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punkshort · 8 months

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somewhere to run | 7. break the chain

Pairing: sheriff!Joel x f!reader

Chapter Summary: You take the next step in your relationship with Joel. (Smut. It's just all smut. All of it.)

Chapter Warnings: language, smut (18+ MDNI), Joel being a consent king, unprotected piv sex, fingering, dirty talk, hair pulling, oral sex (f receiving), reader is a little bit sexually inexperienced, brief thoughts of SA but absolutely nothing descriptive, talking about injuries (bruising), oh yeah and infidelity duh

WC: 7.3K

Series Masterlist

There were a lot of things that went through your head when you woke up that morning. Primarily, your thoughts centered around giving your statement and dread you felt about Joel possibly treating you differently once he heard the truth. And you were partially right. He did end up treating you differently, but not at all in the way you expected.

No, you certainly didn't expect your evening to end up with Joel's body pressing yours into your couch, his lips alternating between peppering chaste kisses along your jaw to his tongue probing desperately into your mouth while your fingers gripped his tie and the stiff fabric of his dress shirt, holding him as close as possible because you were terrified he might stop.

You knew you were technically being unfaithful, but was it really cheating if your husband treated you like a prisoner? If you never had any means of escape from a marriage you felt manipulated into? Besides, Joel knew everything now and he still chose to stay. Nobody's ever stood by you or tried to help you the way he had. Whatever ended up happening that night, you knew it wasn't going to be meaningless. You trusted him, you knew that much, and for once in your life you finally felt like maybe, just maybe, you could free yourself from Patrick and live the life you deserved.

His hand cupped your cheek, fingertips digging into the back of your neck while he held all his weight on his other forearm, hovering above you and trying to keep his hips from rubbing against your center but his body was desperate for friction, and he knew he couldn't hold himself back much longer. After everything he heard you say, every horrible memory you were forced to bring up and relive, he wanted nothing more than to help take it all away. He wanted to cleanse your mind of those memories, of the life you felt forced to suffer through, and prove to you right then and there that love shouldn't hurt. Had you ever even really felt love before? Truly? Probably not.

Joel's hand left your face and drifted down to your shoulder, then gingerly grazed your ribs, his tongue still dancing with yours, trying to pull out that sweet sound you gifted him with only once before at the carnival. A sound that haunted his dreams, a sound he replayed over and over in his mind late at night when he tried to sleep but was too consumed with thoughts of you.

His fingers dipped lower and nervously fidgeted with the belt of your robe. He was suddenly unsure, now that he was aware of your past, what you would be comfortable with. He pulled back and looked down at you, watching as your chest heaved beneath him. Your perfect, swollen lips were parted and your eyes were dark with lust as you gazed up at him.

"Maybe we should slow down," he said, selfishly regretting the offer the moment it left his lips, but the last thing he wanted to do was pressure you. Thankfully, you shook your head and tugged gently on his tie, urging him back down, but once again his conscience got the best of him and he hesitated.

You furrowed your brow, trying to figure out what the problem was when it occurred to you, a thought that quickly snapped you out of your trance in shame. Scooting yourself back so you could prop yourself up on your elbows, you took a deep breath before speaking.

"Right. Nikki."

His eyes widened and he immediately shook his head.

"No, that's over," he told you, and you inwardly sighed with relief. "But what you said at the station earlier, I just thought..." he trailed off, a part of him not wanting to ruin the moment but the other part of him trying to be respectful. It was clearly not something you were used to. You were used to a man who just took what he wanted from you over and over and Joel absolutely refused to be like that, no matter how badly he ached for you.

"Were you telling me the truth before?" you asked, seemingly ignoring what he just said. He frowned, not following. "You told me you would make me forget about every man who's ever had me."

His breath caught in his throat as he remembered that night at the carnival when he walked you back to your car. He had no idea his words would have such an impact. At the time, it was just something he said in the heat of the moment, but hearing those words echoed back to him, after everything he now knew, he took it as a challenge. All you seemed to know was pain and hurt, but if you let him, he would show you how good it could really be.

"Yes," he said, his eyes boring into yours and watching as a flicker of excitement passed over your perfect features and suddenly all he could think about was taking your pain away.

"Then make me forget."

His mouth crashed down on yours again and finally, finally, he heard that little moan. The one that he couldn't get out of his head. The one that drove him crazy ever since he heard it. The one he daydreamed about every time he looked at you. He growled against your mouth as his arms wrapped around your middle, scooping you upright and making you grip his shoulders for dear life as he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist while he blindly walked towards your bedroom. You giggled against his mouth when his shoulder knocked into the doorframe and he cursed under his breath. He opened his eyes for just a moment so he could get the layout of the room and put you down safely on the bed.

His lips traveled down your neck while he nimbly undid your robe, his hands sliding underneath the thin fabric, fingers dancing over your delicate skin. He felt you stiffen under him when he touched your side and once again, he pulled back to look. Any other day, his eyes would have locked onto your exposed breasts, but not today. Today, he was focused entirely on the enormous bruise still struggling to heal over your ribs and he had to actively suppress his reaction, but you could still see it. His nostrils flared and he clenched his jaw as he continued to examine the deep blues and purples that littered your beautiful skin.

"I'm fine," you told him quickly, your breath coming in quick gasps as you tried to pull his attention back. "Promise, I'm fine."

His eyes found yours for a brief moment before he looked back at the bruise, then leaned forward to plant a tender kiss against it. He heard you sigh, your hands finding his hair, and he kissed your ribs again, forcing himself to shift gears. You didn't want his pity. Not right now.

"You were naked under this thing the whole time you were talkin' to me?" he murmured, his lips traveling across your stomach, leaving soft licks in its wake.

"I told you I was in the shower," you replied teasingly, grateful that he moved past the bruise as his mouth found the underside of your breast. He pulled your nipple into his mouth and you arched your back with a gasp, his tongue flicking over the stiffened peak.

"Joel?" you whispered, and he hummed in response, still lavishing your chest with attention. "Take off your clothes."

You felt the prickle of his facial hair against your overly sensitive skin when his lips turned up into a smile. He pushed himself up, kneeling between your legs as he stared down at you watching him tug slowly on his tie, unknotting it before tossing it on the floor behind him. His eyes were still glued to yours, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smirk as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. You watched, lips parted, your eyes greedily drifting down his chest as his thick fingers undid each button with precision until he finally got to the bottom, tugging the shirt out of his slacks and shrugging it off.

Your hands came up to work on his belt while he lifted his white T-shirt off over his head. His hands dropped to his sides as he tilted his hips forward more, giving you better access until you yanked the leather from his waist aggressively, making him chuckle. You were about to start working on his pants when you noticed the deep purple bruise marking the right side of his chest and you gasped, sitting up to reach out to him.

"Oh my god," you whispered, your eyes filled with worry.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," he told you quickly, but he could see the pain behind your eyes when you looked at him.

"I'm so sorry," you told him, your lower lip beginning to tremble.

"Don't be sorry," he said, his hands coming up to cup your face. "None of this is your fault."

"I made him come here," you said, tears welling up in your eyes. "I moved here and ruined everything!"

"No, stop," he said, shaking his head and pressing a gentle kiss against your lips. "You movin' here's the best thing that ever happened to me, okay?"

You sniffled and looked up at him, his thumb drying your tears as quickly as they fell.

"It's okay," he whispered, giving you another soft kiss. You sighed, leaning into his touch like a lifeline. Like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. "You're okay," he added in-between kisses, and you decided to believe him. You let him ease you back onto the mattress, his warm skin pressing against your chest while your hands dipped between your bodies, fingers fumbling with the button on his pants. He lifted his hips up ever so slightly, just enough to give you room to maneuver his zipper and tug on his waistband, but not too much because he couldn't fathom not feeling your body against his for even one unnecessary second.

When you finally managed to pull his pants down, he kicked his legs out behind him, flicking the restricting material onto the floor to join the rest of his clothes. His mouth traveled down your chin, along your jaw and taking a small break behind your ear before he continued down your throat, his teeth grazing gently against the delicate skin as you began to writhe underneath him.

"Are you sure you wanna do this?" he asked, his lips sucking on your collarbone. He realized how ridiculous it seemed to ask that now that you were already both naked, but he felt the need to give you another chance to back out. He couldn't get your words out of his head and he needed to make sure you wanted this just as badly as he did.

"Yes," you moaned, tipping your head back, your eyes sliding shut. "Yes, please Joel, please, please - oh!"

You gasped when you felt his thick fingers trace along your folds, collecting the wetness there before his fingertip teased at your entrance, trying to learn your body's cues so he could give you exactly what you needed. Your hips jutted upwards, encouraging him to continue and he smirked against your skin as he sunk one finger inside. Your grip on his shoulders tightened as you let out a low moan, the sound sending even more blood directly between his legs and he was beginning to question if he was going to make it.

"Fuck, baby," he murmured, withdrawing his finger quickly and making you whine. "I know, I know," he cooed, his breathing becoming shallow as he repositioned himself between your legs. "I just- I can't- shit, I need you so bad," he told you as he notched himself against your opening. You eagerly spread your legs wider, looking up at him with heavy lidded eyes, your chest and neck all pink from his facial hair. He watched how the rush of blood underneath your soft skin he caused helped to hide the bruises and scrapes someone else left. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Like he was watching the start of him erasing all those horrible memories.

"You tell me if you don't like somethin', or if it's too much, or if it hurts-"

"Okay," you said, cutting him off and nodding enthusiastically.

"Okay," he repeated, his voice a little shaky as he locked eyes with you for one more brief moment before pressing forward. You both groaned, jaws hanging open as your bodies welcomed each other so perfectly. He inched in slowly, trying to memorize every single second until he bottomed out, one hand gripping your hip and the other clenched into a fist next to your head, holding himself up so he could watch your face for any sign of discomfort. When it became clear there was none, he let himself drop down onto his forearm so he could slot his mouth back over yours. You moaned sweetly into the kiss, your fingers coming up to grip his curls and he felt goosebumps travel down his arms. Fuck, he really liked it when you tugged a little on his hair.

You lifted your hips a bit, rocking them, trying to get him to move, but he tightened his grip and pushed your hips back down.

"Not yet," he gasped, letting his forehead rest against yours as he tried to collect himself. "Just... just gimme a second."

"Is everything okay?" you asked after another moment, and he let out a soft laugh.

"Yeah, I'm just afraid this'll end too soon. Gotta make you feel good first," he explained sheepishly, planting a small kiss on the tip of your nose.

"About that," you said, dropping your hands from his hair. "I can't... no one's ever... y'know," you trailed off, feeling your cheeks flare. He frowned as he pieced together what you were trying to say.

"You've never had an orgasm?"

"Well, on my own, yes. But not with someone else," you said hurriedly, shame and embarrassment coursing through your veins as you watched his face fill with disappointment.

"It doesn't mean I don't enjoy it, you just don't need to-"

"Make you come?" he finished for you, raising his eyebrows in disbelief.

"Uh huh," you squeaked, hoping you weren't as red as you felt. He tsked and shook his head.

"Oh baby, you poor thing," he mumbled, leaning down to give you another sweet kiss before reaching to the side to grab a pillow. "Lift up."

Confused, you did as you were told, lifting your hips up so he could wedge the pillow underneath you.

"Comfortable?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Don't worry, I got this. I got you," he said, giving his hips an experimental roll and watching your face for your reaction. You sucked in a deep breath and your eyes fluttered closed. Good start.

He gave it to you nice and slow, dragging himself in and out, building you up little by little and paying close attention to your body language. If it was possible to hate Patrick even more, he did. You had said your relationship together wasn't always bad, but as he suspected, your definition of good was not at all what it should be. And Joel was eager to prove that to you.

"So beautiful. D'you know how beautiful you are?" he murmured, picking up the pace just a bit, his tongue flicking over your nipple each time he sunk back inside you. You gasped, the sensation unraveling something in you. "D'you know how crazy I am 'bout you? Think 'bout you all the time," he switched his attention to your other breast, his thrusts remaining steady as he waited for your body to tell him what it needed.

"Me, too," you whispered, your hands coming back up to get tangled in his hair, making him groan.

"Talk to me, I wanna make you feel good," he said, lifting his head off your chest to look at you. "Tell me what you like."

"It's good," you assured him, your eyebrows furrowed in concentration, little gasps leaving your mouth each time he pushed back into you.

"Nah, not good enough," he determined, propping himself up on both forearms now so he could change the angle. His fingers suddenly reached down to grip your knee, pulling it up to your chest before falling back on his forearms. You gasped, eyes flying open as he circled his hips and he smirked. Got it.

"Ohmygod!" you cried out, pulling on his hair and making him moan. "Right there, Joel, don't stop-"

You had no idea how he managed to actually do it, but he did. He reached a spot deep inside that you didn't know even existed and it wasn't long until you felt yourself falling, his name tumbling from your lips over and over and you had a faint idea of how loud you were being but you didn't care. Nobody, including yourself, has ever made you feel that good and it was making you dizzy, your brain foggy as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

"Fuck, what I tell you? So good, you did so good," he mumbled, his lips frantically finding yours as he chased his own high. "I'd give you one more but it's a miracle I lasted this long," he panted, his head falling to your shoulder as you still struggled to come back to earth underneath him. Your fingers in his hair loosened and he grunted, one of his hands coming up to make sure you kept your hands there and you quickly figured out what he wanted. Making sure to grasp a good handful, you gave his hair one firm tug.

"Oh shit!" he groaned, pulling out of you just in time to come all over your inner thighs. "Shit, shit, shit," he muttered, his hips weakly thrusting forward until he was spent, collapsing in a heap on top of you.

"Sorry," he mumbled into the crook of your neck and you giggled. "I might've ruined your sheets," he added with a chuckle, and you laughed even harder.

"It's okay," you said, burying your nose in his messy curls. "I'm on birth control, you could've..."

"Didn't exactly have enough time to ask first if that was okay," he said, smiling against your neck. What a concept, you thought. Being asked first.

"Do you, um," you began, not sure why you felt so nervous around him still. "Do you like getting your hair pulled?"

Joel laughed softly and finally rolled off to the side, allowing you to take deep breaths again now that his weight wasn't crushing you.

"I think I only like it when you do it," he said, grinning while the tips of his ears started to turn red. You hummed and rolled to your side so you could face him.

"I'll keep that in mind for next time," you replied with a wink.

He rolled onto his side as well, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"I like the sound of a 'next time'," he said, making you blush before planting a quick kiss on your forehead and standing up with a grunt. You watched as he left your room, still completely naked, the sight making you grin and bite your lip. He returned just a minute later with a wet washcloth and you watched as he gently cleaned you up before attempting to spot clean your sheets, then giving up and flopping back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

It felt so warm, so safe, so peaceful that you never wanted to leave. His big hands gently rubbed your arm, his touch so soft and soothing that you almost felt like you could fall asleep. You closed your eyes and pressed your ear against his chest, listening to the rhythmic thud, thud, thud of his heart. Every strong beat a reminder that he was real, that he cared, that he was going to help you. Even if your relationship never got to this point, you knew he would still help you get out of this mess you were in, because he was a good man. You just wish it didn't take so long to find him.

You glanced at your digital clock and tried to hide your disappointment when you saw it was nearly 6pm.

"You'll have to get going soon," you reminded him, your fingers running lightly over his bare chest. "Sarah's probably waiting for you."

He hummed and picked up his phone, checking his calendar quickly before dialing a number. You could hear the ringing on the other end and a tinny voice answer.

"Hey Tommy. Can you or Maria pick up Sarah and keep her overnight? Yeah, I'm workin' a late one, not sure when I'll get home."

Joel listened to his brother's answer for a moment before nodding his head.

"That's no problem, I'll call and tell her you'll be there in an hour. Thanks, I owe you one." He pulled the phone back and you tried to stifle your smile as he went to dial Sarah.

"You don't have to-"

"Shh," he said, then "hey babygirl, I'm sorry but I'm gonna be late tonight. Uncle Tommy'll come by to get you in an hour and you can stay at his house... yeah, I'm sure if you wanted to do your homework at the diner, he won't care. You all good? How was your day?"

You nestled into his shoulder as you listened to him talk to his daughter, asking her questions about school and her extra curricular activities before he finished up the call, telling her he loved her as he hung up.

"You didn't have to do all that."

"Yeah, but I wanted to," he said, kissing the top of your head. You sighed and leaned back into his chest, then froze when you heard his stomach.

"You didn't eat, did you?" you asked with a smirk, and you felt his chest bounce lightly up and down as he stifled a laugh. "Can I make you something? Do you like pasta?" you asked him, sitting up in bed but he reached out and grabbed your shoulders, pulling you back into him.

"Yeah, but I don't want you leavin' just yet," he mumbled, his voice rumbling in his chest and echoing through your ear. You couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was, and you kicked yourself for not telling him everything sooner.

"The noodles are already cooked, it won't take long," you said, sitting back up again after a minute, and this time, he let you, but only after he insisted on helping. Or at least, he thought he was helping by leaning against the counter and circling his arms around your waist while you stirred the sauce.

"If I burn this, it's your fault," you teased, tipping your head back against his shoulder as his lips made their way down your neck.

"Mm, worth it," he mumbled.

You watched him eat from across your small kitchen table with a goofy look on your face. It was still hard to believe the past couple hours really happened, and having him sitting in your tiny apartment eating leftover pasta in his boxers was just making it seem even more surreal.

"What're you lookin' at me like that for?" he asked, his mouth turning up into a smirk as he swallowed the last of his food.

"Can't I just look at you?"

"You got somethin' goin' on up there," he said, tapping the side of his head and leaning back in his chair.

"I was just thinking how the book club ladies were right about you."

He frowned and gave you a confused look.

"All the women in this town are crazy about you, you know that, right?"

He shrugged a little but you saw his cheeks begin to color.

"You're the only one I want crazy 'bout me," he replied, making your heart flutter.

"Mission accomplished," you said, and he chuckled before standing up to wash his plate in your sink, and you watched, still in utter disbelief he was standing there barely dressed in your kitchen.

"I can feel you still lookin' at me," he said, his back to you, and you laughed.

"I'm just having a hard time believing this isn't a dream," you said, coming over to lean against the doorway.

He turned around, drying his hands on a towel before looking you up and down.

"Want me to prove it?" he asked lowly as he took a few short steps towards you. He bent down slightly so he could run his hands up the backs of your legs, disappearing beneath your robe to grab onto your ass. You could feel your knees weakening already, his touch continuing to be your downfall.

"Yes," you whispered, tipping your head so you could find his throat, your tongue leaving wet marks after every little bite to his tanned skin while his hands kept roaming over your body. He quickly became fed up with your robe and before you knew it, it was piled in a heap next to your fridge.

He dropped to his knees, leaving your head spinning at the sudden loss, and when he lifted one of your legs up to rest over his shoulder, you gasped. Even though you knew the answer, you asked him anyway.

"W-what are you doing?"

His eyes found yours and he paused, looking up at you from between your legs, his eyes hot with desire and his curls a floppy mess on his head.

"Is this okay?" he asked, and you swallowed nervously.

"I d-don't... I've never had -" you cut yourself off as your cheeks once again flushed with embarrassment.

"You're kiddin' me, right?" he asked, his expression unreadable. "No one's ever licked this perfect pussy before?"

"Jesus Christ, Joel!" you laughed, taken aback by his blunt words. Never in your life had you ever expected to hear this kind of talk come out of his mouth.

He chuckled and nosed at your folds, making you gasp.

"You ain't heard nothin' yet," he muttered before flicking his tongue out and licking a broad stripe up your center. Your hands flew out to grip the counter behind you, your mouth hanging open, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone sentence.

"Oh, my god," you finally managed to whisper, your head tilting forward and your eyes sliding shut as he buried his face between your legs, his facial hair rubbing against your overly sensitive skin, making it difficult to remember how to breathe.

His fingers gripped your thigh, keeping you in place as he lapped at your arousal, moaning to himself at the taste. Earlier, he felt so angry no one had been able to make you come before, but now he found something incredibly arousing about being able to do these things for you for the very first time. He felt himself throb as he listened to your perfect little moans, garbled versions of his name and curses driving him wild. When your legs began to shake, he hooked your other one over his shoulder, holding you up as you leaned back onto your forearms, trying to take some of the weight off him.

You looked down just as he slid one finger inside your aching heat, hooking it and brushing against that same spot as before while his lips wrapped around your clit, the combination of the two sending you head first into a dizzying orgasm. He felt your arms slack and he quickly reached up with his free hand to make sure you didn't fall, all the while his mouth and finger rode out your climax, slowing down only when your body warned him to. He could feel it when your stomach muscles began to jump and your legs twitched over his shoulders, so he finally pulled away with a satisfied smirk, leaving a trail of wet kisses along your inner thighs as you tried to catch your breath.

"God, you're really good at that," you finally managed to say.

He grinned and carefully set you back on your feet before standing back up with a groan.

"Can't believe no one could ever made you come before," he murmured into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you.

"Maybe you just got lucky," you teased, and he chuckled for a moment before scooping you up, making you squeal in surprise.

"Don't give me a challenge and expect me not to follow through," he said as he walked you over to your tiny kitchen table and laid you down. Your heart raced as you watched him fling his shirt over his head and you did your best to ignore the ugly bruise this time, just as he had been doing to yours. He pushed his boxers down to his knees, not even bothering to remove them as he gripped his erection in his fist, sliding the tip slowly through the remains of your release and watching you flinch when he nudged against your sensitive clit.

His eyes found yours and he waited, wanting to hear you say it, needing to hear you say it.

"Yes," you whispered with a nod. "I need you, Joel. Please make me come again."

He wasted no time sinking back inside you, a groan of relief slipping past his lips as he looked down and watched you stretch so perfectly around him.

"You got any idea how many times I've imagined you sayin' somethin' like that to me?" he said through gritted teeth, watching as your breasts bounced lightly underneath him from the force of his thrusts. "How many times I came all over my own hand thinkin' 'bout you? God, you feel so fuckin' good, better than I ever imagined."

Somewhere in the back of your head, you knew you should feel embarrassed listening to his confession, but at the moment you couldn't bring yourself to care. In fact, it only served to spur you on, your slick coating him more and more every time he pulled out. You hooked your ankles around his back and your fingers gripped the backs of his hands, which were holding your hips in place as he fucked into you, stopping you from sliding up the table.

"Kiss me," you mumbled, and without a second thought he lifted you up so you were sitting on the edge of the table, his hips still rocking into you as his mouth crashed over yours. One arm around your middle, the other around your shoulders, holding you tightly against him as his tongue probed inside your mouth, licking past your teeth, pouring every ounce of affection he had for you into the kiss.

He dropped one hand to your waist, tilting your hips and making you gasp, your legs nearly losing their grip around him. You could hear the legs of the table squeaking against the floor and had you not been so far gone, you might have wondered if it could be heard in the pizza place downstairs.

"Fuck it," he growled, picking you up, growing frustrated with the table and turned around to pin you against the wall instead.

You cried out his name, the new position making you see stars.

"Think you can come again for me?" he whispered in your ear, his hot breath on your neck sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes," you whined, tipping your head back against the wall, surrendering over your body. Trusting him, needing him to give you something you've never had before. Something beyond the physical. Something meaningful. Something good.

Your fingers dug into his shoulders, looking for something to ground you as the wave of euphoria crashed over you. You buried your face against his neck, practically sobbing his name as he continued to fuck you through it. Your legs began to weaken but you did your best to hold on.

"Oh fuck, I'm gonna come," he groaned, pulling back just a bit, just enough to look down and watch as he disappeared inside your wet heat over and over, the visual sending him over the edge.

"Come inside me," you mumbled, still in a daze. You heard him moan and then whimper, the force of his orgasm taking every last bit of strength and willpower he had. His hips bucked forward, determined to give you every drop of his spend until he finally slowed and collapsed against you.

"Can you stand?" he asked, his mouth against your shoulder as an aftershock ran down his spine.

"Yeah," you said weakly, forcing your eyes open as he slid out of you and gently placed your feet back on the floor. You stood, squeezing your legs together as he pulled his boxers back up and scooped your robe off the floor, draping it back around your shoulders.

"You look tired," he said softly, hooking a finger under your chin, tilting it up so you would look at him.

"I've had a big day," you said with a lazy smile.

The two of you spent the rest of the evening on the couch, trying to watch TV but you were so content and relaxed, you once again found yourself falling asleep against him, his fingers stroking small circles over your back as you drifted off.

You woke up with a start early the next morning, the day before seeming like a fever dream until you felt Joel's arms wrapped around you. At some point he must have carried you to bed because that is where you currently found yourself, his warm body pressed up against yours underneath your sheets. You inhaled deeply, your whole bed smelling just like him. A familiar, comforting smell that made your muscles relax as you melted back into his hold. You couldn't see the time, but you knew it was way too early, so you tried to fall back asleep, however, your body was already responding to being so close to him, and you were finding it difficult to think about anything else.

You shifted restlessly next to him, trying your hardest to ignore the ache between your legs: one that was a mixture of soreness from the night before, and a new, growing need. You never really thought of yourself as a very sexual person. Even when you first met Patrick, you couldn't recall ever feeling like this. Some foolish part of you wondered if it was something else that was the driving force behind your neediness, but you quickly dismissed that idea. It had to be the way he could read your body like a book, maneuver you and touch you exactly the right way at exactly the right time that caused you to crave him this badly because you weren't sure what you would do if it was the alternative. You didn't want to even think about that yet because you knew neither of you could do anything about it until you figured out how to deal with Patrick, and although Joel made promises to help, you knew not to get your hopes up too high.

"You always move around this much?" he teased, his voice a deep, low rumble in his chest, making the ache for him grow even stronger.

Rolling over in his arms, you turned to face him, his eyes still shut but the corner of his mouth turned up into a smirk. He looked so perfect in the morning, it almost wasn't fair. His tousled curls and his voice sounding more like a growl than anything else made up your mind, not that you needed much more convincing.

Deciding to ignore his question, you leaned forward to press wet kisses against his bare chest, slowly making your way across and pausing when you got to his bruise. You made sure to be gentle as you peppered the area with kisses, because even though he said it didn't hurt, you knew better.

"Mm, I could get used to this," he sighed, eyes still closed as he pulled you even closer. He was so warm and he smelled so good and you felt so safe. If you had it your way, you wouldn't leave that bed for the rest of the day.

You continued to trail little bites and licks up his neck, his pebbled skin salty against your tongue while your hand slipped down between your bodies and behind his waistband to wrap your fingers around his already hardening length. He let out a small gasp and his eyes finally opened, looking down at you heatedly as you slowly stroked him up and down.

"Again?" he asked in disbelief, but he was already rolling you over so he could position himself on top of you, his hand sliding down your side to untie the robe you never ended up changing out of the night before. He pulled his head back a bit so he could flick your robe open, your lips losing contact with his skin but your hand still slowly working him underneath his boxers.

"Need you," you mumbled, your eyelids heavy with sleep and lust.

"Yeah?" he asked, fully awake now as his fingers toyed with your nipple, rolling it between his fingers, making you whine. "Tell me, baby. Tell me what you need."

"Need you to fuck me," you replied, no longer feeling any shame or embarrassment. He growled and grabbed your wrist, pulling you off of his cock and gently pressing your arm into the mattress so he could yank his boxers down with his other hand. As he was about to notch himself at your opening, you stopped him.

"Can I be on top?"

He glanced up at you and a huge grin spread across his face.

"Fuck yes, you can," he said, quickly rolling onto his back and pulling you with him so you straddled his hips.

"I never got to do it this way before," you told him, lifting your hips so you could position him under you. He was about to reply but you began to slowly sink down, making his jaw drop, words failing him.

"Wha- fuck," he groaned, his teeth clenched and neck strained when you found yourself fully seated on him, and you let out a sigh of relief. "Whatever you want, it's yours," he finally said, sliding his eyes shut as you began to roll your hips slowly, his hands on your waist gently guiding you.

You planted your hands firmly on his chest, careful to avoid the bruise as you furrowed your brow and picked up your pace, alternating between rolling and grinding on top of him. His thick length reached depths you didn't know existed, and soft, little grunts slipped past your lips each time your skin slapped together.

"God, you're good at that," he mumbled, echoing your earlier words back. His eyes remained closed but his breath was becoming shallower the faster your hips moved.

"You think?" you asked him, suddenly feeling shy. His eyes popped open to find yours and he nodded.

"Oh, yeah. Fuck, so good," he snarled, his gaze dropping down you watch you bounce on him, something he thought he would never actually get to experience but fantasized about more times than he could count.

"I think it's -" you cut yourself off with a gasp when you found a particularly good angle, your eyes squeezing shut, desperately trying to focus. "Think it's all you," you finally managed to get out.

"Hell no," he said with a shake of his head, but your eyes were still closed. "Look at me, baby."

You forced your eyes open, pupils blown wide with desire, lips swollen and parted as you continued to ride him.

"It's you. You're fuckin' amazing, and I'm so sorry no one's told you that before."

Your hips faltered at the unexpectedly sweet sentiment, but his hands urged you to continue, so you did.

You leaned forward, putting more pressure on his chest as you bounced up and down. Joel watched, his gaze transfixed on your face as you chased your high, using him to give yourself what you wanted.

"That's right, take it," he said encouragingly, helping you move up and down a little faster, your mouth forming a small circle the closer and closer you got to your orgasm. "Fuckin' take it, take what you need." And give me your pain. I'll take it all.

"Oh fuck, Joel," you whined, tipping your head back as you felt the heat pooling low in your belly. "Fuck, I think I'm gonna come," you added, your breath coming in sharp gasps as your legs began to grow weak from the effort.

"Look at me," he panted, a thin layer of sweat coating his neck and chest as he tried to hold himself back from flipping you over and fucking you into the mattress.

You lazily rolled your head forward, forcing your eyes open so you could look at him.

"Wanna look at you when you come," he explained, and maybe yesterday you would have blushed, but today you just nodded and furrowed your brows in concentration, your release so close you could taste it.

"That's it baby, c'mon, give it to me. I can feel it, feel you squeezin' me. All for me, ain't that right? All mine?" he rambled, his words pushing you higher and higher.

"Yeah," you whined. His eyes were ablaze when he looked up at you, raw need and desire painted across his face. "All yours. You make me feel so good, Joel."

"Show me," he commanded, his nostrils flaring, his hands gripping your hips until you moaned his name so loudly you should have been embarrassed but all you could focus on was the way he made you feel.

He watched you fall apart on top of him, the sight filling him with so much pride and satisfaction that he quickly sat up so you were sitting on his lap as he fucked into you, desperate to join you, his mouth covering yours messily. Your fingers raked through his hair, twisting around the curls before giving it a sharp tug. He groaned loudly, thrusting deep into you until his hips stilled and he emptied himself inside you once again.

"That was incredible," he panted against your mouth, trying to catch his breath. You just slumped against him tiredly, your body unable to hold itself up any longer. He eased you both down onto the bed, letting you lay on top of his sweaty chest while he rubbed your back, his nose buried in your hair. "You're incredible," he said softly, correcting himself.

A nagging thought in the back of your head wondered what this meant for you two, but you didn't want to break the spell. For the first time in such a long time, you were happy and content and you didn't want to ruin it. But you knew the town was too small for your relationship with Joel to remain a secret, and if people didn't already know, they would soon find out you were still married to Patrick. You chewed on your lip as your mind wandered, still lying on top of him, your head rising and falling with each breath he took.

"You alright?" he asked, picking up on your silence.

"Mhm, just tired," you said, lifting your head to give him a small smile. He searched your eyes for a moment, not believing you.

"You sure? Did I hurt you?" he asked, pinching his eyebrows together. You reached a hand up to his face, the pad of your thumb smoothing out the frown, making him smile.

"You could never hurt me," you told him, hoping you were right before pressing a kiss against his lips.

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#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller angst #joel miller series #joel miller x reader #sheriff!joel #STR fic #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #pedro pascal

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slu7formen · 6 months

Text

luke castellan x fem!reader

Luke has been making fun of your ‘unnecessarily absurd beauty routine’ —as he liked to call it— for the past week, so, you decide to drown him in it, just to see how much he can handle.

warnings: just a single use of the word b1tch, fluff at the end <3, little use of yn

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

i. the eyebrows

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt!”

“No it didn´t!”

“Yes, it did!”

“Shut up and hold still”

“Ow! You´re pinching my skin, you bitch!”

“That was fully on porpuse”

A chorus of laughter erupted from the nearby bunk beds. Most of the boys, Luke´s half-siblings, gathered around you both, enjoying the show, eyes gleaming with mischief as they witnessed their usually stoic and confident counselor reduced to a whiny mess. Luke´s head was leaning on your thighs as you plugged his eyebrows with some dangerously sharp tweezers.

“See, that´s what you get for making fun of a girl” Travis Stoll, the elder of the Stoll brothers, joined in, a smirk on his lips. "We all warned you about messing with her” he pointed towards you.

“Shut up, Travis!” Luke spat.

You enjoyed the way his face was turning red, from embarrasment and because he was trying so hard to hold back his tears.

“You know, Luke” you started, plugging on another thin hair which earned you a little curse whispered from his lips. “You can always just, give up on the bet”

You found yourself enjoying the sight immensely. The perfect Hermes´ cabin counselor who'd spent the past week mocking your beauty routine,– here he was, sprawled across your lap, a prisoner of your tweezers.

“There´s no way in hell I´m letting you beat me that easily" he declared, though his voice lacked its usual conviction.

You couldn't help but smirk. The bet had been born out of sheer frustration. For the past week, Luke had been relentless in his teasing about your beauty regimen. He'd mocked the meticulous way you cared for your eyebrows, the endless battle against unwanted body hair, the whining about the occasional pimples even when you spent a good twenty minutes locked in the bathroom cleaning your skin. He'd called you high-maintenance, a slave to societal expectations, and everything in between.

Finally, you'd snapped. "Alright, Castellan" you'd declared, eyes blazing. "How about a little bet? If you can handle a full day of 'girl stuff,' I'll clean your cabin for a week"

The look of surprise on Luke's face had been priceless. He'd scoffed, of course, overconfident and utterly clueless about the sheer torture involved in waxing, tweezing, and mud masks. But fueled by his arrogance, he'd readily agreed.

Now, here you were, watching him squirm on your lap like a fish, a testament to his underestimation of the situation. A wave of satisfaction washed over you. It wasn't just about winning the bet, though that was certainly a perk. It was about showing him, in a slightly sadistic way, that there was more to "girl stuff" than he thought. It was about proving that self-care wasn't about vanity, but about feeling confident and comfortable in your own skin.

“As you wish, little baby”

Chris suddenly appeard in your vision, the satisfaction on his face plagged as if he was enjoying this more than you did. “You know, yn” he called out, you momentarily stopped, accidentally giving Luke a break. “Luke has a little hair situation going on under his arms”

“What!?” Luke blurted out. His siblings laughed again.

“He does?” you asked Chris, looking down at Luke and patting his head like a little kid.

“Oh, yeah” Chris smirked. “Maybe that could be the next step, don´t you think?”

“I´m gonna-” Luke tried to get up from his bed, hands reaching out towards Chris. He took a step back just as you grabbed Luke by his shoulders and pushed him down again towards your lap.

“I´m not done with you yet, tough guy. But Chris´ right. Get your hairy armpits ready”

ii. the waxing

You pulled out a box of waxing stripes. Luke, oblivious to the impending torture, was too engrossed in examining his newly sculpted eyebrows in the hand mirror you'd provided. A satisfied smirk played on your lips. The eyebrows looked fantastic – perfectly groomed without being overly feminine. Because yes, he asked you to keep them as close to their natural shape as possible.

“Shirt off” you declared.

His head whipped towards you, eyes wide with horror and disbelief. His half-brothers, mirrored his action, erupting in a chorus of whistles and catcalls.

"Excuse you?" he sputtered, h is voice a touch higher than usual.

"Damn," Connor drawled to you. "at least ask the guy out first"

You rolled your eyes. Luke shot him a withering glare, but beneath the bluster, you could see a flicker of nervousness.

You held up the waxing strips. “It´s time for your armpits, champion” you announced with a playful lilt in your voice. You began rubbing the strips together to warm the wax.

He whined, pulling his camp t-shirt over his head, revealing his well-toned torso, and throwing it over a nearby bunk. You stole a glance at his body for a microsecond, a slight red blush coloring your cheeks. His brothers were quick to start a echo of whistles.

He flopped down heavily on the bed, one arm raised awkwardly above his head. To your surprise, there wasn't as much hair as you'd anticipated. But that didn't diminish the sheer terror radiating from him. You stifled a laugh. "Relax, Luke" you said, your voice gentler now. "The tenser you are, the worse it'll be."

His brothers leaned in closer, their eyes glued to the scene unfolding before them. You carefully pressed the strip against his skin, smoothing it down with the practiced ease. He held his breath, his entire body tensing in anticipation.

You inhaled sharply yourself, then you ripped the strip off in one swift motion. Luke let out a yelp that would have made a banshee proud. His face contorted in pain, and his free hand clenched into a fist. His brothers erupted in laughter, their amusement fueled by his pain.

"Alright, alright" you said, trying to sound sympathetic despite the laughter bubbling in your throat. "Deep breaths, Luke. If you don´t relax, it´s gonna hurt more"

He glared at you, his voice laced with a hint of betrayal. "Easy for you to say."

Ignoring his grumbling, you ripped off another strip. A chorus of gasps filled the room, and Luke let out another yelp, his face turning an even deeper shade of red.

"See?" you said, holding up the strip adorned with a few stray hairs. "Not so bad, right?"

He wanted to murder you.

"Don't you use anesthesia for this?" he wheezed after a particularly harsh pull on his other armpit, his eyes watering slightly.

“We´re not babies, Luke” you replied, shaking your head. "Just good old-fashioned grit and determination. Besides, you wouldn't want to miss out on the full 'girl stuff' experience, would you?"

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity —at least for Luke—, you finished. His armpits were as smooth as a baby´s butt. His brothers, unable to resist themselves, reached out and slapped the freshly waxed skin, earning them a swift kick each from a now-furious Luke.

iii. the skincare

"Skincare? Seriously?" Luke asked, sitting down on your bed, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

You all went to your cabin to continue his so claimed ‘girl´s day´. You would´ve paid to take a picture of your sisters´ faces when they saw you walk in with a bunch of boys following you behind.

“Just lay down, princess” you declared “I´ll bring my stuff”

He leaned back against the your pushy pillows, getting comfortable.

“First time on a girl´s bed?” Chris asked, earning a few laughs from his siblings.

“Shut up” Luke spat.

You came back with your washbag, full of different products that nearly gave Luke a heart attack. You had to assure him that this time, this wasn´t gonna hurt. At least not the first part, but you kept it a secret.

"Alright, beautiful” you teased. “Let’s get started. First thing’s first. “Cleansing”

You dipped a soft washcloth in warm water and began gently wiping away the dirt and sweat from his face. Luke closed his eyes, a look of unexpected serenity washing over his features. You noticed him get loose under your touch, a slight smile playing on his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest in a gesture of surprising compliance.

“Wow” he said. “This is actually quite nice”

"See?" you said softly. "This isn't so bad"

He opened one eye, a playful glint mirroring your own. "Not bad at all" he admitted, a hint of amusement in his voice “Guys, you should try this."

The Hermes´ cabin boys leaned in closer, their usual boisterousness replaced by a quiet attentiveness. They watched as your fingers moved with a practiced ease, cleansing Luke's skin with a tenderness they hadn't seen before. They saw you take some cleanser, and rub it softly against Luke´s skin.

They all exchanged glances, a new kind of curiosity flickering in their eyes. Usually, the sight of anyone touching Luke, let alone his face, would have elicited a barrage of teasing. But seeing you, your movements gentle and practiced as you gathered a gentle cleanser, they found themselves strangely mesmerized.

"Well, he looks chill" Connor added. "Could you clean my face sometime, yn?"

You chuckled, throwing a playful glance thorwn at him. "Maybe later, Connor. Right now, it's all about Luke's glow-up."

Next came the toner, followed by a light moisturizer. Luke remained surprisingly still, his eyes closed, a contented sigh escaping his lips from time to time. His brothers, bored by the lack of drama, started to get bored.

Just as you were about to get some eye patchs, your eyes drifted on a little tool inside your washbag; your blackhead remover. An idea came up to you.

"Alright, Luke" you announced, a hint of warning in your voice. "Time for the fun part."

You reached for a steaming hot towel and pressed it gently against his nose and forehead. He inhaled deeply, the steam opening up his pores.

"This feels so nice" he mumbled, his voice muffled by the towel.

A slow grin spread across your face. "Oh, it gets better" you said, an evil spark in your eyes.

You grabbed the blackhead extractor and, with practiced ease, began gently removing the unwanted blemishes.

Suddenly, Luke's eyes flew open, a look of pure horror replacing his previous serenity. "Wait! What are you doing?" he shrieked.

"Shh" you hushed him playfully. "Relax. These little guys gotta go. Trust me, it'll be better for your skin in the long run."

"But it hurts!" he whined, swatting your hand away with a surprisingly weak attempt.

"Just a little pinch" you reassured him, your voice a mockery he hated. "Besides, if you don't remove them now, they'll grow bigger and poppier, and that will hurt even more."

Luke opened his mouth to protest, but the words died on his lips as you expertly extracted another blackhead. This bet was getting a little harder to beat than expected. He winced slightly, then a defeated sigh escaped his lips.

“So, Connor” you called. “You wanted to be next, right?”

iv. make up

"So," you began, a sly smile playing on your lips as you settled into the chair across from Luke, "you think makeup is easy, right?"

"Shouldn't be that hard, I guess" he mumbled, trying to sound confident. Inside, however, his stomach churned with fear and worry.

You gestured towards your desk, which was now overflowing with an array of colorful tubes, palettes, and brushes – an arsenal of beauty products foreign to the boys' eyes. "Alright then," you declared, a playful lilt in your voice. "Here's a little game. I'll show you each product and you have to guess what it's for. Every one you get wrong? Goes on your face."

Luke's eyes widened in horror.

"Wait, what?" he sputtered, a nervous tremor in his voice. "You can't be serious!"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "But Luke, you just said makeup was easy. This is your chance to prove it!"

"This is cheating" he mumbled, looking betrayed. "You never mentioned makeup in the bet!"

"Technically," you countered, holding up a finger, "it's still 'girl stuff’, as you call it”

A groan escaped Luke's lips. He shot a desperate glance towards his brothers, hoping for some kind of intervention. Charles Beckendorf, who allegedly decided to join the fun, just grinned towards him.

"Don't chicken out now, Luke" he said, arms crossed over his chest. "You can always give up on the bet and let her win”

Luke glared at his friend, silently cursing the day he ever agreed to this ridiculous wager. He sighed dramatically, slumping back on the bed. "Fine" he mumbled, defeated. "At least try your best to make me look decent."

“That´s not gonna be on me, dear”

You couldn't help but laugh at his misery. You reached across the desk, picking up a sleek black tube with a silver cap. It felt cool and smooth in your hand.

"What do you think this is?" you asked, holding it up for him to see.

Luke squinted at the tube, his brow furrowed in concentration. He recalled seeing something similar in movies, actresses applying it with a flick of their wrist. An idea flickered in his mind.

"Eyeliner?" he ventured, his voice laced with a hint of uncertainty.

You arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Huh, correct”

You set the eyeliner aside, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes. Next up, you picked up a thin, wooden-looking tool with a pointed tip. There was a small, round piece of what looked like colored chalk attached to the end.

"Alright," you announced, "round two. What is this?"

Luke studied the object carefully. It did resemble a pencil, but the colored tip threw him off. He wracked his brain, trying to recall anything similar he'd seen in the vast array of makeup products on your desk.

"Uh… a pencil?" he finally ventured, his voice lacking conviction.

You burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the cabin. Tears welled up in your eyes quickly, blurring your vision slightly.

"A pencil, Luke?" you wheezed, wiping a tear from your cheek. "It’s a lip liner"

Luke's cheeks flushed crimson.

"Lip liner?" he echoed, his voice barely a whisper. "For what? Do I need to draw on a bigger mouth?" He gestured to his own lips, a hint of self-consciousness creeping into his voice.

You shook your head, stifling another giggle. "No, no need for a bigger mouth. Lip liner helps define the shape of your lips."

With a shake of your head, you said, "Now the fun part begins. Bring those lips here, handsome."

Luke leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his face hovering a few inches from yours. The air got filled with a strange tension, probably because his brothers walked closer so they could get a better look. His breath hitched slightly as your fingers brushed against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

“You´re lucky this is the same shade as your natural lip color” you whisper.

“Yeah” Chris adds. “Maybe you should wear it more often, handsome” he reaches out his hand to squeeze Luke´s cheeks, but he´s quick enough to slap his hand away.

“Shut up”

The minutes that followed were filled with a more lighthearted energy. You continued the game, Luke surprisingly getting a few things right – foundation, and even a surprisingly good guess on a shimmery eyeshadow palette.

But he wasn't without his misses. The concealer, a light, creamy formula designed to camouflage blemishes, ended up being applied liberally under his eyes, leaving him with a ghostly pallor that had his brothers doubled over in laughter. Then came the blush. A delicate peach shade, turned his cheeks a comical shade of fuchsia thanks to your deliberately exaggerated application with a fluffy brush.

His brothers, fueled by this new display of comedic gold, howled with laughter. Charles, wiping tears from his eyes, wheezed, “He-, he looks like a baboon in heat”

"Oh man" Travis howled, clutching his stomach. "This is even better than the armpit wax"

Next came the eyelash curler, that strange-looking contraption that promised to create dramatic, fluttery lashes. The moment you held it up, Luke's eyes widened in suspicion. He snatched it from your hand before you could ask him what he though it was.

"What the hell is this!?" he exclaimed, his voice laced with a mixture of disgust and fear. "You girls like torturing yourselves with these things?"

You reached out and gently took the curler back. "No torture involved" you replied. “And since you know absolutely nothing about it…"

He tried to look defiant, but a flicker of uncertainty betrayed him. "I know what it is" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Oh really?" you challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Then what is it?"

You handed him the curler and watched as he fumbled with it, his big hands clearly not designed for such delicate work. He eventually gave up with a defeated sigh.

"Okay" he grumbled, handing the curler back to you. "Do your worst."

The final touches were a disaster, a glorious, hilarious disaster. Every fiber of Luke's being screamed in protest as you handed the brushes over to his merciless brothers.

“Come here, Lookie-Pookie” Travis cooed, his voice dripping with mock sweetness as he leaned in with a thick brush loaded with sparkly eyeshadow. Luke recoiled, swatting his hand away with a glare.

"Don't touch me!”

“Come on Luke, give us those pretty little lips. We need to make sure they're nice and kissable” Beckendorf joined, opening a little lip product tube he wasn´t sure what it really was.

Luke wanted to melt into the floor, his face burning hotter than the volcanic eyeshadow now smudged across his eyelids. The audacity, the betrayal! His own brothers, the supposed bastions of masculinity, were gleefully participating in this humiliation.

“Maybe some of this highlighter will make him look prettier”

He couldn´t believe his own brothers knew what highlighter was except for him.

As he looked at his reflection in the mirror, a mix of horror and amusement washed over him. He never thought he'd feel so violated by makeup. But somewhere amidst the frustration and embarrassment, a strange sense of camaraderie bubbled up. His brothers, usually his biggest tormentors, were doubled over with laughter, tears streaming down their faces. And you, the leader of this whole mess, were practically glowing with barely suppressed mirth.

Despite himself, a smile tugged at the corner of Luke's lips. Maybe this wasn't so bad after all. Sure, he looked like a technicolor disaster, but the shared laughter, the fun, it felt strangely… good. He glanced at you, your eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Gods” he breathed, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "This is the best day of your life, isn't it?"

You couldn't help but laugh, a genuine, unrestrained laugh that filled the cabin. "Hell yeah it is" you replied as you offer him make up wipes.

v. the reconcile

Night had fallen, painting the sky with shimmering stars. The campfire illuminated the campers´ face, its flames dancing higher as the Apollo cabin filled the air with joyful camp songs. Laughter mingled with the strumming of guitars and lyres, creating a symphony of pure summer camp bliss.

The fire itself danced in response to the campers' emotions. It roared a little higher with every burst of laughter, dimmed momentarily during a quiet story, and flickered with a playful intensity as the Hermes boys, fueled by their mischievous exploits, recounted their version of the day's events.

You sat by the fire, poking a marshmallow with a stick, watching the scene unfold. Their narrative, of course, focused heavily on your supposed "torture" of Luke. Specially the Stoll brothers; they painted a picture of you as a ruthless makeup artist, a waxer who pealed Luke´s skin off and left his face shining like marble. Meanwhile, Luke simply sat there, a faint smile playing on his lips.

You noticed the Hermes boys regaling other campers with their story, punctuated by bursts of laughter. And yes, you didn´t like to admit it but, you'd lost the bet. Technically. But watching Luke handle their teasing with surprising grace, a hint of amusement in his eyes, filled you with a strange satisfaction.

You were there by yourself for a few more minutes. The camp sounds filling your ears as you tried your best not to stuff your face in all the toasted marshmallows your sisters offered you. Your hands felt tired, because yes, even though what you did was not too much for you to handle, Luke squirmed and behaved like a worm covered in salt, which only made your work harder.

Just then, a figure settled in front of you. Luke. He held two sticks, each crowned with a perfectly toasted marshmallow. He offered one to you, his usual smirk replaced by a genuine smile.

"Truce?" he asked, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

You couldn't help but grin, accepting the marshmallow with a playful jab. "Truce"

He sat beside you, the marshmallow on his stick disappearing in one swift, hungry bite. Suddenly, you leaned in closer, feigning seriousness. "Oh dear" you said, your voice laced with mock concern.

Luke raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "What is it now?"

"You've got a blackhead. Right, there" you declared, pointing to a non-existent imperfection on his nose.

His eyes widened in mock horror. "No way! I´m not letting you touch my face again" He swatted at your hand playfully, but you were quicker.

"Hold still, you wriggly worm" you teased, pretending to grab his nose. A playful fight ensued, a flurry of limbs and laughter. You managed to land a swipe at his cheek with a gooey bit of marshmallow.

Finally, breathless with laughter, you both settled back down, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the quiet camaraderie. As you bit into your marshmallow, a comfortable silence settled between you.

"So, about that bet" he began, wiping his marshmallow-streaked hands on his cargo pants.

You turned to look at him, still chewing on another marshmallow and a piece of melted chocolate. "Yeah?"

"I don't want you to clean my cabin" he explained.

"Why not? I lost the bet" you replied, surprised by his sudden declaration.

He looked at the sky, a hint of pink dusting his cheeks. "Yeah, but… We're kind of a mess, actually. I would feel bad if you did it alone."

"Aww, Castellan, are you worried about little ol' me?" you teased him, squeezing his cheek playfully. He blushed a deeper shade of red, looking positively flustered.

"Maybe" he mumbled, avoiding your gaze.

"Okay, here's a deal" you continued, trying to cover your own blush. "I'll clean your cabin, but you have to help me. I really don't wanna get into dirty-underwear-business."

Luke considered this for a moment, then a grin spread across his face. "Deal. But I'm warning you, there might be some things you shouldn´t even try to touch with bare hands. And I mean Travis´ and Connor´s bunks”

From a distance, a group of campers — a mix of Hermes, Apollo, and Hephaestus cabins —watched your exchange with keen interest. The playful teasing, the way your hands brushed as you made your deal — it was all too much for their already overactive imaginations.

"I bet you fifteen bucks he's gonna ask her out by the end of the week" an Apollo camper, Lee, declared.

Chris snorted. "That's weak. Twenty bucks says he does it tonight."

hiiya, just thought I could write something different to what I usually do. hope you enjoyed <3 🩷

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan x yn

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altbite · 2 years

Text

Incorrect Quotes *mw2 x reader*

Alejandro: Rudy and I are having a baby.

Y/n: That's gre-

Alejandro, slamming adoption papers on the table: It's you, sign here.

Price, driving y/n and Soap: So how was your day?

Y/n: We almost got surprise adopted!

Price: What?

Soap: We almost got kidnapped.

Price: Oh, okay.

Price: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

Ghost: Y/n... Why did you draw a pentagram on the floor?

Y/n: Your text told me to satanize the house before you returned.

Ghost:

Ghost: I wrote sanitize, Y/n.

Y/n: *Stubs their toe* FUCK!

Rudy: Mind your language!

Y/n: What else am I supposed to say, “Woe is I”???

Rudy:

Y/n: You have to accept that swear words are necessary sometimes.

Y/n: Am I going too far?

Gaz: No, no, no. You went too far about seven hours ago. Now you're going to prison.

Soap: Truth or dare?

Y/n: Dare

Soap: I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room

Y/n: Hey Graves

Graves, blushing: Yeah?

Y/n: Could you move? I’m trying to get to Alejandro

Y/n: On a scale from “damn Daniel” to “fre sha vaca do”, how are you feeling?

Gaz: In between “it’s an avocado, thanks” and “how did you defeat Captain America”, but as a solid answer I would say “I don’t need a degree to be a clothing hanger”. How about you, Ghost?

Ghost: Probably “road work ahead”.

Price: I speak many languages, and this is none of them.

Price: Listen, I can explain...

Ghost: You’re making $500,000 and you’re only gonna pay me $30,000?

Soap: You’re getting 30 grand? I’m getting $1,000!

Y/N: You guys are getting paid?

Price: Just be yourself.

Y/n: 'Be myself'? Price, I have one day to win Alejandro over. How long did it take before you guys started liking me?

Gaz: Couple weeks

Soap: Six months.

Ghost: Jury’s still out.

Y/n: See, Price?

Y/n: 'Be myself'. What kind of garbage advice is that?

Soap: Alejandro... How do I begin to explain Alejandro?

Rudy: Alejandro is flawless.

Ghost: I hear their hair's insured for $10,000.

Gaz: I hear they do car commercials... in Japan.

Y/n: One time they punched me in the face... it was awesome.

#incorrect quotes #cod #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #alejandro vargas #mw2 rudy #mw2 alejandro #mw2 price #mw2 konig #mw2 ghost #mw2 soap #mw2 graves #mw2 gaz #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #incorrect call of duty quotes

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creepling · 7 months

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˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ dating digger harkness headcanons

this is a very specific reader because i love the idea of this grimy hobo having a cute, smart girly partner that is the candy floss to his raccoon energy OKAYYY. also tcm shenanigans will be back shortly, i just had to give some love to a dc rogue like the old times<33

tags: feminine reader (wears dress, skirt, heels, mild makeup and has breasts and v) but gn pronouns. sugar daddy digger if you squint. reader is a jailbird. cuddling. pet name: birdie. smut under the cut - minors dni. polaroid nudes. (m) masturbation. thoughts of: oral (m receiving) and cowgirl.

If you were to ask Digger the first thing he noticed about you, his caveman mind would be objectifying. But your ass did look very flattering in your skirt and the smile you shot his way was the cherry on top. He likes them sweet and innocent, you like them rugged and dangerous. It was a match made in hell heaven.

After a few dates spent in dingy pubs and lover’s lanes, he was enamoured by you. He’s never had someone look at him the way you do. Eyes full of light, glistening at the sight of him. You always welcomed him with open arms, practically throwing yourself at him. He liked how easy you were to pick up, and the way you wrapped your limbs around him. How your soft skin blushes red against his scruffy neck. No matter the setting, you sat so close to him that you were more or less on his lap. He wraps his arms around you, or has a hand on your thigh, letting nearby acquaintances know you belong together. Digger thinks to himself, “I got so fucking lucky.”

His love languages are primarily gift-giving and physical touch. More times than you can count, Digger has fallen asleep on top of you. Either on the couch, while watching a movie or he found a way to snake between your legs while sleeping, he has a habit of using you like a pillow. You developed a kinship in moments like this where you play with his hair, massaging your fingers into the nape of his neck or twirling the strands that curtain his temples. You muse at his sleep-full hums, watching this rogue unwind under your touch, satisfied like a dog receiving pets. The gift-giving is when his rogue side is on high voltage. He wants to give you the world, shower you with jewels, let you wear the best of gear. “You want diamonds? Yeah, I’ll get you diamonds,” He’ll muse, mixing his pleasures with yours. When he robs a bank, the majority of his stolen dollars has been spent on you since you met him. Did your car get towed? He bought you a new one, along with the insurance. Need a new dress for the weekend? He’s got you sorted, along with heels and a bag to match. “Can’t have my bird in peasant clothes!” He protests, “Not with that cracken’ bod.” Queue the wink.

He loves showing you off, chuffed that he proved his doubters wrong that he could settle down and have a gorgeous significant other. “What they see in you, I don’t know . . .” They say, whether that be Deadshot, King Shark, heck even Amanda is amazed by it. He keeps candid polaroids of you in his pocket on the job, looking at them when he misses you. He squeezes the unicorn plushie you gifted him when he is stressed, anything to feel your presence when you’re half the world away. A shit-eating grin on his face when people tease him about his love for you, using it to embarrass him. “Awh, it’s puppy love,” Harley cooes, and Digger nods, all chuffed with himself.

Digger gave you the nickname “Birdie” because well . . . You’re a jailbird. He is in prison for heinous crimes, after all! Oh, is he touched-starved when you’re standing there, pretty face to the phone, separated by glass and talking in your voice that melts him like butter. His eyes are eating you up, desperate to have his hands on you. He’ll do all the suicide missions going to shred off the jail time, to get closer to the day his lips are kissing yours. Blackmailing Amanda to get you the best of the best, pay off college debt, holidays abroad, and spoil you when he cannot. “Oh, Birdie, when I get out of here I’m not letting you out of my sight, you’re stuck with me.” He groans, drunk on love. All you do is smile, sliding a pack of Polaroids under the screen when the guards aren’t looking. “Have these to tide you over in the meantime,” you tease. Digger rushes back to his cell, flipping through the photos. First were of you in dresses that were his favourites, the type of ones that are flowy and floral, framing you so delicately. They get more desirable as he flips them over, and his eyes lull in lust.

Digger loves the dirty photos you send him, it drives him fucking insane. It’s good to keep you fresh in his mind, but it borders on teasing just having you to look at. He didn’t have the brightest imagination, but this was good practice. Imagine how soft your thighs are under his callous hands, what your lips taste like with the lipgloss you have on. Your delicate hands trace his bulge, your touch replacing his heavy-handed grasp. Bucking into your hands as he sucks your breasts, teasing your nipples, muttering how perfect you are. His sweet little birdie, all belonging to him. Your eagerness proves your devotion. You take his infamous size so well, your spit coating his cock as your tongue swirls around his pulsing tip. As he wanks himself off, muffling his groans, he has the faintest memory of your cunt. How wet you always were for him, how eager you bounced on his cock. His eyes closed as he pumped his cock faster, edging to the echoes of past moans you chanted in his ear.

#digger harkness x reader #captain boomerang x reader #ssktjl #ktjl #kill the justice league #arkhamverse #fanfic #smut

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theteasetwrites · 2 years

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Daddy's Home | Part 1

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Female Reader ❧ Era: Season 5 (Alexandria) ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: SMUT (18+)—oral sex (male receiving), dominant-ish Daryl, doggystyle, so much dirty talk, like one tiny spank (just a little one), mutual masturbation, vaginal fingering, oh yeah and DADDY KINK, language ❧ Word Count: 4.3k

❧ Summary: When Daryl comes back home from a week away, he doesn't want to sleep. He just wants you.

❧ A/N: Ok so yes I know the title is ridiculous, but like... what else was I gonna call this oneshot ok? Anyway, here's some major daddy kink. Like a lot of daddy kink. Daryl is just daddy. Sorry but he is. I can't explain it. Actually, yes I can. He's a protector, a provider, a big softie. He's a daddy, and I don't even have daddy issues but just let me have this. Goodbye I am never showing my face here again. <;3 Also I simply cannot get over how hot he is in this gif holy mother of god.

The quiet was nice, late nights in Alexandria, gentle summer breeze prickling at your skin. It was nice to leave your bedroom window open through the night. Daryl hated it, always going on about how someone could climb the trellis outside your window and sneak in while you slept, but when he was gone, you’d indulge yourself in that one simple luxury.

When he told you that he was Alexandria’s newest recruiter, you knew you’d be in for some lonely nights ahead. Still, you also knew Daryl was the best man for the job—you’d seen him bring dozens of people to the prison, providing them shelter while expecting nothing in return, and then going out the next morning to do it all over again. That was when he wasn’t going out on his hunts to find food for everyone, often bringing home the biggest deer you’d ever seen, until he’d do it again next week, and bring home an even bigger one.

Yes, there was no doubt about it—Daryl knew what he was doing out there, but it didn’t stop you from worrying about him. Missing him. So while the quiet was, indeed, nice, you still could not get used to being alone, in this perfect little suburban townhouse, waiting.

Your waiting became so monotonous, sitting up in your bed and reading another old Agatha Christie novel, that you decided, at length, to migrate downstairs, the living room. When Daryl would come home, you thought, you’d greet him right away. That was how much you were anticipating his arrival.

One week was nothing, really, but it was the longest you’d been apart since knowing each other, and with the world the way it was, a lot could happen in seven days. A lot of bad, bad things.

So you flicked on the lamp, snuggled yourself into a knitted blanket, and curled up on the sofa, book in hand as you let out a quiet huff. “Daryl…” you said to yourself, scanning your book to relocate the exact sentence where you left off. “Where are you, you big meatball.”

Your nervous jitters only worsened with the passing hour, your legs shaking involuntarily, your finger tapping on the edge of the book, your toes wiggling nonstop. All you needed was the sound of that bike, that big, stupid bike. That would ease your fretful heart. Well, what would really make you happy was seeing that man of yours, no doubt in need of a shower, but still, your man nonetheless.

Speak of the Devil, as they say, and he doth appear.

It started out as just a distant hum, perking your ears and making your spine straighten in anticipation. Still frozen, you listened intently. A rumble, now, mechanical and getting louder with each second your heart began to beat faster. At one fateful moment, the roar of the makeshift machine was at its highest volume, and before you could even stand, a bright beam of white light shone through the blinds of the front window.

All at once, the light and the rumble ceased, punctuated by a low huff, followed by an exasperated grunt. Heavy footsteps plodded along in a familiar pattern—you even recognized the sound of his no doubt mud-caked boots scraping against the edge of the steps leading to the front porch. You could only hope that this time, he’d take the extra precaution of removing his boots before he stepped over the threshold.

There was a spring in your step, you wrapping the terry cloth fabric of your robe over your chest as you flitted towards the front door. Finally, you stood just a few feet back, your eyes transfixed on the shiny bronze doorknob. Inevitably, a wide grin made your cheeks swell until they almost ached, but the wait was worth it.

When he came through the door, his head was hanging low, until he felt your presence. Lifting his gaze, he met your great big smile with a smaller one, though the movement of his body betrayed him. The door shut with a strong thud, just before he stepped forward to let his crossbow fall from his shoulder. With a soft grunt under his breath, he buried his nose in the warmth of your shoulder, his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

For a good while, he stayed like that, only taking in the sensory relief you provided him—your faint scent of rose, your softness, your tender chuckle as your hands rubbed in vertical motions up and down his aching back. Despite the rigidity of his tired muscles, he melted into you, letting himself bask in the comfort you provided him. To hold him like this was nothing short of a ritual between you two, whenever you were apart for long enough to begin missing each other to the point of near grief.

A man like Daryl—who’d been through so much as he had, who’d seen so much and had still so much room in his heart to give of himself to others—deserved to be held the way you held him. Few people in this world had a heart as big as him, though he did not show it in ways most people would recognize. He showed it in acts of service, in providing for people who could not provide for themselves, in the ones he loved safe. It was what you always adored about him: how he gave of himself, and expected nothing in return.

“Hey, there, tough guy.” Daryl buried his face deeper into you, now snug in the crook of your neck, where he caught the scent of your perfume, applied much earlier in the day, yet still lingering sweetly. Though you adored how much he clung to you, you longed so much to see his face. Your hands grabbed a hold of either side of his head to lift his gaze to yours.

As usual, his disheveled hair hung low over his forehead, obscuring one of your favorite features of his—his eyes. Between strips of tattered brown curtains, you could make out the blue-grey hue of his irises. Pushing them back, you smiled again at those deep-set pools of silvery cobalt blue. You always found their mystery to be intriguing.

“How are you?” you asked, though you knew from the state of him that he must’ve been exhausted. He hadn’t even muttered a word, and yet the more prominent than usual bags under his eyes spoke for him. “You must be tired, hon. Let’s get you in bed.”

But as you turned towards the staircase, a firm grip pulled you back by the wrist, until you were in his arms now, laughing at his sudden burst of energy. Despite your amusement, he did not smile, only looked at you with a heavy, dark gaze, and a lick of his lips.

In your surprise, you hadn’t even noticed that both of his hands were now wrapped around each wrist, so tight that you nearly feared he’d cut off your circulation.

Something was wrong, had to have been. You’d never seen him so… intense. Of course, Daryl could often be intense, when he was angry especially, but this wasn’t that. Anger was something you could recognize in Daryl. He’d never directed it towards you, but you knew it, and this was something different.

“Are… are you feeling okay, sweetie?”

Silence, just that gaze holding you hostage, and a heat rising from his body that you could’ve sworn caused a bead of sweat to form on your brow.

Now he was scaring you.

“Daryl?”

Your voice tempted him further. If only you knew just how much he missed you, how much he needed you. A week was too long. A week without you, a week without your touch, a week without your sweet, dulcet voice. And oh, how that voice awoke in him a terrible burning, a conflagration of deadly proportions, a fire that could only be extinguished by the one he loved.

Entranced by his stare, you hadn’t noticed that he had you pinned against the wall, his strong, heaving chest keeping you there.

And when he pressed himself against you, you knew. It was obvious, the way he nearly thrusted into you.

When you realized what he wanted, you felt a wave of relief wash over you: he needed you just as much as you had needed him the past week. From the night he left, you’d not stopped thinking of him, and when you’d turn in your bed to feel for him, and he wasn’t there, the ache for him only worsened.

There was no way in Hell, though, you were going to initiate sex when he got home. You knew he’d be tired, and a good night’s rest was what he needed before you even thought of asking him to make love to you, but now, with that wild look in his eyes, that hungry snarl in his lip, that flare in his nostrils, that beating of his heart…

“Oh,” you sighed, your teeth biting back your lower lip as your eyes trailed up and down his body. With your hands finally free, you ran them up his arms, letting them settle on the broad, firm shoulders you loved so much.

For just a moment, he leaned forward, forehead and tip of his nose meeting yours. With his hardening cock beginning to dig between your thighs, and his vaguely tobacco tinged musk tickling your senses, you could only utter one word.

A soft, nearly whimpering mewl: “Daddy.”

By the time he got you to the sofa, each of you were already panting, hands moving relentlessly as you both clawed for any part of each other’s body you could get your hands on. Your mouths worked tirelessly, tongues spinning sloppily around the other’s in your haste to finally have each other again.

When you successfully removed his leather angel-winged vest, you worked on unbuttoning his black shirt, but his hands stopped you.

“Need your mouth,” he said.

Leaning back on the sofa with a low grunt, he began unbuckling his belt, while you slotted yourself between his legs, hands massaging his clothed thighs, thick and flexing against your palm.

When his cock sprang out of its confines, you’d already stripped yourself of your underwear and your robe. In only a transparent silk nightgown, your hips swayed instinctively as you watched his hand begin to stroke himself, up and down the long, thick shaft you’d come to know and love so much.

“Come ‘ere.” His hands reached out to grab either side of your head, bringing you down to his cock. Panting lips began to drool a bead of saliva down the side of his growing erection. Knowing what he wanted, of course, you took the reddened, swelling tip into your mouth, much to his immediate relief.

“Fuck.” As your mouth slid a little lower, your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. His grip on your hair tightened as his head fell back on the arm of the sofa, a soft breath of your name on his lips.

Returning to watch you, he lifted your hair into a makeshift ponytail, tilting his head to get a better look at you, your eyes fluttering up to meet his gaze.

“Pretty angel.” Even just the utterance of that affectionate pet name made you feel an overwhelming need to touch yourself. With your free hand, you lifted your nightgown to slot your fingers between warm, velvety folds of aching flesh. “Ya look so good like this… Suckin’ on Daddy’s cock.”

It was somewhat of a tradition now, using that phrase, though only in the context of sex, in your most private, intimate moments. It was silly, you knew it, and he knew it, too, but you both found it excruciatingly sexy all the same. It was sacred in that you’d probably die of embarrassment if anyone else besides Daryl knew of your little… kink.

But neither of you could quite help it, you adoring his strong, protective nature, and him just finding it so alluringly sinful. Guilty pleasure type of thing, with emphasis on pleasure.

And besides, his dirty talk was sex all on its own.

As your mouth took him in progressively deeper, your fingers moved faster, increasing the friction against your sensitive spot, then slowly dipping down into the embrace of your entrance.

Not only could he admire your mouth, and your sweet soft moans, but he could watch your fingers enter you, your hand shaking as you penetrated yourself to match the rhythm you knew he liked when he had his cock in you.

“Love when you fuck yourself like that.” He only wished he was the one doing it. “You thinkin’ of me?”

Well, it was hard not to think of him, with his cock in your mouth.

Taking the opportunity to catch your breath, you answered him. “Yes, Daddy.”

His hands pulled you back down onto his cock, your lips forced open by his tip. “Just don’t make yourself come,” he said. “That’s for me.”

Yes, Daddy.

Sliding over your tongue, his cock dug deeper, towards the back of your mouth. Going down on him was always a bit of a challenge, given just how big he was, but the weight of him inside you, wherever that may be, was far more rewarding. And when you got to feel that little twitch, his cock moving all on its own as it begged for release… It only made you suck harder, sliding your mouth up and down, taking him in deeper until you were nearly gagging.

But he liked that, the sound of you struggling just a little to take all of him. Daryl was a sensitive man, yes, but he was still a man—proud of his big cock, even if he was insecure in most other areas. At least he was big, and at least he knew how to use it.

With his hand on the back of your head, firm, but still gentle enough to let you up if you needed it, he pushed you down just a bit more, hearing your gag become more guttural, more strangled. It did not hurt, though. It only turned you on, your fingers curling inside you to tickle that special spot, and your other hand fondling his balls, tightly drawn to the underside of the base of his cock.

For several moments, the only sounds coming from either of you were your strained groans, his slipping from between his agape lips, yours muffled by his length filling your entire mouth. Between those sounds of pleasure were the sloppy squelches of your lips soaking him with your saliva. You were always so messy when you went down on him, but how could you not be? His cock provided you no room to lick up your drool, stuffing you until your spit had nowhere else to go but down his veiny, hard length.

Of course, he’d have to tease you about it, how sloppy you were. “Messy girl,” he said, his hand gripping your hair to pull back your bangs. You fluttered your eyes open to meet his, and you were greeted by his crooked smile, with just a sliver of those shiny teeth showing. “Gettin’ Daddy all wet, huh? Nice and wet so I can fuck you good.”

Yes, Daddy.

Eyes rolling back slightly, he bucked his hips up with a jolt, your sucking beginning to tip him over the edge. Just in time, too, for your hand was getting tired of rubbing, and you needed him to finish you off.

“F-fuck, angel. Imma need ya to get that pussy ready for me.”

Whatever he wanted, you’d give him. After all, you were his good girl. Always his good girl. You couldn’t think of a time you’d ever been a bad girl for him. Daddy deserved his good girl.

Yes, you were a good girl, but you could still be… needy.

“Oh, Daddy.” Now straddling his waist, your fingers went straight for the first button on his shirt. “Want you.” He loved when you whined, just a little, and when you were so needy for him that you couldn’t quite make out a completely proper sentence. “Want your shirt off.”

He let you undo just a few buttons, exposing the hairs on his chest that drove you crazy, made you want to feel those wiry hairs between your pursed lips as you trailed your kisses all over his broad chest, made so strong and big by all the manual labor he did, and that heavy crossbow he always used.

That very same strength pulled at your wrists, then raised you up only to lay you down, sprawled out on the other side of the couch. Now he hovered over you, the tip of his cock hanging down to be tickled by the fabric of your blush pink nightie. He always liked pink on you, matched the color of your cheeks when he talked so dirty to you, made you feel like a whore, but not in a disrespectful way. Never in a disrespectful way.

Besides, you knew you were more than that to him. You knew he loved you. Two years together, through some of the most abject pain and suffering imaginable, would do that. But in moments like this, it felt good to be just his personal whore, whom he happened to love very, very much.

Tenderness blossomed between your lips and his, where he kissed you so deeply, so sweetly. And yet, you still clawed at his shirt, your fingers begging for him to let you see his gorgeous body, after so long away from him.

“Shit,” he laughed into your mouth. Sitting up, he began to undo the rest of the buttons, then peeled off his shirt with his chest puffed up, clearly a bit cocky. When your hands shot up to grasp at his pecs, the faded ink of the tattoo above his left nipple having taunted you, he chuckled again.

“Daddy,” you laughed back, your voice a drawn out, dramaticized whine. “Come on.”

Now you were testing him, and he held back the rest of his laughter to put on a stern, domineering face. “Hey, now. Be a good girl.”

He felt your thighs squeeze together underneath him, and your hips jolting upwards. He knew what you wanted, and he’d give it to you, but this position wasn’t quite right.

With a breathy grunt, he grabbed you by your waist, flipping you over, then lifting your bottom until it was sticking out at just the right angle. Lifting your nightie, he licked his lips to watch you move your hips from side to side, as if to taunt him.

“Cute little ass,” he practically cooed. Leaning over you, his chest pressed firmly to your back, he nuzzled his nose against your pillowy cheek. All the while, you felt his hand slide between your now nearly dripping wet folds. Eyes closed softly, you hummed a soft whimper at the feeling. His hands were always different from yours, so much bigger, stronger, rougher. You’d never felt a touch quite like his, and part of it was because he touched you with such tenderness, even if he tried to manhandle you a little. He was still always gentle, somehow.

In the most honeyed, silky, yet scratchy, voice, he rasped in a whisper, “Did ya miss me, angel?”

“Yes… Daddy, I missed you so, so much.”

“Mm, I missed you, too. So much.”

Finally, you felt his tip just barely graze your hole. Not only was he torturing you, he was torturing himself, but he loved it. He needed it, otherwise he was sure his peak of pleasure would go away just as fast as it would come. With you, in this moment, he needed to prolong the desire as much as he could. He could feel it coming soon, though, that tensing in his muscles, that tingling in the pit of his stomach, that twitching that made his cock seem to bounce against your folds on its own accord.

As he slid further into you, you felt his lips find the back of your neck, where he left little kisses the more he sank into you. It felt so good to feel him again, that fullness. It was a feeling only he could give you, his unique way of moving, his cock fitting so perfectly inside you.

Underneath your nightgown, his hands found your breasts. Tense, strong fingers curled like claws at the soft tissue. Even in his dreams, of which he had many while he was away, he could not recreate that texture—that pillowy soft flesh swelling against his fingers. And the inside of you, the warmth and tightness that hugged his cock and accepted him with each pass, in and out.

Soon, he leaned back to watch your body envelope his, the shiny, milky coating of your arousal making it easier to slip in and out of you, his hips thrusting in ever increasing speed.

“Daddy…”

God, he loved being called that. Much more than he should’ve. But, then again, he’d probably find you sexy even if you were calling him “dickhead.” He really didn’t mind, as long as you were calling him something.

“Mm, angel… Daddy’s here now, sweetheart.” He delivered a harder, stronger thrust, pulling a loud, strangled moan out from deep inside of you. “That feel good?”

“Fuck, yes!”

As if to praise you, he delivered just a small, weak slap to your bum. That was about as hard as he was willing to spank you, given how much he hated the idea of hurting you, but he knew you liked it, and he liked it, too, the clench of your body from the slap making him jolt forward.

“Takin’ it good… Real good.”

With one hand still squeezing your breast, the other now drawing tight circles over your clit, he made your lips tremble and your muscles tighten as you began to approach the height of pleasure. You could feel it, just on the brink of release. And he felt it, too, which was why he pulled himself out of you, flipping you over again like a ragdoll.

You were startled when he pulled you down by your ankles, until you were closer to him. He gave his fingers a good, long lick, then let them sink into you, where his cock had left you stretched wide open and dripping wet.

Three fingers. Three thick, strong fingers, curling up inside you, making you writhe and groan as your hands shot up to grasp at his shoulders. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched his neck bulge with the strain of trying to keep himself from coming, and it only aroused you more—those muscles flexing and throbbing and burning underneath hot, sweat-dripping skin, tanned by days on end out in the sun.

What he needed so badly was his own release, after so long of working so hard out there, risking his life for the good of Alexandria. As his forearm and biceps flexed with every push of his fingers inside of you, his chest heaved harder and harder, while you reached between your legs to find his cock. With your hand pulling on his length, and your walls clenching around his fingers as your release reached a tipping point, you both would soon be giving each other much needed relief.

“Daddy,” you sighed, tugging harder on his cock as frustration overtook you. The closer you got to orgasm, the more you couldn’t wait any longer. “Make me come… I wanna come.”

“Ah, angel… I’m gonna come, too.”

Just moments later, you tensed and gasped and writhed and moaned, rocking your hips upward as his fingers stayed inside you, squeezed by your contracting walls. “Oh, Daddy!”

He leaned forward to lay on top of you, his sturdy weight keeping you in place as you rode out your high, soaking his fingers with your arousal. The heat of your cheek seemed to burn his lips as he kissed you there, then rubbed his button nose in delicate circles to soothe you. “Yeah… Daddy’s got ya, sweetheart.”

With your hand still tugging on him, he gasped a heavy breath, spilling out over you right then and there, his hips thrusting into your hand in desperate, sloppy motions. The orgasm was so strong that he lost his composure for a moment, his head falling into your chest as he groaned your name, over and over and over again.

And now he freed his hand, using it to rub up and down the sides of your torso, your skin like fine silk under his worn, calloused fingers. In his hair were your hands, massaging his scalp the way you knew he liked, until he lifted his head to offer you a gentle smile.

“Mm, I’ll never get tired of that.”

You tilted your head with a wide grin. “I didn’t think you’d want to do it tonight. I thought you’d be exhausted.”

He breathed a low huff before rolling over onto his side. You did the same, letting him hold you with his chest pressed firmly to your back. There wasn’t much room on that tiny couch, but you made it work. After all, even if you were in bed upstairs, you’d probably still be this close to each other, clinging for dear life, never wanting to be separated again, though you knew someday you’d have to.

“I am,” he said. “Just… I dunno, needed you, s’all.” Observant as he was, he took notice of your shivering, and reached back to grab the knitted blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He covered the both of you, then tucked his chin into your shoulder, where it seemed to fit perfectly. “Missed ya so much, could hardly stand bein’ without you.”

Even now, after you thought you’d be used to his sweet words, he still had a way of sending those butterflies aflutter. “Well, now you’re back home.”

That sounded so good to him—back home.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist

Part 2 (coming soon)

#daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #twd fanfic #twd #twd fanfiction #norman reedus fanfic #norman reedus #norman reedus fanfiction #norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon smut #the walking dead smut #twd smut

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cultofdixon · 11 months

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Matchmaker Grimes

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Carl Grimes’ Older Sister!Reader • Carl saw how close you and the archer were getting and thought he (with a little help from dad) he can get the two of you together • SFW/Smol Angst • TW: Anxiety

Requested by: Anon

“Y/N, mind doing me a favor?”

“If it’s something stupid I won’t do it Carl” Y/N scoffs in a playful manner to show her brother she wasn’t serious about turning down whatever it may be. Even if the silence wasn’t going to get her to do what he wants of her. “Dude. Spit it out”

“Shit, sorry. Mind checking the snares? Dad asked me to ask you”

“Then why did you phrase it in wanting me to do you a favor?”

“I panicked and forgot that dad asked me to ask you. I just remembered that it was him asking—-“

“You’re scrambling. But yeah I’ll go take care of it” Y/N shooed him away so that she could get ready in private, even if the blanket curtain for a cell door wasn’t enough privacy.

As the eldest Grimes sibling made her way outside the gates of the prison to check the snares for her father. She noticed the archer setting up new ones after re-setting up the old ones.

Daryl looked up when he heard a throat clear, finally noticing Y/N as he straightens up. “Uh. Rick asked me—-“

“Oh, funny. My dad asked me to do it…too” Y/N tried not to be so nervous around the archer when talking to him.

“I could use a hand though, so you’re perfect—-“ Daryl himself was nervous around the eldest Grimes sibling. “I-I mean it’s…perfect. You…you can help. Yeah”

While that was happening, Rick was currently on watch as he had a pair of binoculars checking the parameter from his tower and more specifically watching the two take care of the snares. They were getting quite a bit of game and while they were out they took care of a few walkers that threatened the fence.

“Anything?” Carl questions the moment he arrived as Rick handed the binoculars to his son.

“Yea know I can’t hear anything right?”

“No shit dad!”

“Language”

“Whatever. I just wanna know if they are talking to each other. I don’t gotta hear what they’re saying” Carl states looking into the binoculars checking on the two himself.

As Y/N finished setting up the last snare she noticed Daryl staring into the prison but more specifically the watch tower. She brought herself to stand beside him curious to what he was looking at.

“Why does your brother have binoculars?”

“Cuz he’s a weirdo. I don’t know” Y/N watching Carl put away the binoculars by shoving them into his dad’s side.

“It’d be weirder if he had one of those…uhhh…”

“A listening device? Aren’t they called bugs?”

“I was thinkin’ the microphone things cops had in old cop films. For spyin’” Daryl adjusted his crossbow on his back as Y/N crosses her arms watching her family scramble in the watchtower.

“I miss movies”

“Yea had a favorite film?”

“Guess” Y/N smiles at Daryl watching his expression soften while in thought.

“Were yea one of them twilight girls?”

“Ew no” She laughs at the guess as Daryl felt a twitch of a smile Grace his face when hearing her laugh. “Lori was obsessed with the books. But as for my favorite movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind”

“Jim Carrey fan?”

“No, I just really enjoyed the film. I could probably recite it by heart I’ve seen it a lot” Y/N started to make her way back to the main gates with Daryl following shortly behind while carrying the catches the traps caught.

“Uhm…think yea could recite it to me like…sometime or whatever”

“Sure, after dinner?” Y/N’s smile he will take to memory. She watches him nod with a hint of his smile peaking out. “Cool”

The night came in and dinner was made with the rabbits they’ve caught in the snares. It was put into a stew with some of the vegetables they grew in the gardens. Some of the people were eating outside and some were inside…Carl found himself sitting outside at the table with his dad and baby sister with the Greenes and Rhees. He was watching Y/N talking to Carol at another table with Daryl sitting with them.

“Carl”

Carl quickly snapped back to the table he was at seeing a few laugh at his attention being elsewhere.

“Sorry what?”

“You gotta eat, son” Rick laughs a bit as he held Judith giving her a bottle. “We’re running out of formula”

“She should be able to start takin’ solids soon but in mush form. We do have carrots coming in” Hershel adds his input as he enjoys the dinner.

“Think we should have a run set up. Just a quick one to see if there’s anymore formula out there before weening her off”

“Glenn and I—-“

“Y/N and Daryl don’t have morning watch tomorrow. They can go on a quick run. I’ll go tell them” Carl quickly got up from his seat making his way over to their table.

Glenn couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him catching everyone’s attention at their picnic table. “Sorry sorry”

“What it’s cute that he’s trying to set them up” Beth was quick to add as that caught Rick’s attention instantly.

“Y’all know what he’s doing?”

“It’s obvious”

“And boy are those two oblivious” Maggie smiles at the two before turning back to her table failing to contain her laughter. “Glenn and I have tried before. But we honestly thought you’d have a problem with it”

“Or it’ll blow up in our faces because it’s the apocalypse and locking the two in an abandoned house can lead to a walker being shoved out a window” Glenn avoided eye contact as that would explain the time Y/N had to get stitches. “Ruined the mood”

“I don’t have a problem with it.“ Rick states setting the bottle down and getting up from his seat to take Judith inside. “I’d only have a problem if he hurts her”

A few hours passed and everyone was inside for the night, Daryl was getting off his watch about to light a cig when he noticed Y/N sitting alone outside. He quickly discarded the cigarette while making his way over to her in the fields.

“Hey”

Y/N looks up from her lap giving Daryl a tired smile before returning her attention onto the book she had in her lap.

“You okay?” He asks bringing himself to sit with her hearing a ‘Mhm’ as a response. “Mind if I sit with yea?”

“Not at all” she smiles watching him the best she could given the barely any light from the solar powered lantern she found from the last run.

Daryl brought himself close bringing his attention to the pictures she was fiddling with hidden in the pages.

“Who’s that?”

“My mom with Lori, then this one” Y/N handed one over to Daryl as he brought it more toward her lantern to get a look. “Carl and I when I was moving out”

“Yea look happy…how’d these manage to survive this long? If yea don’t mind me askin’”

“I know how to take care of my shit” Y/N laughs dryly being handed the photo back as she put it back in a small copy of Flowers for Algernon. No correlation, just know her dad or brother would pick up the book. “My coat has an inside pocket big enough to hold the book I keep them in. Only take it off to sleep so it’s always on me”

“Smart. Kinda like the vest I’ve got. It’ll stay intact as long as it’s with me.”

“The wings suit you by the way. Being a guardian angel of sorts” Y/N smiles listening to him scoff followed by a short lived chuckle. “Ever gonna trust someone to wear them? You do trust Carol to clean it”

“Eh she just showed me how to take care of it. To avoid the wings tearing off…but yeah I’ve got someone in mind, I’d trust to wear’em”

“Oh yeah?” Y/N smiles at the archer not getting an answer of who as the silence grew slightly between them before she took a risk bringing herself beside him resting her head on his shoulder. “They must be pretty special”

She is Daryl tensed at first contact but relaxed after a second watching her curl into his side.

The morning came and Y/N stepped out of the watchtower from taking over Maggie’s morning shift ending just in time to go on the quick run with Daryl. He sat on his bike listening to what they needed to look for from Rick as he brought his attention to Y/N approaching.

“So you know what to—-“

“Get. Now you get” Daryl gestures with his head for Rick to leave as he gave him a confused look before turning to his daughter coming over and left with an amused chuckle escaping him.

Daryl straightens up gripping onto the helmet in his hands as Y/N instantly beams at the archer.

“You look ready”

“Oh I—If you ain’t I can—“

“No I’m good. I’m ready” She continues to smile as Daryl handed her the helmet. “Now why do you have this for me but not yourself?”

“You’re sitting behind me, sunshine. Can’t have yea getting brain damage falling off”

“Hey this isn’t my first time riding yknow”

“Oh?” Daryl smirks bringing himself forward so that Y/N can hop on once she got her helmet secured. “Wouldn’t have pegged yea to be the rebellious type with a dad like that”

“Mm I got away with a lot” Y/N giggles to herself about to wrap her arms around Daryl when she turned back to find Rick looking at the two. “CAN YEA GET THE GATES OLD MAN?”

The archer couldn’t help himself by laughing at her words as his mind drew a blank instantly when she wrapped her arms around his torso.

“Old man really?” Rick comments with a bit of a snicker while passing to get the gate.

Soon the two were off and Carl brought himself to the gates once they closed.

“I’ve got a plan if this doesn’t work”

“I bet yea it will given it’s just them”

“Yeah well. I’m still gonna do my plan and it’s about tonight’s night shifts. Daryl is right after Y/N’s.”

“I’m listening” Rick started to walk back to the prison listening to his son’s plan, knowing part of it will probably not matter given these two being alone now?

Gives them enough time to say something

Do something Daryl thought as he follows Y/N through a mini grocery watching her take everything that would benefit their group. Still keeping an eye out for what Rick asked Daryl to find.

“Hey uh Y/N I—-“

“I love you” Y/N blurted to Daryl as she was taking her own chances but when he didn’t respond right away, she decided to scramble and head further into the building. “Sorry!”

“Nah wait” Daryl quickly followed after her through the market as she always managed to get further ahead. “Y/N Damn it! Stop runnin’ from me please” he finally managed to cut her off as it led to her practically running into him.

“Shit sorry—“

“No I’m sorry, Y/N. Shit yea caught me off guard a moment ago—-“

“Yeah I get that and I totally get it if you don’t—-“

“Stop!” Daryl snapped, murmuring a few apologies when it caused her to flinch. He held her shoulders watching her eyes avoid his as he gently held her chin with his right hand making her look at him. “Yea caught me off guard. I-I was gonna say the same…just Uhm. Never thought you’d feel the same way”

“I…” Y/N exhaled a small laugh before bringing her hands to carefully hold his face. “I just wanted a moment alone with you to tell you and felt that something has been pushing me to this.”

“I felt that too” Daryl brought his hands to rest on her hips bringing her close. “I…fuck, you beat me to it earlier” he chuckles lightly smiling, simply enjoying her laugh and feeling her hands move to behind his neck. “But god I love yea. I love you so much”

“Kiss me then, Dixon” Y/N smiles as the archer didn’t hesitate to bring his lips against hers loving every part of her even more keeping her close.

“Yea think they’ve gotten into some trouble?” Rick asks Hershel as it’s been hours. What was supposed to be a quick run, turned into them being gone for hours.

“Are you worried about your daughter? She’s proven to be strong enough to care for herself, Rick. And Daryl’s with her.”

Rick continued to pace the gardens while Hershel kept the upkeep on their veggies being a listening ear to his friend’s concern.

“I should go out there”

“Yea shouldn’t. If they don’t surface tomorrow, then a few of us can go look for them.” Hershel grabbed some mulch from his bucket and started to place it in the soil when he brought his attention to the familiar roar of Daryl’s bike. “Don’t have to send a party out” he states watching Rick sprint over to the gates.

“The fuck happen to a quick ru—-Where’s my daughter, Dixon?” He only ever used Daryl’s last name when he was pissed and the conversation included Y/N.

“Are you blind?” Daryl scoffs bringing his bike to its usual spot as Rick quickly turns to the car coming through having Y/N in the drivers.

As the car pulls in and Y/N stepped out after parking it, Rick instantly grabbed her into a hug out of sudden anxiety for her safety as she awkwardly pats his back wanting him to stop.

“I didn’t die”

“You gotta stop saying that” Rick sighs pulling away and checking her for injuries as she gently pushes him back. “Sorry”

“You worry too much, old man. But look at what we brought back” Y/N gestures for him to check out their findings in the trunk and as she listens to Rick being grateful that they decided to stick outside the walls longer to get more of what they need, she looked over to Daryl seeing him crouched by his bike checking it out after the ride looking over to her.

The archer shot her a smile as she returned it followed by a wink before turning to her dad talking about the blankets they found and giving them to the kids they have at the prison. While all that happens, Carl who stood by the entrance to their cellblock from the outside, noticed their small exchange and quickly went to Daryl knowing his sister wouldn’t hear what he’s about to say.

“You break my sister’s heart and I end you” Carl suddenly stated to the man who gave him a confused look before he could fully take in what he said.

“I’ll never break your sister’s heart”

“You better. Cuz I’m fucking serious” Carl crosses his arms. “I will end you”

Daryl scoffs as he removes one of his knifes from their slot handing it to Carl and with his normal serious tone.

“If I ever, EVER, do wrong by your sister? You know exactly what to do with that”

And on that note Daryl went to help his girl and Rick with unloading the goods from the “new” car they brought. Carl stood there watching and fiddled with the knife in his hand. Knowing he’s never gonna have to use it.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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kozmicmizuu · 11 months

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at this point expect random lil senecios and headcanons just popping up 😔🫶

also is it obvious i have a favorite trio????

(a lil uzuigiyuu, rengiyuu, uzuren, actually just put three together uzurengiyuu)

————————————————————————

Kyojuro: Tengen doesn’t deserve you.

Kyojuro: If they don't treat you right by now, you're gone.

Giyuu: I'm gone.

Kyojuro: Now go chop their dick off!

Kyojuro: sapnu puaS.

Tengen : What??

Giyuu: What language is that.

Kyojuro: Turn your phone 180 degrees.

*Kyojuro was removed from the groupchat*

Giyuu: Kyojuro, you do remember when we agreed we were better off as friends, right?

Kyojuro, naked in Giyuu's bed: No, I absolutely do not.

Giyuu, already taking off their clothes: ... Me neither.

Tengen : There are 20 letters in the alphabet, right?

Giyuu: Nope, there's 26.

Tengen : Ah, I must have forgotten U, R, A, Q, T.

Giyuu: Aww, that's cute, but you're still missing one.

Tengen : You'll get the D later ;).

Giyuu: No.

Giyuu: I’m the sexiest bitch in this therapy waiting room.

Kyojuro: Don’t preach to me about romance, Giyuu. I had a three-way in a hot-air balloon.

Giyuu: I know, i was there and so was Tengen.

Kyojuro: Oh yeah.

Kyojuro: What are you in the mood for?

Giyuu: World domination.

Kyojuro: That's a bit ambitious.

Giyuu: You are my world.

Kyojuro: Aww...

Giyuu:

Kyojuro:

Giyuu:

Kyojuro: OH.

Giyuu: My bad…

Giyuu: We need a diversion. I say Kyojuro gets naked.

Tengen : No.

Giyuu: I could get naked.

The squad: NO!!!

Tengen: I mean… if you really want to-

Kyojuro: NO DONT THATS ONLY FOR US TO SEE

Giyuu: WHAT

Kyojuro: There. How do I look?

Giyuu: Like a cheap French harlot.

Kyojuro: French?!

Tengen: If we were in prison you guys would be like my bitches.

Kyojuro: Of course we would, right Giyuu?

Giyuu: Yeah, i mean we already kinda are.

Kyojuro: What’s your body count?

Giyuu: Do you mean sex or murder?

Kyojuro: I hate the fact that i have to specify which one im taking about.

Kyojuro: Is there a cactus where your heart should be?

Giyuu: What’s up your ass this morning??

Tengen : *walks in* ...Hey.

Giyuu: Hmm… nevermind.

Kyojuro: WAIT NO

Giyuu: *sucking on a popsicle*

Kyojuro: Pfft, you practicing for when Tengen gets here?

Giyuu: *takes a huge ass bite out of the popsicle*

Kyojuro: *Concern*

Giyuu: don’t worry he’s into that.

Kyojuro: Oh ok- WAIT WHAT

Giyuu: look Tengen , I'm not slut shaming you but...

Giyuu: Actually yeah, I'm TOTALLY slut shaming you.

Tengen: SHUT THE FUCK UP

Giyuu: What did Tengen do this time?

Kyojuro: More like WHO did Tengen do this time?

Giyuu: *Nodding in agreement*

Tengen : I like your top, Kyojuro!

Giyuu: I have a name, you know.

Kyojuro: *sighs* Why. Why are you like this.

Giyuu: I thought is was funny ngl.

Tengen : Sorry, I'm late to the party. I've been doing things.

Kyojuro, entering in an unbuttoned shirt: I got caught up doing things too.

Giyuu: Wow, Tengen was late too! What a coincidence!

Giyuu: I committed all 7 deadly sins in 30 minutes.

Tengen : Wow, I've gotta hear this.

Giyuu: I was angry and envious of my neighbor so I lazily seduced his wife and ate all his groceries and didn't share.

Tengen : You forgot pride.

Giyuu: No, I'm pretty proud of this.

Giyuu: Why is everyone so obsessed with top or bottom? Honestly, I’d just be excited to have a bunk bed.

Tengen :

Tengen : I'm gonna tell them.

Kyojuro: Don't you dare.

Tengen : Who do we know that has handcuffs?

Giyuu: Well Kyojuro and I-

Kyojuro: *elbows Giyuu*

Giyuu: ...wouldn't know.

Tengen: Damn i didn’t think you’d be kinky Kyo!

Kyojuro: Why single me out!?

Tengen: Quiet people are always kinky.

Giyuu: Nuh uh

Kyojuro: Bonjour, Giyuu. Voulez–vous coucher avec moi?

Giyuu: No, I don't want to sleep with you.

Kyojuro: Is that what that means? Oh, man, I had a really gross tennis instructor.

Giyuu: Know why I called you in here?

Tengen : Because I accidentally sent you a dick pic.

Giyuu: *Stops pouring two glasses of wine.* Accidentally?

Tengen , with a headache: Advil me up, daddy.

Giyuu: I will short out the language centre of your brain if you say anything like that ever again.

Kyojuro, bursting into the room: You two are having sex!

Tengen , not looking up from their book: Really? Giyuu, why didn’t you tell me? I would have put my book down.

Giyuu: I thought we were having a sleepover..

Kyojuro, gardening: Hey, can you bring me the hoe?

Giyuu: Yeah, sure.

*A few minutes later*

Giyuu: Here you go.

Kyojuro:

Giyuu:

Tengen : Why am I here?

Giyuu: I’m so funny.

*At a speed dating event*

Tengen : Oh wow, people are really shallow.

Giyuu: Consider it a background check. For example: Do you have a death certificate?

Tengen : *Checks their pulse* Sorry, not yet.

Giyuu: Good, I'm not fucking a ghost again.

Tengen: Again?

Giyuu: Being a medium is an experience.

Giyuu: Do you think sex without love is a sin?

Tengen : If it is, I’ll see you in hell.

Kyojuro: Why are you two like this?

Tengen : Priest kink is definitely a thing and I am afflicted by it.

Giyuu: Go to church.

Giyuu: WAIT—

Giyuu: Oh look who got laid last night.

Kyojuro: That’s right chumps, missionary accomplished!

Tengen : Heh, Giyuu sneezes like a girl.

Giyuu: How about I pound you like boy?

Giyuu: That didn’t come out right.

————————————————————————

Sigh i’m not well, but i love them sm. They are severely out of character but that makes funny. that’s there dynamic now fr fr. Don’t worry they can wholesome.

#demon slayer #kny #kemitsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #rengoku kyojuro #tengen uzui #october #halloween #they are losers but they are eachothers losers #uzugiyuu #uzuren #rengiyuu #uzurengiyuu #they have so many sleepovers #i love them sm it’s crazy

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pileofmush · 6 months

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you don't know what i deserve .·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.

ft. okkotsu yuuta

it’s 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. you're on your own—just you and the dead body.

info : ̗̀➛ tags: gn!reader, neighbor au, strangers to lovers, yuuta & reader are a little strange, happy ending // cw: death, light angst, vulgar language, canon-typical violence...but pretty mild imo

thoughts : ̗̀➛ helllooo. back on my bullshit. let's call this a very belated birthday present to my beloved <3 // read this on ao3

wc : ̗̀➛ 5.1k

The human body contains a shit ton of blood.

Which is not something you think about often, but now you are forced to confront this fact in real-time. People… have a lot of blood.

And it stains. No matter how many times you wash your hands. There are still flakes of blood wedged underneath your fingernails. Part of you thinks it'll never go away.

...And then there's Sailor Moon.

“I am the pretty guardian who fights for love and justice! I am Sailor Moon! And now, in the name of the moon, I’ll punish you!”

Cue trumpets and flashy poses; the makings of a battle. Your comfort anime blares in the background of a morbid scene, the flickering TV casting a soft glow on a sight that will inevitably haunt your nightmares.

Because it's 1 a.m. on the fifteenth of February and there’s a corpse on your kitchen floor. Still fresh: odorless and warm to the touch. You pace in your tiny living room, unsure of what to do, of how to proceed. The pretty Sailor Guardians won’t save you now. You’re on your own. Just you and the dead body.

How romantic.

The chill from outside has swept into your apartment thanks to that annoying fucking prick who left your window open. Honestly, people these days have no decency. The least he could’ve done was close your shutters after tumbling through your bedroom window like a deranged acrobat. Now you’re, like, moderately cold.

“What a fucking mess,” you sigh.

Blood seeps into the earthy Persian rug that you got for half-price at a flea market a few months ago. It’s dark; puddling, like... like a knocked-over glass of chocolate milk, spilled all over the kitchen table. Or, maybe chocolate syrup would be more apt. It doesn’t matter, though. You can always get a new rug. You know, if you make it out of this situation of yours intact and not in a dingy prison cell for homicide.

Hmm. You might be sorta kinda screwed.

The police, of course, are out of the question. No matter your side of the story, it wouldn’t hold up in trial. No, no, no. A foreigner murdering a Japanese citizen? Even if it was in self-defense, it wouldn’t matter. Forget prison—you’ll probably be hanged.

So, you could run… But you probably wouldn’t get far. Or, you could do what every naive murderer in the movie about karmic retribution does and try your darnedest to get away with it.

“Option two it is!” you quit pacing and announce to the room. Thankfully, the body doesn’t respond.

A weak knock at the door sounds off—a gunshot. Your heart stalls, your head snapping to the entrance of the apartment. Who the hell is at your door? The person at the door knocks a second time, a little bit more insistently, and you start to sweat. “Hello, is everything alright? I—I heard a scream.”

You step up to the peephole and squint. A mild-looking man shuffles his feet outside your door. It’s your next-door neighbor, bathed in the ugly yellow lighting of your apartment complex. He smiles like he knows that you can see him.

This… isn’t ideal. You could choose to not answer him, but that probably wouldn’t work. What if he called the police? You take a breath. “Everything’s fine,” you call out.

The man’s smile freezes in place, somehow more eerie than a frown; his hands burrow deeper into his pockets. “Oh!” he says. “Are… Are you sure?”

You turn away from the peephole, a little unnerved. “Yeah, why?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to intrude, but I heard a lot more than a single scream.”

A slow, dreadful feeling starts to seep into your gut. “Pardon?”

There’s a pause. You swallow.

“These walls are thin.”

Fuck. He knows. Oh God, he knows.

No—that’s impossible. You were the only one to scream. Yasuhiro… He didn’t get the chance to. So this is just a concerned neighbor checking in on you. Nothing more, nothing less. You can prove it, prove that you’re okay.

You open the door a smidge so that you can peek through, then step outside and shut the door behind you. Your neighbor, what’s his name again? Okkotsu, right? Okkotsu’s brows lift at the sight of you, then relax. He’s wearing a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweats that should probably be criminal in Japan. His eyes flicker up and down your frame. You suppress a shiver.

“Just a horror movie,” you broach, offering him a polite smile. “I’m an easy fright.”

Okkotsu pulls a hand out of his pocket to awkwardly rub the back of his neck. His gentle smile has dimmed. “I’m not sure I believe you,” he says in an apologetic tone.

You both notice the tremor that runs through your body. Nosy fucking neighbors and their lack of sense when it comes to minding their own business. You stare mulishly at the floor. His shoes are simple. Black; scuffed. His left foot taps once against the floor. Whatever. You don't have to answer to him. Gathering up your resolve, you start to speak. “Listen, Okkotsu-san,” you say but are cut off quickly.

“Is that blood?”

That makes you freeze, eyes glued to the floor. A cold set of fingers dips under your chin and gently lifts it. Your gaze meets his: two pools of an endless, starless night. It flickers to a spot beside your ear knowingly and you reach for it.

He’s right. Blood sticks to your fingers, not yet dry. Lurking in the crevice behind your ear. You missed a spot.

“Well spotted.” It’s fruitless to lie now. You know it, he knows it. Now it’s a matter of who’ll crack first.

“Are you… Are you injured?”

Physically? No. Psychiatrically? Well, you just murdered a man, so.

“I’m unharmed.”

Okkotsu blinks owlishly. “Is that so?” He murmurs curiously, tilting your head to the side to observe the blood staining your skin.

You readjust your head and mimic him, blinking slowly. “Okkotsu—”

“Yuuta,” he interrupts.

You blink again. For such a mild, polite-seeming boy, he really is quite rude. And confusing. And terrifying. And you kinda sort of want him to die. “Okkotsu-san” you repeat. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

Okkotsu Yuuta’s smile returns, and it’s dangerously innocuous. He breathes your name out like a question. Starless eyes wander to your front door, then go back to studying your own. “Can I come inside?” he asks, quietly.

Everything stills, even your heart. You’re not quite certain you’re alive, when you ask, dubiously, “The apartment?”

Okkotsu just smiles.

You let Okkotsu come inside.

Which is absolutely fucking insane, but you have a feeling that your neighbor’s worse off than you are, and that’s truly saying something.

You hear him lock the door behind you before you start. Silently, you lead him past your living room, past Tsukino Usagi flying down the sidewalk on the way to school—the start of another episode, then—past your browning house plant hanging from the ceiling, into your quaint kitchen.

It’s nothing special. A small green stove with two bunsen burners on top. A sink; limited counter space. A couple of peeling cabinets. Tied in together with a white backsplash, shifting colors with each flicker of the TV. To the side, a small table sits, with two mismatched chairs tucked into it.

Oh, and there’s the dead body, too. Practically dribbling blood, painting your discounted rug muddy red and the surrounding blue tile purple.

Okkotsu lets out a soft sigh. “What a mess.”

You consider him from the corner of your eye. “That’s what I said,” you frown.

He shrugs, still looking at poor, dead, Yasuhiro. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Yeaaaah. It’s true.

A giggle escapes you, the reality of the situation finally hitting you. “Fuck,” you whisper in between the giggles. “I’m fucked.” It’s true. Utterly and thoroughly—no condom used.

“Not yet,” you barely hear him say over the fracturing of your composure. This is impossible. You killed a man tonight, then showed a stranger the corpse. You’re an idiot. You’re a freak. You can’t hide a dead body. You really might as well bend over and get it over with. Fuck.

Hands gripping your knees, you struggle to catch your breath. When did you lose it? Ah, who cares? Dead. You’re dead. The noose is looped around your hollowed throat, tightening by the second. Perhaps there’ll be two corpses on your kitchen floor by the time the sun is up. Perhaps you should’ve just let him kill—

“Breathe with me,” Okkotsu mutters, right in front of you, long hands gingerly clutching your shoulders. Which is strange. You had no idea he got so close. His thumbs swipe up and down, around and around, and you are flummoxed. But Okkotsu is patient, his chest compressing and expanding with each measured breath, and you are compelled to follow him. Slowly, you come down from your panicked high. You let out a shaky breath, eyes sliding back to the imposing guest in your apartment. The other imposing guest in your apartment.

The body in front of you lays eerily still, impervious to your mini breakdown. It’s not purple, or rotting, or excreting out the last remaining fluids left in its underwhelming husk. It’s just—laying there. Laying, not lying, because it is no longer a breathing thing that rests; now an object to be placed. Dehumanized, in every way. Then again, what is dehumanization if not just another word for murder? What is murder, if not just the taking away of a person’s autonomy? Dead bodies can’t rest. It will never lie again.

The dead body lays.

And you wonder for how much longer you’ll keep your own autonomy.

When do the dead start to attract flies? Realistically, you know it can range from a day to a few days for a decomposing body to become…obscene, depending on the environmental conditions. It hasn’t even been a few hours. You doubt flies will start buzzing around any time soon. If you move to crouch down and touch it, it’ll probably still be warm.

The swipe of a thumb over your shoulder brings your awareness back to your neighbor.

“Why are you helping me?” You ask, wiping the tears that have beaded up in the corners of your eyes. Your breathing is steadier now, but you’re still trembling. That damn window is still open.

The hands on your shoulders release, and you look up to gauge his thoughts. He’s frowning. His eyes cloud, then sharpen: lightning against a black sky. “You need to get rid of the body, don’t you?” It’s a rhetorical question, but you nod anyway.

“Then we’ll figure it out. Don’t worry. I bet we’ll be done before dawn.”

He makes to walk away but you stay rooted to your spot, trying to figure out why this strange, strange neighbor of yours who makes friends with stray cats and tends to the apartment garden is willing to become an accomplice of murder for you.

“Okkotsu, are… Are you in love with me or something?”

Your neighbor stops, then snorts, and it sends a shiver down your spine. He turns back to face you. A soft pout lies on his lips as he skillfully evades your question with a request of his own. “Hey, if you’re gonna ask me something like that, why don’t you use my name next time?”

You don’t ask again.

You have far bigger problems than interrogating Okkotsu Yuuta, so you push it aside and stalk toward the body. Okkotsu joins you, and the two of you peer at the deceased man before you. It’s… Still. The blood has stopped its puddling; a thin line stretches the column of its throat. His throat was slit neatly, gracefully, like an act of love. It wasn’t one, but, maybe you gave Yasuhiro what he wanted, in a terrible, twisted way. How magnanimous of you.

Yasuhiro wasn’t an attractive man. Limp brown hair framing a slightly uglier-than-average face. At least he had the decency to close his eyes before his last, dying breath. They were blood-shot and wiry, the last time you saw them open. Bouncing haphazardly in its sockets like they couldn’t discern which corner of the room you stood in.

Okkotsu perks up at the sound of your harrumph. “What?” he questions you, and you slide your eyes over to him. Okkotsu Yuuta is distinctly pale, a trait that you’ve always noticed and have always sort of admired on him. It suits the subdued, yet haunted look he’s got going on. Black lashes feather the whites of his eyes, as well as the endless void of his irises. Yeah, he’s almost doll-like, in that gentle, haunting way of his.

“You’re creepier than the corpse,” you tell him instead and turn away, just barely hiding your smile. The laugh that rings out from him sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

Just kidding. It actually sounds kind of sweet.

Okkotsu follows you to the bathroom, where you’ve grabbed pretty much all of your cleaning supplies. You stuff them in a bucket and he hauls it out of your arms, the two of you shuffling back to the kitchen.

“So how should we go about this?” You muse, staring at the body. The movies you’ve seen are the only reference you have for the disposal of dead bodies, but those usually end with the killer getting caught, so you’re not so sure about mimicking their methods.

“I’m not sure,” Okkotsu says, tilting his head in thought. “Severing his limbs without the proper tools would be difficult. I guess we could carry him and bury him somewhere unassuming—unless you have a car that we could use?” A quick glance at you confirms that you don’t. He rubs his chin, nodding to himself. “Right. A garden cart will do, then. We should check to see if he has any identifiers on him, first, though. Oh, and we can’t forget about the teeth. Do you have any pliers?” He turns to you casually, eyes widening at the sight of your awe.

Thin black brows furrow in confusion. “What?” He asks.

You blink. “Have you…ever…?” Your voice dies in your throat.

Thankfully, he gets it. “Oh. No! No, I’ve never murdered a person,” he denies, dipping his head and tugging the neckline of his plain white tee. A curious look crosses his face. “But I could,” he tacks on cautiously.

You hug your arms and give a half-assed shrug. You can almost feel the weight of a kitchen knife in your dominant hand; the quick, fluid motion of ending a life.

“Anyone could,” you acquiesce, dismissing the conversation. Okkotsu hums mournfully in return.

According to his ID, Yasuhiro Souta is a twenty-seven-year-old male who lives in Chiba. What he was doing tumbling through your window in the middle of the night is anyone’s guess. Well, he did tell you, sort of shakily before he made to lunge at you, that you were supposedly his Valentine for the night. How sweet!

Snip. You met him for the first time a little over two months ago. He dropped his wallet on the train, so you picked it up and handed it to him in a silly attempt to be a decent person. It resulted in the man refusing to let go of your hand for a solid five minutes. Yes, yes, what an adorable meet-cute! Snip. When you managed to pry your clammy hands out of his vice-like grip, it was your stop, and, oh, how fortuitous, it was Yasuhiro’s as well! He followed you off the train into a random coffee shop, and it was only when you got the help of the employees that he backed off, the doorbell chiming as the glass door swung behind his back. Snip.

You thought that was the end of it, and proceeded about your day, running errands for a few hours until you retreated home. It shook you up for a little, yes, but it was nothing too crazy. You doubted you’d ever see him again.

Snip.

You slice Yasuhiro’s ID with your scissors until it’s a pile of ashes.

Okkotsu’s on his knees, holding a pair of pliers to the light. Wedged between the metal lies a crooked tooth. He hums to himself, plopping the tooth in a ziplock bag. He wears a pair of green garden gloves he grabbed from his apartment; you’re wearing a matching set. The rubber’s a little too big for you, but you’re making it work.

It's as Okkotsu calmly adjusts the head in his lap, preparing to yank another tooth that you stare at your strange partner, wondering how in the hell you got yourself into this situation. It’s been happening every so often: your acceptance of reality swinging in the opposite direction like the pendulum on a grandfather clock.

You shouldn’t have killed him.

You don’t care for Yasuhiro Souta’s life. You don’t care for the man who intended to assault you. But there’s not a chance in hell that this won’t get traced back to you.

You're fucked.

Why did it have to be like this? Why do bad things happen to good people?

That’s the way the cookie crumbles, darling.

And you crumble—crumbled—are crumbling when you turn to your neighbor. “Okkotsu-san,” you say, picking at your dirty nails.

“Yuuta,” the man insists. What a freak. He's a freak, and he's good, and you don't deserve it.

You take a deep breath, mulling over your doomed fate. It doesn’t have to be his, too. “You should get out of here. While you still can.”

There's an awkward pause. The strange man pulls out another tooth and plops it in the baggy. “There,” he says warmly, then draws to his full height. “Do you have a coffee maker?” You ball your fists around the plastic handle in your hands. Calm, calm, stay calm. “Did you hear what I just said?” You ask.

“Oh, I did,” Okkotsu hums. “I chose to ignore it.”

Your hands begin to shake as you repeat his words. “Ch—Chose to—”

Okkotsu says your name pityingly. “I thought we already had this conversation," he questions with pinched brows. “Why are we—”

“We?!” You interrupt, incensed. We. It's as if the curtains have been drawn open, allowing the rays of the illuminating, scorching sun to trickle through. It blinds you, and you have the urge to pull your eyes out and shove them down his throat. “You thought we? Who are you? You don’t know a damn thing about me!”

“I think I know a few things about you,” Okkotsu smiles sweetly, gesturing to the dead body in your apartment.

“Do you, now?” You laugh and toss your hands up to the ceiling. “Great! I have an idea!" You glare, the metal edge of your scissors catching the light. "If you know what I’m capable of, then you should get the hell out."

A pause. You pant, more worked up than have been all night and it's fucking ridiculous and you hate it. You want to choke—you want him to choke. On your blood-soaked fingers, preferably. He'd probably lick them clean.

Unaware of your depraved thoughts, Okkotsu’s lips pull into a frown. He sighs, running a ghostly hand through his hair.

“I’m not scared of you,” he tells you, quietly.

You hold your breath. “Maybe you should be.”

Your insufferable neighbor takes a step forward, that stupid frown still on his stupid doll face. “What’s your plan?” He prompts. “Do you intend to confess? To go to prison?” You shake your head slowly and he softens. “You don’t deserve that,” he says, like he really means it.

Why did you let this man into your house? Why is he offering you hope? It’s too much. The scissors slide out of all your fingers save for one; your limbs sag with a weariness that’s settled deep in your bones.

“You don’t know what I deserve.”

Okkotsu stops and considers you. Your chest heaves, your heart pounds, and you want out. You want out, and he can get out, and you don’t know… You don’t know why…

“If you want me to judge you, I won’t,” says Okkotsu.

You shake your head at his dismissal, your eyes squeezed shut. “I can’t judge you,” he continues, and there goes his cold, calloused hand again, gingerly tilting your chin upwards. The pair of scissors in your clutches drops fruitlessly to the floor. When you look up, there’s something like pleading in his endless, starless eyes. “Trust me,” he begs.

You shouldn’t. You know it with every fiber of your being that you should not trust Okkotsu Yuuta. The man who blinks like an owl and stares at you like you’re a mouse he can’t wait to swallow whole. Who blushes pink whenever you hold the elevator door for him. Who has cold fingers that cradle you so gingerly—who touches you like he knows you—who doesn’t cringe at the sight of dead bodies but gives a damn about a bit of blood staining the outside of your ear.

You shouldn’t. Trust him. But you—you feel as if he’s reached inside your chest and plucked out your pulsing, blackened heart.

“Do you love me?” You ask Okkotsu Yuuta again, heart throbbing in his hand.

His eyes don’t stray from yours. “Ask me again with my name,” he says quietly.

…You don’t know if you want to.

Releasing a breath, you push past him, snatch the ziplock bag from the floor, and stride towards the stove. “I’ll make coffee,” you say, already fiddling with the grinder.

Okkotsu lets you depart with a sigh.

“So what do you like to do when you’re not helping random people bury bodies?” You ask Okkotsu a couple of hours later. You stumble over a root in the dark, and Okkotsu’s quick to grab you by the waist and steady you. You continue, a bag full of your keys, water, pepper spray, freshly-bleached gloves, a burner phone that Okkotsu already had, for some reason, and two sets of clean clothes swinging against your back. You fidget with the shovel in your hands mindlessly, trying to get it to spin. A garden cart with a tarp draped over it creaks along the grass floor. The two of you have walked for who knows how long, but, according to him, you’re getting close.

The man beside you hums, surprisingly chipper for the nefarious activities afoot. “When I’m not busy, I like to garden and crochet. I also like making food for my friends from time to time,” he says in a simple, humble manner. The last part doesn’t surprise you. He’s brought you helpings of food on the most random occasions, showing up at your doorstep with self-proclaimed “leftovers” and shoving full plates into your arms with a velvety smile. That does beg the question, though…

“Have you considered us friends this whole time?” You squint at him in the dark, only the moonlight carving out the contours of his subtle, delicate features. You’re kind of surprised. You two made decent neighbors but only ever talked in short bursts outside your rooms. Your conversations rarely ever broke past polite mumblings about the weather.

Okkotsu pouts. “You mean, we’re not friends yet?” He asks, before breaking into a twinkling laugh.

“Shut up,” you bite, but you laugh too, lightly shoving at his arm. Okkotsu, bless him, pretends to stumble. It takes you a moment to suppress the heat burning the tips of your ears, but you do get it under control, eventually. “I meant… Before?”

His expression smoothens out before he gives a soft shake of his head. “No, not quite. But, I wanted us to be."

It’s quiet for a moment, nothing but the rustling under your feet and the ever-present, cacophonous sounds of nature. You spot a nest of sleeping birds tucked in between the branches of a tree and smile.

“Well,” you try to keep your cool, eyes sweeping over the forest's shadows, “Better late than never.”

It strikes you halfway to the burial grounds that Yasuhiro didn’t bring his phone with him to your apartment in his depraved, intoxicated state. He crawled up a tree, through your cracked-open bedroom window—conveniently avoiding cameras. So, once you’re done with this, you very may well be free.

It’s a terrifying notion, freedom.

“What about you?” Okkotsu asks you, something like ten minutes later. “What do you like to do for fun? Besides watch Sailor Moon, I mean.”

You bite your lip to keep from grinning. “Well,” you wonder aloud. “This is pretty fun, wouldn’t you say?”

Okkotsu lets out a little breath before he softly admits his agreement.

It rained earlier today, you forgot. The ground crumbles like clay when you swing the shovel into the ground. You and Okkotsu take turns making a grave, taking water breaks in between. There is hope alive in you, you realize, as the two of you work in tandem.

Yasuhiro Souta is lowered into the ground with all the dignity a dead man could possess. He lays atop a tarp and your old Persian rug. A stream rushes somewhere nearby, bubbling like blood, and you pray that the body will make good fertilizer. When your hand shakes, Yuuta grabs it.

You bury your clothes on the way back, a mile out. The sun peaks over the horizon.

When you return to your room with Yuuta in tow, your emotions overwhelm you: you are terrified and gleeful and sorry for all you’ve done.

It is mournfully quiet as you mop the purple tiles blue, bleach burning your nostrils and freshly scrubbed gloves. Yuuta’s left to clean the garden cart in the gardens. He returns shortly, though, offers you a small smile, and helps you scrub every inch of your apartment.

You scrub, and scrub.

And scrub.

“You’re beautiful,” Yuuta says to you when you’re in the middle of wiping your brow. You’re sitting cross-legged on your rugless kitchen floor, where a dead body once lay. Sweat clings to your skin in uncomfortable places and you reek of bleach. “Shut the fuck up and scrub, Yuuta,” you command.

Yuuta’s serene smile is unparalleled to anything you’ve ever seen before.

You could probably fall in love with him, you contemplate as you watch your neighbor make fluffy pancakes in the comforts of his own kitchen. If you haven’t fallen in love with him, already, that is. You doubt you’ll ever have a connection with someone as profound as the bond you share with the soft-spoken man who helped you bury a dead body.

Love, you marvel, in the span of a few hours.

It’s disquieting.

After multiple showers, and after Yuuta’s stuffed you with more pancakes than you can chew, the pair of you are lounging on his tatami mat, a much-needed change in scenery. You have like, three hours before you need to go to work, which, Yuuta agrees, is crucial to maintaining a veneer of normalcy. Which means this impromptu nightmare date will have to come to an end—as all good things do.

“I should probably get to bed,” you say after a lull in conversation.

Yuuta nods, reasonably. “That makes sense, yeah.”

“Got work in the morning and all that,” you continue in a nonchalant tone.

“Make sure your window’s locked.”

Fine. “Walk me out, will you?” You request. Okkotsu Yuuta, ever the gentleman, agrees, even though the front door is only a handful of feet away. He pushes himself off his knees and stands at full height, though his starless eyes are, as always, trained on you. You would probably find Yuuta’s full attention a little unsettling if you had not just slit a man’s throat that night.

You avoid his gaze all the same—stopping at his doorstep with your hands twisting at your sides. Yuuta stops beside you and waits patiently for you to string your words together.

You clear your throat. “Hey, um—”

“Hi,” Yuuta interrupts, and you smile, filled with the courage to go on.

“So, the thing is… Well, I probably wouldn’t have made it anywhere far without you. I acted quite amateur back there, you’d think this was my first dead body I was trying to hide, or something, ha. Um, so yeah, thank you—from the most sincere and vulnerable depths of my heart. I guess I’ll see you around? Okay, bye.”

A hand wraps around your wrist before you can run home with your tail tucked between your legs. Yuuta murmurs your name in a soft, dulcet tone, and you’re not certain you’re prepared to hear whatever he has to say. You turn to face him anyway, because, well, you owe him that much.

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” He chides.

The pit in your stomach swoops. “Not that I recall,” you lie with a straight face.

“Try again,” Yuuta smiles sweetly, like a haunted little doll.

“It’s been a long day, you know—”

“Cold, I’m afraid.”

“My brain isn’t functioning at its peak—”

“Hmm, getting colder!”

“I don’t think I can.”

A pause. You avert your gaze and allow yourself to get analyzed by Yuuta’s doleful, starless eyes. “Hey,” he calls your name, asks you to look at him.

You look at him.

“Good," he hums.

You roll your eyes, loop an arm around his long neck, and drag him to you.

Okkotsu Yuuta tastes like the earth. From dust to dust, you are at the end and beginning when you capture his lips between yours. He responds quickly, hands digging firmly into your waist as he knocks you into his door frame, and you quickly learn what it means to be savored. You intended the kiss to be a quick, rash, thing, but he slows you down, melds into you languidly like you have all the time in the world. When he sucks on your bottom lip, you both moan, breaking apart for air. Yuuta slips his hands underneath your shirt, and for once, his cold hands burn, lighting the fire for something you’re not certain you’ll be able to finish.

“Go ahead and ask me already, love,” Yuuta murmurs into your ear. And, well, fuck. You melt. “Yuuta,” you whisper as he nips at your neck. “You love me, yes?”

At that, he bites down at the hollow of your neck. You gasp, then sigh when he instantly cools the wound with his tongue. “Obviously,” he replies, quite simply, thumb swiping delicately at your stomach.

“Great,” you gasp, and Yuuta looks at you and beams.

And, there goes your heart again, pulsing in his cold, calloused hands. Cradle it gently, Yuuta, won’t you?

fin. if u made it this far, ily

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#yuuta x reader #yuta x reader #jjk x reader #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yuuta x you #yuta x you #jjk x gn!reader #jjk #tw: blood #tw: death #m.jjk #m.yuuta #battle scarred;#yuuta my beloved <3

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yellow-computer-mouse · 2 months

Text

fuck it incorrect quotes

Horror: "I lost a bet." Horror: The second-most ominous phrase in existence. Killer: What's the first? Horror: "Let's make a bet."

Horror: I am a ninja. Cross: No, you’re not. Horror: Did you see me do that? Cross: Do what? Horror: Exactly.

Killer: Two truths and a lie, I’ll start! Killer: I’ve killed a man, I will kill again, and it burns when I pee. Nightmare, visibly nervous: I don’t- I don’t like this game.

Killer: BE A BETTER PERSON! Dust: WHY?! Killer: BECAUSE SOMEONE NEEDS TO HAVE MORALS IN THIS RELATIONSHIP, AND IT SURE AS FUCK AIN'T GONNA BE ME, SWEETHEART!

*Killer is helping Nightmare break out of prison* Killer: Sooo… Does this make us partners in crime? Nightmare: Don’t push it. Killer: Oh my gosh, we can be like Harley Quinn and the Joker! Nightmare: If you don’t stop talking, they’re adding “murder” to the charges.

Nightmare, to Cross: Please, picking locks is my specialty. Nightmare: *throws a brick through the window* Nightmare: Okay, let’s go.

Horror: What’s your biggest fear? Dust: I am incredibly arachnophobic. Horror, under their breath: You don’t want spiders to get married?

Killer: Are you alright? Nightmare: Short answer or long answer? Killer: Short? Nightmare: No. Killer: Long? Nightmare: Nooooooo.

Cross, gently nudging Horror aside with their foot: Horror, move out of the way so I don’t trip on you. Horror, her eyes enormous: You kick Horror? You kick her body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for Cross! Jail for Cross for one thousand years!

Nightmare, rushing into the room: It’s terrible, just terrible! I am so upset! Cross: Nightmare, dude, sit down! Tell us all about it. Dust, would you get Nightmare some water? Dust: What is he gonna do with water? Has water ever made you feel better when you were upset? Have you ever heard anyone say, “Thank God, the water’s here!”?

Killer: Cross, we tried things your way. Cross: No, we didn't. Killer: I did it in my head and it didn't work.

Cross: You spent all our money on THIS?? Dust, putting tiny raincoats on ducklings: They live outside. They need this.

Cross: Okay, who's turn is it to give the pep talk? Horror: It's Dust's turn. Dust: Don't die. Killer, wiping a tear away: Truly inspirational.

Killer: How do ethical philosophers feel about murder? Cross: Well, it’s frowned upon. Killer: Okay, but what if the reason you want to murder someone is to make your life easier? Killer: That’s okay, right?

Dust, holding in their laughter: Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing? Nightmare: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language. Dust: Dust: Water you doing?

Killer: And here we see Dust and Horror in their natural habitat. Texting each other variations of the word "garlic bread" to try to make each other laugh. Dust: Gaelic bread. Horror: Grueling brad. Dust: Ha ha, glamorous beans.

Dust: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities. Dust, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor.

Nightmare: Have I ever told you that I love you with my whole heart? Dream: For the love of all that is holy, I am not taking you to McDonalds. It’s 2am! Nightmare: Mean.

Nightmare: You're alive. Dream: There's no need to sound so disappointed.

Nightmare: I got an idea! Dream: Does it involve breaking the law? Nightmare: By now don’t you think that’s a given? Dream: I was just trying to be optimistic. Nightmare: Don’t bother.

Nightmare: Why is it that I always lose things as soon as I need them? Dream: Actually, it's not that you lose things when you need them. You lose them a while before. It's just that you LOOK for things when you need them. Nightmare: Okay yeah thanks Dream, that's great but WHERE'S THE FUCKING FIRST AID KIT?

Nightmare: Hey, thanks for checking in, I’m ✨still a piece of garbage✨

Error: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows. Blue: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

Nightmare: We’re going to defeat you with the power of friendship. Dream: We’re not friends. Nightmare, holding an axe: We’re going to defeat you with the power of incredible violence.

Nightmare, writing in his diary with a glitter gel pen: I'm losing my sense of humanity. Nothing matters. God is dead. There's blood on my hands.

Nightmare, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea? Dream: Tea. Nightmare: Wrong. It's coffee.

Nightmare: I failed my safety training course today. Dream: Why, what happened? Nightmare: Well one of the questions was "In case of a fire, what steps would you take?" Dream: And? Nightmare: Well apparently "FUCKING LARGE ONES" isn't an acceptable answer.

Ink: Welcome to my very first vlog, in which I try different hair products! Ink: *sprays hairspray in their mouth* Ink: Well, right off the bat I can tell you this one is not very good.

Nightmare: I won a new phone in a race. Dream: Huh? What kind of race lets you win a phone, Nightmare? Nightmare: A race between the store owner, the cop, and me.

Dream: Why are you on fire? Nightmare: This is just how my day is going.

Nightmare: You know, I used to play back in my gory days. Dream: You mean glory days? Nightmare: Ah, that too.

Blue: I trusted you! Error: Why?

Ink: Well, needless to say. Uh-oh Spaghetti-os.

90 notes · View notes

ziggyzolch · 6 months

Text

Headache III (Wanda Maximoff x Reader)

Summary: While getting accustomed to your new life as an avenger in training, you bump into an old friend. Tomfoolery ensues. Warnings: none i dont think Previous Part

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

❅❅❅

The sound of Tony clapping reverberates throughout the room. “Alright, speedo, what’s the decision?” You look up from the tech deck you were playing with, “What? Uh, dismissed! Meeting over!” Wanda clenches her eyes shut and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Did you hear anything we said, you dolt?” You ignore her, continuing to poorly attempt tricks on your little skateboard. “Hey! I was using that.” You look up at Wanda, who is currently holding your toy.

“Did you seriously bring a fucking kids toy to a meeting?” She spins the toy around in her hand, analyzing it.

“Okay, first of all, it's a tech deck, and second of all I didn’t bring it with me, it’s just always in my pocket.”

“Tony, can you just send her to prison already?”

“Fuck you, witch- What the hell!” You duck before your toy could hit you in the face, looking towards Wanda, who now had a smirk on her face.

“Enough!” Steve chimes in, “Wanda, seriously? You’re better than this, and you," He directs his glare at you, "Make a choice before we make one for you.”

Sighing, you pretend to be in thought, stretching out the moment as long as possible before answering. “Yeah sure, I’ll join. If only to piss witchy off.” Wanda rolls her eyes and stomps away. You turn towards Steve, “Teenagers, amiright?” Tony huffs out a laugh while Steve stands up and leaves, muttering, “You’re younger than her for fucks sake.”

❅❅❅

You were sitting outside your university, an angry Wanda with her hands crossed stood in front of you, tapping her foot angrily. You pull at your sleeves, waiting for her to say something. In hindsight, leaving the compound without telling anyone wasn’t the wisest thing you could’ve done, but you had to get your stuff from your dorm!

“Can I go in now or am I gonna have to keep watching you stand there looking constipated-”

“Idiot! Why wouldn’t you at least leave a note?”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t think you’d have a bitch fit over it.”

Wanda mutters what you assume to be a prayer under her breath in her native language before pulling you up by your jacket and dragging you into the university and towards your dorm. “It hasn’t even been your first day yet and you’re already causing trouble.” She mutters as she watches you pack up your stuff, noting that you packed your teddy bear first. You duck and look beneath your bed.

“Pss, pss.”

“What are you doing- Oh my god.”

Wanda’s eyes widen as a little black cat appears from underneath your bed. You pick the little feline up and turn towards Wanda, “Never seen a cat before? I expected more from you as a witch.” Wanda rolls her eyes, “I’ve seen a cat before- thats not even what I’m shocked about! How do you keep him here?” You shrug and hand her the cat, turning to pack the rest of your things.

Finishing up, you look towards Wanda holding your cat at a distance. “Why are you holding him like that? He doesn’t have rabies or anything,” You move past Wanda, “I think.”

“What!” You run away cackling, looking back and finding Wanda attempting to chase after you with the cat in her arms.

❅❅❅

You still hadn’t gotten your own room, so placing all your things in Wanda’s room was your only option. Surprisingly, she hadn’t minded much since it was just a suitcase and a backpack. Wanda left to do god knows what after making sure you weren't stealing anything.

You're sitting at her desk, staring at your laptop screen with your cat purring on your lap. You had so many assignments. You’re basically an avenger now, kind of, and you’re still worried about school work. You giggle at the thought.

“I can’t imagine your homework is entertaining enough to make you laugh like that.” You look up to see a silver haired man, who you now know as Pietro, standing at your, well Wanda’s, door.

“No, calculating ‘water potential’ is nothing to laugh about. It’s just crazy. I'm an Avenger worrying about homework,” Pietro pulls up a chair next to you. “Well, you’re not an Avenger just yet. Anyways, Peter’s the same and he’s doing fine. I think.” You raise an eyebrow at him.

“There’s someone here that’s not old enough to have seen David fight Goliath?”

“What?”

“Nothing, where’s Wanda she would’ve gotten that reference.” You mutter, turning back towards your laptop.

After petting your cat, Pietro lets out a breath and stands up, stopping at your door. “Well, good luck. Also, cool it with the douchiness with Wanda, yeah?” You swivel your chair towards him, “No promises.” Pietro sighs, lightly smacking the door frame, “You start training tomorrow, so don’t stay up too late.”

❅❅❅

You land on your back for the hundredth time this morning. “I told you to go easy!” You groan, pushing yourself up off the mat. “I never agreed to that,” Natasha readjusts her stance, not even a drop of sweat on her, “You won’t always be able to rely on your speed, if you’re forced to fight you’d probably die.” You gasp in offense. “She’s right, you need it.” Wanda chimed in, tying her hair up and setting up the treadmill.

You look at both of them, “What’s that supposed to mean!” You adjust your stance, “Come on, come at me-”

You were on the floor before you could even process Natasha approaching you. She had you in a headlock that you couldn’t escape, but you were too stubborn to tap out. Wanda had been watching you, intending to poke fun at your inevitable failure, but when she catches sight of you going limp, she rushes forward and pushes Natasha off you. “I h-had her,” You push out in between coughs. Natasha stands up and sighs, “That’s enough for today, go get cleaned up.”

You were still panting on the floor when you felt someone slapping your back. “It gets easier. As cool and powerful as my abilities are, I’d be useless in a fist fight if not for this training..” You hear Wanda admit from above you. “Yeah well, I can bite really hard.” Wanda laughs and helps you up, “I’m sure you can, but you’re also scrawny, and short. You’re basically just an aggressive kitten.” She pretends not to notice you blushing at the description.

“I’m wily! I could slither and fit anywhere. I’d make a good spy.” She pats you on the back. “Sure, kitten. Go shower, you stink.” You roll your eyes and walk away, still panting.

Exiting the gym, you hear footsteps quickly approaching you. Taking a deep breath, you wait for them to get close enough, then turn and punch them in the nose. You look down and see a boy around your age, clutching his nose and groaning. “Shit! Sorry, I’m not used to the security of this place.” You extend a hand to him. He looks at it for a moment before taking it and pulling himself up. “No biggie.” He replies, a boyish grin on his face.

Your eyes light up in recognition, “No. Way. Parker!” He looked confused before realizing who you were. You had been the first person Peter told about his late-night activities after you found his suit when you were snooping around his room. His grin widens, pulling you into a bear hug, your feet dangling as you hug him back. The moment is interrupted as Wanda exits the gym, and Peter places you back on the ground, “Uh, What’s going on here?” She raises an eyebrow at how close you and Peter were standing.

You jump up and down excitedly, “Me and Peter were best friends in high school,” You turn towards him, “But I hadn’t recognized him, you’re so big now!” Peter blushes when you squeeze his bicep, you miss the twitch in Wanda’s eye. Rolling her eyes, Wanda walks away and shoulder bumps you, but you pay her no mind.

“So, you still have that Lego Star Wars set?”

❅❅❅

“Okay, so Tony leaves his lab at three on the dot to have lunch with Pepper, he’ll be gone for about 30 minutes so you have a bit of time.” You and Peter had been sitting on the floor of the living room building Star Wars monuments when you heard Tony talking to Natasha about a new gadget he was working on, and that he had a prototype ready in his lab. So, you badgered him for information.

His refusal to tell you anything about it made you insatiably curious, so you recruited Peter, and are now planning a heist in Wanda’s room while she’s out. “Yeah, alright. What about Steve, though? Won’t he be doing rounds or something.” You turn to Peter who was casually dragging a string along, playing with your cat. “I guess I could distract him. He’s smart though, so I can’t drag it out too long.” You nod, getting up. “This plan is perfect.”

It was, in fact, not perfect. You failed to remember who would be walking back from the gym at the same time Tony left. “Hey Steve, found this little guy sprinting out of Tony’s lab with,” He lifts a piece of metal up, “Whatever this is.” You were dangling in the air, Pietro holding you up by the back of your shirt collar, not unlike a mother cat holding her kitten. “I told you, Tony asked me to get it for him!” You defend while Pietro adjusts his hold on you.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, giving Peter a disappointed look. You jump in before he could start his lecture, “He had nothing to do with this, I promise. It was just me.” Peter sputters in shock, smiling at you gratefully before turning and running away.

Pietro lets go of your collar without warning and you groan as you land on your face. He whispers ‘good luck’ and follows Peter out. Steve watches you with arms crossed as you push yourself up off the ground and look anywhere but him. “Look, I get it. You’re just a kid, but this job is serious. We can’t have you messing around…” You zone out for the rest of the lecture.

❅❅❅

Wanda had returned home an hour ago, ignoring Steve’s yelling. She figured a security guard messed up or something. However, when she looks up to the sound of her door opening and catches sight of you stomping in angrily, your cat following behind you, she connects the dots. “Who shat in your coffee?” You look towards Wanda in confusion, “What? I don’t even drink coffee.” Wanda sets her book down on the couch and walks towards where you were sitting at her desk. “That’s not what I meant, idiot. What’s got you so down?”

Getting caught wasn’t something that happened often. Usually, you were able to sprint away and forget about your douchebag activities, so you weren’t used to being yelled at. Wanda raises an eyebrow. Your thoughts were so loud, and she was shocked to see you so emotional. “It’s nothing, whatever. Can you fuck off? I have a lab report due.” Lab report? Wanda honestly thought you were a business major. She had never expected you to be into science, or school in general. A knock on the door catches you and Wanda’s attention. “Hey- oh Wanda. Hi. Anyways, thanks for covering for me, Aunt May would’ve killed me. So, I have a little thank you present.” Peter enters and closes the door behind him, pulling out a bottle.

Wanda’s eyes bulge out of her head. She could barely buy cigarettes at your age, let alone a whole bottle of vodka. You stand up, ignoring your responsibilities, and bounce around in glee. “Ahh! Thank you, Peter.” You give him a big smooch on the cheek, Wanda rolls her eyes at his blush.

You drag your friend to the couch and take the bottle from his arms. “Come on witchy, join us!” Wanda sighs, she might as well. Wanda awkwardly stands in front of you and Peter, the couch was too small to fit all of you. An idea pops into your head. Standing up you push Wanda to sit on the couch, and place yourself on her lap. “Come on, why so tense, Avril Lavigne?” You take Wanda’s arms and wrap them around your waist.

She glares at Peter when he giggles at the blush on her face. Peter takes the bottle from you and pops it open, taking out shot glasses from his backpack to pour into, handing them to you and Wanda. You’re asking Peter about college when you hear the door being pushed open. You and Peter look at each other in panic, while Wanda is suspiciously calm.

Before you can hide the bottle, Pietro walks in. At his angry expression, apologies begin to spill out of Peter's mouth before Pietro breaks out laughing. “Calm down, Spidey. Wanda texted me to join.” Peter lets out a breath of relief as Pietro closes the door behind him, sitting down on the floor and pouring himself a shot. "Toast!" You laugh at Peter's serious expression as he dings the bottle, “To new beginnings and underage drinking.”

You all clink your glasses, laughing as you take your shots.

❅❅❅

Next Part

A/N: This story doesnt follow cannon very well, but its ok. Wanda and pietro are like 22 in this.

tags: @sgm616

#marvel #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu imagine #mcu fandom #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #the scarlet witch #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #wlw #reader #x reader #sapphic #fanfiction #fanfic

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eetherealgoddess · 8 months

Text

ꨄCellmateꨄ

Oneshot - Yandere Prison/Bonten Au

❦Y/n goes to prison and meets an interesting group of men❦

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader

Not fully proofread!

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Japanese Language is Red

I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

I based this Japanese prison off of some research so some parts may not be accurate. I only know some things about American prisons already so it might be combined with that just to make this easier for me to write. All in all I know barely anything about prison tbh so some of this will probably be made up.

It also said somewhere that they have either different sections or prison for foreigners (take what you will idk for a fact) but for the story’s sake, Y/n will be in the same area as the rest of the main guys.

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture him as a black male but you can see him however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There will be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Cellmate

The male walks down the hall with two guards guiding him from both sides, passing the cells as some of the fellow inmates stare and call out to the newcomer whereas others stay in their own zone, not paying any mind to the nervous man who kept his gaze on the floor, his cuffed wrists in his peripheral. He only looks up when the prison guards halt in front of his designated cell.

After they motion for him to walk in, he complies, the men closing the door and locking it behind him before walking away. He only stares at the door in disbelief as he rubs his released wrists before turning, almost jumping out of his skin when he meets golden eyes.

“Who are you?” Y/n’s eyebrows furrow, shrugging before telling him that he couldn’t understand what he just said. The man smirks before nodding.

“I said, who are you?”

“Oh, I’m Y/n.” The newcomer eyes the tiger tattoo on the other’s neck, feeling a little anxious as he glances at his obviously toned exterior.

“Hanemiya. You don’t look like you belong here.” He says as he walks to his futon, plopping on it as he leans his back on the wall. “What got you locked up?”

Y/n walks to his own spot, setting his blanket and sheet down, along with his pillow as he sorts them on the cushioned surface.

“W-well, it’s a long story.” He curses himself for stuttering before he sits, attempting to avoid eye contact with the intimidating glare placed on him.

“I’ve got time.” He shrugs in response before pulling out a cigarette, lighting it as the tobacco fills up the room. Y/n’s eyes widened as he frantically looked between Kazutora and the door.

“What are you doing? Won’t you get in trouble for that?” A chuckle falls from his lips.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette, Y/n slightly coughing as he turns his head.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“It’s complic-.”

“Y/n, don’t annoy me. Say it.” He says with a stoic expression.

“I killed my brother.” Kazutora raises a brow.

“You?” He snickers in disbelief. Y/n nods with a sigh.

“Yeah, I know. It was an accident, anyway. Won’t be out of here for a while, though.” He said before lying down completely, staring at the ceiling. He turns his head slightly to meet Kazutora’s gaze. “What about you?”

“You’ll find out soon enough.”

Y/n scoffs.

“Why not just say it now?”

“Don’t feel like it.”

Before they could continue their conversation, the door opens to reveal a guard. Y/n stares in shock as he sees the guard ignoring his cellmate putting the cigarette out. He doesn’t even confiscate the makeshift ashtray. He announces their departure to the outside area, cuffing them in the process before guiding them down the hall.

“You’ll get to meet my… friends.” Kazutora says without a care for the rule that demands inmates to remain silent when walking with the guards. Y/n nods before eyeing them in confusion.

He must be someone important for them to ignore him. How weird. Guess I’ll find out.

When they reached the outside, they were released from the handcuffs. Y/n glanced around at the different inmates, ranging from biggest to smallest. He eyed the different ‘cliques’ sitting amongst each other, some sitting at different tables whereas others were busy working or exercising. Some stood around while they glared at the newcomer, eyeing him up and down.

Knowing he wanted to shrink under their gazes, he ignored his anxiety and puffed his chest out subtly, straightening his back to not reveal how scared shitless he was. Kazutora eyes him from the side before finding humor in his little display of strength, the word ‘cute’ being prominent in his mind.

“Come on. They’re over here.” He drags him by the wrist gently yet forceful enough to make him move along.

Peeking from behind Kazutora as they walk, Y/n eyes a table that stands out from the rest. A short silver -headed man sits on the table’s surface, his feet plastered on the seat as he’s bent over, arms resting against his legs. Next to him is a head full of pink, a person sitting next to the man but on the seat. Behind them were two purple haired men sitting beside each other facing the other way.

Y/n took a deep breath as they got closer, right before stopping in front of them, gaining a better angle of all of their features. His hand immediately goes to the back of his neck as his heart begins to pound, sweat sliding down as intense gazes bore into him, the twins turning their head to lock eyes with e/c.

“Who’s this puny little thing?” A silky voice says with amusement, a smirk falling under the lazy purple eyes as he runs a hand through his short hair.

“Why’d you bring this scrap to the King?” The pink haired man narrows his eyes at Kazutora who only gives a closed eye smile back.

“This is Y/n. He’s my cellmate.”

“Cellmate, huh? Who cares?” The purple mullet questions with a bored expression.

Y/n shifts uncomfortably as he listens to their discussion, though the only word he recognized was his own name, he couldn’t help but fidget amongst the sunken dark voids plastered on him. The energy emitting from all of these men, especially the one with scars, is anything but welcoming.

What the fuck was this dude thinking when bringing me here with these guys?

“Well he’s cute and could be useful.” Kazutora shrugs, walking to the short man’s left and plopping on the seat before bringing one leg up to rest his arm over, leaving Y/n to awkwardly stand in place.

“You didn’t care if he was useful. You’re just bored and horny.” The scarred man hissed in response, a sneer on his face as he side - eyed the brunette.

“Bitter, Sanzu?” He responded, challenging him with a smile.

“Enough.” Amused gazes fell as the quiet voice silenced the space.

Although he spoke to the group of intimidating men, his eyes never left Y/n’s orbs, the dull expression painted on his face.

What is this guy looking at? What are they even talking about? I just want this to be over.

“Sit.” Hesitantly, Y/n complies, following Kazutora’s hand tapping the seat in between him and the tall man. Fingers wrap around Y/n’s hand, bringing the appendage to soft lips.

“Call me Ran. This…” He motioned to the man sitting beside him. “…is my younger brother, Rin.”

“Ah, okay. Well nice to meet you.” Y/n sheepishly responded, nerves still wrecked by the aura these guys emit.

His hand is released before a tap on his shoulder causes him to turn toward Kazutora. He motions for him to lean closer as his lips hover over his ear.

“That guy in the middle is my bo… name is Mikey, but you’d call him whatever he tells you to.” He whispered, breath hitting against Y/n’s ear.

Well, I won’t be saying anything to this guy cuz after this I’m keeping my distance. He seems dangerous.

“Hikaru!”

Y/n looks around in confusion until he spots a man walking from behind them, landing in front of Mikey as the Haitani brothers stand up from their seats as well as Sanzu. They all face the male and his groupies who stood behind.

“What’s going on?” Y/n questions as he watches them speak in Japanese.

“Someone fucked up.” Kazutora responds. The vague information causes Y/n’s eyebrows to furrow as he watches the unknown man and his goons with the expression of nervousness on their faces.

Mikey gives a motion with his finger before the Haitanis, Sanzu, and Kazutora walk towards the group. Y/n gasps as Sanzu’s fist lands on Hikaru’s face, the guy immediately falling to the ground despite his size. The Hataini brothers and Kazutora began to beat the rest.

Y/n watches with wide eyes as skin makes contact with skin, the amount of blood causing the impacts to create this sick squelching sound as the wet skin is broken. He covers his mouth when he sees Sanzu pull out a small knife, turning his head before hearing the slice of skin along with a blood curdling scream. He looks around to see if anyone was watching only to find everyone minding their own business, including the prison guards who are purposefully turned the other way.

Who the fuck are these guys? Why’d I have to be a cellmate to one of them? I know I killed my brother but it genuinely wasn’t a malicious act. Defense is different compared to whatever this is.

When all the men were completely knocked out and near death, they stopped their assault, blood splattered on their own uniforms as they turned back to their seats. They say back down in the same spots while fixing up their hair and wiping excess blood from their skin.

Kazutora chuckled at Y/n’s disturbed expression. His hand squeezes his thigh with a slight caress of his thumb, smearing some of the red liquid on Y/n’s uniform.

“You’ll get used to it.”

No I won’t.

Y/n could only watch as the guards pulled the victims out of their eyesight without saying a word.

After a while, everyone was ordered to go to their rooms before dinner. Instead of going to the cafeteria, Kazutora and Y/n ‘sneak’ off to Mikey and Sanzu’s cell where the rest of them are as well. He tried to stay back, claiming to have wanted to get used to his cell life only for the tattooed man to pull him along.

They spoke about Kakucho picking them up and Kokonoi’s connections in releasing them soon. They have contact with few people who are messengers from the outside that come during visitation and update the executives. Of course, Y/n just sat there feeling out of place and a little stupid for not understanding them.

Why couldn’t everything with my brother happen at home instead of this place I barely know anything about? Why’d it have to happen during a vacation?

Mikey sits on his own futon, seeming to be a part of the conversation yet his eyes look heavy. It’s as if this guy hadn’t slept in months. Y/n couldn’t help the small feeling of pity to form as this man hadn’t smiled once though who’d want to smile in prison? It reminds him of when his brother would have episodes and they would terrify him as a kid because he could hear everything being thrown around and it would distract him from sleeping. Especially when the physical fights between his brother and his other siblings or mother would occur.

During the times they would all hide in their bedrooms, and the only way for him to fall asleep was his mother who would hum a lullaby or speak affirmations as she caressed his head and face until he fell asleep. Logically speaking, he knew to keep his mouth shut and mind his business. However, considering he’s going to be here a while, he decides to step out of his comfort zone and offer some help.

He is currently sitting on the dresser next to Kazutora in between Sanzu and Mikey’s futons.

“Um, excuse me?” He dares to gently poke the short man’s leg. Black eyes meet his colored orbs.

“Do you… can I help… help with your, uh sleep?” He asks while scratching the back of his neck. Mikey stares at him in wonder though it’s blocked by his stoic expression. Finding the question interesting considering nobody has ever asked him about his problem with sleeping, he turns his head to everyone else in the room.

“Leave.” Everyone, except Sanzu, pauses their conversation before hopping up and heading to the exit of the cell. Kazutora motions for Y/n to follow who hops up from the dresser, nervous that he had somehow pissed off this guy from not minding his business.

“Y/n stays.”

Kazutora looks at Mikey and then at Y/n in confusion. Y/n shrugs, still not completely understanding what’s happening, though not wanting to be left alone. Kazutora turns and walks out, leaving Y/n with Mikey and Sanzu.

“My king, why is he here?” Sanzu glares at Y/n.

“Fall back, Sanzu.” Mikey replies before motioning for Y/n to help him.

Y/n immediately positions himself on Mikey’s futon above his head that lies on a pillow, mimicking how his mom would position herself. Sanzu reluctantly lays on his own futon, still keeping an eye on Y/n for any suspicious activity.

A little uncomfortable at first, Y/n asks, “Can I touch you? Sorry if it’s a bit much but this is what my mother used to do. It won’t be lower than your head anyway.”

Surprisingly, he nods.

“I’ll kill you if this doesn’t work.”

Although Y/n’s breath hitched, he nodded and began quietly caressing Mikey’s hair, gently working through some of the tangles before he started lightly humming. When the tangles were gone he freely caressed and pushed his fingers through the silky hair, the whole process slow and tender. The tips of his fingers accidentally stroked the pale man’s face, causing his eyes to flutter close.

Y/n’s favorite part used to be falling asleep to the sweet affirmations his mother came up with so he began singing those positive words, hoping to bring some kind of comfort so he wouldn’t be killed. After a while, steady breathing could be heard, indicating that Mikey had fallen asleep. Y/n sighs in relief, so focused on the fact that what he did worked, he forgot the eyes that had been watching the display the entire time.

After he got up slowly, he made his way to the exit before being yanked back, pulled until his back met the floor with a thud. Legs climb on either side of him before Sanzu sits on top of him with the knife at his throat. His wrists are pinned above his head.

“What did you do to Mikey?” Sanzu hissed.

“W-what do you mean? I j-just sang him my mom’s lullaby and said affirmations!” He whispered - screamed, not wanting to wake up the man who promised him death.

Blue eyes pierce his own irises as he stares him down, gazing at the terrified expression on his face. An unexplainable warm feeling bubbles in Sanzu’s stomach as he eyed the new inmate’s features. Sanzu uses the knife to slice a small wound on his arm, eyeing the pained expression that is causing his face to heat up.

He’s always liked bringing pain and fear to others, especially those deemed as traitors or scraps. However, this gave him a different type of satisfaction. He watches as Y/n sucks his teeth in pain before biting his own lip. Tears forming in the corners of his eyes yet he keeps them in, not wanting to seem weak though they already see him as fragile, unknown to him.

“I didn’t do anything to hurt your king, just let me go!” Y/n says in frustration, not understanding what the real problem is. Sanzu quietly eyed his lips, soft and a little chapped though biteable regardless. Before he could lean down, his shirt is grabbed from behind and he’s pulled off of the man.

“Why are you scaring him?” Kazutora asks, rolling his eyes as he releases the pink haired menace and helps a shaken Y/n from the floor.

“It’s small but we still have to clean it. Thanks for the extra work, I guess.” Kazutora says with his eyes half lidded, walking out with Y/n, hand in hand. Sanzu eyes the blood on the knife before bringing it to his lips and licking it. He eyes Mikey once last time before setting the knife down and laying in his futon.

The next day, for the first time Y/n got to spend his time getting used to his schedule in the prison considering Kazutora had been gone since he woke up. He hadn’t seen any of them for the entire duration of the day and it was already past lunch. He’s currently reading a book in the common area, bored out of his mind as he tries to retain the information, to no avail. Rereading the same lines just so they’ll stick in his head.

Everything has been so weird. Life doesn’t feel the same and it feels like a new season to my own show. Makes sense considering the circumstances, though.

He eyes the bandaid in remembrance of the night before. He shudders, recollecting Mikey’s threat and Sanzu’s crazed glint in his eyes. He subconsciously rubs his wrist as he shakes off the anxiety to try and focus on the book. A figure sitting at his table caught his attention, causing him to lower his book and meet gazes with an unknown man.

“Don’t worry about any greetings. I came to warn you before it’s too late.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Newbie, I see you’re getting close to those crazy hair colored guys. Be careful, you don’t want to catch their attention.”

Too late for that.

“I know it’s hard and probably too late for that, but you gotta keep your distance without pissing them off somehow. They’re Bonten.”

“Bonten? What’s that?” The mystery guy’s eyebrows rose.

Y/n drops his book when the guy explains everything he knows about Bonten. Now everything is clicking. Especially when they beat those men to pulps and the guards did nothing.

“I-I’ve been talking to yakuza?” The guy nods.

“Well how am I supposed to not be around them when one of them is my cellmate and I’ve come into contact with all of them?”

“I don’t know, but you have to find a way. No matter if they like you or not, it’s not good to be in contact with those unpredictable psychopaths.”

“Oi Y/n. Is this guy bothering you?” Ran asks as he stands with a lit cigarette in hand, both men surprised as they turn their heads to meet with those lazy eyes.

“Sounds like you’re spouting bullshit, Yasu. I’d be careful running that mouth. You could lose your tongue.” Rin says with a smirk showing off his teeth.

The man known as Yasu eyes Y/n one more time. He nods at him before walking away.

“Let’s go somewhere private, shall we?” Ran throws his cigarette before motioning Y/n to follow. Although he wanted to stay in his spot, he knew that it would end badly for him if he didn’t listen.

He walks behind the brothers, leaving the common area and walking to a cell. The guards pay them all no mind as they walk into the room and shut the door.

The brothers sat on a futon, Ran pats the space in between them with a mischievous smile.

“I can sit on the other futon, there’s barely any room over there.” Y/n shrugs. He flinched when their gazes turned sour, a stoic expression that felt cold. The older brother pats the seat one more time with extra pressure. Y/n complies, sitting in between the brothers uncomfortably as the warmth from their bodies radiate against his own.

Y/n stares ahead at the opposite futon as the smiles reappear.

“So, Kazu said that you’re here for killing your brother. What’s that all about?” Rin questions. Y/n’s eyebrows furrow.

Guess I should’ve known he would’ve told them. Who asks something like that so carelessly?

“Well, I don’t really want to talk about it.”

“Why’d you kill him? Was it really an accident?”

“Yeah it was but I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Hm, how do you accidentally kill your brother?”

Y/n hops up from his seat.

“I said I didn’t want to fucking talk about it! It’s none of your goddamn business!” He growls, angry at the persistent disrespect.

His eyes widen when his shirt is grabbed and he's pulled back onto the futon, roughly hitting the back of his head against the wall.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.” Ran taunts.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Y/n.” Rin states as his grip tightens on the shirt.

“Now get over your little hissy fit and answer our questions.”

Y/n stared back with a mixture of fear and anger.

This isn’t fair.

“I-I accidentally killed my brother because he was attacking our mother. He ended up killing her right before I killed him trying to save her.” Y/n held back tears, not wanting to break down from the memories of that night being brought up. Especially not in front of these men he barely knows.

Unfortunately, the tears fell on their own, though he didn't begin to cry they still streamed down his face. Both brothers watch the tears with amusement, finding the display of his uncontrollable emotions interesting. They couldn’t help their small smirks from forming. Rin releases his grip before Ran wipes his tears.

“Now was that so hard?” He taunted.

“Fuck you.” He says before he could stop it, too caught up in his own emotions to give a shit about his well being. He goes to stand up once more before he’s blocked from moving by a hand on his chest.

“Hey, we can make you feel better.” Ran says before pulling him back to his chest by holding his shoulders. Rin places Y/n’s legs on the bed before crawling in between them.

Y/n’s eyes widen, surprised by what is taking place. His eyebrows furrow as he uses his hands to stop Rin in place.

“W-wait!”

He was interrupted by the younger brother’s lips on his own. A hand wraps around his neck from behind as Ran’s breath hits his ear.

“Kiss back with no biting or I’ll break your wrist.”

Rin moves the hands pushing him back from his body, pinning them down as he leans into the kiss, eyes staring intently into Y/n’s wide gaze.

Considering he knew that their threats were promises, he gives back, moving his lips along though still with restraint. Ran squeezes his neck as his other hand runs down his side slowly, landing on his thigh as he pulls up once more. Y/n’s skin tingles from the contact through his uniform. He tears his gaze from Rin before pulling his face back.

Turning away only forces him to reveal his neck. The only sounds that could be heard were lips smacking against skin, Rin nibbling and suckling against Y/n’s neck. Behind him, he could feel a hard pressure against his lower back. He breathes heavily once he feels Ran’s fingers rolling and pulling his nipple.

“Guys, please wait.” He says as he struggles in the brother’s tight grips. He feels his wrist become released as a new pressure forms on his erection.

“You Sure about that?” Rin asks against his neck, lightly squeezing as emphasis. Y/n’s cock twitches in response, though he uses his free hand to push the younger Haitani back.

“Yes I’m sure!” He exclaims, frustration occurring as his emotions have been dragged all over the place. He gasps in pain as both his nipple and cock are squeezed tightly, bringing discomfort from the force.

“Haven’t you guys had enough of assaulting Y/n?”

Y/n sighs in relief as they stop from hearing Kazutora’s voice, the thankful man eyeing his standing figure.

When Rin pulls back and Ran releases Y/n, he awkwardly pushes himself off the bed, not even bothering to cover his hard - on in desperation of escaping out of the situation.

“Well, we were just getting started.” Ran shrugged. He kept his legs wide open without a care of his own erection showing through his pants.

Kazutora gives them a bored look before grabbing Y/n’s wrist and pulling him along. They walk down the hall, heading to their cells.

“You just can’t keep them off you, huh?” He snickers. Y/n gapes.

“I-I don’t even do anything! I’m so confused. Also why did you tell them about my brother, Hanemiya?”

“I already told you to call me Kazutora or Kazu, L/n. Don’t be a jerk.” Y/n’s eyes widened as they reached their cell. They walk in and shut the door before Y/n continues.

“I never told you my last name.”

“It’s not hard to find.” Kazutora shrugs.

“Why did you tell them about my brother?”

“I don’t like how you’re treating me after I just saved you, Y/n. I can talk about whatever I want.”

“Yeah, but they just used that shit against me! Fucking interrogating me about my own life because you ran your mouth!”

“That’s not my problem. I can’t control what they do.” He stares at Y/n with a stoic expression.

“It’s only the second day and there’s so much that has happened.” Y/n paces as he takes deep breaths, still angry from his interaction with the brothers.

“You’ve only had like two incidents.”

“Yeah I got threatened like 3 or 4 times, cut with a knife, and sexually assaulted.”

“Welcome to prison? I don’t know what you want me to say.” Kazutora chuckles.

I know I’m in prison but this is a lot, or am I just overreacting? My emotions felt valid but now I’m second guessing it all.

Y/n drops on his futon and turns over into a fetal position. Numbness taking over as the feeling of loneliness crept in. He covered his whole body, including his head with his blanket. Kazutora sighs.

“I’ll help you rest, yeah?”

Although Y/n shook his head no, he didn’t push Kazutora away when he sat above his head and began to caress him while humming the tune he listened to when he was eavesdropping on Y/n and Mikey. The melody echoes through the quiet room as Y/n drifts off to sleep, Kazutora watching the entire time after he pulls the cover off of his head. Once he woke up, Kazutora was nowhere in sight. A guard took his place, telling him that it was time for showers.

Once he is guided to the showers, the guard releases him. He walks to one of the faucets and turns it on while placing his supplies next to him, along with his towel and clean uniform. He undresses and he washes his body as well as his hair, adding shampoo when needed along with conditioner. Once he’s finished with his hair, he focuses on soaping his body up and rinsing. Once he turns the faucet off he dries himself off before lathering himself with lotion and applying deodorant. He dresses himself and heads to his cell to drop his stuff off before dinner.

When he reached the cafeteria, he went to the line. He grabbed his tray of food and looked for seating. He found an empty table and sat, the group he knew non-existent. Once he finished eating, he throws his stuff out and exits along with a guard. He grabs his hygienic supplies for the bathroom before heading there.

When he reaches the room, he hears thuds and impacts. Furrowing his eyebrows, he minds his own business, beginning to brush his teeth before he looks through the mirror at a familiar guy getting stabbed repeatedly.

“Yasu!” He exclaimed before he could stop himself. The group of men scurry off when they’ve been caught, giving menacing looks as they leave a beaten and bloodied Yasu on the ground, laying in his own pile of blood and bathroom grime.

“No, no, no!” Y/n yells out as he crouches over. Sure they barely know each other but Yasu was a nice enough guy to warn Y/n of prison troubles. He didn’t deserve this brutal death.

“Y-y/n!” He coughs out. “Th-they did this. St-stay away!” He gasps as he gags on his own blood.

“Y/n.” The voice startles Y/n as he looks at the culprit. He breathes in fear as he sees Mikey and his mad dog staring at the pair.

“We need to talk.”

“I-I would need to drop my stuff off in my room.” He says as he stands from his position, moving away from the dying man.

“The guard will do it.” Mikey responds before turning on his heel, walking out of the bathroom. Sanzu follows as Y/n hurries behind them.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! How am I supposed to stay away from them? They’ll hurt me if I reject them.

“Uh…um Mikey? I’m pretty tired. Could this wait till the morning, maybe?”

They all halt their movements. Only Sanzu turns to side eye Y/n.

“How dare you question the King?” Mikey holds a hand up to Sanzu.

“Come on, Y/n.”

They all begin walking towards Mikey and Sanzu’s cell. They walk in before the guards lock the door behind them. Sanzu pulls Y/n on the futon while he sits behind him, mimicking Ran’s position from a few hours before only this time, their feet were plastered on the floor.

“Uh, what’s going on? Why am I here?”

“My king wanted to thank you for last night.” Y/n’s eyebrows furrowed. “So be grateful to his generosity.” He grips Y/n’s waist, his nails digging into his sides through the fabric causing him to flinch.

When Y/n saw Mikey position himself on his knees, the idea flew through his head.

“Oh, uh! Mikey! You don’t need to do this!” He exclaims. He uses his hands to block Mikey which did nothing considering Sanzu helped him undo his jumpsuit.

When his chest was revealed, they completely forced it off of his arms as Sanzu circled his arms back around Y/n’s waist. Mikey pulled the suit completely off as well as pulling down Y/n’s underwear.

“You’re already hard.” Mikey murmured, wrapping his hand around the veiny girth.

Mikey dragged his tongue up the length before circling his lips around the head. The cock twitches as he sucks softly before dropping his mouth all the way to the base, deep throating the length as he holds it there before pulling back and repeating the process. Y/n holds back from moaning as he bites his lip, his fingers digging into the futon and grabbing the blanket. His head drops on Sanzu’s shoulder as the pinkette dips his head low, biting the skin on his neck until he draws blood and a cry out of that pretty mouth.

Mikey continued bobbing his head as he accelerates, gag reflex non-existent as he takes the dick in his throat like a pro. Saliva and precum drip down the length and stain the corners of his mouth as he sucks it all the way in. He stops for a moment before sucking his own fingers thoroughly, allowing saliva to drip down his hand as he wets his fingers. Sanzu takes the opportunity to grab Y/n’s thighs and pull his legs back to give Mikey more of an opening.

As he pushes the finger in, he takes his cock in his mouth once more. Y/n clenched around the finger as his cock throbs. Sweat drips down his forehead as he rocks his hips forward in reflex, a small groan escaping his lips as Mikey eyes him from below.

“Feels good?” Sanzu whispers in his ear.

Although the pleasure is overtaking the pain from his ass, Y/n doesn’t want to enable what they’re doing so he ignores him. Only for nails to dig into his thighs roughly, leaving indents and small bleeding cuts. Sanzu’s cock twitches at the way Y/n’s body reacts to the pain by tensing and yelping.

“Tell me, Y/n. Does it feel good?”

“Yes!” He exclaims in pain when Mikey adds two other fingers at the same time, angling it to his prostate as he sucks his cock faster. Y/n’s hips rock as his spot is beaten and cock is engulfed by warmth. His mouth hangs open as he closes his eyes. His back moves against Sanzu’s erection through his fabric causing him to give small moans in his ear, pressing it harder against his back. The sound of Mikey’s wet mouth rubbing against his cock brought a warm sensation to his stomach, his body tenses as he convulses, finally releasing into his throat as the short man swallows it all.

They all breathe heavily when it’s over, Sanzu and Mikey’s cocks are completely hard and ready for a release. Not wanting to rile them up further, Y/n jumps out of their holds and quickly puts his underwear and jumpsuit on before rushing out of the room. Embarrassment colors his face as he damn near runs to his cell.

They’re using me as some fucking toy because they’re bored. They’re taking me as some kind of whore they can do whatever they want with at anytime and it’s not fucking fair.

When he reaches his cell, he immediately goes to his bed and covers himself, drifting off to sleep after a while of shameful sulking.

“Rise and shine, Y/n. Time for us to go.” Kazutora smiles.

Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

“We’re being released from prison.” He states with excitement.

Y/n sits up with his eyebrows furrowed.

“They know who to mess with. I won’t be here for long anyway.” He takes a pull from his cigarette…

“Yeah you’re leaving, but I’m supposed to be here for years.”

“Then why did the guard come to release you as well?”

“Hurry up inmates, we’re on a schedule.”

“We’re not inmates anymore.” Kazutora sticks his tongue out.

The entire process of release Y/n was very confusing as he followed the guards and rest of the yakuza out of the prison. After they walk out in the original clothes they wore when they were imprisoned, Kazutora pulls Y/n to the black tinted car that’s waiting for their arrival.

Y/n hesitates.

“Wait, this means this is a goodbye. I’m going home.”

Kazutora halts his movement, still gripping Y/n’s wrist before turning to face him with a smile.

“You are coming home Y/n. Why do you think we went through the trouble of breaking you out?”

“What?”

“Yeah. You have nobody else nor your mother’s home anymore so where else would you go? Who else would’ve picked you up?”

“N-no, my siblings…”

“Your siblings abandoned you here. They didn’t want to be around a murderer.” Kazutora’s face turned stoic as he spoke.

“Don’t say that. It’s not like that and you know it!” He yanks his wrist out of Kazutora’s grip.

“I’m just saying their point of view. It doesn’t matter anyway considering they’re all dead.”

“What the fuck are you saying to me, Hanemiya?” Y/n exclaims.

“I’m just telling you the truth, L/n.”

“No, did you and your goons do something to them?”

“I’d watch what comes out of my mouth if I were you. Come on.” He yanks Y/n along as they walk to the car. Y/n pushes him away as he yanks his arm back though Kazutora doesn’t release in the slightest. His grip tightens painfully as it causes Y/n to almost drop to his knees, his free hand grabbing Kazutora’s wrist in reflex.

“Let me go, Kazutora!”

“Go where? You have nowhere else to go. You should be grateful.”

“Y/n!” A voice sung, interrupting their dispute.

He gasps in response as he sees a gun pointed in his direction from a certain pink - haired fiend.

“Be a doll and get in the car, yeah?”

With one last look at the golden eyed man with anger plastered on his expression, he makes his way to the car, Kazutora walking behind him.

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