but somehow by your side, I still only ever saw you.

AA fans also often ignore the fact that the game has good and bad endings in the companion stories. And it's not about morality. All companion quests are literally about how the desired and obvious path leads to a bad ending. And Astarion is no exception. In a good ending, he gets the chance to heal and finally acceptes himself and his vampire nature, in a bad ending, he gives up and regresses as a person.

Spawn Astarion knows what he wants and says it. SA is ready for a relationship and sex. Ascended Astarion can’t answer the question of what he wants, so he acts as a vampire lord should. AA is literally back to the state of the first act and has started manipulating Tav/Durge through sex again (even repeating the same phrases). This is why he doesn’t really want sex (he approves if you choose the no sex option and he definitely dissociated during the sex scene) unlike Spawn Astarion who initiated it.

Spawn Astarion is the same Astarion who enjoys “murder and terror” and you can see that clearly in his “hero” ending (more like “antihero”). And this is the ending without romance, he chose it himself. And the whole idea of him pretending to be good for Tav is actually meaningless without romance.

Ascended Astarion is the same Astarion, but stuck in a black and white world of fear and domination.

SA scene ends with hope music (instrumental version of I want to live) AA scene ends with chains.

And there’s so much more. Larian specifically showed the difference between good and bad endings in the dialogues, scenes after ritual, recent updates and even the interview so people would definitely understand, but they didn't🙃 Some AA fans (especially on youtube and larian forum) are on a new level of delusion.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #Narrative comprehension is dead #durgestarion #astarion x durge #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #ascended astarion #такого непонимания очевидного я не видела даже в геншин фандоме

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spamgyu · 4 months

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BACKBURNER // PART 2

DESCRIPTION: She had grown tired of being on his back burner, the person that he had kept warm until he gotten the girl he has had his eyes set on for years... And with a little help from her friend, maybe... just maybe she'll finally be the first choice. PAIRING: Seungcheol x Reader | Mingyu x Reader GENRE: Angst & Fluff PART 1 | MASTERLIST

She wished she could go back and listened to her friend when he had warned her starting something with him was a bad idea.

Y/n could remember that day so clearly — even more now that she spent a lot of her free time alone with her thoughts.

It was going so well, three months into dating Seungcheol and not a single red flag in sight. Things were looking up.

Maybe he wasn't the toxic man she had come to know of when they were in school.

It was all going so well.

He had invited her over to his place, wanting to cook her dinner.

"Wanted to do something cute." He explained. Y/n happily made her way over to his place, thinking that he was finally going to ask her the big question.

To be his girlfriend.

They spent most of the time giggling like high school lovers as they worked around each other in the kitchen; Seungcheol stealing kisses each time he caught her looking over at him.

Which was more than she could count on one hand — but she wasn't complaining.

They were nearly done. Just needed to plate their meal when the rug under her was pulled, sending her right back down to earth.

His phone hadn't even completed ringing when he picked it up, his demeanor instantly changing.

"Sunhee's flight came in a few hours early. Rain check on dinner?" He flashed her his dimply smile.

What was she supposed to do? Say no? Not with that smile.

Y/n agreed, allowing him to usher her out of his place; not without a kiss of course.

With an empty stomach and a freed up Friday night, she made her way to her favorite duo's place — in hopes that the two were not out terrorizing local single women at the club.

"He called off date night? For Sunhee?" Mingyu snorted as she picked off of his plate. "Can't you go and make yourself a plate? There's literally enough food for both of us."

She shook her head, grabbing another piece of chicken only for her to drop it as his hand lightly smacked hers. "She didn't have a ride."

God, could she be any more oblivious.

"Uber? Lyft?" He listed in bewilderment.

Y/n shrugged. "You'd do it for me."

She didn't care if he had a girl best friend. To most, this was a nightmare. It would have been the first big red flag to any other girl.

But Y/n knew she couldn't complain. Not when she was the first person Mingyu would call to tell her about the latest girl he was dating, the person he asked for outfit approvals, the person she called when she had any car problems. They were each other's person. Even if they bickered like their lives depended on it.

No, she couldn't be a hypocrite.

"Pick you up at the airport? During rush hour? You wish. I'd only do that for someone I love.... even then I'd reconsider it." He chewed.

"They're best friends." She defended, tapping her finger on the table to make a point.

"Who's in love with each other." Mingyu replied matter of factly, copying her actions.

As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"No they don't."

"May I remind you that last week he didn't make it to your little breakfast date because she didn't feel well. She." He emphasized. "You would have to be dying for me to cancel on someone I was dating."

Y/n had almost forgotten about the incident. She and Seungcheol had made plans to try out a new cafe by his place only for him to cancel at the very last minute.

She paid no mind to this, knowing that he and Sunhee were close and she had no family in the city to be at her aid.

Little did she know at the time was that Sunhee simply had a hangover and Seungcheol had gone over to nurse her back to health.

"It's been three months and not a single title has been established. He's a red flag, Y/n. Back out now before you get even more attached." Mingyu stood from his seat, walking over to the stove where the rest of his meal was cooling — scooping extra servings for him and y/n. "You want more rice?"

"No, just chicken." She shook her head. "He's just being a good friend."

"I give it another month before he makes you cry." He sat back down, this time placing the plate in-front of her.

He was right.

Within a month, Seungcheol began giving Y/n mixed signals — one minute he was telling her how he couldn't believe he had managed to score a chance with her and the next he was leaving her on delivered for hours on end.

Only for her to find out he had been pre-occupied with Sunhee through their instagram stories.

But see, Seungcheol had done it so slowly and Y/n didn't realize that she had been put on the backburner until it was too late.

She was far in too deep when she had come to realize that she would never measure up to the girl.

She had been attached, falling deeper and deeper as each day passed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Are you done?" Mingyu whined from across the table.

She had taken and retaken the same picture of their meal for the past minute, unable to find the right angle.

"It doesn't look like a date!" Y/n groaned. "You know for someone who came up with this brilliant idea, you're shit at making it believable."

When he had told her he was going to be picking her up to get lunch, this was not what y/n had imagined. She thought he would have at least chosen a much cuter place that was worth pulling her phone out for.

But what would have expected from the Kim Mingyu.

She nearly strangled him as they pulled up to the usual spot they would gab a bite from. After much convincing, and the offer of a free meal on him, she exited the car and followed him into the establishment.

Picking up his chopsticks to pick at the meat that was beginning to brown on the grill, Mingyu let out a small chuckle. "He won't believe it if I took you to something fancy."

Y/n rolled her eyes, leaning back against her chair as she watched him stuff his face. "This is so romantic." She deadpanned.

"Fine, here." He sat up, placing an elbow on the table and a smirk on his face.

He was posing.

She had seen enough stories from girls he had dated to know it was his signature look.

"The fuck am I supposed to do with that."

"Just take the damn picture."

Picking up her phone with a sigh, she angled her phone just enough to capture their meal and him – cutting it off right where his neck began. It was discreet enough to get people wondering, but also obvious enough for him to know who she was with.

She didn't want to post his face just yet.

"Next date better be something good and not barbecue."

"Relax, we gotta do it slowly." He shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth, wincing at the sight of him talk while his cheeks were full of food. "Date here and there and then Hawaii– that's when we'll become so insufferable he'll want to kill me."

Hawaii.

In about two weeks, she and the whole gang were headed off to the tropics for one of their college friend's destination wedding.

Of course it would be a destination wedding. It was Jeonghan.

He couldn't just have picked a local venue.

It was going to be a week full festivities, the group wanting to take advantage of all the island had to offer before they watched their close friend walk down the aisle.

Might as well.

Everyone was going to be there. Including her.

"Speaking of," Mingyu continued. "Switch rooms with Minghao."

Looking up from her phone, she raised a brow at him.

"Do you even want to do this? Why are you so dumb?"

"Hey!"

Rubbing his face and groaning in frustration, he spoke slowly. "Minghao's rooming with me, meaning you will now room with me. Seungcheol will see. He will get jealous. Is your pea brain picking up on this?"

Jeonghan and his future wife had thankfully blocked off a floor at the hotel for those traveling for his big day, allowing all his friends to be within close proximity to each other.

She had initially booked a room all by herself after waiting weeks for Seungcheol to bring it up when they had all received their invites in the mail.

But he never did.

In fact, he had told her he was rooming with one of his high school friends who had not seen in a while.

She couldn't even bring herself to be disappointed, a part of her fully expecting he wasn't going to make the suggestion.

He had seen the disappointed look on her face that day, reassuring her that he may end up in her room every night anyways.

"Just want to hang out with Jihoon, haven't seen him in years." He reasoned, placing a kiss on her temple.

What a fucking liar.

"If we're going to do this, you have to be nicer to me.".

"Whatever you say, stink." He winked.

"Stink?" Y/n made a face.

"Short for stink bug."

It was a nickname he had given her in middle school, claiming that she looked a like a stink bug.... and smelled like one too. Y/n hated the nickname at the time, nearly crying each time he would call her this in front of the boys in their class.

It was better than baby.

"We'll work on pet names later." She laughed.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

Their fake dates have gained attention from everyone but him.

The rest of their friend group had managed to fall for their act after the second cryptic instagram story that the two shared at his apartment.

Unbeknownst to them, they had spent nearly half an hour getting the perfect shot on his couch to make it seem as though they were cuddling – all with the help of Minghao, of course.

"This isn't gong to work. You guys look so stiff." He laughed as he watched the two make a face as they intertwined their legs, pretending as though they were cuddling as they watched a movie. "Scoot closer, Mingyu."

"If I scoot any closer, my skin will merge into hers." He snapped, following directions.

"Oh my god, just do it." She cried, her arms growing numb with the multiple attempts of snapping the picture.

Seungkwan was the first one to swipe up on the story, instantly noticing the familiar console in the picture; replying "??????".

Soon her inbox was flooded with the rest of the group's reactions; even more when Mingyu posted his version of the same pose.

All except him, who didn't even bother watching the stories.

"Switch seats with me." Y/n whispered loudly to Minghao as they waited to board their plane.

"I already switched rooms, you want me to–"

"I'm sitting next to him."

They had booked their flight together; at the time when she hadn't been able to foresee the future.

Y/n was originally going to go through with sitting through the flight next to Seungcheol, wanting to get under his skin after spending the past two weeks and a half posting of nothing but about her and Mingyu. But considering he had yet to even see a single one of these post that was directed to him, and not a single text, she didn't think she could sit a four hour flight in silence.

Not while Sunhee sat to his right.

Taking the boarding pass from her hand and handing her his, Minghao let out a defeated sigh. "I feel like I'm doing as much work in this stupid shit as you two."

They had disclosed their plans to him, and only him. They knew if it had to be believable, they need someone on their side who was able to corroberate their stories – just in case someone had doubts.

"Love you!" She smiled, reaching over to pinch his cheeks.

"You better." He grumbled.

It wasn't long before they were called to board.

Y/n palms were sweating at the thought of walking past him as she would make her way a few rows back to her newly assigned seat; but she had to keep her composure. Just as she had while they were all sat at the gate – pretending she didn't care that Sunhee wasn't giggling a little too loud at whatever Seungcheol was saying.

Or the fact that he had pushed her carry on all the way from TSA to their designated waiting area while she happily walked alongside him.

She had to keep her head up high.

He had already been sitting in his seat when he caught her eyes from the line of passengers who were all patiently waiting to put their belongings in their overhead compartments.

She was two steps away when he stood from his seat, motioning Sunhee to do the same, to make room for y/n to squeeze in to her spot by the window.

"Thanks." Minghao smiled, shimmying past the two; paying no mind to the confused look on his friend's face.

With furrowed brows, Seungcheol followed her movement – up until Mingyu grabbed the rolling bag from her hand.

"I got it." He lifted the bag with ease, sparing no glance to the eyes that burned a hole in the back of his head.

Once she was no longer in his eyeline, y/n let out a breath of relief – buckling herself in.

"High five." Mingyu held his hand up, proud of her.

"Gyu please, not now." She shook her head, attempting to slow down the beat of her heart.

His head tilted to the side as he watched the girl's emotion's spiral from nervousness to a near panic attack.

"Cheol?" He asked.

"I wish." Her legs bounced as the last few passengers took their seats and the flight attendants made their rounds; her lips growing pale as each second passed.

Mingyu watched as she shifted in her seat for the third time since sitting, adjusting her belt tighter as she felt the plane slowly taxi on to the runway. "Still?" He asked in disbelief, eyeing her knuckles that had turned white from gripping the arm rest.

Y/n simply nodded, closing her eyes.

She had always been a nervous flyer, despite the countless times people have explained the physics of a plane. To y/n it didn't seem logical, how was it that a flying bus could easily travel from point a to point b? All with nothing but a fan for an engine and wings that didn't flap.

It didn't make sense. And don't even get her started with turbulances.

The low hum of the plane had began to grow into a loud roaring sound; she could practically feel her heart sinking deep into the pit of her stomach as she waited for it to gain speed.

Y/n's mind was instantly distracted when she felt his pinky slowly interlock with hers. She opened her eyes to look over at him, but his eyes was closed and fully locked in to whatever music that was blaring on his headphones.

Grateful for his attempts to comfort her, she relaxed under his touch – feeling his hand slip under hers to interlock hands once the plane was at full speed, giving it a squeeze when the plane reached the end of the runway.

It was only a matter of minutes before they were in the air, nervously watching the buildings grow smaller and smaller as the ascended past the clouds.

All thoughts of free falling began to plague her mind again.

"Stop that." He reached over to shut her window with his free hand, pointing to her personal tv. "Watch. Don't look out."

Time passed quickly all thanks to Mingyu's annoying voice that had kept her distracted, talking over the movie he had suggested for her to watch – pausing almost every five minutes to listen to him either comment on the scene or babble on and on about a random picture from his camera roll.

She had given up halfway through the movie, opting to sleep instead. But Mingyu wasn't letting up; he had thought if she sat in silence, she would manage to come up with all the worst case scenarios possible.

He would have much rather waste his breathe talking her ear off than have to comfort her while she sobbed in her seat.

He had been traumatized the last time their family took a trip together to Japan; the first time he had seen a different side of her. She had always been the braver one between the two, an adrenaline junkie who seeked thrill rides and any activity that would have him cowering in an instant.

They were fifteen at the time and since then, he swore he would rather eat dirt before he relieved that same moment again.

Just as he had comforted her during take off, Mingyu took her hand in his as they made their descend down – still babbling on and on about god knows what.

"See not bad." He grinned as they felt their plane come to a complete stop.

The humid air instantly engulfed them as they stepped out of the automatic doors of the airport, each making a comment about how glad they were that they chose to dress lightly.

The boys were all like children let loose in a candy shop, gawking over the Jeep Wranglers at the rental lot – Seokmin and Mingyu instantly bickering over who would get the last black two door.

"Boys." A voice next to her giggled.

It was Sunhee.

While the guys loudly made arrangements on who would be getting which vehicle and who would be riding with who, Sunhee and Y/n stood back and watched.

"They're... something." Y/n forced out a laugh.

The thing was, she couldn't bring herself to hate the girl.

As much as she hated that she was the reason for the pain that Seungcheol had put her through, y/n knew that Sunhee wasn't the problem.

In fact, Sunhee had attempted to distance herself from Seungcheol at one point when she had found out he was dating her; but of course, he didn't have any of it. Y/n was in the other room when he had called Sunhee, saying that he and y/n were just casually dating and didn't care feel at all threatened by Sunhee.

It wasn't a lie. But it sure did hurt.

"Stink!" Mingyu called out from black Jeep, motioning for her to head over. "Come on!"

He had won the rock, paper, scissors against Seokmin.

Fighting back the urge to send him the middle finger, Y/n smiled at him and turned to Sunhee. "I'll see you at the hotel."

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"When'd you get that?"

Y/n turned away from her suitcase, halting her search for her white oversize linen button down, she followed his finger to the red fine line tattoo that read "lucky" at her hip.

Once they had all arrived at the hotel, the group wasted no time making plans to bound for the beach; agreeing to head up to their respective rooms to quickly change out of their airport loungewear to a much more appropriate attire.

Mingyu and Y/n have seen each other countless of times in their swimsuits, not bothering to bat an eye as they gathered all their belongings half naked.

"About four months ago." Y/n went back to practically tossing all her belongings on her bed.

Thankfully the room that they shared was a double queen, having it originally been Minghao and Mingyu's sleeping arrangement. She was able to make her own mess on her side without Mingyu's complaint about making the whole place look like a teenager's room.

He had been the clean one between the two.

"Nice." He nodded slipping a plain white shirt on. "Ready?"

"I can't find my shirt." She exhasperated.

"We're going down to the beach. Just go like that." He said, addressing her current outfit.

Which was just her swimwear and light washed cut off shorts that she had folded down to rest right at her hips. Something she had seen from pinterest when she was taking inspiration for her outfits for the trip.

"But I want to look cute." She pouted.

Aside from having to pretend like she was dating him, she still wanted to take document the trip and all her outfits.

She had an instagram feed to keep up, after all.

Rolling his eyes, he dug into his own suitcase – tossing her his crocheted short sleeve button down. "Come on, we're missing prime acting time." He clapped. "Need to annoyingly apply sunscreen on you and pretend to drag you into the water."

"Oh my god." She groaned.

When he said they were going to be insufferable, she didn't think he would jump right into it – dreading the fake laughs and giggles she would have to muster up the minute they stepped foot out of their room.

Grabbing her tote off the bed, Y/n put on her best smile and walked over to him. "Ready, bug?"

"Let the games begin, stink." He winked, slinging his arms over her shoulder – the two cracking up in an instant.

This was going to be a long week.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

They're act was in full force.

Mingyu wasn't lying when he said he would apply suncreen on her once they reached the sand, annoyingly taking his time as he reached her lower back.

He was also not lying when he said he would pretend to drag her in the water, throwing her over his shoulder as he bounded for the shoreline, only to set her down once he was ankle deep.

"Is he looking?" He asked, keeping one arm around her waist.

Discreetly peering over his shoulder, thankful that he was nearly a foot taller than her, y/n nodded.

Seungcheol was sat on his towel, watching the two with the same look he had been giving when they were at Seokmin's.

"Okay, we'll I'm gonna go play." Mingyu satisfied with his short acting career, nodding over to Hansol and Chan who was calling out for him at the deep end. "You're good for a few minutes?"

"Yeah I'm going to nap." She nodded, heading back up to where the other half of the group was lounging – not before she felt him give her hip a squeeze.

"For plot." He winked.

"Gross."

"You and Mingyu, huh?" Jeonghan wiggled his brows as she took a seat next to him, pulling her sunglasses back down to cover her eyes.

Along with Seungcheol, Jeonghan had managed to catch a glimpse of the two shamelessly flirting by the water.

He had bought their oscar worthy performance.

"Yeah." She replied shyly. "It kind of just happened."

They had yet to come up with how it just happened.

"Surprised it didn't happen sooner. Glad you got over this guy over here." Using his thumb to point at Seungcheol who had been shamelessly listening in on their conversation. Just like everyone else in the group, Jeonghan had been filled in on y/n and Seungcheol's weird relationship – despite being cities away.

"He'll just play her." Seungcheol snorted. "It's Mingyu."

The first time she had heard him utter a word to her in weeks.

"Can't be as bad as what you put me through." Y/n replied without missing a beat, laying down to soak up the warm sun.

She fought back the smile that threatened to creep up on her lips, content that she had managed to get in his head.

The plan was working.

"Okay, kids, no fighting this week." Jeonghan laughed nervously.

taglist:

@thepoopdokyeomtouched/ @scuzmunkie / @yunjin0 / @morkswatermelonnnn / @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan / @naturelvrgfstealer

(taglist open - lmk if you want to be added!)

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aussie-roadkill · 11 months

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Hi guys I am going to ramble about the end scene of Generation Loss now

I fucking LOVE how Hetch taunts Ranboo in this,

“I still have a roll here to play” A nice hint of superiority, saying I’m important, you’re not, I still have a purpose, which of course is furthered with the “You’ll stay until you’ve outlived your use, that might be tomorrow, or a thousand years from now” Ranboo might be the hero, the main character, but he’s still just playing a role, he’s still a toy that will get tossed aside when Showfall gets bored of him

“Your choices, your decisions to let other people die for you” Calling Ranboo selfish, telling them they killed those people. That its their fault. Live or die this is the last time Ranboo would have free thought, and Hetch wants to make that as painful as possible, make him feel guilt, make him hate himself.

“They can’t get enough of you, and looking at the poll they want to play with you forever” the vote was 51/49 at this point, and Hetch implies the audience all want Ranboo to stay, to suffer in this twisted show. He wants to make ranboo panic he wants them to be afraid, to feel terror, to feel like they’re trapped, and it works, they start screaming, begging the audience too kill them, saying they can’t live with the things they’ve done. Hetch just lies to scare him, he just lies because he enjoys the pure raw emotion it gets out of his ‘actor’

“He’d rather quit than (...) keep entertaining you” Taunting both Ranboo and the audience, calling him a coward, a quitter, trying to make Ran seem like the bad guy, telling the audience they don’t care about them- how selfish, he’d rather die than make you happy, does he really deserve this mercy? Don’t you want him to stay and suffer, keep giving you content, keep being your puppet

Ran saying “I saw everything” and Hetch responds “And you’ll see so much more” at 55/45, the vote just ended, He won’t be seeing more, that’s a lie. He just wanted Ranboo to panic, he wanted them to think they were going to be trapped in here forever, he delighted in the sheer panic, the begging for anything else, even death

anyway, all hail Autism Jesus, he died for our stims

#genloss #genloss spoilers #generation loss #genloss finale #ranboo #ranboolive #AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH #generation loss spoilers #generation loss finale

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scoobydoodean · 5 months

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The thing is that when Cas first laid a hand on Dean in hell he was lost, and not actually because "For the first time, I feel". Cas had felt before he knew Dean. We know this because we know Cas had rebelled before. Naomi tells us Cas never did as he was told—that Cas had a "Crack in the chassis straight off the line" (something Chuck later echoes in a rage).

Cas's rebellion is far older than Dean and that rebellion is a function of what he feels. Cas just doesn't get to remember feeling. Each time he does, he's stripped of the memory of it... but subconsciously he starts to understand it as something he must keep secret.

Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?

Cas is in love with humanity, and we conflate this with Dean because Dean is the narrative heart, and the subject of Cas's greatest love, and because the concept of humanity and Dean are so deeply linked they're almost one in the same. We are not at all wrong to conflate the two, but make no mistake—Cas is in love humanity.

You misunderstand me, Dean, I’m not like you think. I was praying that you would choose to save the town.

Cas calls humanity a work of art, and the camera pans to Dean sitting on the bench beside him. Dean represents humanity. Not just as precious works of art, but also because humans get to feel. Humans don't get lobotomized for feeling. Dean encourages Cas to feel. He encourages Cas to feel by asking him to—begging him to, and by feeling for others, and by existing and deserving to be loved himself.

Dean echoes free will to Cas like a call from the wild. He's the beauty of humanity. He's the liberation and beautiful terror of choice. The reason "You always have a choice" and "There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it" works is because Cas already feels, already hopes, already loves.

You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about all this, before they dragged you back to Bible camp. Help me -- now. Please.

The function by which Dean gets through to Cas is through Cas's own feelings and convictions. He gets through because Cas is "not a hammer, as you say". Cas has questions. Cas has doubts.

Cas is in love with humanity, and every time he remembers it, he gets packed off to Bible Camp and he forgets. But he can remember again. What it takes is a push. What it takes is a hand reached out in the darkness. The day Cas rescued Dean from hell, two people were saved. A hand clawed out toward Cas too, breaking through his own torturous prison and offering him escape. For the first time in a long time, he felt.

Dean's importance is that he touches Cas. He makes Cas remember. And he keeps making Cas remember. Through touch, through words, through the expression of his own affection for Cas and for others. Because Dean cares, Cas cares.

#and cas is my best friend #in love with humanity #pk rewatches spn number ?#4.07 #and also later episode thoughts I'm getting ahead of myself yeah what are you gonna do about it.#4.22 #the very touch of you corrupts #the one who cares #dean the narrative heart #season 4 #season 8 #multiseason #heaven as a cult #castiels motivations

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slexenskee · 2 months

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Only Shooting Stars (Break The Mold)

The AU where Gojo is actually All Might's California kid that literally no one asked for, including me 🤦‍♀️

Satoru’s best friend just told him she hates him. Actually, she told him she wanted to go hiking, which is basically the same thing.

There is emphatically nothing he’d like less than being dragged through the parched, dry hills around the Dish on an otherwise perfectly normal Saturday morning free of classes, but Makoto is only in town for two days and he promised her he’d do whatever she liked barring arson and/or more tequila shots.

“Can’t you just get Captain Underpants to go with you?” He throws out as a token protest, staggering into her rental jeep with the darkest shades he owns tossed over his eyes in a desperate attempt to keep his hangover at bay.

He squints at her as she settles in the driver’s seat of her rented death contraption. And why isn’t she hungover, anyway? She had even more to drink than him last night.

“You know his hero name is Captain Celebrity, and please don’t say that where anyone can hear you.” She rolls her eyes as she starts the car. “Until I get a more famous client he’s still my cash cow, and I’d really rather not get fired right now.”

“You couldn’t have picked a worse one.” Satoru snorts, flopping into the passenger seat. “Isn’t he still cheating on the daughter with the stepmom or something?”

“Alleged,” Makoto hisses. “Allegedly cheating. And no, obviously. I wouldn’t still be his publicist if he was that much of an idiot.”

She tries to back out of her spot and almost immediately slides several inches down the heart-palpitation-inducing San Francisco incline he’d parked her on last night. She gives him a look of pure, sheer terror over her steering wheel.

Satoru quickly undoes his seatbelt. “Yeah, okay. Put the parking brake on and switch with me— I’ll drive.”

He has them up and off the worst of Hyde St.’s incline with the undisturbed impassivity of a kid who’s spent his entire driving career wedging himself into tenuous and visibly improbable parking spots all across the bay area. Makoto gives a sigh of relief once they clear the worst of the soaring hills, and actually doesn’t bring up the topic he knows she’s itching to broach until he’s pulling onto the 101.

“You know, I wouldn’t have to bother with Captain Celebrity if someone would just finally agree to be a hero.” Makoto needles him, for the umpteenth time.

He rolls his eyes behind his glasses. “Not happening.” He shoots her down flat.

“You can’t stay in college forever!” She protests.

“What do you mean, forever?” He protests back, offended. “I’m not even twenty-two yet!”

And she makes it sound like he’s wasting his life away going to college or something! As if getting into Stanford isn’t the most snobbish badge of supremacy you can wave around in this damn state!

This is what he gets for saving her all those years ago, he laments. A best friend who nags him over all his life choices. He should have let her just fall from that damned New York skyscraper. Or more realistically, just waited it out and let an actual hero swoop in and save her. It’s not as if there hadn’t been plenty around at the time.

She’d been a twenty-one year-old intern at a prestigious marketing agency caught at the wrong end of a villain takeover, and as far as his mother was concerned he’d been a seventeen year-old ostensibly touring the city for colleges, but in reality had been touring music dive bars more than campuses. They’d immediately bonded over the fact he’d saved her life, but also the indie band shirt he’d been wearing as he’d done it.

Growing up in LA, his only two real options were surfing or surf rock, and he’d chosen to spend more time on the route that wouldn’t lead him to immediate skin cancer. His mom had eventually moved them to San Francisco, but he’d never quite grown out of his SoCal roots. He’d loved music in his last life, and in this life, he’d decided to chill the fuck out and ignore society and all it’s problems, and music seemed as good a way as any to do it. And he was pretty damn good at it, if he did say so himself. His expansive catalog of songs from his last life and eidetic memory made most people call him a genius, even if he rejected the label. So he was a passable— if not prodigal— guitarist, and Makoto had just learned to play the bass herself, so it was really no surprise they’d not only immediately bonded, but immediately decided to make a band together.

Makoto jumping ship and splitting her time between the US and Japan had thrown a bit of a wrench in their rockstar dreams, but they were making it work somehow. And considering he can teleport around the world at will, it’s really not that much of a hindrance.

That does beg the question though, of why Makoto would rather him be a hero than a musician. But he imagines he actually already knows the answer to that.

“How about you stop cleaning up after stupid celebrities, and become a celebrity yourself.” He argues, with a raised brow.

Makoto scoffs. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to break into the music industry?”

With the confidence of several dozen platinum hits spanning several dozen genres sitting pretty in his head, Satoru retorts; “I don’t think that will be a problem for us.”

She laughs him off at first, but then seems to give it genuine thought. “I guess you are pretty enough to have lead singer appeal,” she concedes, uncharitably. “But we haven’t even released an album yet; you have no idea how well it will be received on the charts. Playing little dive bar shows isn’t going to get us anywhere.”

Satoru just shrugs. “Then what’s stopping us? Let’s record an album.”

Makoto just rolls her eyes. “Yeah, sure. Come pop by Japan next weekend, and let’s do it.”

“Sure.” He agrees immediately, making her do a double take. He grins winsomely at her. “What? I’m free next weekend. Why not?”

She just shakes her head in wonder. “Even seeing it multiple times, sometimes I really do still forget you can just… teleport across the world. And stop bullets with your eyeballs.”

“It’s telekinesis,” he corrects, but at this point it’s just rote.

“No, I specifically remember you trying to explain it had something to do with your eyeballs, don’t try to change it up now.” Makoto pokes him in the shoulder— or tries to, but is stopped with his barrier. “And how the hell that’s supposed to even make sense, I have no idea. But you definitely said it.”

Yeah, he probably deserves that for trying to explain his cursed techniques while he’d been several mystery drinks deep at a college frat party. Makoto probably still hasn't forgiven him for dragging her to that madhouse, but in his defense, she’d all but begged him to take her to an American college party in the first place.

“It’s… complicated.” He hedges off. “My eyes just help me understand how to use my powers; they’re not actually what creates my barrier.”

Makoto squints at him suspiciously. “... What’s your mom’s quirk again?”

He chuckles awkwardly. “Oh, she can convert energy from the sun. Mine’s a mutation, obviously.”

“Could just be a strange combination.” Makoto muses. “What did you say your dad’s quirk was?”

“I, uh, have no idea.” Satoru coughs, keeping his eyes on the road in a vaguely panicked manner.

“Shit, that’s right, I’m sorry.” Makoto jolts in her seat, apologetic. “You still haven’t heard anything? I thought your mom said… I mean, they’re not on bad terms, right?”

Frankly, Satoru almost wishes she would continue pestering him about becoming a hero over this particular topic.

“They’re not on bad terms, no.” He hedges off, shifting in his seat. Why couldn’t his best friend have a normal quirk, like fire breathing or water bending? Or anything besides being a human lie detector when he has so much he needs to lie about? “But they don’t talk much. I’m not sure she even knows what his quirk is herself.”

“Well, I guess it doesn’t really matter anyway, your quirk is what it is.” Mercifully, Makoto lets the subject drop. “Even if it makes no damn sense.”

Satoru laughs that off. “Does any quirk ever really make sense, though?”

Makoto just clicks her tongue, then launches into a spirited rant on the laws of quirk science. Satoru breathes a quiet sigh of relief as the conversation devolves into a nonsensical argument on what would be the most useless quirk in history.

One of these days he’s going to have to cave and tell Makoto the truth, but he’d really rather not do it when he’s hungover and facing the prospect of a miserable hike for the next few hours.

And to be fair, nothing he said to Makoto was a lie.

His parents aren’t on bad terms. Or rather, they’re not on any terms at all, as he doesn’t think they’ve even spoken once in the twenty-two years he’s been alive in this world. But according to his mom, they hadn’t parted on bad terms. They’d been college sweethearts, and his father had always been honest about his intentions to return to Japan. His mother had been adamant about staying in America and pursuing her own career. They’d split up for practicalities sake, unaware he was already on the way, and his mom looks back on that time of her life fondly.

His mom would go on to have him several months after his father had left the country, and raise him as a single-mother as she built a life for them. His father would go on to be the world’s strongest hero.

His mother had only ever known Yagi Toshinori as All Might, unbeatable and unbreakable, with a quirk so strong it would have him going down in history as one of the strongest heroes of all time. As far as she— and the rest of the world knew— he had some kind of strengthening quirk.

But Satoru had seen him before, on one of his trips back to Japan. It had been from a distance, as he’d taken down a villain to the delight of the cheering crowds around him, but it had been enough for Satoru’s Six Eyes to see his quirk wasn’t quite as straightforward as the strengthening ability listed on his hero profile. All Might’s core— where most humans had a swirling mass of plus alpha energy— was as empty as Satoru’s. Satoru was quirkless because his father, All Might, had been born quirkless. The quirk All Might had now must have been given to him when he was older, growing around that empty space and spreading through his body almost like a parasite. Or a curse. Satoru honestly couldn’t tell.

Satoru honestly didn’t care.

He has no opinion on All Might, or what choices he may or may not have made to wield the power he has.

When he was much younger, and saw how much his mother struggled to raise him on her own without help, he would resent him a bit for leaving her on her own like this. But his adult mind could understand the logic in both his parents’ motivations. They both made their own choices, and did what they thought was right with only care and consideration for each other.

And it’s not as if Satoru’s childhood was lacking in any capacity.

Actually, his childhood was awesome.

To be entirely honest, he doubts he would have wanted All Might around even if that was possible. He can’t imagine a better way to grow up than the way he did, rocking out in the garage with his mom on the weekends, surfing in the mornings (with adequate sunscreen), skating from school to the skatepark in the afternoons, and having the complete and utter autonomy only a latchkey kid could have. His mom did what she could to make sure he grew up comfortably and well-cared for, and that included putting in long hours at work that had him on his own for most of the week. It was the best. There were no rules against using quirks in America— someone finally got their act together on personal bodily autonomy and all that— so he’d use his ‘quirk’ to teleport himself all across the world in his spare time. As long as he was back by dinner time, his mom didn’t need to know if he decided to spend the afternoon wandering the streets of Seoul in search of the best hotteok.

He tried to keep his excursions on the down low, and keep his grades up and his nose out of trouble. While he adored his freedom, he never wanted to worry his mom. She was honestly too good for this world— and for him too, if he was being honest. The least he could do is be as good of a son as possible.

Well, he can try to be as good of a son as possible. As it stands, the majority of his chaotic existence usually gets in the way of that.

“Oh, Sacchan, you’re home already?” His mother peers out of her office, thick, horn-rimmed glasses making her purple eyes look comically large on her face as she pokes her head over the wall. “Where’s Makoto-chan?”

“Probably on the plane already, unless it got delayed.” He tosses his keys into the basket by the front door, toeing off his shoes.

She frowns at him. “You drove her to SFO, right? Don’t tell me you let her go by herself!”

He rolls his eyes. “She had a rental car to drop off, ya know. But yeah, I drove her from the rental place to her terminal.”

Not that she deserved the consideration, after dragging him on a hike of all damn things yesterday. They’d just stayed out the whole night drinking beforehand, what madwoman does that?

She gets up out of her chair, stretching her arms over her head as her hapless bun spills silver-white hair over her shoulders. “She’s such a nice girl,” his mother enthuses, as she cracks her neck. “I wish you’d bring more of your friends around, Sacchan. Your poor mother worries.”

“I’m in college now, mom.” He rolls his eyes. “We don’t really bring our friends around to meet our parents.”

More to the point, he wouldn’t want to anyway. College boys are emphatically the worst, and his mom is a very pretty woman. That’s just asking for trouble. And beyond that, he doesn’t have anyone at school he’d feel close enough to introduce her to anyway. He has plenty of people in his orbit to pair up with in labs, hang around the quad with while he’s killing time between classes, or drag to various house parties, but those are superficial bonds at best.

He’s a young, handsome boy who surfs and skateboards and is good at all sports and plays rock music and still ranks at the top of his class; suffice it to say, he’s never wanted for friends or popularity. But he’s also a full grown man living through a second life; he has very little in common with the people in his age group. It’s gotten better now that he’s a full-fledged adult again, but he still tends to find the petty struggles of his fellow undergrads to be a bit pedantic.

“You never brought any around in highschool either.” His mother laments. “Sacchan, you’re not embarrassed over your mother, are you?”

“Not at all.” He protests, then adds, because he doesn’t want to worry her, “I just don’t want people knowing exactly where I live. They seem nice enough, but you never really know with people these days.”

He says it to assure her that he’s a perfectly well-adjusted and well-liked kid who has plenty of deep and genuine friendships (entirely untrue) but only serves to worry her even more.

She frowns at him, eyes downcast. “Oh, Satoru,” she says, in a sad tone that automatically has him lurching forward to comfort her. “I know things with your father are… complicated, but I never wanted to make you feel like you had to hide yourself from the world. I want to keep you safe, but I want you to have fun too, you know?”

“Yes, I know.” He rushes to reassure her. “And I do have fun— you know I do! You came to my show just last week!”

His mother gives him a watery smile. “Yes, and your bandmate Kenji nearly started a bar fight, and the crowds got so unruly that the fire department got called in.”

“That guy deserved to be slapped around a bit.” He returns, unapologetic. “And the fire department was just there to make sure we stayed under capacity— we weren’t causing any trouble!”

“No trouble, he says, when the cops were still called by the end of the night.” She teases him.

He rolls his eyes. He can’t control whether or not two drunks decide to get in a brawl over baby mama drama outside the venue, that was totally not his fault. And also probably not the best show to take his mom to, but it was one of the few local performances they’ve ever done, and she was always making noises about finally seeing his band play in person. Unsurprisingly having two bandmates that live across the ocean and one that hops between two countries means they rarely play shows on this side of the Pacific, and he still hasn’t found a way to admit to her that his teleportation radius is a lot larger than he’d originally told her as a five year-old manifesting his ‘quirk’.

“Cops or not, it was still a good time.” He grins, adamantly.

“It was indeed a good time.” She nods, grinning back. She leans up to pat his cheek. “You looked like you were really enjoying yourself up there, Satoru. I always knew you’d be a star.”

“It was a weekday performance at a local bar, I would hardly call myself a star.” He protests, helplessly.

Her eyes twinkle behind her glasses. “Maybe not yet.”

Yes the title is from All Star by Smashmouth 😂 this fic has the most millennial playlist I've ever made

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#fic may death never stop you #mdnsy oneshots

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zombiekooo · 7 months

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❗️S M U T ! Honestly just filthy. Cunninglings, blowjobs, dominant reader, submissive Daryl, vaginal sex. You name it. Complete NSFW ❗️(also on a03– titled Ride Along)

Rick doesn’t want to risk accepting new people into the prison. Daryl sees no threat in one lone woman.

It was late. Far later for a lady like you to be walking these streets, Daryl thought.

How’d he spot you? He asks himself the same damn thing. You were dressed in a black cloak like some bandit, a bag nearly twice the size of you on your back, and a silver gun in your right hand. Maybe it was the shine the gun gave from the car’s headlight’s that caught his attention. Or maybe it was the glisten of your eyes, peering beneath the hood you wore ever so slightly. It didn’t matter.

All he knew was that there was a woman alone in these woods without an idea that the direction she was heading was straight into the hands of walkers.

“Rick, stop the car.” Daryl says, already unbuckling his belt.

Rick slows down, confused. He hadn’t seen you until Daryl pointed you out— walking the opposite direction from the car and ignoring them completely.

“Daryl, we’re not taking anyone into the prison right now.” Rick replies, picking up speed once again, but Daryl was already out of the car and jogging towards you, leaving Rick with no choice but to stop the car completely.

“Hey, you!”

You pause. He notices the way you clutch your gun, your arm trembling and the way your chest fell unevenly. You turn around apprehensively, eyes wide and scared.

“Hey there, m’not gonna hurt you.” Daryl lowers his crossbow, comfortable with the distance the walkers had from you.

“I don’t have anything valuable,” You reply, a distinct quiver in your voice. “Don’t make me use up my bullets.” You point the gun at him.

Rick got out of the car, which startled you enough to nearly lose grip of the gun. Your eyes dart from one to the other, going through the options you have to escape.

“We ain’t here to collect any of your stuff. Just concerned is all,” Daryl says, lifting his free arm above him. “We want to know if you’re okay.”

“I am fine.” You’re quick to reply.

Rick comes up behind Daryl to get a better look at you.

“She says she’s fine. C’mon now, let’s go.” He says,

“Nah, nah. I ain’t leaving just yet. She looks too young to be round’ here alone.” Daryl takes a couple steps closer, just enough to get a decent look at your face.

You were young, younger than he was for sure, but most likely in your mid twenties. Your wide eyes full of terror made you seemed younger from a distance. Like a bunny about to be scavenged by wolves.

His eyes dart down to your hand that held the silver gun. It’s oozing blood out from the darkness of your cloak, and pooling at your fingertips, sullying the silver gun.

“We’ve got a camp not too far from here. There’s people who’d be happy to look at that wound of yours.” He says, confident in taking another step closer. When he sees that you don’t back away, he takes another.

“And what do you expect out of all this? Is this just the kindness from your heart?” You sneer. You’re having trouble keeping grip of the gun. It has become slippery with your blood.

“You ain’t gotta take the offer, but if I were you, I’d get that injury treated before them walkers begin to smell it.” Daryl shrugs. He’s close enough to be able to take the gun from your hands but, he’s too afraid to make any daring move in case you get spooked.

He sees the fear fan across your face for a split second.

Rick seems to have given up on getting Daryl to think otherwise.

“We got lots of women your age at the camp. They’d be happy to see another kind face.” Rick elaborates.

You step back the moment Rick takes another step. You hesitantly return your gaze to Daryl. You watch how he extends his hand.

“There’s no reason a lady like you should be walking these streets.”

————

You end up in the backseat of the van behind Daryl. You’re still hesitant about leaving with the two men, but you seem to have run out of options. Your arm throbs and you feel fresh blood slither down your forearm. You had broken the lousy stitches you had done with your non-dominant hand when drawing your gun.

“That isn’t a walker bite, is it?” Rick asks from behind the wheel, glancing at you through the mirror.

“No. Got caught on some barbed wire.” You reply vaguely.

Rick hums in response.

“Where were you headed? Down where we came from there was a huge herd of walkers. We had just grazed it when coming back.”

You frown. You had no idea that was such a red zone.

“Nowhere.” You rasp.

Rick decides that it was no use getting anymore information from you, so he turns to Daryl.

Daryl sighs and stretches, turning around the car seat and looks at you.

“How many walkers have ya’ killed? People?”

You eye him carefully, but you trust him more than the other, considering that he was the one who insisted on helping you in the first place.

“I haven’t killed many. Maybe two dozen of what you call ‘walkers’. I’m not good with a gun, only killed when I had too.” You say.

Daryl nods, looking back at Rick for guidance. You see him nod and persuade him to continue.

“What bout’ people?”

Daryl sees you hesitate for a moment. Closing your mouth, opening it, then shutting it again.

“I only killed someone before they could turn.” You say, quieter than before.

Daryl nods and turns back around, slouching in his seat.

“Seems pretty harmless to me.” He says to Rick.

Rick says nothing, only giving you one last glance through the mirror before turning his attention to the road.

————

Daryl walks you to his cell before introducing you to the group. He attempts to take your bag from your shoulders to set it next his belongings, but it has you instinctively yanking it back.

“Sorry,” You mumble under your breath, a bit frazzled from trying to adapt to people who aren’t dead.

Daryl nods, giving a sympathetic look. He gestures to the empty space next to the bed for you to place your bag.

“For now, Rick says he wants an eye on you. An’ since I was the one insistin we bring you, M’left with the responsibility.” He says, a lighthearted smirk peeking through the light dusting of hair on his face. But it quickly dissipates when the gears in his brain start shifting.

“Unless, y’know, you’d feel more comfortable with a lady friend—“

“No, please. I’d like you to stay.”

Daryl pauses. He’s leaning against the open cell door, his hand curled into a fist. He still has his crossbow with him, seated on his back. He holds himself steady as if the crossbow weighed nothing to him. He seems a bit taken aback by your quick response.

You drop your bag, placing your knives and guns onto the table beside the bed, glancing at Daryl, and sliding them towards him.

“If I am being completely honest, I haven’t been around people for a few months.” You sit on the bed, glancing at the few shirts draped over the side of the bed. It’s his cell, you realize. “I’d like to stay with you for awhile, if you don’t mind.”

Daryl rubs the back of his neck. The way you said that made his heart skip a beat. He glances over your face, no longer covered by the cape. You were attractive and well spoken. Probably from a family that took good care of themselves— educated. Unlike him. He hadn’t had a clue why you felt comfortable with him. If he was in your shoes, he’d prolly be sceptical of himself, bringing a girl alone in his cell.

“M’fine with that. Rick said I hadda ask you a few questions anyways.” He says. He’s overly aware by the new scent of you mingling in his room. He becomes too conscious about the way he smells. Dirty. Like an animal. You probably think he looks like one too.

“I understand. I assume your leader wants my weapons. I don’t have much.” You shrug, and unclasp your cape. Daryl’s gaze flickers to your arm, the bleeding has slowed, but it needed medical attention. Earlier, you had insisted to rest before heading over to get it looked at.

“Alright then. What’s ya’ name? What’s ya’ life story?” He asks, deciding to ignore your wound for now.

You’re quiet for a moment, collecting your thoughts.

“Reader. I was raised a lone child. Parents worked in the E.R, so when shit hit the fan, they were contaminated quickly. I was 21 when it happened—never was taught how to use a gun or weapons, so I got lucky and survived by finding a group.” You stop, hesitating your eyes flickering up at his face then back to your hands.

“They were all young though, made reckless decisions. Didn’t last long. Soon it went from a dozen people, to just me.” You finish, purposely vague.

Daryl nods. You talk as if you’re weak, but to be surviving this long in an apocalypse took more than just a strong group.

“That’s pretty shitty.” Daryl says,

“Yeah, suppose so. Haven’t really been able to survive without relying on others.” You half laugh half scoff.

“You can’t survive without relying on others.” Daryl points out.

You nod. “Sort of just rode along. Grabbed onto anyone I could. Until I met a group that took advantage of my uselessness.” You don’t elaborate on that, but Daryl thinks he has an idea of what that means.

Daryl doesn’t know how to comfort you, so he just mumbles a ‘sorry to hear that’ beneath his breath.

When you don’t say anymore, he decides it’s his turn to speak.

“I think you’ll fit fine in this place. I’m Daryl, the guy you met earlier is Rick. He’s the leader of the group. Had us survive this long so I reckon you’ll like him.” He says.

You smile at his attempt of hospitality. You could tell he wasn’t one to talk much, so it relaxed you knowing his intentions were genuine.

“Thank you, Daryl. You’re a kind man.”

Daryl has many words to describe him. But kind wasn’t on the list. At least, not that he knew of. It shocked him. More so than he would like to believe.

He swallows, replying with a short nod. He ignores your thanks and leaves the cell with a warning that Rick will come along to collect your weapons later tonight.

—

When he visits the cell at midnight to do his night watch over you, he could barely recognize the woman that had once been dressed in complete black.

You cleaned up yourself during the time he was gone. Rick must’ve brought over Carol to fix up your arm since it no longer bleeds freely. You have your hair out of your face, the dirt on your skin has been washed off, and the thick cloak you wore no longer droops over your frame. Instead, his shirt is on you, paired with slacks Carol must’ve given you.

In most cases, he would be pissed. Having someone use his stuff without permission, but instead, his thoughts were directed whether or not it smelled.

You feel a presence loom over you, so you look up from the book you read, and spot Daryl staring at you through the bars.

“Hey, I was wondering when you would come back.” You say, your eyes smiling the moment you land your gaze on him.

Daryl sputters for a moment, recollecting his thoughts.

“Yeah, m’sorry. Had to help Rick take out few of the walkers outside the prison.” He says. He must’ve been staring at his shirt you wear, because you look down at your sleeve, then back up at him.

“Carol said I could borrow one of your shirts since there isn’t any spares that fit me. Sorry if I crossed the line—“

“Nah, nah. It’s fine. Yer’ my responsibility anyways.” He says. He opens the cell door and steps inside.

You snort at his response. You watch him cross the room and shimmy off his jacket, hanging it over the railing of the top bunk.

Once he’s done, and his gaze is back to you, a silence thrums between the two of you.

The shirt you wore looked breathtaking on you. He didn’t mean to make the room awkward, he really didn’t. But, it had been too long since he’s seen a woman dressed in his clothes. His intention was never meant to pick you up because you were pretty— he just couldn’t stand the thought of someone as lost as you alone during these times.

He wasn’t a kind person, he tells himself. He has killed many. Hurt dozens. If only you knew the kind of person he saw himself as— the type of person he really is. He didn’t want you thinking he was some hero just because he decided to bring you into the prison.

“What’s bothering you?”

He blinks.

“What?”

“You’re thinking about something that’s bothering you. What is it?”

He’s at a loss of words. He makes no move to step away from you, even though he knows he should. You are probably anxious to have a man loom over you like this on his own bed.

“Nothin’. Just, hadn’t seen a new face for awhile is all. Wanted to take a good look atcha’” He sniffs, looking away.

The last thing he would have expect was your touch. He wasn’t prepared— he jumps at the contact. Your hand is resting on his cheek, cradling him carefully like he would jump away if you touched him too hard. Your thumb smooths over the planes of his cheeks, and feeling the roughness of his beard underneath your palm.

You look at him with stern eyes, knowing he isn’t telling the full truth. Touch always reveals a bit of truth in the eyes, you’ve learnt.

“Will you stay?” You ask.

He looks at you dumbly.

“What?” He says, frowning.

“Will you stay in here tonight?” You explain, lifting your hand away from his face. He’s surprised to miss the warmth of your palm on his cheek.

“Where else would I be? I ain’t sleepin’ out on a chair outside the cell for some woman.” He scoffs, half-jokingly. “You got nough’ luxury sleepin’ in my bed.”

“I’m glad,” You chuckle.

“Why? Plannin’ on killing me in my sleep? Tough luck, girl. Not that easy to kill.”

“Who knows?” You hum, pouting your lips.

He flicks your forehead. “Stupid girl. If you were goin’ to kill me, you would’ve taken the safety off your gun when I first found ya’.”

You blush at that.

“Was it really?”

“Damn right it was. Had me questioning your wits and whether or not you’d be too stupid for yer’ own good and put us all in danger.”

You frown, which he chuckles at— flicking your forehead for the second time.

“But here you are sleeping in the same cell.” You shoot back, rubbing away the sting from your forehead.

“Yeah well, I’m confident enough that I can take ya’.” He drops his crossbow, shoving it to the corner of the cell room along with his boots.

“Consider yerself lucky getting the better half of the bunk.” He adds as he pulls himself up onto the top bunk, the metal rods that support it creak and groan as he settles up there.

“Is that right?” You roll your eyes, and dip under the blankets, pulling them up to your chin. They smell like him— like what you imagine the forest smells like without the smell of the dead.

“Mhm.” Is all he replies with.

A comfortable silence follows for a few minutes. You start to wonder if he had fallen asleep, but you decide nobody could doze off in such a short span of time.

“What did you work as before all of this happened?” You ask, half expecting there to be no answer.

Daryl groans, and you hear the bed creak as he shuffles around.

“A drifter.”

“How about your family?”

“How bout’ you stop asking shitty questions and go to sleep, dammit.” He scoffs.

“You did say I was your responsibility. At least give me an idea of what kind of person you are.” You scoff back.

“Yer’ typical asshole redneck. Now shut up.”

You fall silent for a few seconds. Daryl finally thinks that you may be falling asleep.

“Least’ wish me a goodnight…” You huff.

“For fucks’ sake woman! Goodnight.” He bangs the side of the metal rod stabilizing the bed. Despite his tone, he can’t help but smile.

—

A couple of days pass by fairly quickly. You’re introduced to the people inside the prison. Daryl had seen your hesitance around them. He can understand that— it’s probably been a long time since you’ve been able to trust those around you. So, when you decided to stick by his side for most of the days, he never shooed you away. He felt good knowing he gave you some sort of security.

He began bringing you on hunting sprees for food when he was confident enough that there weren’t many walkers around. He taught you small things about tracking and different calls birds would make. Make you strip the squirrel of it’s guts, and hack the fur off the skin.

He liked your eagerness to learn. Despite the faces you’d make and the questionable looks you gave him when he told you it was your turn to gut their catch, he enjoyed your company unlike any other person he’s been around.

It hadn’t been until a week passed, and a routine quickly fell in place that he began questioning your relationship with him. Each night you’d take night watch with him for a few hours until you both returned to your cell to sleep. There would be a bicker between the two of you, (mainly of Daryl to tell you to “shut the fuck up and stop asking shitty questions”) until one of you passed out.

He wasn’t one for emotions or relationships. So when he caught himself with lingering eyes on you, or a thumping heart whenever you smiled at him, it bothered him. It bothered him a lot. You were young. Hell of a lot younger than he was, and he hated himself just a tiny bit more each time he imagines your touch on him like you did the night he first brought you into his cell.

Today was no different.

You have stuck by him for most of the day. Currently, he is taking the time to teach you basic protocols with a knife and gun. His rough hands on top of yours, manipulating your fingers around the gun’s hilt to hold it properly.

God has it been too long since he’s ever been so close to a woman. He never was quite popular with the women in his hometown, never fooled around much. So maybe that’s why his heart thunders beneath his chest right now when he catches a whiff of your scent.

When you look up at him with that excited gleam when you do something right on your own— like loading a gun properly. It makes his heart bloom. It angers him. It was so out of character for him to have this kind of affection towards someone.

He learnt that you’re naturally a cautious person. You make calculated decisions. You project your feelings a bit too much on others. You mentioned earlier on a hunting spree that you first believed the walkers felt lost and had come to you for help. You soon realized how ridiculous that sounded, but it had only made him realize how kind of a person you are.

Unlike he was.

He was afraid. Maybe a bit regretful even. He knows that he will mess this up one way or another. You were young, naive, pretty. Why did he even feel the need to teach you how to hold a gun, or use a knife? That wasn’t who he was. He wasn’t a kind person. He didn’t do things out of the kindness of his heart.

Maybe he did have ambiguous intentions— he starts to question himself.

“What’s bothering you?” You say, tapping his hand. He had gotten distracted, nearly forgot he was supposed to be teaching you how to shoot a gun.

He frowns at you, you’re looking up at him with those perceptive eyes of yours. How did you always know when he was troubled?

“What’s it to ya’, girl?” Daryl scoffs, and backs away from you. He’s all too aware of the cold air hitting his palms that had once been warmed by your hands.

You lower your gun and furrow your brows. He was acting strange. Or maybe you were just thinking too much into things like you always seem to do.

“You go quiet when you’re thinking about something that troubles you.” You explain, walking up to him to close the distance he had put between the two of you.

“M’ always quiet.” He shrugs. “Stop carin’ so much.” He takes another step back, and picks up the crossbow he left on the ground, swinging it over his shoulder.

You don’t make a move to close the distance between the two of you again.

“M’goin on a scouting trip with Rick to get more supplies.” He decides suddenly.

You’re caught off guard for a moment. He never was one to simply ditch a practice.

“I could come, I know these parts quite well—“

“No.” Daryl says a bit too harshly than he would’ve liked.

You huff.

“If you’re worried about me getting hurt, I’ve taken care of myself long before you came along, so—“

“We ain’t bringin’ a woman who’d just get in our way.” He spits. “Like you said, you jus’ rely on others. You’d get us killed.” He pauses, mumbling the last part of his sentence. “Prolly how the first group you’d been in died.”

He watches the shock contort the smile you had worn just seconds ago. He doesn’t know why he said that, or why he feels so angry all of a sudden. He ignores the hurt that struck his chest the moment he saw your smile fade.

You don’t say anything. You look hurt and confused. He knew it. He knew he’d fuck up. Maybe it was a good thing. Maybe this would stop him from thinking about what he desired deep down, to stop his true intentions from forming.

He doesn’t wait for your reaction. He just scoffs, and walks away. Leaving you alone in the middle of the prison field.

—

A few days pass. You and Daryl haven’t spoken. You would be lying if what he said didn’t hurt, but in a way, he was right. But still, you would’ve been happy to pretend it never even happened.

That night after the argument you had with Daryl, he never showed up to night watch, or his cell. You were scared that something may have happened on his trip, but the next morning you see him roasting squirrels on the fire. When he heard your footsteps, he had looked up, but never acknowledged you.

“You went hunting without me?” You pout, trying to break the awkwardness between you.

He only grunts in response, which wasn’t unusual from Daryl. He was a quiet man, but he was usually a lot more responsive around you.

“We could probably made a nice stew with these big fella’s. Carol was telling me about the tomatoes she grew.” You hum, remembering the adoring smile on her face when she told you. She was the only other person you talked to regularly other than Daryl.

You reach to grab a stick that the squirrel is pierced on to turn it, but a hand slaps you away.

“Ain’t for you, get yer’ own grub.” Daryl spits. He still doesn’t look you in the eye.

You’re shocked. You hold you hand close to your chest. It stung from the slap, but it was nothing compared to how your heart clenched. You blink a couple of times in disbelief.

“What?” You say stupidly.

“I said get yer’ own damn food. I ain’t yer’ provider. Maybe try and do somethin’ on your own for a change. You follow me like some dumb lost puppy and I’m sick of it.” He yells.

He makes the mistake of looking up at you.

You’re looking down at your hand, smoothing your thumb over the place he slapped you— comforting the sting. He sees the start of tears collect at your waterline, but you make an effort not to let them spill over.

You swallow thickly, nodding with a tight lipped smile while still looking at your hand.

He knows he should apologize. His heart aches seeing your lost look on your face. This isn’t what he wanted, he didn’t want to hurt you. He curses at himself in his head, his hands cramping up from clenching too hard.

He doesn’t know where to start. How to explain himself— explain how he’s feeling. So he says nothing, and looks down at his feet.

You clear your throat and stand up. He watches you take the knife he had left next to his crossbow, but he continues to stay silent. He’s silent when you walk off. Doesn’t make a move to catch up with you and tell you he’s sorry. He just continues to watch you walk towards the prison with the knife in hand until you disappear inside.

Once you’re gone, only then does he bury his face in his hands, wishing that he could take what he said all back.

—

Daryl walks into the prison, searching for your cloak to bring to you for the night watch. It was cold out, and he knew how reluctant you were to ever wear more than your long sleeve, saying some shit about how “it builds your immune system.”

He plans to apologize to you. Try his best to explain his feelings. Maybe you could just look into his eyes like you always do, and understand what is bothering him. Tell him what is bothering him, because, frankly, he doesn’t know himself.

He enters the empty cell, looking into your bag for your cloak. He does his best not to invade your privacy, but when he doesn’t find it, he empties the bag entirely.

Your personal gun and cloak is gone, which was unusual. A thread of fear begins to knit its way in his chest.

He stomps out of the cell, and into the main room of the prison where he spots Carol.

“Did you see Reader anywhere?” Daryl asks, more desperately than he would’ve liked.

Carol gives him an odd look and shakes her head.

“I assumed she was with you. Last time I saw her she came in here to grab her gun around this morning, thought you two were going on one of your hunting sprees.”

His heart drops. There was no way you took him seriously. You were a smart girl, you were cautious, made careful decisions— you wouldn’t do something as reckless as leave the prison without him.

His breathing becomes uneven— he’s panicking, he realizes.

He doesn’t say anything else, he just sprints out of the prison without a second thought.

He passes by Rick who shouts at him, but he can’t make out what he’s saying. He doesn’t try to. All his thoughts are revolving around whether or not you’re okay.

He runs the direction of the forest where he usually hunts, where he has taken you to for nearly two weeks now. Taught you. Trained you. And adored your attention and company the entire time he did it.

You would’ve gone there, that’s where you’re most familiar with.

And he’s right.

He slows down, a few metres from the entrance of the forest. A figure emerges from the forest, walking towards him, a hood covering the face. But he knows, he knows it’s you and not some walker.

A walker wouldn’t be holding three squirrels by the tail. His girl wouldn’t have left that forest without a meal in her hands.

He sees your eyes peek from under your hood, an exhausted smile on your face. You hold up the squirrels above your head for him to see. Your eyes shine the same way they do when you’re looking for that praise he gives you when you do well.

His heart hurts seeing your smile. Like you had to prove something to him, that you weren’t weak. That you were nothing like he said you were.

“You fuckin’ shitty woman.” He says with no venom in his tone. He jogs up to you and embraces you tightly, thankful for the darkness to hide the tears of relief collecting in his eyes.

You cry out when he does, startling him and backing away. You're reaching for your arm, the one you injured when he had first met you.

“I think I tore the stitches.” You grunt, stumbling a bit. Daryl holds you tight and stabilizes your footing. Your hood has fallen back, and only then can he see the blood smeared across your face.

“Shit, what were you thinkin’ He says, wiping the blood off your face with his thumb.

You shake your head, trying to dismiss his worry.

“Gotta get back before the walkers smell it, right? That’s what you said.” You chuckle.

He nods, remembering when he said that those weeks ago. He crouches down and picks you up effortlessly. You gasp at his strength but he quickly ruins the way you romanticize it by commenting on something stupid.

“Fuck yer heavy, girl.”

You don’t know what you were expecting, really.

He carries you back to the prison, ignoring the concerned glances of Rick and Carol. You wave them off with a smile, but you don’t think that’s what drove them away, because when you look up at Daryl’s face, he’s glaring at the both of them— silently saying “leave us alone.”

He enters his cell, shutting the curtain to give some sense of privacy, and gently rests you on the old, single chair in front of the equally as old desk. He kneels on one leg, taking the squirrels from your hand, and stripping you of your cloak.

He doesn’t think before he begins to unbutton your shirt, all his thoughts are directed to whether or not your hurt underneath your sleeve. But he stops when he feels you tense under his fingers.

Shit, what was he thinking?

“M’sorry, uh, I should prolly fetch Carol—“ He stammers over himself.

He tries to retract his hand, but you catch it and place it back onto your chest, just above your breasts. You’re looking down at him, your chest heaving. You look so tired. There’s blood staining your teeth, dirt above your brow. But, he would be lying to himself if he said that you didn’t look sexy looking down at him like that.

“I don’t want Carol.” You say, furrowing your brows at him.

He feels dirty. He shouldn’t be allowed to see you, to touch you so intimately.

“Daryl.” You say, sensing his hesitance. He looks up, realizing that he was staring at his hands instead of you.

“For fucks sake just take off my bloody shirt.”

His eyes flicker to your lips spreading to accommodate your smile. Your beautiful smile despite being sullied with blood. He swallows when he watches your tongue dart to your lips, licking the blood that had spilled from your torn lip.

He nods, pushing away the fear and returning his work on your shirt. He slips each button out of their hole and slides it off gently by your shoulders, careful not to disturb any other injuries you may have gotten.

He tries his best not to look at your black laced bra. Tries not to flicker his eyes down to your breasts protruding from them, avoiding the beauty marks scattered amongst your skin. Instead, he forces himself to look at your wound.

It wasn’t bleeding. He releases a deep breath, relieved that the stitches hadn’t been broken after so many days of healing. You must’ve hit it though, since there’s a bruise that begins forming under his touch.

“What did yer do? Stupid girl.” He says, gnawing on his lip. He doesn’t look at you in the eye, too ashamed of his stupid mistake. He peels your sleeve down more, and spots a few scrapes down your forearm. He wipes away the blood seeping out from them— it’s not a lot, but it’s hard for him to look at knowing it’s because of him.

He feels defeated. Tired. You must have seen it on his face because you comb your fingers through his hair, which startles him. You watch how his shoulders jump at the contact, but he eventually compels himself to relax.

“Did what you told me to do. I went into the forest too far, and got lost tracking a couple of squirrels. I fell when a walker popped out at me from nowhere, but I’m fine. Your tracking skills helped me get back— even if it took me this long.” You say.

Daryl shuts his eyes closed listening to you. He starts sinking down onto the floor, and he puts his head in your lap, hugging your hips with his arms. He breathes in your scent, masked by dirt and blood, but even then, it’s still so distinctively you.

He squeezes you tight, making sure he’s not dreaming. That you’re with him, that he’s in your lap. That your touch is real.

“M’ so sorry. M’ a fuckin’ idiot. I thought that— thought that if I were to’be an ass and keep away from yer, that I wouldn’t have these terrible thoughts.”

You’re quiet, silently playing with his hair. Twisting it in your fingers, and causing chills to slither down his neck. He sighs at your touch. He never knew how good it felt to be touched so simply.

“What were your thoughts?” You whisper. One hand slides down the back of his neck, feeling where his neck meets his back muscles. Subconsciously, his grip tightens around your hips, silently begging you not to pull away.

“I- I don’t, can’t—“ He curses at himself. He’s stuttering like some pussy, overwhelmed by all of you. Your touch. Your smell. Your voice. When did he become so soft? He wishes that you could read his mind, tell him what he’s feeling, why he’s feeling this way towards you.

“M’not good at, y’know, feelin’s n shit.” He decides, hoping that you can understand.

And you do. Of course you do.

“I’m listening, take your time.” You say. Your hand that was on his back trails up to his cheek. He’s resting one side of his head on your lap, so you see how his eyelashes flutter at the soft touch. He’s unaware that you can see his lips part in a sigh.

“I neva’ wanted to make yer think I took you into the prison jus’ cuz’ you were alone and, y’know, a young pretty lady. I never had other intentions other than helpin’ someone.” He begins, often tripping over himself to find the right words. But you don’t interrupt him, you just continue to comfort him with your soft touches.

“But m’not a kind person like you. I neva’ did things out of the kindness of m’heart. So, I began wonderin’ if I actually did have secret intentions, and it fucked m’up an I got angry at m’self.” He breathes in a shaky breath and swallows down his nerves. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ bout’ your touches, and how fuckin pretty you are. An’ I jus felt like a pervert. So I took m’ anger out on you, thinkin’ if I did, it’d stop all them stupid thoughts.”

You hum, long and deep. He can feel it vibrate his cheek, and he feels comfort knowing that you’re listening and not pushing him away in disgust.

“What if I said I have the same sort of thoughts about you?” You say.

You feel his shoulders tense and his fingers dig into your hips without knowing. He’s completely taken aback by what you said.

“Don’t say stupid shit. Yer’ jus a kid.” He scoffs, trying not to let your words get him too hopeful.

“I’m 22, Daryl. I may be half your age, but I’m still an adult.” You say as you smooth his hair away from his face.

He grimaces.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that.”

You slither your hand under his shirt, tracing circles over his shoulder blades.

“I don’t understand what you mean, Daryl.” You whisper his name in breathier tone which has him visibly gritting his teeth.

“Yer way younger than me…” He argues weakly, shuddering when you dance your fingertips from the middle of his shoulders, all the way up his neck. He can feel himself begin to strain against his jeans.

“Yet I’m still a consenting adult, aren’t I? Don’t patronize me with your shit.” You huff.

“With some redneck like me?” He scoffs in disbelief.

“Mmm.” You agree which makes him chuckle lowly.

“Besides…” You say, urging him to lift his head from your lap. He does, and he looks at you. He has a light dusting of blush on his cheeks which was rare to see. It makes your heart flutter.

You lift your legs over Daryl’s broad shoulders. One of your hands grip onto his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He’s speechless. Your thighs are soft and warm against his cheeks, and your ankles rest where your hands hand been— right between his shoulder blades. A warm sensation builds in his abdomen. He shuffles, feeling the tightness in his jeans continue to grow.

“You have some apologizing to do don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry. You couldn’t be serious, could you? With him? His eyes dart from your face, to your exposed chest, then between your spread legs. With hesitance, he bring his hand on top of your thigh that rests on his shoulder. He looks back up to you for guidance.

“What.. whatd’ya mean?” He licks his lips, causing you to smirk. He knew what you meant, he was just too afraid of being wrong.

“Figure it out.” You urge his head forward and squeeze your thighs around his head once.

He looks at you a second longer. Searching your eyes for anything saying that this isn’t what you actually wanted. But all he finds is an almost desperate look of hunger. He feels your fingers tighten around his hair impatiently, pushing him closer to your clothed cunt.

He swallows down his nerves, and runs his hands down your thighs until he reaches the hem of your pants. He takes a nervous glance up to see your reaction, and he’s pleased to see a blush paint your cheeks.

Hooking his thumbs on each side of your pants, he pulls them down slowly, revealing your underwear. He takes note of a damp spot on the fabric, feeling a bit more confident seeing your arousal seep through.

With a new boost of confidence, Daryl pulls your pants down to your knee, revealing your thighs and begins leaving gentle kisses between then. You feel the scratch of his facial hair and it makes you release a shuddering breath.

“Good.. that’s good.” You praise quietly, rewarding him by pushing his hair away from his face. You don’t know it, but Daryl’s heart flutters at your praise, and he continues kissing further until he reaches your clothed cunt.

He spreads your legs a bit more, allowing himself access to your core. He breathes in your scent, and it nearly makes him dizzy with arousal. It’s been too long.

With a final glance to your flushed face, he begins peeling away your panties.

With two fingers, he spreads your folds open, presenting all of yourself to him. You’re glistening and soaked to the touch. He mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath before diving in.

You throw your head back, your hand quickly shooting up to your mouth to smother your moan. You find purchase in his hair to stabilize yourself and hands help keep your hips from canting up into his mouth.

Your lower stomach is showered in a warm, bubbling sensation. Just the first lick he gives to your clit has your legs trembling and your breath stuttering. His facial hair is rough and drags between your thighs, adding a tingling sensation to the heat building inside you.

His tongue begins at your entrance, and licks all the way up to your clit, moaning at the taste. He craves more of you, and starts lapping at your clit, swirling his tongue around the bud before sucking it in entirely. The sensation has your back arching off the chair, forcing Daryl to hold you down as he continues eating you out.

“Oh! It’s so good. Feels so good.” You crumble under his touch, crying out from behind your hand.

Daryl moans again into your clit, sending vibrations up your body that make your legs close onto his head, squeezing him with the meat of your thighs.

Daryl takes your legs into his hands, not once leaving your cunt, and he stands, crouching over you. He holds your ankle of one leg down, and keeps another on his shoulder. You’re bent almost in half in the new position he manhandled you in, but the new position gives him a clear view of your entrance.

Letting go of your ankle, he lets your leg drop, his one hand still keeping your leg still on his shoulder. He rubs a finger around your entrance, listening to your breath hitch and shudder. He slips it in with ease, curling it up and rubbing in long strokes against your g-spot.

“Daryl…” You drop the hand that covered your mouth and put both hands on his forearm, unsure whether you were trying to pull it away or bring him closer.

Spurred on by the sound of his name falling from your lips, he slipped in a second finger. Obscene squelching sounds carried through the room each time his fingers pounded in and out of you.

You were so close, but you couldn’t let it end here.

You push his head away from your cunt. His face is dripping with your juices, his tongue laps up the remainder of it on his lips and he tries to dip back down between your legs, eager to taste more of you, but you stop him.

“Whas’ the matter?” He says, his voice raspy and deep. His expression flickered from lust-filled to concerned in a matter of seconds. “Did I—“

“I was close.” You manage to say despite trying to catch your breath.

He relaxes knowing it wasn’t anything that he did. He scoffs and tries again to delve back into the heat of your thighs but you stop him for the second time.

“C’mon, yer’ close, weren’t ya’?” He says, nipping at your inner thigh which makes you jump.

He looked so enticing. His cheeks flushed, eyes narrowed and hungry, his tongue darting out to taste the remainder of you on his lips. It was almost too much.

“I… I wanna do the same to you.” You say, now your turn to be shy.

You watch how he sucks in a breath and you feel the way his hand squeezes your thigh.

“You… you ain’t gotta.” He says as he drops your leg from his shoulder.

“I want to, please.” You insist. You reach around your back and unclasp your bra, letting it fall and reveal your breasts to him.

His eyes instantly dart down to your freed breasts.

He doesn’t say anything, just gives you a nod and backs away to sit on the bed with his legs widespread.

It’s your turn to kneel beneath him between his legs. You lift the hem of his shirt up, kissing the warm skin of his navel. He has a dark happy trail leading down his groin. You breathe in his musky scent there, and look up at him with wide eyes.

He takes the hem of his shirt and takes it off for you to have better access. His hands then return to the edge of the bed, fiddling with the covers nervously as his eyes rake over your body.

You do the same to his.

You knew he was strong. You always had an amazing view of his biceps whenever he would chop wood for the fire, or lift his crossbow to shoot a walker. But up close, seeing his upper body completely bare made you realize how strong he really was.

Daryl became a bit antsy, unsure where to look. Your stare made him feel strange. He wasn’t used to being watched so intensely.

“Stop starin’ girl.” He flicks your forehead, making you jump back.

You pout up at him, rubbing the spot he flicked to soothe the sting. You mumble a “prick” under your breath which makes him rumble a deep chuckle. It has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

You undo his jeans and yank his underwear down. His cock springs free and hits your cheek. The visual of his hard cock on your face has his cock pulsating on your cheek.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He can’t take his eyes off you. You look stunning under him like this, kneeling before him and worshiping his cock.

You take him into one hand and you bring the other down to his balls, rolling them in your palm as you lower your head and take the head of his uncut cock into your mouth. You’re fascinated by the way his jaw drops open, and how the muscles in his abdomen flex and flutter from pleasure.

You dip your tongue under his foreskin, massaging every part of him you can reach with your tongue. You then pull back and suckle the tip, holding eye contact with him as you do. The saltiness of his precum coats your tongue, and it has you humming, sending vibrations down the shaft of his cock.

“Shit,” Daryl moans, stooping over your head. He can’t seem to restrain himself. His hand drops down to your chest, fondling and massaging your breasts. His other hand rests at the back of your head, not daring to push you past your limits. You’re grateful for that and reward his actions by pushing him deeper into your mouth.

The muskiness of his sex has you seeing stars. It was all so arousing. His hands on you, his rough moans and heavy breathing, his quiet praise whenever you would suck him deeper into your tight heat.

You drop one hand from his balls and run it up his side, feeling the firm muscle twitch under your touch. You caress his sides, then over top of his abdomen that ripple with strong muscle. You reach his chest, and you feel his heartbeat pound fast against his rib cage.

“Shit, darlin’ m’close.” He warns, and threads his fingers into your hair, yanking you off of his cock.

You suck in a breath and lick off the mix of precum and saliva on your lips. You swallow, wiping your face on your shoulder and looking up at him expectantly.

“Dammit girl’ don’ look at me like that.” He hisses, helping you wipe off a smudge of spit on your cheek.

You smile up at him and crawl into his lap. You slither a hand around his shoulders and up to his neck, grabbing at the long strands of hair. Your breaths hover over each other’s lips, sharing the air between you.

Daryl looks conflicted. His eyes dart from your lips, then back to your gaze. He wants to kiss you, but he feels that may be too intimate.

“Do you want to kiss me, Daryl?” You ask, trailing a finger over his brow, noticing a small scar on his forehead. You trace it with your finger adoringly.

He’s too afraid to speak, knowing that his voice will most likely crack, or his pounding heart will make his words stutter. So he nods shyly instead.

You smile.

“Go ahead then.”

With hesitance, he cups your cheek in his big, calloused hand. You watches how you lean into it encouragingly.

He leans in and takes what he wants. He kisses you shyly at first, but then turns greedy once you kiss back. He slides an arm around your waist, pushing you impossibly closer to his body.

He tastes the faint remainder of your blood on your lips, a reminder of what hedid to you. It makes him angry, but he pushes down the feeling by kissing your harder, shoving his tongue into your mouth.

You moan into his mouth which he swallows. Without breaking the kiss, he lays you down onto his bed— the one you’ve stolen from him, and hovers above your body, caging you with his frame.

Your nails scrap down his back which earns a low growl from the back of his throat. He breaks the kiss to take in your naked body beneath him.

He can’t believe that you’re real. That you’re beneath him, squirming and impatient for him. Body flushed and shining with a thin slayer of perspiration. Soft moans escaping from your swollen lips, and a desperate look in your eye.

And it’s all for him.

“Daryl..” You moan his name, running your fingers through his hair.

“Mm?” He replies, returning his attention back to your face.

“I want you inside me.”

He believed that his cock couldn’t get harder, but he was wrong. He could’ve came from those words alone.

“Ya?” He says a bit hesitant. He needed to make sure this was what you wanted.

“Please Daryl!” You plead, wrapping your legs around his hips and pushing him closer to your core.

He nods, pleased with how desperate you are for his cock. He places a forearm beside your head, resting his weight. He takes the other hand and lines himself up to your entrance.

“Ready, darlin?” He asks, kissing your temple. You never imagined Daryl to be an intimate person, but you adored it. The innocent kiss had your stomach fluttering.

“Please,” You moan, canting your hips forward to try and slip his cock inside. Daryl chuckles and holds your hips in place with one hand, forcing you to be still.

Slowly, he sinks inside you. His cock being enveloped by your soft warm walls, hugging him tight like a vice. You both moan in sync, shuddering as he continues to fill you up until his balls rest at your bottom.

“Shit, darlin. You feel s’good.” He says with his face between the crook of your neck, the vibration of his deep voice tickling your skin. He lets you adjust to his girth, patiently running gentle circles along your sides.

He feels you flutter around his cock adjusting to him. He runs a hand from your side, up to your face, cradling your cheek and coaxing you to look at him.

“Does it hurt?” He asks. He wasn’t certain whether you were a virgin or if it had been a long time since you’ve had sex. He wants to make sure you feel as good as he does.

“Just a lil, just give me a sec.” You reply, pecking him on the lips. He nods and kisses you, distracting you from the pain by licking into your mouth. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and rolls it, making you squirm and gasp under him.

You both kiss until you run out of breath, and when you break apart you nod, allowing him to move.

He hugs you into his broad chest, burying his face into the top of you head and breathing in your scent as he pulls his hips back, and sheathes himself back inside you slowly, helping you get accustomed to him.

“Faster,” You moan, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You can feel his back muscles ripple under your fingertips and the raised skin from old scars.

“Greedy girl,” He whispers in your ear, smirking. But he obeys your command and snaps his hips faster into your pussy.

You bury your face into Daryl’s shoulder, muffling your moans and sobs of pleasure. He angles his hips just right, pounding that spot deep inside you that makes you see stars. Your nails drag down his back, earning a loud growl in your ear. He goes faster, spurred on by the sharp pain.

Your pussy made obscene wet noises with each snap of his hips. He felt your wetness coat his cock and drench his balls. He looked down at where you both were connected, and the visual of his cock disappearing into your pussy made him curse.

He switched the rhythm but kept the same speed. With each thrust inside your cunt, he would grind his groin on your clit.

You released a particular loud cry into his shoulder as he did this. His pubic hair accompanied by the powerful grind on your cunt had you reaching your climax quick. It was euphoric the way he played your body.

“That’s it girl.” Daryl praises, slapping the side of your thigh just to watch the fat jiggle. He felt your walls tighten at the action, and it had him smiling deviously into your neck.

“Yer’ just a slut fer my cock, aren’t ya? Humping me like some horny bitch in heat.” He says with a sadistic chuckle. You were shocked by his dirty words, but it had you melting in his arms.

“Yes! Yes Daryl!” You reply. The euphoric feeling with each slam of his cock has your mind shut off completely. You went limp, accepting him to use your body in anyway he wanted.

“Dumb slut, yer’ just drunk on my cock.” He says, slapping your thigh for a second time. “With your fucked out brains you’d do anythin’ wouldn’t ya, slut?”

You moan loud into his shoulder, rapidly nearing your orgasm. You can feel the tightness in your stomach about to snap.

“Yes! Anything! Anything for you!” You chant.

Daryl’s hips begin to stutter and he lets out a shaky moan.

“Then come on ma’ cock.”

That’s all it took. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as your body goes taut. A rush of pure euphoria clouds your mind. Daryl watches your face contort and feels your walls go impossibly tighter around his cock.

He continues thrusting, holding off his orgasm to ride out yours. He waits until your body goes limp in his arms before letting go.

With a drawn out groan, he indulges in your warm heat before pulling out and spilling his hot seed onto your stomach. His balls clench, and long stripes of white coat your abdomen and breasts. He strokes himself until his body shakes, and his orgasm fades into a dull pleasurable pulse.

He takes a look at your fucked out expression and gives you a lazy smirk. He lays beside you, hugging you into his chest— not minding his seed smearing on his stomach.

You’re both quiet for a few moments, listening to each other’s heartbeats and satisfied breaths.

“Holy fuck that was hot.” You’re first to break the silence.

Daryl snorts and smacks your ass, loving the way it jiggles from impact.

“Tell me bout’ it.” He says.

You look up at him, forcing him to open his tired eyes.

Despite all that you’ve done together, his heart seems to flutter most at the way you smile up at him. He’s about to ask you what you’re looking at him for, but before he can, your lips are already on his, kissing him short and sweet.

“You’re forgiven.” You say with a devilish smile.

He scoffs. “Yer’ a lil’ shit.” He says, and pushes your face into his chest. He rests his chin on your head and closes his eyes, ready to sleep.

Your arms wrap around him and you breathe in his smell noisily while tangling your legs around his torso.

“Jeez, woman. Go to sleep.” He huffs, a smile tugging on his lips.

“Mmmhmm.” You reply, snuggling into his chest, nearing the edge of falling asleep. “Goodnight.”

He rolls his eyes but still, he kisses your head.

“G’night darlin.”

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