#Dogs Face Color Belt

[slapmeshigaraki]

⭒˚‧ ⭒ཐིཋྀ "Only nice girls get treats." ཐིཋྀ⭒ ‧˚⭒

♡ warnings: caleb x fem!reader, (18+ mdni), reader is insecure, fingering, dirty talk, pussy eating, begging, crying, dumbification, heavy praise, denial, spit, finger sucking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, mirror

♡ a/n: little treat for the middle of the week. been working on this one for a while so it got a little long,, so sorry. finished this instead of writing my research paper,, butttttt i love writing for caleb so i hope u enjoy xx

You're taking a lot longer than usual to get ready. Nothing seems to be fitting right, every outfit looking worse than the last. Maybe you should just stay home tonight, or maybe, you Caleb needs to remind you just how beautiful his girl is.

“Hey, did you need me to iron something for you? I was gonna’ do my shirt, so—” You listened, turning towards the bathroom door as the honeyed voice came to a halt. There he was, leaning against the wooden door frame, muscled torso on full display, dog tag draped around his neck and glistening in the dim lighting, a white collared dress shirt draped over his shoulder. His pants were held up by a fine leather belt that hung loosely around his hips, the buckle undone. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, notes of cedarwood and lavender softly calming your otherwise hectic state. The bathroom was a mess, makeup brushes strewn about on the marble countertop, clothes and bras and panties thrown in the corner, heels that didn't match were all over the floor, making for a minefield of a space that you'd been moving around for the last two hours.

“No, I’m good. Thanks.” His brow furrowed at the abnormally dry response, violet eyes studying you as you frantically hurried around the small space, makeup and hair both half done. The dress that he’d seen you in only five minutes earlier was balled up near a pile of purses on the tiled floor now, your skin only covered by a matching black lace set. He was almost drooling at the sight, opting to bite his full bottom lip to keep himself from doing so.

“Everything okay, baby?” His tone was cautious, testing the temperature of the water. You didn’t bother to meet his gaze, too busy wracking your brain to put together a different outfit—or maybe you needed to change your hair? Should you even bother going at all? Maybe you should suddenly pretend to have a stomachache.

“I’m fine, just rushed.” Another short answer.

“There’s no rush, sugar. They can’t start without us after all.” You gave him a soft laugh, brushing off the comment, but he was right. This night was about him after all—a ceremony awarding him for his accomplishments with the fleet this past year. He’d been going over his speech with you tirelessly every day for the last week, picking apart every line one by one until it was perfect. This was Caleb’s night, so why were you the one feeling so much pressure?

“Hey, look at me for a second.” You did, eyes meeting his in the mirror as you ran another coat of red lipstick over your bottom lip, suddenly questioning the color.

“You can tell me if something's wrong ya’ know. We don’t have to go.” You shook your head in dismissal, breaking the eye contact that was quickly making something well up in your chest, tears stinging in the corner of your eyes against your will.

“Of course we have to go, Caleb. I’m going—I want to go, I’m just trying to hurry up.”

“What was wrong with the last dress? Or the four before that?” He wasn’t teasing but genuinely asking you as he searched for your attention in the mirror again, to no avail. A single tear fell from your eye, effortlessly ruining your makeup, a line of foundation erased as you tried not to let anymore escape.

“They just weren’t right. Nothing is fitting right for some reason.” He wasted no time moving over to you, shirt falling to the floor in the process, but he didn’t care. His eyes were locked on you, noticing the way your face slowly crumpled, head hanging as if there was a thousand-pound weight holding you down.

“Don’t cry, baby. Hey, hey, shh…” His arms wrapped around you, toned chest pressing into your back, the warmth of his skin inescapable as he held you as tightly as he could. Your body gently shook against him as you let the tears fall freely now, the thought of ruining Caleb’s night making your heart even heavier.

“You could wear a burlap sack and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in any room, you know that, right? Why are you being so mean to my pretty girl, hm?” His soft palm snaked it’s way across your chest and neck, cupping your wet cheek, sticking your skin to his. He gently guiding your chin up, your reflection staring back at his now.

“Tell me what you didn’t like about the pink dress.” You subconsciously shrunk against him at the question, the visual of your bare skin against him, only covered by the thin pieces of fabric sending shivers down your spine. The little hairs on the back of your neck stood up, ears growing hot—you were so vulnerable like this.

“Be honest with me this time. Please,” he said, voice thick and syrupy like molasses, almost like he was begging as he craned his head down, resting his chin in the crook of your neck and pressing a feather-light kiss to your face.

“My- my shoulders…they looked too wide in it.” His eyes grew big at the confession before they shifted down in the mirror, locking onto your shoulders. He left another kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, next your neck, trailing them across your collar bone before his full lips finally lingered against the back of your shoulder. Your head slowly fell again, before you heard his voice,

“Don’t look away, sugar.”  You watched his slender fingers graze across your skin, faintly dancing over your shoulder blades along with his lips which were still peppering kissing over your frame. Your breath hitched at the sight of his body against yours, his tall and muscular physique towering over you, making you look so fragile in his grasp.

“What was wrong with the red outfit, hm? I think I liked that one the best.” Your eyes rolled at the question which Caleb caught in the mirror. You hated the way you looked in the red dress. The outfit accentuating every curve, the short length hugging your thighs just a little too tightly. You felt so… naked in that dress—every flaw you’d seen in the mirror on full display in that gown.

“My body just doesn’t look good in it.”

“Your body looks amazing in anything. If I didn’t think I’d want to break the bones of any man that looked, I’d suggest you go just like this.” His eyes were not the same when they met yours this time. They were dark, pupils enlarged, darkening his irises. He looked hungry at the sight of you, like a vampire that hadn’t fed in weeks. His lips watered at the thought of devouring you, getting to see sweat glistening on your bare chest, nipples hardened under his rough fingertips, back arched as he pressed himself into you. The thing he loved the most though was your faces, your bottom lip almost bleeding from how hard your teeth grinded against it as you tried to silence your moans, tears welling up at the corners of your eyes that were desperate to escape once he hit just the right spot inside of your soft walls. Your face and body were the things he dreamed about in his sleep, but they were also what would keep him up at night while you were away. They were the things that made him fist his cock, eyes shut tight as he pictured the artwork known as his girl. He was ravenous for you—always, so why couldn’t you see what he did? Why didn’t the lamb understand what made the lion so hungry for it; what made him hunt day and night just for a taste.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his clothed cock hardened against you. He didn’t grind into you like you wanted, his focus instead on getting his fingers on every inch of you. Your gaze fell again, embarrassment heating your cheeks at the sight of his digits languidly sliding underneath the cups of your bra.

“I won’t tell you again. Look up.” You did. You core grew wetter, dampening the fabric of your panties at the contact.

“You know…” His free hand ghosted over your spine, causing you to shiver at his touch as he unclasped your bra, freeing your flesh. A small moan escaped his lips at the reveal, his fingers quickly found your breasts, large hands cupping them, much to his enjoyment.

“I’d kill anyone who talked bad about you. I would never let anyone speak about my girl the way that you do.” A harsh pinch to your nipple forced your chest to push out towards the mirror, your perfect French manicure gripping the edge of the marble countertop. The sight was absolutely sinful.

“So why do you think that you should be the exception, huh? Do you think you’re above the rules?” Caleb rolled your sensitive nipples between his fingers, reveling in the way you writhed beneath his touch.

“No…” You whined, head slowly falling forward at the sensation, you body going limp against his.

“No? Apologize then.” His voice was harsh suddenly, as you felt your muscles give way, gaze being forced back to the mirror against your will as he used his evol against you. He did say he wouldn’t ask again, instead, he would make you look.

“I-I’m sorry,” It was barely audible, strained out between your soft moans as you pushed your ass against the man behind you, unabashedly wanted to feel some sort of friction between your thighs.

“No no no, not to me. Apologize to my baby, hm?  Look at her and say you’re sorry for being mean.” You tried to turn your head away at the humiliating request, but it was no use, you were practically immobilized between his arms. You looked at yourself in the mirror, body laid bare, chest heaving, ass grinding against Caleb like a bitch in heat.

“I’m sorry for being mean.”

“Aww how nice. See I knew you could be sweet. You always listen so well, my obedient pretty girl.” His right hand left your chest feeling cold as his middle and index fingers found themselves pressed against your lips.

“Get 'em wet for me, baby. Go ahead, it’s okay.” So you listen—you let your lips part, sucking his fingers between them, running your tongue in circles around his knuckles as he slides them in and out of your mouth. “Fuck… you look so good.”

“You want my fingers somewhere else? Been grinding this pussy against me like you need something. Do you want me to make you feel good, hm? Will that make my pretty girl stop crying?” He was mocking you, reveling in the way you squirmed against him as he pressed your hips into the counter.

“Caleb… please,” You said, words muffled by his thick fingers pushing down against your tongue, your saliva dripping halfway down his arm at this point.

“But you’re so mean, baby. Only nice girls get treats. Are you gonna be nice from now on? Gonna' treat my pretty girl better?” He watched as your reflection nodded up and down, pretty little eyes closed tightly, nose scrunched up like a bunny. He was in awe at this sight—he almost wanted to give you your reward without making you work for it...almost.

“Answer me, baby. C’mon, be good for me… please,” His words were strained, like he was getting off just as much as you were without him even being touched. It made your knees buckle a little beneath you, forcing your limp fingers to grip around his forearm, desperately searching for some stability.

“Yes yes I’ll be nice. I promise. Just touch me please.” With that, he pulled his fingers out of your mouth, your spit glistening around his digits as they traveled slowly down your body, leaving you painted in your own wetness.

“You have the most beautiful body I’ve ever seen, you know that?” He pressed a soft kiss to your neck as his wet fingers slid beneath the waistband of your panties.

“Fuck this pussy’s so wet already. I can feel your little clit’s already excited, she’s so swollen. Aw, does it hurt, baby?” His muscled thigh forced its way between your legs, spreading them wider as his fingers lightly toyed with your most sensitive spot, soaked fingers rubbing on each side of your clit. Your hole clenched around nothing, juices spilling out against the fabric, desperately wanting to be filled—hungry.

“Look so pretty when you don’t get what you want though. Maybe this is all you should get, huh? After all, mean girls shouldn’t be rewarded, should they?” You squirmed even more at his words, trying to force his fingers to move faster or press against you harder—something. Caleb was having none of it though, his big hand gripping your waist, pinning you still. Whines fell from between your lips at the denial.

“Didn’t you just say you would be good? Were you lying to me again or does this messy hole between your legs make it so you can’t think straight? Don’t tell me my fingers barely touching you makes you this dumb, sugar. That’s cute… but a little pathetic, don’t you think?” He sloppily kissed your skin between words, teeth nipping against the flesh, tongue lapping at your wounds only to bite into you again.

“I guess you can’t think. Is that it? You need me to tell you what to do, hm?” You nodded uncontrollably, that heavy weight moving your muscles against your will once again.

“My pretty girl with the sloppy cunt. Say it.” His thumb found your clit now, hovering over it, just barely touching the aching button… but it wasn’t enough. It wouldn’t be enough until you did what he told you to.

“Caleb please…”

“No more whining. If you’re not saying what I told you to then you shouldn’t be speaking at all. Say you’re my pretty girl.” He freed your waist, certain that you wouldn’t disobey when he had you like this—so pliable. His hand made it’s way to your half-undone hair now, gripping it, as he pushed your face closer to the mirror, your body bent over the sink, reflection painfully close.

You said it… but not the way he wanted you to. Your eyes were on him, words barely audible, attitude palpable through the statement. Without warning the warmth of his fingers on your cunt was quickly gone as he slipped his fingers out of your panties to deliver a swift slap to your clit over the fabric. You screamed out at the painful sensation, which only resulted in another smack against your cunt.

“Do it the right way. Look at my girl while you tell her she’s pretty and mean it.”  You looked at your reflection, chest bare, sweat staining your skin, hair messy from the way Caleb’s fingers gripped it forcing you not to look away. Your eyes were glazed over, lipstick smudged onto your chin—you were a mess, but you said it.

“I- I’m your pretty girl.” Not even a second passed after the words left your lips before Caleb slid the crotch of your panties to the side, fingers pressing all the way against you now. His middle finger, still wet from the impromptu blowjob you’d given it, made it’s way into your tight hole inch by inch.

“See what happens when you’re not a fucking brat? Don’t you know that only good girls get what they want?” You nodded, your head feeling fuzzy as his thick finger forced itself between your walls, its length allowing him to brush against your g-spot with hardly any effort.

“Say it again.” You did, looking yourself in the eyes once more.

“That’s right. You’re my pretty girl who listens so well. My god you are fucking prefect.” You were rewarded with another finger amongst the praise, but he hadn’t touched your clit again. He knew that the second he did, you would fall apart in his arms. He just wasn’t quite done playing with you yet.

“Aw my baby gets so fucking dumb when her holes get filled. How cute… you having trouble with your words again? What is it, sugar? Come on, tell me, you can do it.” His lips were so close to your ear as he spoke, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine. His tone was sweet, slightly higher in pitch, as if he were calling out for a stray dog to come eat a treat out of his palm. The condescending sound made you whine out once again, just like a puppy would.

“Aww am I not giving you what you want? Am I being mean to you?” His fingers quickened as he watched you pant, your palms flattened out against the mirror as he rocked you back and forth against his hand.

“Caleb please touch me.”

“I’m already touching you silly girl? What is it, did you want a kiss?” The thought of getting to feel his lips on yours as his fingers fucked harder into you, his tongue lapping at yours, brought more tears to your eyes.

“Yes. Please ‘wanna kiss so bad.” He pushed your head closer to your reflection, until your lips were only a millimeter from the mirror,

“Go on then. Give her a kiss—such a pretty girl deserves a kiss.” His cock ached in his pants against you as he watched it—the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen so desperate for his fingers that she was kissing herself in the mirror just because he’d said so.

“Goood girl. Good job being so sweet. Tell her you’re sorry again for hurting her feelings.” His thumb finally nudged against your clit again, slowly rubbing small little circles around it. The stimulation made you cry once more as he found just the right rhythm to keep you on the edge as apologies flowed from your lips.

“You must be getting close, beautiful. This little pussy is grippin’ on my fingers so tight. She doesn’t wanna let me go. Do you need to cum, baby?”

“Yes yes wanna cum so bad for you.”

“Aw I know I know. It’s okay. I’ll stop being mean to you since you’ve been so sweet. Tell me where you wanna cum, sugar.” The question only made you squeeze him tighter, your sloppy hole clenching and spasming around his fingers and you pressed your lips to the mirror once more, leaving little red kiss marks all over the reflection of your face. Your hips free now, you pushed into his cock again, grinding against the fabric of his pants, leaving an even bigger wet spot than before.

“No no no, you can’t have my cock. This is about you, just wanna make you feel good, yeah?” You whined louder at the denial, your voice trembling as you shook from your sobs.

“Don’t cry anymore, baby. I’ll do you one better yeah?” He pulled his fingers out of you slowly, despite the fight your hole tried to put up in keeping him inside. His hand’s grip on your hair was gone, but not before he used it to force you to turn towards him for the first time. He lowered himself to his knees, rough hands gently grabbing your thigh as he placed it over his shoulder.

“You are a fucking goddess,” he whispered as he brought his mouth between your legs, placing tiny kisses on the inside of your thighs. “Shouldn’t I pay my respects?” He wasted no more time getting his tongue on your cunt, pushing your lips apart as he savored your juices in his mouth. Your fingers tangled into his hair now, pushing your hips into his face as he gripped your thigh even tighter making you moan out at the mix of pain and pleasure. You were already so close, the feeling of Caleb suckling on your puffy clit, the rhythm just how he knew you liked it, made you beg to cum once more in no time.

“So fucking gorgeous, grinding on my tongue. Go on, say it one more time for me. Say you’re my pretty girl. Say you’ll never be mean to yourself again and I’ll let you cum for me.” He looked up at you as the words spilled out of your mouth just like he said, the look on your face intoxicating as you screamed out his name.

“Gooood girl you can cum for me. C'mon pretty girl, cum in my mouth, it’s okay. You earned it.” He held you still, tongue continuing to harass your poor little clit as you writhed above him. Your legs gave out, quivering as he continued to lick up the mess you’d made.

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you. Keep cumming for me, let it all out,” he said, voice sweet once again as he steadied you with his hands and you rode out the rest of your orgasm.

“You did so good. I’m so proud of you.” He pressed one more kiss to your clit, as you finished coming down, your body finally feeling steady in his arms. He stood up, towering over you once again, face wet with your juices as he held your fingers between his. His other hand cupped your face, thumb softly wiping away your tears.

“I love you more than anything and I want you to know that you have nothing to be insecure about. Even if you’re not feeling your best, you can always talk to me and I’ll remind you of just how beautiful you are. Okay?” You nodded, looking up at him with big eyes, your heart hurting in your chest from how full it felt in that moment.

“I love you, Caleb.”

“I can tell because you let me ruin your makeup when we only have…” He glanced over at my phone on the countertop, “thirty minutes before the car gets here.”

“Thirty minutes?” You shouted out, pushing against Caleb’s chest.

“You’ll be fine. I’ll make them wait,” he said, reaching down to pick up the white dress shirt that had been previously discarded onto the floor. 

“And hey, put on that red dress. I’ll need something pretty to look at while everyone else is droning on about how great I am.” You rolled your eyes, letting out a laugh that perfectly harmonized with his as you threw the balled up dress towards him.

“Now you’ll have to iron them both.” He hummed in acceptance, violet irises glimmering at the sight of you.

“Anything for you, gorgeous.”

[motomamita]

JUST HAD A THOUGHT !

König as a rising underground boxer, with his cute little nurse that comes with him whenever he goes. He lets no one else look after him and all his bandages have cute symbols on it.

Media is all over him and he just can’t help but brag about his cutie patootie nurse that only cares for him, and no other boxer has eye candy like he does.😵‍💫

boxer!könig × nurse!reader

warnings: +18, smut, sex!

you needed money urgently and you were in your last year of nursing. that's when you met könig, who was a friend of a friend of yours and who needed your services in exchange for good pay.

your first meeting with him was in the basement of a bar far from the city, late at night. könig showed up in the locker room, shirtless and wearing boxer shorts. his face and entire body had bruises and scars that seemed to have healed not very well. that's when you knew you were going to have a very hard job there.

in his following fights, könig managed to win and take first place in the standings. After each fight, both received a good amount of money that you shared equally. you spent hours with him in the locker room, cleaning his bloody face and placing bandages on his bruised knuckles. sometimes you got so late that könig invited you to his small apartment, where you took care of him until you inevitably fell asleep in his bed. könig took advantage and pulled you towards him, letting you sleep on his chest.

soon König gained recognition and was invited to fight in the best competitions in the city. both became a team and had to show yourselves as such. now you were wearing a matching shirt and skirt with the inscription "property of könig" on the back, so everyone would know that you were HIS nurse. könig dressed to match you, choosing the same colors of shorts that you choose for your little skirts.

the media began to take an interest in both, calling you "the little nurse" and praising the good chemistry you both had. noticing how your face became worried every time könig received a hit or how you jumped with excitement every time he won, without caring that your panties were visible under your skirt.

you also caught the attention of the other boxers who did not miss the opportunity to look up your skirt or try to talk to you. unfortunately for them, könig was always next to you, hugging you around the waist and growling almost like a dog when any of those sons of bitches tried to get close to you.

everyone understood that it was in vain to try to separate you, you were both there for each other. könig wore a chain around his neck along with a sign with your name on it that he always kissed before entering the ring because, according to him, it gave him luck. and every time he won, he would run up to you to hug and kiss you, not caring that he was dripping with blood and sweat.

dor your part, you massaged his muscles before each fight and even sucked his cock to make him more "relaxed." könig just let you do whatever you want with him just by feeling your skin on his and not going too far away.

today könig had fought the final against another guy, for a lot, a lot of money. in a fight straight out of a movie, könig had managed to establish himself as the supreme winner. the photos of you two hugging and kissing didn't take long, as did the glasses of champagne to celebrate. once the celebrations had calmed down, you took könig to the locker room, you had to clean his bleeding nose and a large open scar on his right cheekbone. but, he had other plans.

"that's it, keep it up.. c'mon.."

könig moaned, lying on a bench, while you rode his thick, sweaty cock. in your hand you still had the gauze with which you were trying to clean his wounds but it was difficult for you to stop in the face of so much pleasure.

at your waist you wore the könig winner's belt and several bills clutched in your short skirt. you couldn't stop releasing on him, feeling how your moisture fell down the length of his cock and wet his sweaty balls. the tip of his cock kissed your cervix with each thrust while your clits slapped against his happy trail.

"keep jumping, fuck you, fuck... my little nurse, always taking care of me, huh?"

könig brought his big hands to your breasts, breaking the buttons on your shirt and moving your bra, leaving your breasts in the air. you moaned at the change in temperature and your warm walls squeezed könig's throbbing cock. the breaths and moans of both of you echoed in the locker room as did the sound of your skin colliding.

"come on, make me cum, i know you can..."

he asked, now bringing his hands to your hips, helping you continue bouncing his cock. könig couldn't resist and raised his hips, fucking you hard and finishing inside you.

that night you returned home with the prize and with even more energy to fuck until the next morning.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

How to create an atmosphere: Supermarket

Sight

advertisements for products

big signs showing discounts

aisles full of colorful products

fresh produce

employees in matching uniforms

all different kinds of costumers

with shopping carts

with children running around

with a stroller or toddlers sitting in the shopping cart

with a service dog by their side

Hearing

the sound of shopping carts being pushed and bumping into shelves

parents calling for their children

people talking on the phone

a man asking his wife if they still have enough toilet paper at home

someone asking the employee where they can find something

music interrupted by announcements about promotions the store is doing

the surring and beeping sound of the cash register belt

the sound of the electronic doors opening and shutting again

Touch

the stickiness of the floors

the differents textures of each item they think about buying

the coldness and often stickiness of the handle of the shopping cart

the sudden wetness from some products that are either fresh produce or where the package is leaking

Smell

the smell of spilled drinks that someone dropped and left for the employees to clean up

the smell of cleaning products from them having to sweep it up

the smell of hand sanitizer

the smell of different products the costumer holds up to their face and smells to decide if they like it

the horrendous smell of deposit machines where you return your not quite empty beer bottles to and the leftover liquid spills everywhere

Taste

different samples offered at the supermarket

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[miss-cincaide]

The pink, the blue or the red 

Summary: You can’t decide on a piece of lingerie for your upcoming date. So what do you do? Ask your best friend for help of course. After all you don't think he'll care. And you especially don't expect this to be the beginning of your 'friends with benifits' situation..  

Pairing: Fem! Reader x Megumi Fushuguro (aged up!) Kinktober prompt 2: Lingerie  WC ~1.7K. Warnings: Unprotected sex (P in V), pulling out, cum, light dirty talk, becoming friends with benefits, 

“ I can’t decide!” You huffed from the cracked opened door to your bedroom. Your back pressed against the door, your face angled through the crack and stared down at Megumi sitting cross-legged on your couch, the bunch of homework and course books spread out all over your coffee table. “I don’t know if the blue one is better than the red one, but the red one feels too desperate so maybe the pink one?” 

There was an unmistakable pause, a silence then, an “Are you asking me to look at your underwear before your date?” Megumi’s tone held a hint of disbelief in it and you couldn’t help yourself by correcting his choice of words: “Lingerie.”

It didn’t help; Megumi sighed in exasperation. 

The kind of sound that clearly said you were acting stupid for one, and two, he was about to group you in the same category as Itadori. “ I don’t know. Ask Nobara” 

You let out a low whine, a quiet stomp of your foot against the carpeted floor “ I did. And Nobara said that ‘guys only care about tits and a hole’ so it didn’t matter which one. Then I asked Yuji and it became a whole discussion about why I should care about the color of my lingerie if it’s anyway covered by clothes and IF things go that way, it will most probably be dark so the color won’t matter anyway.”

You heard Megumi mutter something under his breath and proceeded to amp up the begging with your most pitiful puppy dog voice “Please ‘Gumi. You’re my only hope for honest to god feedback.” 

Another long pause, you were about to start bribing him, before he sighed and dropped back against the couch. “Fine.” 

Megumi didn’t sound happy, but you didn’t care as you let out a glee of joy and stepped out of your bedroom. A silky kimono with lace details which matched the lingerie set, thrown over and tied up on your hip, showing off just the very edge of the matching set underneath. 

“So I thought of something like this” You stood in front of Megumi and did a little twirl showing off the kimono that followed the line of your body. Megumi remained frustratingly impassive, his every expression carefully schooled. He wasn’t giving you anything; did he like it? Hate it? Find this bothersome? Find you bothersome? “Come on, Gumi say something” 

“You’re planning to go out to a bar like that?” His eyes ran you up and down, followed the outline of the kimono and then flickered back up to your face, his eyes never lingered. “Doubt it. Stuffing it in a bag to take with will make it look wrinkly and cheap.”  

“It wasn’t cheap” you pouted, then as the penny dropped you realized it was your cue to take it off. Seduce him if you will. You moved to undo the belt, your fingers scrambled to untie the death-knot on your hip. You hadn’t actually thought things would go this far. 

“And that’s another issue,” Megumi pointed out. You could practically hear how he rolled  his eyes. “ When are you going to learn how to tie things up in a single bow?” 

“ But they untie themselves!” 

“That’s what you want from them. Especially in this situation.” 

You didn’t bother to reply, banter-scolding a familiar routine at this point. You’d say there was nothing less sexy than to have to stop and retie the bow, Megumi would point out that at the speed you were going, you’d be ancient by the time you got it untied. “Aha!” you grinned before he could say another word as your nail finally caught the inner loop and you slowly tugged the silky belt free. 

The kimono soon followed, first opened up, then slid off your shoulders to the floor. All you were left in was a half-sheer dark blue set embezzled with small white gems. The bra worked hard to push your girls up, the lace which started just above your nipples giving a small hint of modesty. The lacy skimpy Brazilians did the opposite. 

“What do you think?” You asked, then did a slow twirl to show it off from every angle. When you turned back around to face Megumi, his eyes were firmly planted on the floor at your feet. You bit back the twitch of disappointment in your heart. 

“It looks good.” His voice sounded tense like he uttered it through gritted teeth. 

“You’re not even looking!” You moved to stand closer to him, hearing the unmistakable hitch of breath. “Does it look bad? It looks bad, right? Tell me truly and honestly so I know” 

“You want a true and honest opinion?” You nodded quickly. Megumi didn’t look up at you as he slowly moved to stand up off the couch. He was close, towered over you, definitely aware of you. You smiled a little to yourself and began doing another demonstrative twirl. He stopped you halfway with a firm grip on your arm. “You wanna know what I think? I think you’re doing this on purpose.” 

You gasped as he pushed you forward, and bent you over, your stomach made contact with the side of the couch, one hand braced over the back, the other caught yourself on the armrest.

“I think you’re doing this to rile me up and it’s working” Megumi pushed his hips forward, flush against the soft curve of your ass. His cock was unmistakably hard in his pants. He rolled his hips, and made you feel every inch of him. 

Big. Hard. Needy.    

You trembled. A pathetic whimper left you. 

“You don’t really care about those dates or men. We both know you’re going to go there, have a few drinks, then run away when things get serious.” Another roll of his hips, this time sliding himself between your ass cheeks. “ If you want something, be a big girl and say it.” 

“Don’t stop” you whimpered moving your hips in line with his. He does exactly as you asked, but not a touch more. You're ground against him, desperate for more friction, more touch, more of that delicious cock which so perfectly ground against you, scratching you with the lace of your panties and the shift of his jeans. Outlined but hidden, leaving the rest to imagination. Fuck it was torture. “Or.. you know… keep going, just don’t stop” 

Megumi took a step back from you. “On the couch. Now.” 

You scramble to shift your body over the armrest and into one of the soft cushions. Back against the couch, soles of your feet on the edge of the pillow, knees loosely to your chest. Megumi joins you a moment later, pushing up your knees closer and out of the way. He didn’t bother slipping your panties off, just pushed the damp skimpy thing to the side before thrusting right in. 

“Ah-heh..mm, What about foreplay?” Your hands wrap around his neck keeping him close and steady, there to see his every expression, so close you can hear him swallow, groan and curse as your pussy took him. 

“What about it?” Megumi raises an eyebrow, his hand reached out and brushed a sweat drop off your face. Then trailed trails down your neck, lingered at your bouncing tits then lower, down to your clit. “You’re saying you can be wetter than this?” 

 His fingers touch you; you moan, arching you back. Closer, away, you don’t know anymore. You feel him push your legs even closer to your chest, his thrusts growing rapidly. You realized he was bullying you; with his words, with his fingers and with his fucking cock that felt ten times better than you could have ever imagined. “Y-you’re mean, Megumi” 

“Am I now?” He picked up his pace, rolled his hips and you were coming, dripping, soaking him wet. You were moaning, gasping, cursing or was it him? Another scream and he was gone. Your pussy clenched over nothing.

 Empty.

 You’re whined, your hips thrusting empty air in desperation.

 “Fuckkk”  He was coming, gasping, painting your stomach and tits white with the hot thick cum. 

His sweaty head dropped down to your shoulder, and your nails let go of his back. 

The reality came crashing down on you like a sobering weight; You just had sex with Megumi.  You just fucked your best friend. And you didn't know what it meant, were you now migrating to friends-with-benifits? Something more? Something-

“Did.. did Yuji see the lingerie?” There was an unmistakable twitch of jealousy in his voice and a tone that demanded an honest answer out of you. 

You didn't quite know how to interpret it. You answered him either way. “Kinda? I showed him the pictures of them but not on me”

Megumi growled, his hand on your knee tightened slightly before he let you go. He moved off you, flopping down onto the couch beside you. “Then I need to see the other two before I can give you my honest opinion” 

Your face flushed, your brain short circuited. Your body moved seemingly on its own, awkwardly scrambled out of the couch and with shaky legs began carrying you back to your room. 

If this was what happened with the most innocent, blue set, you couldn't wait until he laid his eyes on the lacy pink one, or barely there red one…

Author note: I have to say I am not sure how I feel about this fic. I love the Megumi in this and I do kinda wanna write more Friends-With-Benifits scenarios. What do you think? Anything you'd wanna read?

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[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile X

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

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Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I won't lie it was a difficult chapter because Reader's psyche is changing but without this I loved this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I did ! There is fluff but beware there are racism, killing envy and blood. But nothing too bad I think... yet. I really hope you'll love it, it's the turning point of the story !

You woke up against Alastor's naked chest, still enveloped in blankets. You could feel him playing with your hair while humming a song you’ve heard on the radio. You tilted your head toward him, watching his face wearing his usual smile. 

“ Hello, dear.” he whispered. You kissed his cheeks and put your head back against his warm chest. You could feel his body being more tense than usual, maybe being almost naked against each other made him uncomfortable? You tried to sit up but he pushed your head against his chest once again. “ Stay…”

You hummed, caressing his scars. It was strange, the skin color was different depending if there were scars but you were surprised by how smooth it was. You couldn’t tell the difference between his scars and his skin. 

“ Who did this to you..?” you whispered. Even though you both were alone in the cottage, cut from the outside world by the snowstorm you didn’t want to break the comfortable and quiet atmosphere. You felt like, if you began to talk louder, Alastor would shield himself from you. You felt him take a big deep breath before speaking a word you couldn't help but expect.

“ My father.” He sighed.

“ Do you wish to talk about it?”

“ What is there to tell, dear? The man who owned the title of being my father had my mother pregnant, he wanted to be a perfect man so he married her.  It was a gamble that failed. I was born and he would beat me or my mother if we were acting a little too “ black” for him, with his belt, his fists, cold water and so many other things. He teached me how to hunt, how to kill, how to hurt… I know so many things that would make you run away from me, my dear friend…” he hugged you tighter.

You don’t think you’ve ever felt this angry. The man you have met many times, the very man who hurted Alastor, has always been close to you and you’ve never seen it. You tried not to imagine Alastor being alone in his room being beaten hard by his father while trying not to cry while holding onto Eamon. Had you hurted him when you would smash into his arms for a hug? Had you hurted him when you would jump on his back because you didn’t want to be walking because you were oh so tired. Why didn’t you realize that Eamon’s fur was getting redder and redder because Alastor was bleeding on him because of his father. Why did you not realize that Alastor didn’t want to let Marie alone in this house because there was a demon living among them.

“ Dear?”

“ I hope he dies during the war.”

There was a silence before Alastor tilted your head by your chin toward his face. His eyes had the same warm glint but there was something else, something darker that seemed to try to stay hidden. He was looking at you, observing you like he was searching for some kind of answer. You tried to show how angry you were, you wanted your eyes to give the answer Alastor was looking for. 

“ And if I told you I didn’t wish for him to be killed during war?”

Your eyes widened. What? 

“ Alastor.. I know he is your father and maybe you still feel some kind of bond with him but you shouldn’t. He doesn’t even deserve to be killed as a soldier, he should be taken by the enemy, tortured until he can’t even spell his own name. Being eaten by dogs. No, it would be bad meat for the dogs. He should just get his members cut off, his tongue eaten by rats, he shou–” you gasped as Alastor kissed you, pressing your body against his own. Why was he kissing you so passionately when you were talking about how his father should die.

He leaned back with a soft smile, that dangerous glint in his eyes back. You tilted your head, you didn't finish talking, it was rude of him.

“ Aah.. Darling, you are…” he sighed in bliss as you felt his nails dug comfortably into your waist.” What if.. What if I told you I didn't want him to be killed because..” he stared at you a moment before speaking again.”  I want to be the one to kill him.”

You shivered even though you were against Alastor’s warm chest and under several blankets. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? You were staring at him while he was observing you, waiting for your reaction. Alastor wanted to kill his own father? Well, you did want the bastard dead and Alastor deserved his revenge but to kill.. to kill another human being…

“ Killing him…? But …”

“ Don’t see him as living being my dear, he isn’t worth the title. Think of it.. Like I’m going to hunt a dangerous animal that needs to be put down. I’m just like your ideal Prince charming , aren’t I? Killing dangerous people for his loved one?” He tilted his head with a soft smile. 

You couldn’t help but nod. What he was saying was true. Killing his father would be a great thing. You were beginning to scared yourself as you felt no remorse or guilt to think about Alastor killing his father, his own blood. Why would you? He didn’t deserve to live after what he had done to Alastor and Marie. The idea didn’t scare you but your thoughts did. Deep inside you, you knew you weren’t scared because this idea was coming from Alastor. You trusted him with your life.

“ How would you kill him?” you asked, curiously. You giggled as he kissed you everywhere on your face. His body, once tense, was beginning to relax a little. You didn’t know what you had done but it seemed like your gave the answer Alastor was waiting for.

“ How I’m going to kill him, you mean. I have many ideas my dear! By knife, rifle or maybe by strangling him?” he pondered as he stared at the ceiling with a happy grin.

“ Won’t he be able to scream if you strangle him?” you asked. You remembered, when you were playing with your cousins, some would play a little too hard and would “strangle” you. You would just scream so your mother would come and scold your cousins.

“ Oh trust me dear, if you do it right, you can’t scream for help.”

“ How do you know?” 

“ Well, I tried to scream for my mother one day.” he smiled at you and you felt angrier than you were minutes ago. His bastard father had strangled Alastor when he was a kid. What a demon! He really didn’t deserve to be alive! “ I have so many ideas!”

“ You know, If you really happened to kill him, I wouldn’t tell a soul… In fact.. If you need me at that moment.. I promise, I’ll be there.” you said sure of yourself. You did not know if you could handle everything but you’ll be by Alastor’s side from the beginning. You didn’t know if you could kill… It was a thought too far from your morals but helping Alastor if he happened to be injured or something else… That, you would do it.

“ Oh dear.. Don’t tell me that, you’re going to make me say things I’m not ready to tell yet.” he sighed dreamily as he tilted his head backwards. Now, that made you curious. What could Alastor be hiding, he just told you he planned to murder his father, what more could you be hiding ? You smiled as you nipped his neck, making him shiver.

“ Like what? Tell me. Tell me!” you smiled as you kept kissing him on his jaws, his cheeks and his nose. “ Come on now, you just told me you wanted to kill your father, what more can’t you tell me ?” you whined before settling against him once more. You closed your eyes and listened to his heartbeat. It was fast…

“ Fine… Dearest, once I have killed my father,” you hummed while he took your hand in his. “ Would you marry me?”

…

Oh Lord.

You sat up, staring at him.  He was looking at you, kissing the back of your hand. You were shaking, did he .. did he..?

“ I won’t lie, I still don’t know what Love is about. I just know that I want you to be by my side, I don’t think I could remain sane if I were to see your attention shifting to someone else. Just like Narcissus with his own reflection, I can’t get enough of you and yet I feel so fulfilled when you are by my side. I’m… I think I may be obsessed with you. You are the person who brought my human heart to life, how odd. I know it’s not the love you read about or you wish for.. I don’t even know if this is love. But this is what I feel for you, and I don’t think I’ll be able to feel it for anyone else, heck, I don’t want to feel it for anyone else…I want you caged with me. I want you to think about me just like I’m always thinking about you.” he stared at you, waiting for your answer, caressing your trembling hand. His eyes were shaking but he kept his gaze on you, observing your reactions. “ Would you accept my mad affection?”

You were shaken. You were with Alastor, almost naked, sitting on his pelvis with a blanket around you and a snowstorm outside.You felt hot. So hot. Alastor wanted to marry you. He wanted you to be his wife? It felt like everything clicked in your brain. Each time you were running after him, each time you wanted to make him like you, each time you wanted him to see you as a lady, each time you asked him to let you enter into his mind, each time you felt anger when a woman would come close to him, each time you wanted him to watch you and only you.

You were madly in love and obsessed with Alastor.

You read so many love novels… The prince never asked the princess to marry after telling her he was going to kill his father. The prince never asked the princess to think about him only. Their love was pure, not tainted by obsession, not tainted by the immense need to be by their lover’s side… Their love was not like what was happening right now.

And yet you couldn’t be happier.

You smiled at him, your vision blurry because of the tears blinding your eyes.

“ Alastor.. I may be just a foolish sixteen year old girl. Maybe your obsession will pass when you see I have nothing to offer you but trust me, my affection for you has been present since the day I laid my eyes on you.” you felt him squeeze your hand harder as you continued your confession.” We are both young, so maybe you’ll change your mind. You’ll find a proper woman but I know that you are the only man I wish for in my life. The only man I wish I would marry…” you sobbed as you squeezed his hand back as he stared at you with clear obsession in his eyes. He leaned toward you, whispering against your lips.

“ Say it.. Say it..” he begged.

“ Yes, Alastor, I will marry you.”

He kissed you with a big smile you couldn’t help but imitate. He hugged you against him so hard you felt pain in your chest but you didn't care. You squeezed him as hard as you could, you’ve never felt happier.

“I feel like this is too good to be true…” you heard him say against your skin. You couldn’t help but laugh while wiping your eyes. You leaned back as you took both of his hands in yours.

“ It’s true.. I feel like.. Once we leave this place, everything would be a faraway dream.” you sighed with a soft smile. You felt like you were dreaming right now…

“ I.. May have an idea for that.” he smirked at you as you tilted your head, confused. “ I find myself being interested in voodoo.” he held his hand in front of your mouth as you gasped. “ No worry darling, voodoo is not a barbaric religion. It’s in my blood, I found books about it and where it came from. And, there are some rituals that can bind souls together… Would you like to try it?”

“ For real?” you said, astonished. From what you heard, voodoo was a banned religion because it was witchcraft which came from black people. You didn’t really find yourself into religion, men killed for religion no matter which one. But if voodoo was something Alastor’s looked into and was coming from his ancestors, that could be interesting.

“ Yes indeedy. They wrote it as a curse though but…” you peck his nose before he could continue.

“ Yes, I want to.” you smiled. “ How do we do it?”

“ I don’t have the book with me right now. But it’s very specific.. I’ll need some of your blood.” he said carefully but soon his expression turned to surprise as you ran toward the kitchen and gave back with a knife. “ Well, aren’t you in a hurry to be bound to me body and soul?” he said with a teasing smile.

“ Oh, you are right, we can wait.” you said and smiled delightedly when you saw his expression twitched. You knew that Alastor would be the less patient of the both of you for this kind of thing, for you, which was surprising, he was known to be patient, very patient. “ Here I was, ready to make my ring finger bleed.” you shook your head with a saddened expression. “ How foolish…”

“ Dear…”

“ Seems like I’m in no hurry to become your wife!” you squeaked as Alastor tugged you against his chest with a smile so big it almost looked like inhuman.

“ Dearest, don’t play with me. Not with that.” he gently took the knife from your hand. “ No need for this. If you accepted, I could cut you.” he looked at you, seeming unsure. You tilted your head, cutting yourself seemed scary indeed.

“ It’s going to hurt, right..?” you asked softly.  You watched as he played smoothly  with the knife in his hand. You wished you knew how to do it…

“ I’ll try to make it so you don’t feel anything.” 

“ No. I want to feel it. I want to feel this moment.” you said sure of yourself.  Tonight would mark the first step of becoming Alastor’s wife, body and soul. You would be damned together or go to heaven together, there were no in between. You saw Alastor’s smile widened, it seemed like he was sharing the same feeling as you about this situation.

You looked as he sunk softly the knife’s edge into your skin. You shivered as you bit your lips, you were feeling no pain. You remembered in your romance books, normally the woman would be crying as the prince would pass the ring on her fingers. And yet, here you were, letting Alastor cut your skin and enjoying it. 

He took a napkin from the table and held it against your bleeding finger. 

“ Are you okay?” he asked, observing your reaction once more. You nodded, you don’t think you could feel even better ! He put the napkin on this table with a satisfied smile before you pinned him on the sofa, hugging him against you.

“ I’m the happiest girl in the whole world !” you shouted before leaving the sofa, leaving there a confused smiling Alastor, and you jumped everywhere. You couldn’t wait to tell your mother, your father, Alice ! You squealed in delight as you jumped around under Alastor’s soft gaze.

“ You gave me the best birthday’s present.” he said as he stood up. You grinned at him, his birthday was tomorrow, you needed to prepare the food. Even if you knew nobody would be coming, it was for the better!

You took Marie’s recipes’s book, still with the blankets around you.

“ Let your future wife cook for you!” you smiled confidently.

Alastor let you in the kitchen for 15 minutes before running back because he smelt fire. You just smiled sweetly at him with a burned stove. Alastor sighed with a tender smile before helping you cook. You wanted to try to cook something spicy, that’s why you had asked Alice to bring hot pepper for his birthday.

“ Do you think you could eat one and handle it ?” you teased him. He just looked at you and ate a whole pepper without flinching. You stared at him in shock. He winked at you before giving you a hot pepper with a mocking smile.

“ Could you handle it?”

You scoffed and took the hot pepper in your hands.  If Alastor did it, you could do it! You took the whole hot pepper in your mouth and swallowed it. You waited a little then laughed at Alastor.

“ I had worse at my– Oh my god..” you stopped every movement as your felt pure fire began to grow inside of you. You felt tears streaming down your face as you coughed, holding on Alastor’s arms as he was laughing so hard you could see tears on the side of his eyes. “ Alastor, help me!” you tried to fan your tongue, jumping around as Alastor held himself against the wall, crying of laughter.

“ Haha! Dear, drink milk ! milk!” he laughed as he pointed to the fridge. You ran toward it and slammed its door open. Did you even have milk? Yes! You took the bottle and drank messily the milk until the bottle was half full. “ Oh dear… Would you like a kiss after this horrible experiment?” he smiled as he walked toward you, but as he leaned closer to your face you almost could feel the hot pepper still on his lips.

You ran away, screaming at him. You didn’t want to feel this pain anymore! You were screaming as Alastor ran behind you, his laughter echoing in the little cottage.You couldn’t help but smile, if this scene would represent your future with Alastor, you would love it!

After your battle, easily won by Alastor’s lips against yours, you went back to cooking. Alastor was showing you how to cook and you took notes. It seemed so easy from his movement. You were almost jealous but then you began to smile as you remembered that you would see this scene every day in the future.

“ You have such a big smile dear, does watching me cooking bring you such pleasure?” he asked teasingly. You stuck your tongue at him, you knew he was happier than he let on. His smile was more genuine and his body was more relaxed than you've ever seen him. 

After an hour you went back to the living room, near the fire and ate Alastor’s cooking. You called your mothers to reassure them that everything was good and you were safe. You gossiped, played a few games, like poker and Alastor was way too good about it , you would just throw a pillow at him each time he would wink at you, meaning he knew he had won. You took a nap against Alastor’s chest and when you woke up it was almost midnight. You stood up from his chest and were surprised to see Alastor asleep. Maybe being away from everything, with you had made him relaxed enough that his body could sleep? You smiled and went to the kitchen and took a cake out of the fridge. You tried to make a coffee cake two days ago, you hoped it was still good… You put the candle on the cake and lit them up before walking toward the living room. 

You saw an awaken Alastor turning his head toward you as you sat in front of him on your knees, with a soft smile and whispered in the quiet room.

“ Happy birthday, Alastor”

~~~

“ Happy birthday Alastor!” you all cheered and brough your glasses together. You were in a bar with jazz playing, celebrating the new year and Alastor’s 23th birthday. Alice was there, with some of Alastor’s friends, you didn’t really remember all of their names but one, Mimzy. It was a name you never heard of so it stuck with you.

Alastor has become a real man. He was taller than most people, his frame was deceivingly slim, his smile was as broad as ever, his hair were a little longer than when he was younger and as always , he had his glasses on. He was grinning as everyone congratulated him for his birthday. You looked at Alice with a soft smile.

Alice had changed too. Long gone was the sweet innocent looking girl, she was now a beautiful woman who was confident in any way. She had cut her long hair, now they ended toward her shoulder. She looked at you and winked.

“ Another shot?”

You laughed and nodded but Alastor stood up.

“ My dear friend, what a day to celebrate the new year and myself. I have happy news to share.” all of you looked at Alastor, waiting for him to tell you his news. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes with a smile, he was such an attention seeker. “ My voice is going to keep you company most of the day as I have been hired in a radio station.” he said with a proud smirk, his eyes never leaving yours. You shouted of pure happiness, standing up so abruptly the chair fell down behind you. You clapped just like the rest of the people around the table.

“ I knew you would do it, sweetie!” said Mizmy, giving him a side hug.

“ I'm paying for another round of shots!” you exclaimed with a big smile. You didn't even wait for everyone to tell you what they wanted. You were already going toward the barman. You were really walking straight but who cared, everyone here was busted. 

“ Heya doll, whatcha want?”

“ Give me your strongest.” you said while pointing to your table. He nodded and you went back to your table who were still praising Alastor. You sat back down next to Alice.

“ Hearing Alastor’s voice all day? Ugh, I’ll have to endure it.” she said with an amused expression. You laughed, Alastor and Alice always say they didn’t like each other but when it was for you, they would team up. 

“ I can’t wait to hear his voice on the radio. You don’t understand, we’ve been waiting for it since childhood!” you said with a nostalgic smile. You remembered your sleepover and your childish broadcast… Aah, how time flies. You smiled as the waitress put the shots on the table with a whole bottle of whiskey. 

“ Order from the house.” she said flirty before leaving. You all took one shot and drank it. You try not to grimace, this one was really strong. You laughed as you saw Alice’s head fall against the table.

“ Oh, this one was a bitch.” 

“ You need more training, love.” you heard Mimzy say to Alice as she tapped her back. You looked at Alastor who didn’t even flinch. He was talking with one of his friends but you knew better… Those friends must be useful in some way. Your expression lifted up as you heard a song you wanted to dance to. You moved Alastor’s friend out of your way and dragged him on the dancefloor. You laughed as he began to spinned you.

“ Are you sure you can handle me in that state, love?” he taunted you as he spinned you back against his broad chest. You winked at him, you may be more than tipsy but you weren’t drunk yet. You could handle him. You began to dance with Alastor, quickly being the center of all attention. You knew every step by heart, Alastor could throw you in the air you would just close your eyes and wait for him to catch once again.

After a lot of dances, you went back to your table as Alastor danced with Mimzy. You sat next to Alice, making air with your hand. So hot.

“ I won’t lie, there is so much tension between you I don’t know how you don’t just.. jump each other when you both are alone.” Alice said before drinking a glass of whiskey.

You laughed, smacking her arms. There have been moments where Alastor and you would make out so intensely you would get ready to give him your virginity but he always said to be patient and wait for your future wedding night even if it was killing you both. You respected his decision, you would wait for your wedding. The only person who knew what had happened in the cottage, the only one who knew about your promise, for Alastor 17th birthday was Alice, who almost broke every damn mirror with her screams.

“ What? Look at you ! You’re like.. ethereal ! And I’m the one saying that.” she said before slipping her hair to one side of her shoulder. You grinned, you did grow up well. Your mother was so proud of you and even your father. When your father had returned from war he was badly injured so you took upon yourself to be his personal nurse. You weren’t a perfect nurse but you knew how to clean wounds, do stitches, you weren’t disgusted by the sight of blood anymore. And to top it all off, you were used to seeing Alastor bring back dead animals from his hunt now. You weren’t the fragile little girl anymore. Something your parents would missed sometimes, but from your friends point of view and even Alastor’s, you could still be endearingly naive.

“ And what about you Alice? The jewel of New Orleans? No one fancied yet?” you smirked before taking a glass of whiskey. Alice had, as always, so many people who threw themselves to her feet but she didn’t care. 

“ No, which is infuriating , look at me ! Poor little me being single!” she groaned as you laughed before hugging her. You knew Alice would find someone, she deserved it!

You kept celebrating until 3 am before you knew it was time for you to go. You were tired and you knew you would have to take care of your father if needed. He was doing well but he couldn’t stay still so he went to work with the police. What a stubborn man. You kissed Alice on her cheek and smiled when you felt a warm hand on your back.

“ Ready to go, dearest?” Alastor smiled at you, he already had his jacket on his arm. You nodded and said your goodbye before leaving the bar. You were staring at Alastor’s handsome punchable face. He looked down at you with a teasing grin. “ Yes ?”

“ Nothing.. I’m just admiring your face.”

“ Oh, please, do continue.” he chuckled as he walked you to your home. In front of your door you hugged him as he kissed your forehead. You began to turn away from him, ready to catch some sleep but he took your hands.

“ I say I had good news right?”

“ Yes, you are now a radio host.” you smiled before giving him a peck on his lips. “ I’m so proud of you. We’ve been waiting for this, haven't we?”

“ We have, indeedy, dearest. But I have some other news, for both of us.” He took your hand toward his mouth and kissed the back of it, staring into your soul.

“ My father is coming back.”

Tag List: @lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @sodavizz @boogiemansbitch @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp @t0xic1vi @diamond-almond @fangirlbitch02 @saccharine-nectarine @thenorthnightingale @bibliophile-yomna @itzjustj-1000 @mothraantics

[sagesbard]

Okayy so this is my first time doing a request BUTTTT can you do Daisuke brat taming reader? Idk I just want him to be rough..😣🙏

Oooooo now this I'm actually excited to write :3

NSFW MDNI

Daisuke x bratty f! Reader

Daisuke was so tired. So done with everything. Swansea had been on his ass all day with stupid shit. He just wanted to go to his room with his girlfriend and have a decent night. Until you started teasing him, bending over to pick things up in a way you normally never did. A way you knew drove him crazy. The way your hips swayed when you walked towards him. Looking up at him with those big doe eyes. God he was so over today, honestly he was waiting for an excuse to take his frustration out on something. That something being you.

You've been bent over the bed for what felt like hours now. Tears brimming your eyes as Daisuke's hand came down on your ass once more. Making you jump and whimper at the contact. "Awww is the little bratty bitch crying?" He laughed meanly. " Too bad, looks like the consequences of her actions have finally caught up to her." He said, his brown eyes glaring down at you." Here's what you're gonna do, you're going to get on your knees and suck me off until I cum down that pretty little throat of yours then maybe, just maybe, I'll fuck you until you can't walk straight." He said, gently shoving you onto your knees in front of him. The bulge in his pants a dead giveaway to how much he was getting off on this. " Go on, get to work." He said, looking down at you. Your hands made quick work of his belt, pulling out his cock as you wrapped your lips around it. Looking up at him as his hand went to your hair. Gripping it gently as he thrusted into your mouth. Tears brimming your eyes as you gagged, Daisuke groaned as he huffed, fucking your throat as if it were a toy. You were practically soaking through your panties. Your eyes crossing while he fucked your throat. "Fuck m' gonna cu-um." He whimpered, that's the Daisuke you knew. With a few more thrusts he came down your throat. You pulled off and started coughing. His eyes were filled with concern as he held your face gently. "Color?" He asked. "Green." You replied. "Good, now get the fuck over here." He said, putting you face down ass up. His cock teasing your cunt. "I want you to apologize for being such a teasing little bitch today." He said, grinding against your entrance. "M' sorry Dai." You whined against the pillow. His hand came cracking down onto your ass once more. "There we go, that wasn't so hard was it?" He asked, pushing into you, burying himself to the hilt. Your back arching as he started a brutal pace. The only thing being heard in the room was the slapping of skin and your desperate moans. "This what you needed? To be fucked like a whore?" He asked, gripping your hips harshly. You nodded as you hummed a small 'mhmm'. You were so close, you just needed a little more for you to cum. Daisuke stopped. "Beg. Say you're sorry and that you won't pull anything like that again." He said, a smile on his face. "I'm sorry, I won't do anything like that again I promise. Just please let me cum." You whined. "Atta girl." He said, speeding up his movements again as he reached around your body. Playing with your clit as your eyes crossed. That knot in your stomach snapping as your came all over his cock. It didn't take long for him to cum after. Once you two were tied out he laid down next to you. "Was I too rough baby?" He asked, those puppy dog eyes coming back within a second. "No it was great." You said with a smile kissing him sweetly. "Good."

[cowgirlcherrie]

florist! abby Headcanons ໒꒰ྀི´ ˘ ` ꒱ྀིა

a/n: something quick n sweet you knowwwww got this random thought and had to write it I couldn’t resist I couldn’t. I also saw that no one done florist! abby(?) so I wanted to be the first to hop on! plus I missed writing for Abs — my baby, so enjoy ♡

warnings: 18+, MDNI, some fluff, gets smuttier halfway in, strap, blowjob (strap), eating you out, mentions of obsessive behaviors, polaroid nudes-ish, fingering, edging, public-sex-ishh, soft dom! Abby, tatted! Abby. Hinted at smoker Abby if you squint, petnames, fingers in mouth, masturbation, use of the word mommy, use of the word pussy, fem reader.

divider creds here

ೀ florist! Abby wears a basic white cropped t-shirt and black dickies under her beige apron. Her apron has a rainbow flag pin, with black pliers in one pocket. Doc Martins on her feet, tied miserably into a bow, it’s a miracle she doesn’t trip around the flower shop. She has a carabiner on her belt loop that jingles every time she walks. 

– apart from smelling like the flowers (obvi bc of where she works) smells like heavy pine and fresh soap, like forget the additives – just clean if ykyk

ೀ florist! Abby gets little patchwork tattoos in random places: a dainty lavender tattoo on her wrist, a little crescent moon behind her ear, paw prints on her bicep for her late dog Alice, a ‘gentle artist’ in bolded times new roman font – but dainty on her forearm. Her knuckles are tatted spelling out “FUCK YOU”.

ೀ florist! Abby that has a ‘Save the Bees!’ sticker on the back of her phone case. Super Bee activist.

ೀ florist! Abby who spends all day in the floral shop, playing music from her playlist on the shop’s aux, slightly swaying to the music as she works on a bouquet. She works with such prestige, god her hands work so quickly at building arrangements but the outcome is so beautiful and that’s why she has many customers. She definitely uses any leftover flowers as bookmarks for her books.

ೀ florist! Abby who’s aux will go from Lauryn Hill to Boy Genius to Mac Miller — she gets compliments on her music taste by customers all the time.

ೀ florist! Abby stops working on a bouquet when you walk into the store because of how confused you look. Wanting to save a damsel in distress. Abby moves from her place at the counter walking over to where you stood looking at the different types of flowers, creeping behind you. You smell divine to her, driving her head crazy knowing that your scent alone will be stuck in her head all day. The floral shop is a slow yet steady business, so Abby definitely doesn’t forget a face or a smell. The form-fitting dress you wore that day, the way your hands bunched at the fabric in confusion had her head spinning!

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Abby whispers from behind you,

Actually scares the living shit out of you when you see her standing behind you, but the way the sun was hitting her face from the big window panels made you less nervous. Rather in awe at the beauty in front of you. Her sunkissed skin, and silky blonde mane, were raveled in a delicate braid with wispies around her face. The raspiness from her voice – which honestly sounded like a smoker's voice now that you thought about it. 

ೀ florist! Abby who makes small talk with you while making your boquette for you (taking her slow sweet time), asking you where you’re from and what you’re doing in town? Absolutely praying that the flowers aren’t for some significant other of yours, Abby letting out an exhale when you say that they’re for your mom who you are visiting for dinner. When you mention you are unsure of what flowers to get don’t worry Abby will help you!

“So pretty girl, are you more minimalistic, talking Lilies, Gardenia’s, Jasmine – which is over there...or colorful? Which I think your beautiful self enjoys a nice Orchid, Camellia, or Begonia?”

Definitely shocks you with how well she knows her stuff

ೀ florist! Abby zones out when you are speaking and stares at your lips for far too long, looking at the way your pink gloss shines wondering how your pretty lips would look taking her strap. Percase covered in spit, from your saliva that has built up from blowing her off. Abby wanted to do nothing more than take the pretty little fabric ribbon from your hair and tie it around your hands as she went down on you while you beg her to touch you in all the right places – it was all a dream to her. Wet dreaming with you right in front of her.

Undeniably horny and touch deprived…she spends so much time in the floral shop she doesn’t have time for dating apps and finds shit like Tinder CORNY LOL. 

Meanwhile, you are trying your hardest not to stare at the way her arms are flexing or how her fingers are paying delicate attention to your bouquet, mentally laughing at the “FUCK YOU” on her knuckles, it contrasted her soft nature so much.

ೀ florist! Abby who slips in a little note into your tote back when you’re not looking, with her number on it, hoping that you would find it and call her soon, Which you do find when you are scrambling for your keys on your way back to the car. Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to give the overly, steaming attractive florist a call. 

ೀ florist! Abby when the two of you start dating, she would teach you how to make a bouquet, standing closely behind you – her body right up against your back as you feel her breath tickling your ear as she whispers to you what to do

“Atta girl, look at that my sweet girl – woah! watch your hand there’s a thorn baby.”

Will definitely put her hands over yours as she works with the knife to make sure there isn’t any thorns so you don’t prick yourself. 

ೀ florist! Abby fucking you in the flower shop, when the shop is closed. Having her head in between your thighs, as her jaw slacks – the sound of your juices sloshing against her mouth as she sends hums into your pussy making you let out low mewls. Bringing a hand up to cover your mouth but she slaps it away so that she can see you

“Don’t hide from me baby, I wanna see you…look at how beautiful you look whining for me doll”

ೀ florist! Abby who kept your lace underwear in her pocket after she fucked you in the floral shop keeping it for safe-keeping (pft…we all know what she is doing with that)

ೀ florist! Abby who shows you her small pocket-sized notebook full of different flowers and arrangement ideas she had. Even the sketches of a flower bouquet that she made inspired by you and all your favorite flowers.

ೀ florist! Abby definitely tucks flowers behind your ears, specifically a white or light-pink Carnation. Especially loves putting one behind your ear as she fucks you with her strap, missionary style so she can see your face – just loves your face honestly. Bending down to kiss your lips, her cheeks dusted red with the pressure she applies.

Tucking her head into your neck swiftly smelling the carnation that she put behind your ear driving her even further insane as she drills into you — makes her go faster.

ೀ When she starts teaching you more about flowers, Definitely uses sexual enforcement to get you to remember it. Will have you sat on her counter as she stands in between your legs – locking you in as she lunges two fingers into you, edging you and not letting you cum until you say the right name of the flower that she taught you. But you could hardly focus staring at her inked knuckles as they pump in and out of you which only makes you reach your climax even further. 

“You wanna come don’t you my sweet girl? I know you want to…just say the name– awh don’t whine at me…I know you know it dollface, I don’t buy that you don’t.”

Sometimes she’ll give you a hint if the flower starts with one of the letters on her knuckles she will stick the corresponding finger into you, working at getting you just about there as her finger curls into you. Your vision is blurry as you can hardly tell what the letter is, moaning out as you try to focus on the order of the letters on her knuckles to catch the hint.

“C’mon baby I’m giving you a hint…pay attention sweetheart– focus!”

ೀ florist! Abby when you get it wrong and she finally lets you come — is fake-mad at you, shoving the lettered finger down your throat as you gag on her fingers covered in your juices.

“Baby the hinted letter was C, and the other finger was U, flower: Curcuma. You’ll get it right next time right sweetheart? You won’t let mommy down hmm?”

ೀ florist! Abby is definitely a soft dom just saying… soft as hell, loves when you hold her – kiss her, and skin-to-skin contact is important as hell she just wants to feel you and loves when you baby her. 

ೀ Definitely keeps a Polaroid of you holding flowers in pink floral lingerie in her beige apron and another one of you in her wallet, that way she has you on her at all times (honestly probably touched herself to blow off some steam after a hard shift while looking at it)

ೀ Depending on how far the relationship goes, especially if y’all start talking marriage will get your favorite flower tatted and not tell you until you see a dainty tattoo of your favorite flower on her collarbone slightly above her heart as she is filling you up, you questioning her in between moans about it.

“Mmhm…fuck is that new? Shit..abbyplease – wait is that my favorite flower?” You ask, as she grinds into you – your finger dragging against the tattoo

“Yes baby, you’re all mine. Mine…mine…mine” As she pounds harder into to you each time she says mine. Obsessive, possessive + territorial, let’s talk about it 

ೀ florist! Abby is overall just a sweetheart who loves you so much and just wants you to be her pretty flower – her muse, you definitely inspire most of her bouquets and she is so happy you ran into her shop looking for flowers that day.

[vivid-dreamscapes]

Letting the Mha boys pick clothes at Target for you (got inspiration shopping with my mom at Target, sooo).

Deku

“Mkay baby.” You said as you and your boyfriend walked into Target. The large store was surprisingly calm for a Friday night—not busy but not empty.

The two of you continued to walk down the aisles, pulling him away as he awkwardly waved to little kids fanning over him, recognizing him from the TV.

“You’re allowed to pick three of any clothing item here and I have to buy and wear it.” You told him, laying out the idea of this little challenge. His green eyes snapped to your face, widening with excitement before scurrying off, leaving you to wait by the birthday cards. Oh gods.

Shortly after, he returned with one All Might hoodie, a fuzzy pair of baggy All Might pajama pants, and All Might socks. The cutest thing—he got two of each. One for you, one for him.

He of course, paid for his own.

Todoroki

“Hey Shoto, I have an idea.”

You said with a smile, looking over at your boyfriend as he sipped on his drink, looking at his phone. At the sound of his name, he looked up with a simple; “Hm?”

“Pick any three clothing items and I’ll buy and wear them, no take backsies.”

At first he just stared at you, as if wondering if he really had to do this. After a moment though, he shrugged and walked down the aisles.

You just sat on a bench next to a life size plastic dog—the dog mascot for target actually. You gave the fake dog a look before tilting the straw if you’re boba to it, as if offering it a sip. “Want some?”

About then, your boyfriend came back, not even questioning the fact you’re were talking to a dog mannequin with a target drawn on its eye.

“I didn’t really know what to pick, so here.” He said simply, handing you the items casually. The first item was a simple grey hoodie with a very soft and fluffy white inside. The second was a pair of sunglasses in you’re favorite color, and the third was jean jacket with jean square patches in light colors decorating it.

Bakugou

“Thanks for coming.” You said sinking as the two of you waked into Target. Your blonde boyfriend just grumbled, his hands shoved angrily into his pockets. Bakugou hated shopping, so the fact he came with was surprise. You did have an idea to make it up to him though.

“Tell you what. While I’m getting my stuff, you can pick out any three clothing items. I’ll buy and wear them no matter what.” You said and he looked up, clearly interested. Then; with a smirk you probably should have been concerned about, he walked off.

A few minutes later, you felt a tap on your shoulder. Turning around, you found a smug looking Katsuki, his chosen objects in his hand. Suspiciously, you took them with a raised eyebrow, before your jaw dropped.

A lingerie set, a thong, and the only normal thing being some All Might baseball cap. You scoffed and slapped his arm lightly, a sinister chuckle escaping his lips.

Denki (they don’t have yellow T^T)

“Any three things?” The blonde asked excitedly, practically jumping up and down as you nodded. “No limits? Literally anything?” Once again, you nodded.

“For the gajillionth time, yes Denki.” You said with a soft smile and an eye roll. He bit his lip to Fontaine his excitement before squeaking out an ‘okay’ and dashing away.

To be honest, you half expected something extremely provocative, or extremely revealing. But when he came back, you were surprised. He had found a loose black tank top, some cute workout shorts, and a little chain you could hook to your jean belt loops or something.

“I just thought you’d look really cute in them!” He beamed, clearly proud with his pick. Ohhh your heart.

Kirishima

“Anything? Anything I want?” The red head asked, looking at you like he was a puppy and you were holding a treat. You gave him a sheepish grin and nodded.

“Yup. Any three things.” You told him. And with that, he was off, looking at every little thing excitedly.

As you waited by the [favorite accessory] area, you’re golden retriever boyfriend sped around, looking at every little thing. Choruses of ‘Ooo this is cute! But I can find cuter’ and ‘Noo’ and ‘This would be perfect!’ escaped his lips in the twenty minutes he was gone.

Soon, he returned with a big fluffy [Favorite animal] hoodie, some fluffy socks, and some shark slippers to match his at home.

(Tried to keep as gender neutral as possible)

Requests are ✨open for business✨! (Seriously, I have severe writers block, this alone took me a week)

[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[1:29 pm]

(cw: f!reader, child on a leash)

"Ok look at me," dad!Yuta guides the chubby face in front of him so their eyes are locked, "are you going to run away from daddy outside?"

"Yes," the little voice replies with a nod.

You stifle a laugh as Yuta sighs in frustration, "No, no running away outside."

Your son cocks his head to the side, "from mommy?"

"No running away from mommy or daddy," you reply, crouching down to his eye level.

"But I want to play," your son pouts. His eyes fill with sadness as he turns his gaze to the floor.

"Bub, it's not always safe to play outside. That's why you have to stay close, we want you to be safe, okay?"

The pout intensifies but he nods nonetheless. You finally make your way into the store. You needed some household essentials, your son needed more clothes, and you needed some groceries too. Yuta held your son's hand as you walked through the automatic doors and reached for a cart.

You honestly should have expected it, the colorful displays at the entrance were almost enough to get your attention fully, your son saw the bright colors and bin filled with stuffed animals and shot off. His hand slipped out of Yuta's and went straight for the stuffed bears.

"Bub, we told you not to do that. Come back," Yuta told him softly but firmly. You placed your purse into the cart and rummaged around until you found what you were looking for. The harness, the leash for your son that looked like a monkey.

His eyes caught it and widened, "No, mommy. Please, no."

You strapped it onto him, "Baby, you didn't listen to mommy or daddy. Next time, you're going in the cart and you won't be able to walk. Do you understand?"

He pouted, sad eyes fixed on the floor, "Fine."

You all walked throughout the store, your son trotting off everyone in a while only to be gently tugged back by Yuta. He did fine for the most part and you even considered letting him walk alone, until you passed the toy aisle.

You heard him begging Yuta to let him “just look, no touching. I promise.” Yuta had thankfully said no, you knew your son could spend hours just looking in these aisles if you let him. 

Your son had complied and went walking behind the both of you as you walked by, his little feet dragging, and lips pouted in the hopes that you both might change your mind. Or even just one of you. 

You had almost made it completely through this section when the store had unfortunately placed some of your son’s favorite toys toward the very end. You heard an excited squeal and turned to see your son just inches away from reaching one of the toys and your husband pulling on the handle of the harness. 

You rolled your eyes playfully, moving your purse and the few items you had placed in the seat and grabbed your son to place him in the front seat of the cart. He squirmed and wiggled as much as he could, moving his legs to prevent you from seating him. 

“Mommy! Mommy, just want to look! Please!” He pleaded, softening his gaze since he already knew the puppy dog eyes would sometimes work on you.

You successfully sat him in and connected the seat belt, “You promised me, baby. You didn’t listen, didn’t I tell you this would happen?”

He nodded sadly, giving in and resting his chin atop his hands on the handle of the shopping cart with a soft, little sigh. You could feel yourself giving in, wanting to let him down and just hold his hand as he looked at the toys. He couldn’t help it that he got his dad’s hyperactive genes. It wasn’t his fault.

“Nope! Let’s move!” Yuta interrupted your thoughts, grabbing the cart and moving you all toward the grocery section. “I know your brain works, honey, it wasn’t a good idea,” he told you with a pointed look.

You crossed your arms, “I wasn’t thinking anything.”

“Sure, honey. Here Bub, you hold the eggs and be very gentle, ok?” Yuta replied while shooting you a look from his peripheral and placing the carton of eggs on your son’s lap.

You son nodded excitedly, “gentle,” he repeated. He places a hand in front of and on top of the carton while looking down at it in wonder.

Yuta turns to you, whispering, “Why can’t he be like this all the time? I don’t like walking around with a leash kid, people judge us. I can feel their eyes on us, but he doesn’t listen!”

“I think when they see him running around they understand. Do we have everything we need?” You ask while looking over your list and double checking the cart.

Yuta huffs, pausing to think, “I want something sweet. Let’s go look at the bakery.”

He and your son start moving toward the bakery while your son excitedly chants, “cake!” over and over again. 

Maybe they both needed the monkey harnesses.

-

a/n: I have no idea what this is🧍🏻‍♀️(fratboy!Jaehyun tomorrow)

[boiohboii]

7. Appreciative

(Lewis Hamilton x reader)

Dating Lewis was hard, yn knew that agreeing to go on that date, and he knew how much she suffered so why not show his appreciation for the girl he loves.

From this list

WARNING: NOT PROOF READ, NOT ACCURATE. if I missed anything, pls lmk.

main masterlist

12 descriptions of a lover masterlist

Lewis saw how yn hesitated when he asked her out, he saw the subtle fidgeting of her fingers around each other and her teeth pulling on the corners of her mouth from the inside. He knew why she would feel nervous, he understands, but he couldn't -wouldn't- back down.

Now after 2 years of being together, he knows that he'd made the right choice in pursuing her, she's been his anchor, the one he can lean on and show what he feels freely. She was there when the car started to go to shit, she was there when things started to be tense between him and toto and she is there through the move to ferrari.

Lewis isn't an idiot, he knows that he can't just be the 1st driver, not while their prince- Charles Leclerc- is there. He knows that even the 7 championships he has under his belt and his experience won't simply make Charles roll over. He also knows that the media has been hounding at him and yn to even get one word out of them so that they could twist it into a worthy clickbait headline. He saw the videos on twitter of people waiting for his girlfriend outside of her work place so that they could ask her about anything and everything.

Deciding to make use of the small break in between races, Lewis had yn fly to Monaco so that they could spend a week there, nothing but the beach, their jetski, their yacht and Roscoe.

"Hello love," Lewis pulled yn in a hug, sinking into her as her scent washed over him. Home. "How was the flight?"

"It was alright," yn mumbled into his chest "missed you."

Feeling movement near her ankles yn giggles a bit,

"and you too baby."

Untangling herself from Lewis, yn leaned over to pick up the dog, well, she tried at least, it was kind of hard to when he was barking and licking her face in affection, signaling that he, too, missed his female owner.

Monaco's streets were such a sight in the evening, with the sun setting the sea in view and the houses blending into the mountains in the background at the sides. It was heavenly.

Yn had always dreamed of staying at a seaside house, to just spend the vacation there with her swimming till the sun set and nothing in mind. Just the sound of the waves hitting the rocks and the feeling of the sand underneath her feet as she lets the water mover her back and forth.

Parking in front of a two story house, yn looked at the painted exterior, the tent made specifically for parking where there was already a jetski and a small boat.

"um lew, did you rent another jet? And why is there a mini yacht"

"Sweetheart, that's a boat." Lewis chuckled

"Okay, why is there a boat? And a jetski different than yours?"

"How about you take these keys, go inside while I bring our bags and then I'll explain, yeah?"

Walking over Lewis kissed her forehead as she hummed in agreement.

Opening the blue painted door, yn searched for a chair to place it in front of it so that it won't close due to the wind, locking Lewis out.

Done with her mission yn looked around being met with a lot of colors that somehow work together.

A round, Olympic bronze wooden dinning table with four chairs in satin purse seatings, a light orange couch with light rosewood, light violet and blue violet cushions and a dark rosewood wooden table with a bunch of papers on the top.

Now, yn knows that Lewis doesn't place anything important anywhere, he is quite organised with where he places everything, so normally she thought that they were just trash and as she was going to throw them out she saw her name out of the corner of her eye.

OWNER: YN LN.

"What the fuck" yn whispered in confusion, her fingers moving the papers, flipping through them.

"LEWIS HAMILTON!" yn started as she moved through the living room, making her way to her boyfriend who was at the trunk of the car getting out her small suitcase.

"Why the hell is there 3 leases with my name on them?!"

"Ah, shit," Lewis looked at her with pleading eyes as he quickly and gently placed her suitcase on the ground "hold on love."

"Lewis,"

"How about you let me tell you everything and then you can decide if you wanna keep them or not, okay?"

Taking her silence as an agreement Lewis continued,

"I know that you think this is too much, I know that you don't need this stuff, I know that you won't easily accept it and that it will take you a while to treat these things as your own, but I got them for you because of who you are to me, how you made me feel safe and heard. How you make me feel comfortable anywhere we go and how much you do for me. You help me when I'm stressed, you stay by my side when I'm sick or when I'm feeling down, you listen to me and you offer solutions to my problems, you ask me what I need or what I am looking for and you bring it to the table when I want it. You do everything right by me.

I know that you will say that I do the same and I am glad that you noticed my efforts and my love for you, but I just," sighing, Lewis took a minute to collect his thoughts.

"It felt right, it felt right to get you a house that you always dreamed of where you can spend as much time as you want, it felt right to get you a boat so you could enjoy it with whomever you wish and it felt right to get you the jetski cause it's the one thing that makes you seem like a little kid in a candy store, it makes your eyes sparkle with so much joy.

I want you to have all of that, I want to know that you are living a dream you always had even if we don't make it. Although, don't think I'll let you go that easily, in this lifetime or the next ones." Lewis joked, earning a chuckle out of a teary eyed yn.

"I love you yn," Lewis said earnestly as he took a hold of her hand, "I love everything about you. I appreciate everything you do for me and I will do everything I can to always make you happy, I swear it love."

Kissing the palm of her hand was the last straw for yn, tears falling onto her cheeks as she looked at the man she loves.

She felt so much love in these few minutes that her brain couldn't comprehend it. The words that came out of Lewis made her feel like the only woman in the world, they made her feel special and these words stayed in her mind among the memories of why she'd marry Lewis and die beside him.

Taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[holidayinhell]

The Laundry Room

Characters: creepy/intimate Whumper, captive Whumpee CWs: captivity, noncon (mostly implied but eh), sexual/noncon nudity, food denial, discussion of amputation, classic whump shiz

In the early days of his captivity, Whumpee was allowed to sleep on the couch in the basement. Now he spent his days chained up on the floor of the wash room, tethered to the column in the center of the laundry room with a radius of no more than twenty feet to roam about. The cold of the cellar was inescapable. Sometimes, late at night, he would secretly turn on the dryer on its lowest setting and press his face to its warmth. It was one of the only good things left in his life anymore. Now all he had to look forward to was the sweet release of sleep and laundry day once a week.

“Whuuuum-peeeee!” Called a singsong voice from the top of the steps.

Whumpee swallowed. No matter how many times this happened, he was never prepared for it.

The wooden steps creaked in protest under Whumper’s heavy boots. The tall man rounded the corner of the basement into the subterranean laundry room, where he found his favorite captive chained to the central support beam, exactly where he’d left him.

“Got a little something to keep you busy.” Whumper grinned, dumping the contents of the laundry basket he was holding onto the floor. “Turn around.”

Before he finished giving the command, Whumpee had already presented his captor with the zip ties securing his wrists behind his back. Normally Whumper would remove the binds the moment he got home, but he'd had already been back for hours. Maybe he was busy with something else. Or maybe he did it on purpose.

Whumper retrieved his switchblade from his pocked and flipped it open.

“So I saw something on the news again today.” Whumper informed his captive, snapping the plastic ties with his knife.

“Apparently someone found an old hat in the woods. They think that it’s one of yours. It started another search for you, if you can goddamn believe it, and it’s even bigger than before. There’s helicopters and scent tracing dogs and all.”

Whumper unbuckled his belt, sliding the leather strap through the loops of his pants. “That’s some crazy persistence, all for one person. Like, move on with your lives, people. What’s it been, a whole year now?”

“Ten months.” Whumpee replied weakly, rubbing the red marks on his wrists.

“Shietttt, has it really been that long? I was just kidding.” Whumper said playfully, his voice laced with something sinister. “Well, you know what they say: time flies when you’re having fun.”

Fun. Is that what this was?

“I’m just glad they haven’t given up hope yet.”

Whumpee knew he’d misspoke the second the words left his mouth.

“Wrong, Whumpee.” The air went heavy. Whumper shot a disdainful glance at Whumpee, his eyes narrowing with contempt. “People need to stop searching. They need to give up already.”

Whumper was still clutching his leather belt in his hands. For the sake of his physical wellbeing, Whumpee decided to ignore the comment completely.

“Uh, so separate these by color, then?” Whumpee asked as he pawed through the dirty laundry on the floor, desperate to change the subject.

Whumper’s mind was still on the search. “Hmm? Oh, yeah, like usual. Remember to run the sheets—“

“On delicate mode?” Whumpee finished his thought. “Mhmm. Got it.”

Whumpee busied himself by sorting through the dirty laundry pile while Whumper loomed by the room’s entrance. Whumpee watched him cautiously from the corner of his eye. The sociopath was silently brooding, his eyes fixed on Whumpee’s form.

He wished Whumper would fuck off and go back upstairs.

Doing laundry once a week was one of the only tasks he was allowed to do, and as depressing as it was, he actually looked forward to it. It was one of the only things he had to keep himself entertained with. 

In the early days of his captivity, Whumper had allowed him to watch the small tv in the basement living room and provided him with an endless supply of magazines and books. And to think, Whumpee thought he was a prisoner back then. Like most everything in Whumpee’s life, his privileges had been taken away one by one. 

Whumper removed the tv within the first month. He never gave Whumpee a reason why. Next were the books. Then the couch. And soon enough, Whumpee found himself chained to a pole with his wrists zip-tied behind him for ten hours at a time, praying that his captor would at least remember to feed him that day.

Whumpee started a pile of lights, darks, and colors, sorting each garment into its designated pile. Whumper remained in the doorway and watching his captive intently, his presence entirely unwelcome.

“So, um. Did you make something good for dinner?” Whumpee piped up, breaking the tension of the silence.

Ever since he’d been captured all his brain would fixate on was food, and the only thing he could think about currently was the sumptuous meaty smell that had been tantalizing his tastebuds for the past hour.

“Mmm.” Whumper nodded, crossing his arms and stepping into the room. “Roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Garlic bread too, just from the store.”

Whumpee’s eyes widened hungrily.

“No leftovers I’m afraid.” He added.

“Oh.” 

Whumpee crumbled in on himself. That meant no dinner tonight.

Whumpee opened the cabinet above the sink to retrieve a box of detergent. He popped off the lid and scooped the plastic measuring cup into the powder, leveling the mountain of excess with a swipe of his finger.

“You should wash your clothes as well, Whumpee.” The tall man remarked from across the room.

“Uh, yeah. I will.” Whumpee agreed, continuing to avoid eye contact. He placed the pre-measured cup of detergent on the counter, turning to gather up the sorted pile of white clothes from the floor. He chucked them into the washing machine, sprinkled the soap crystals on top, and closed the lid.

He really wished Whumper would go away now, but the tall man stood firmly in place. Whumpee knew where this was going.

“I said you should wash them, Whumpee. That means to take them off.” 

Whumpee stiffened. God fucking damn it. 

Not right now. Not that he wanted to go through this shit ever, but Whumper seemed to be in an especially odd mood this evening.

Whumpee did as he was commanded. It wasn’t worth the fight. He lifted his pale blue button-up over his head, not bothering to unclasp the buttons, and tossed it into the pile of colors. He removed his socks and pants and did the same. Finally he stood in nothing but his white boxer-briefs, awkwardly shimmying them down his thighs until they slid down his legs and hung at his ankles. Blushing, he stepped out of them and walked over to the washing machine, chucking the underwear into the load of whites as it filled with water. 

A chill rocked his body when Whumper approached from behind.

The larger man pushed his hips into Whumpee’s back, pinning him squarely against the machine as it hummed to life. “Mmm. I should make you walk around naked all the time. Don’t you think?”

“It, uh… it gets really cold down here.”

“Psht.” Whumper draped his arms around Whumpee’s neck. “So I’ll buy you an electric blanket. That’d be nice, right?”

“Sure. But, please, I really do need my clothes.”

Whumper’s arms traveled down the sides of Whumpee’s torso and trailed inwards to find his ass. One hand delivered a crisp smack, which immediately left behind a glowing red mark. He smiled, scooping a buttcheek into each palm, jiggling what little flesh was there.

“Your ass is so tiny.” Whumpee quipped.

Yeah, that’s what happens when you average 400 calories a day for nearly a year.

“Yeah. I’m pretty skinny now.”

“You look good like this.” Whumper purred into his ear as he delicately stroked the length of Whumpee’s back. “But I do miss the ass.”

Time to go away now, Whumpee thought. Please, please just go the fuck away.

Whumper smacked Whumpee’s ass again, scooping it up and grinding the denim fabric on his crotch against the thin man’s perfect, bare skin while caressing his neck with his hot, wet tongue. He took Whumpee’s earlobe into his mouth and suckled it lightly, biting down on the soft flesh with only a tiny amount of pressure.

“Mm, you have goosebumps.” Whumper murmured with a self-satisfied grin. “Did that turn you on?”

Two of Whumper’s fingers traced the curvature of his ass and found Whumpee’s entrance. The digits dabbed at the hole gently, teasing and prodding the skin but never pushing inside. The firm touch sent an involuntary shiver up Whumpee’s spine. Whumper smirked at his reaction and nibbled at the side of Whumpee’s neck.

He was so cold, the warmth on his neck felt good. But nothing else did.

“I keep thinking,” Whumper cooed, Whumpee melting into him for heat. “Maybe it’s finally time to give your friends closure. Feels cruel to keep dragging things out like this. They need to stop looking for you.”

For the first time in months, Whumpee felt a vague twinge of hope. 

“What? You mean that you’ll--?”

“What I mean is, they’ll be looking for a body.”

Oh. Oh no.

“W-what?” Whumpee stammered. He twisted out from under Whumper, his chain rattling against the floor as he side-stepped his captor. “What does that mean?”

“I feel a little guilty about it. The search for you has been going on for ages, and now they’re bringing out helicopters and shit? That’s a waste of taxpayer money. The cops could be out there doing real good.”

“No. What did you mean by ‘body’?”

“I was thinking we could chop off one of your legs or something. Maybe just a foot.” 

“No!” Whumpee shrieked. “You can’t!” He delivered a feeble push against Whumper’s chest, pivoting out from underneath him. His heart was pounding in his ears so loud, he pressed his hands to cover them and doubled over in fear.

The reaction took Whumper by surprise. “Bad joke.” he offered, placing a calming hand on the other’s shoulders. 

It wasn’t a joke.

The tall man rubbed his captive’s back until Whumpee’s breath finally evened out. It felt like a betrayal, the way his body responded so well to Whumper’s comforting touch. He jerked away from the sociopath’s reach.

Whumpee blinked incredulously at the man, his cheeks burning with anger. “Don’t.” he spat.

“What?”

“Don’t you fucking dare--”

“Excuse me? Don’t I fucking dare do what?”

“Don’t fucking joke about mutilating me!” Whumpee shouted.

“Hey.” Whumper cautioned. “You’re being too goddamn loud right now.”

Whumpee was frenzied, his chain skittered around as he paced around in a tight circle, pulling at chunks of his hair.

“How long are you going to keep me here?!” Whumpee demanded. “How much fucking longer!?”

“As long as I goddamn like.”

“Just let me go. Just please…” Whumpee pled tearfully, his emotions see-sawing violently between anger and complete despair. “You got what you wanted from me. Why won’t you let me leave…?”

Whumper shrugged. “It never was a part of the plan.”

“Fuck you!” The captive yelled. “I fucking hate you!”

“Whumpee.” Whumper warned with a stern finger, “it’s time to shut the fuck up.”

“I HATE Y—!”

Whumper grabbed a length of chain from the floor and yanked it towards him, forcing Whumpee to the ground by the shackle around his ankle.

Whumper continued pulling the chain into himself, dragging Whumpee’s body across the cold cement floor with every tug. It all happened too quickly for Whumpee to process.

“I should bash your face into the concrete again.” He growled, standing over his collapsed body. Whumpee could taste blood in his mouth. “But I’ll give you one last chance. I guess I didn’t say it explicitly enough last time, so hopefully this time it fucking sinks in: you are here to stay. There will be no more talk of kidnapping, or rescue, or freedom, or fucking escaping. No more of that. You’re here. You’re mine. This house--no--this room, is your whole fucking world, and I am your god. Get used to it.”

Whumpee lifted his head slightly and shot a fiery glance in Whumper’s direction.

“You better wipe that look off your pathetic face while you’ve still got one.” Whumper flicked his switchblade open.

He lifted one of his boots and rested its rubber sole on Whumpee’s back, pressing him into the floor. Brandishing the knife overhead, he commanded Whumpee: “Show me why I choose to keep you around. Remind me that you haven’t fucking forgotten your sole purpose in life, or I’ll saw your leg off right fucking now.”

Face-down on the floor, Whumpee let out a sigh so small only he could hear it.

He knew what he had to do. He didn’t have any other options. Silent tears rushed down his cheeks and fell soundlessly to the floor.

And so out of self-preservation, Whumpee thrust his hips into the air and pushed his face to the floor, his bare ass on full display. He shifted weight into his palms and spread his legs out, his dick and balls tumbled forward, swaying slightly while he found his balance. His hands reached back behind him, blindly tracing the outsides of his thighs, following a line up and over to the round cleft of his butt cheeks.

Choking down a sob, he forced his ass apart. He disgracefully presented his hole before Whumper’s shining, ravenous eyes.

The captor’s jeans fell to the ground. The man dropped to his knees, settling himself in the space between Whumpee’s open legs. 

“When I’m done with you, you are going to fucking thank me like your life depends on it.”

The sudden, high-pitched beep of the washing machine pierced the quiet of the room, signalling that the washing was done. 

Whumpee didn’t dare move an inch.

“And after I’ve filled you up,” Whumper’s hot breath hit his ear. 

“You’re going to tell me exactly which limb to cut off.”

((more Whump oneshots))

[urmomspersonalwhore]

Puppy Training

MINORS DNI

-Arlecchino/Hybrid!Reader, NSFW, Stap on, slapping, degrading kink, Sub!Afab!Reader, Dom!Arlecchino, BratTaming, possible breeding kink, Hair pulling, etc…

“Shut up and look pretty.”

KinkTober-1

Arlecchino would love the idea of having someone who's a ‘pet’ to her. She craves that power and dominance.

Especially if you're disobedient, she wouldn't mind taking such a brat like you. She'll make sure to put you in your place.

You were told to sit pretty and not talk to anyone, but how could you do that when there are so many new and exciting people? It was just too hard to resist, conversing with fellow ladies and gentlemen. But, arlecchino noticed rather quickly how loud you were talking to the people. Of course, she was angry, but you decided to interact with others who weren't her AND disobey her? Who do you think you are? You were just a mere pet, so as a responsible owner. She dragged you to her chambers, which luckily wasn't far from the ‘party’. She throws you against the wall with her arms at each side, blocking you from escaping

“Who are you?” she sneered

You tilt your head, while your ears bounce down.

“Y/N” is an obvious response, but so stupid.

The knave rolled her eyes, one of her charcoal hands moving to squeeze at your throat. Though, light enough for you to speak.

“..Y..yours!” You had choked up

Her hand relaxed but remained on your neck still, the opposing fingers trailing down to discard your dress, swiftly. Which was a red gown, her signature color. Marking you as hers. She left another type of Mark though, leaving bloody bite marks and hickies. You instinctively grabbed onto her silver locks with soft whimpers. Arlecchino grabbed your hands with one of hers, stepping back to push into her bed. As soon as she unclasped your bra, she latched her mouth into one of your nipples, her blackened fingers rubbing and twisting the other one. Switching between the two breasts from time to time. A few minutes go by and she lifts her knee to press into your core. You drew out a moan, pushing your hips against her. But she pulled back and enjoyed your whine.

“Shut up, mutt. I decide whether you get to enjoy pleasure or not.” The Cold woman hissed.

She unbuckled her belt, metal clanking together. After, the belt was tied to your hands, now restricting them from moving. You struggled against them to test their durability and failed to remove them. A small and dark chuckle escaped her lips as she stared at your struggle. Pulling down her pants, to reveal a bulge in the middle of her underwear. She smiled at your shocked face and removed your own. Grabbing onto your legs to drag them further down at the edge of the bed. Once she took off her panties, showing off the massive ‘cock’. You shook your head with whimpers such as “It's too big!” or “Won't fit!” The knave smiled, the tip brushing against your clit.

“I'll make it fit.” slowly forcing the strap to go in you as small cries and whines emitted from your vocals. “Shh, I'll go gentle” she whispered, going at a slow pace to make sure you were adjusting to it. However, only a few seconds passed by as she pulled a “Just kidding.” and pounded into you, mercilessly. A gasp was drawn out followed by loud moans. The room was filled with hoarse mewls and skin slapping. One last thrust until she removed herself from you, throwing you onto your stomach. Then, she inserts herself into you once again. Continuing her abuse of your cunt. Rough grunts and huffs were being heard by your ear each time she fucked into you. Her hand moved to grab your hair and pulled it back, now your spine up against her chest. Small drools were spilling out of the corner of your mouth, like a dog. Her other arm traveled to your ass, slapping it hard enough to leave a bruise. She let go of your hair and threw you down, laying on top of you as she went so deep, it felt as if she was trying to breed you. With each pelvis hitting your ass, your ears bounced. Tongue sticking out alongside pants.

“Such a Slut for me, right?” Arlecchino panted.

You could only nod as your voice was dried out from all the sobbing and screaming. You were left in tears from the rough pace. But it felt so good, maybe you should do this more often? You know, getting fucked stupid.

The knave groaned at how tight you were becoming, instantly knowing you were near.

“Awe, does my puppy wanna cum?”

Another nod came from your head, whimpering as you pushed your hips against her rhythmical thrusts. Her sharp and painful nails digging into your hips, leaving crescent marks. She loved how pretty you looked crying and desperate for her. How could she resist? So as any good owner, she picked up her pace and plunged so deep, you were seeing stars. A long moan fell from your lips as your whole body fell limp. Tail wagging as you laid your head into the pillows.

“A whore, just for me” the woman laughed, slowly slipping out her strap that now was filled with your cum.

“This better have taught you a lesson.” Was the last thing you heard before falling asleep.

@gayblade thanks for the inspo!

©urmomspersonalwhore — please do not copy, repost or translate onto any other platforms without my permission.

[miwsolovely]

—FROZEN LEAVES.

john soap mactavish. gnreader. fluff. 2k. in which, the little monster in your chest won’t stop.

retired soap my beloved

( not really edited )

You loved the stars at night.

It was the only reason you took the long way home.

Not the serene sight of snowflakes reflecting the light as they descended upon your face.

Forget the tranquility the cold breeze settled in your bones.

And never mind the man with the broad shoulders that could pass as a mountain, his long, wide nose with eyes a color you’ve never seen outside the sea and sky.

He’s not the reason, of course.

When his head turns towards you, you find yourself out of breath, looking away and in front of your apartment with your hand clutching your hummingbird heart.

He’s not the reason.

The next day though, he’s here.

He’s here and standing in front of you to the shortest line to the cashiers, standing in line with that muscular back you see in your dreams at times, standing with a grocery bag tucked in the nook of his elbow, the veins protruding from his sculpted biceps, his—

He casts a glance to the sweets displayed just before the conveyor belt. “What do ye think ah should get? Eh Dolly?”

His voice, not even directed at you but you can still feel the slight tremble in your knees. To think that his voice has such an effect on you that you find yourself discretely pawing at your chest trying to calm the nuisance nestled deep inside, trying to calm the daydreams that beg you to be placed with him by your side, his head resting on yours, you playing with his overgrown, midnight hair, him laying on your chest. Daydreams.

You wish it to be a reality. You and him. Him and you.

“Sweet tooth?”

You didn’t even realize your own voice as you spoke to him.

When he turns around at the sound of your voice, hair falls over his eyes in the most perfect way and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a mix of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

He smiles and you have to resist the urge to stare at the way tiny crescents form in the apples of his cheeks.

“Aye, Mum tells me I should stop, my four devils of sisters do as well, it’ll be the death of me, they say.” He scans you from the soles of your feet to the top of your head and it seems his grin grew wider. “Isnae unlikely for me to disobey.” He winks at you and you see stars.

You feel your own smile grow, as well as a warmth to your cheeks that goes against your brains’ wishes.

You find yourself moving closer; to the display of sweets or to him, you don’t know. “Well, which is your favorite?”

“Anythin’ sweet with caramel has my heart.”

You find yourself thinking that any outcome with him has yours.

Since the elderly woman in front of you two had a bit too much in her cart, you two had plenty of time to talk about random things. Him talking and you letting out stuttered responses while trying not to lose yourself in his eyes; like an ocean untamed, when a dance of light reaches it, it turns into a glacial hue that you adore.

You question him with a quirked brow. “Military?”

He turns to you and his blue eyes dull a little. He must’ve loved what he did.

“Aye.” He responds. Then his grin slowly comes back to life. “Dolly give you tha’ impression?”

You blink at him.

“Dolly?”

He nods to something right in front of his feet, under the conveyor belt.

Before you could reply, the cashier called out sharply, “Next!” snapping you out of your daze.

Johnny stepped forward, and a dog, a service dog—you notice, red vest for everyone to see, golden retriever you assume is named Dolly, trotting faithfully by his side. She walked calmly beside him, her harness strap snug in Johnny’s hand. She occasionally glanced up at him, her deep brown eyes full of attentiveness, as if checking in.

The two of them were a sight to behold. Johnny, with his broad shoulders and that perpetual air of confidence, and Dolly, exuding calmness and loyalty. They were a team you wished to be apart of.

As Johnny unloaded his items onto the conveyor belt, you noticed the assortment—dog treats, a bag of coffee, and a packet of biscuits that looked suspiciously like shortbread.

You followed behind, your own basket much less interesting—just a carton of eggs, some vegetables, and a box of tea.

“Four sisters?” you repeated, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corners of your lips. The way Johnny spoke about his family, his words tinged with a warm nostalgia, made it impossible not to feel charmed.

He smiled, that boyish grin that you noticed managed to light up his entire face. His blue eyes crinkled at the corners, and you couldn’t help but wish, just for a moment, that you could reach over and press a kiss there. It didn’t help that his accent made every word sound like music to your ears.

“Aye,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “An’ they’re all older than me as well. Wouldnae let me forget it when I was a lad—still remindin’ me.”

He chuckled, a deep, rich sound that you felt more than heard, and your eyes traced the way his lips moved as he spoke. You couldn’t help it; you were helpless.

When it was your turn to pay, Johnny waited off to the side, Dolly sitting obediently at his feet, her posture upright and alert. You caught him watching you out of the corner of his eye, that mischievous smile still playing on his lips.

“So,” you said as you joined him outside, the crisp autumn air nipping at your cheeks, “do your sisters still boss you around, or have you managed to hold your own now that you’re all grown up?”

He laughed, the sound warm enough to chase away the chill in the air. “Oh, they still boss me around, make no mistake. Doesnae matter how many years I spent in the SAS; to them, I’m still their wee brother who couldnae even tie his shoelaces properly.”

You shook your head, unable to stop smiling. “I can’t imagine you being bad at anything, to be honest.

Johnny stopped walking and tilted his head, pretending to consider your words. “Ah, well, there’s plenty I’m rubbish at. Like bakin’. Tried makin’ a cake once—turned out harder than a brick.”

You laughed, the image of Johnny wrestling with a lopsided cake popping into your head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Dolly gently nudged Johnny’s leg with her nose, drawing your attention. The dog glanced toward the street, then back up at Johnny, as if reminding him to keep moving.

Johnny crouched down, mirroring Dolly’s seated position on the cold earth and scratching behind her ears. “Alright, lass. I know. You’re in charge now, eh?”

The dog’s tail swished gently, her calm demeanor impossible not to admire.

“How long have you had her?” You asked, curiosity nipping at you.

“Picked her up a couple of years ago,” Johnny said, standing again. “Retired life wasn’t sittin’ well with me at first—too much time to think, you know? Dolly came along, and suddenly everything felt a bit easier. She keeps me grounded.”

You nodded, understanding more than you let on. Johnny didn’t seem to want to talk much about his past—his years in the military—but you could see the weight he carried in the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching, like in the line at the cashiers, when your nerves stopped you from opening your mouth. Dolly wasn’t just a service dog; she was Johnny’s anchor.

“Sounds like she’s good for you,” You said softly.

Johnny smiled, and for a moment, you swore you saw a flicker of something vulnerable in his eyes.

“Aye,” he said. “She’s the best partner I’ve ever had—present company excluded, of course.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words, but before you could respond, Dolly stood, her gaze fixed on Johnny as if waiting for his next move.

Johnny looked down at her, his expression softening. “Alright, lass. Let’s go.”

He turned to you, his grin returning in full force. “Care to join us? There’s a park just down the road—Dolly loves it there.”

Your heart did a little flip at the invitation. “I’d love to.”

The three of you made your way to the park, the conversation flowing easily between you and Johnny. He told you stories about growing up in Scotland, about the mischief he’d gotten into as a boy, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in weeks.

When you reached the park, Johnny unclipped Dolly’s leash, signaling her it was safe to roam. The retriever didn’t bolt like an ordinary dog might; instead, she stayed close, looking back at Johnny as if seeking approval before sniffing around the grass.

“She’s such a good girl,” you remarked, watching Dolly trot ahead, tail wagging gently as she explored.

“She is,” Johnny agreed, his voice filled with pride.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the only sounds the distant chatter of other park-goers and the rustling leaves underfoot.

Then Johnny turned to you, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “You know,” he said, his voice low, “I don’t think I’ve laughed this much in a long time.”

Your breath caught in your throat, but before you could respond, Dolly returned, sitting neatly at Johnny’s side and looking up at him expectantly.

Johnny reached down, giving her a quick scratch behind the ears. “Alright, lass. Ready to head back?”

Dolly wagged her tail in response, twirling in a circle and waiting for Johnny to clip her leash back on.

You watched them, your heart feeling light and full all at once. Being around Johnny was like standing in the sun—warm and comforting, with just enough light to make you feel like everything was going to be okay.

As the night stretched on, you found yourself wishing the moment could last forever. But for now, you were content to be here, standing beside Johnny and his loyal dog, feeling like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And if Johnny happened to notice the way your eyes lingered on him, well, he didn’t say anything. But the smile he gave you felt like it held a secret, one that you hoped, one day, he might share with you.

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms !

- likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated <3 !!

©miwsolovely

[dramaticallytotal]

Noah Mudaliar: The High IQ

Here is my design of Noah for my TDWT Rewrite: I've Been Around The World! (Which is being written)

If you've seen my headcanons, you will see some of the information from those here! Like the monogrammed sweater vest that has DP on it that stands for Drama Productions since that is the network that Chris works for and as Noah was his assistant Chris got him the vest so he would stand out from the "lame interns."

He has a pair of sunglasses that he "stole" from Chris. Really, Chris shoved them on his face one day, and Noah just never gave them back. They are Gucci UwU

He is wearing cargo pants that unzip at the knees to make shorts! I don't know who on here had that idea originally, but I loved it and was so inspired by it that I had to give them to my boy!

He is still wearing hiking boots. I just made them look like actual hiking boots. XD Specifically, NORTIV brand hiking boots. And I kept the three shirts because, honestly, how iconic of him to be a fashion disaster???

He also has a utility belt that he started wearing once he started working for Chris because, honestly, he had to be prepared for anything and with the utility belt he could be prepared for a lot of it. No one truly knows all he holds in the belt, but it seems like Mary Poppin's bag given how many things he pulls out of the pockets.

You may have noticed the three bracelets and those were given to him by either friends or family. He wears them every day. The first bracelet is a friendship bracelet given to him by Izzy that has his "signature colors" on it according to said redhead. It has his, Owen's, Izzy's, and Eva's names on it along with a long part that reads 'TeamEscope' and Izzy carved '+O' into two beads.

Then there is the red cord bracelet that his mother gave to him and all his sisters that has their family name on it in gold. 'Mudaliar' His cord is red because he wears it the most out of all his family members.

The last bracelet is one his sister Nadia made for him when he first got onto Total Drama Island. It's made from his golden retriever, Nana's old dog tag, since she knew he would miss her while he was away. He bought Nana a new one before he left.

Yes, his dog is named Nana, and even though they are not the same breed, she was named after the dog in Peter Pan. Her middle name is Ark because he thought it was funny.

Alejandro

[faededaway]

Today's theme: Garp (ONE PIECE) x Reader

AGE GAP RELATIONSHIP [UNHEALTHY and Creepy]

He's seen her before. He's seen her in her marine uniform and in formal wear.

But he's never seen her look so young. His mind blames himself for leading her on and not addressing her crush on him. He should've told her how wrong it is for her to want him.

From the way she's dressed, he sees a generational gap between himself and her. Back in his day women wouldn't wear dresses above their knees or such flashy colors. She's wearing a designer floral dress. He knows it's expensive and trendy. She also has dainty diamonds on her ears and an even more delicate one around her neck. But she's also wearing sneakers. Something about how heels make her back hurt.

He wouldn't have a problem with any of it if it didn't highlight the difference in their ages, if it didn't make her appear younger than she is.

He wonders if she know what a perv he is for focusing on how the dress accentuates her curves. It's delicate tulle makes him want to rip it off of her. Her dainty diamonds make him want to kiss her and leave his mark where he touches her. Her sneakers make him want to take them off and see what coquette socks she's wearing underneath.

He wants to see her naked underneath him in nothing but her soft, innocent accessories.

The staff at Baratie give him the stink eye when they take his order. But no one says a thing after seeing the smile on her face. She wears the look of a love sick puppy on a first date.

Garp hopes it's not her first date. He hopes she has enough experience under her belt to take some guilt off of his chest. But he knows how marine life can be, specially for someone so young who rose through the ranks so fast.

“I've always admired you. I'm happy you agreed to give me a chance, sir." She beams at him after the servers are gone.

Even on a date she calls him sir. He has to clear his throat before he can reply, “ya wouldn't leave me alone if I said no. Would ya?”

He's half joking. He knows he said yes because he wouldn't be able to stand her crestfallen face.

She gasps and stutters, “no! I mean, yes! Of course I would respect your decision and maintain my distance!”, her voice drops and she looks down at her lap, “I wouldn't bother you like that.”

Ah, there's the look he wanted to avoid.

“I'm joking kiddo! If ya want'a date this ol' man, ya'll need'a get used ta his punches.” He kicks himself mentally. Already, there's a lot that went wrong. He's called his date a kiddo. Hopefully that will-

Her face lights up immediately, “of course! I'm willing to face it all just like I did your training! I really like you, s-, “she pauses before she earnestly says, “Garp. I like you a lot, Garp."

Ah darn. He wishes she stuck to calling him sir. His name rolls off her tongue so softly. He can almost hear how she'd sound moaning his name. Garp, Garp, Garp! I like you, a lot.

He wants to scare her. To turn her away. He wants her to be grossed out. He's an old man. And a perv. Maybe he should rip the band-aid now.

“Ya should be careful 'bout what'cha say ta men ma age. Back in ma day, that meant ya want'a shag the guy.” he's lying. But she won't know that.

She looks down at her lap again but this time her lips are curled up, “I do want that.”

Garp takes in a sharp breath. He pretends not to hear it. Yes, he can do that. He's old and loud and unprepared to deal with this in any sensible way. He's thinking about what Sengoku would say. Yes, think about that old fart and get that bo-

“Garp, I said I do want that with you”, she says it clearer and louder this time. Garp cannot pretend to not hear it No amount of thinking about his old friend is going to tame the wild dog in his pants now.

She's looking at him expectantly, waiting to hear his response. Her fingers fidget the lace that ties her neckline. A nervous habit he recognizes.

Garp takes a sip from his century aged wine and deicides darn it! She's old enough to be a lieutenant. If she wants this old man, she can have him .

He does not say anything. He finishes his wine before putting a hand under her chair and bringing it closer to him. He replaces her hand with his and slowly unties the lace that gives the dress a sense of modesty.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd've thought you're a minx," he feels her freeze in her seat, "you said you want this old man. Well, he wants you too".

When the lace comes undone, he leans over and presses a kiss right where her heart beats. He feels it beat faster under his lips. He thinks he's done too much so he starts to pull away when her hands come up to hold his face in her chest. The sudden movement causes him to hold her thigh to steady himself. A wanton whine leaves her lips and he has to laugh. This darned minx!

His laugh booms across the room. Loud enough for patrons to glance his way and throw him dirty looks seeing the state he is in.

He takes a moment to catch his breath while she turns away from him and fixes her dress.

"Let's wait till dinner arrives. We can continue our activities after we're done," he whispers in her ear when he returns her chair a respectful distance away from his.

"Ye-Yes! Uh, mmm. I- I'm sorry I-, for getting, uh-", her words leave her mouth in pieces and Garp can't help but laugh again. He finds himself giving into the devil An old man deserves fun too.

"It's alright. Only normal for virgins like you to loose composure like this. You'll get better with practice,"

A high pitched squeal tries to dispute the claims but the food arrives before she can "thank you for waiting, sir and miss. Your steamed Haddock with basmati and Moqueca. Please enjoy".

The waitstaff refills the drinks before leaving. Garp thanks the staff and raises his glass to her, "a cheer to us enjoyin' this day".

Suffice to say, Garp has the best meal of his life later.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 7

Summary: Still reeling from the traumatic events of the night before, you struggle to figure out your next move. Your suspicion and fear of Shane continues to grow, and aren't ready to face him or Daryl after the night's events. This chapter follows the last episode of TWD S1 pretty closely, but we do veer off towards the end.

Warnings: mentions of child abuse, abusive households.

You creep down the hallway, your steps quickening, until you pull open a storage door on your right. It’s the first room you see and hope is empty. As you shut the door behind you, you slide to the floor, your back against the cool wood. Pulling your knees up to your chest, you press your hands to your face, rubbing your eyes hard enough to see flashes of color. The events of last night replay in your mind, and you reach up, gingerly touching your sore neck, hoping there aren’t any visible bruises.

There are gaps in your memory—flashes of Shane standing in the doorway with Lori, the yelling, and then him choking you. You can’t fully remember what he said, just the way you felt after. Hurt, betrayed... hollow. The last thing you recall is him dropping you to the floor, and everything blurring until you drifted off to sleep.

What you don’t remember—what sends heat flooding your cheeks—is how you ended up in that bed. You have flickers of someone picking you up, the faint scent of cigarettes and musk surrounding you. At some point, you were lying on something soft, but the details are foggy, slipping away as quickly as they come. Letting out a heavy sigh, you lean your head back against the door.

When you open your eyes, you notice a suitcase on the floor, clothes scattered around it. It doesn’t belong to anyone from your group, but the clothing is definitely women’s. Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you crawl over, sifting through the fabrics. A grin spreads across your face as you realize someone must’ve packed this knowing they’d be stuck here for a while. You could use a new pair of shorts and a clean shirt.

You pull out a pair of denim shorts, a black band t-shirt with a faded Queen album cover on it, and—thank god—a clean pair of socks without any holes. The clothes look a little big, but manageable with a belt. Quickly, you change into the new outfit before stepping back into the hallway.

You make your way to the bathroom, less panicked now. Standing in front of the mirror, you inspect your neck. No bruises—just tender, reddened skin. You splash cold water on your face, trying to calm the burning heat rising to your cheeks as memories from the night before resurface. Pulling a comb from your pocket (thankfully found in the luggage), you run it through your hair until you're satisfied.

Back in the hallway, you slide on your black boots, quickly doing up the laces. Voices drift toward you from the left, drawing you toward the cafeteria.

Inside, a few people glance up and murmur good mornings. You spot Glenn slumped over the table, looking more than a little green. Smiling, you notice that most of them look a little worse for wear.

Rick comes in behind you, his hand brushing the small of your back to let you know he’s moving past. “Morning, everyone,” he says with a raspy voice, sitting beside Lori and Carl.

“Are you hungover?” Carl asks loudly. “Mom said you would be.”

“Mom is right,” Rick admits, smiling despite his hoarse voice. Lori murmurs something about it being one of her annoying habits, earning a grin from Rick and Carl.

“Eggs!” T-Dog calls, carrying a pan of scrambled eggs over to the table. You didn’t know him well until yesterday, but he’s friendly, his gap-toothed smile endearing.

“Powdered, but I do ‘em good,” he says proudly. “Bet you can’t tell.”

Glenn groans next to you, leaning into Jaqui as she tries to stifle her laughter. “Don’t ever, ever let me drink again,” he moans, eyes half-closed.

Your smile fades when Shane enters the room, offering a brief “Hey” as he passes. You watch him intently, taking a sip of coffee Jaqui poured for you. After murmuring a quick thanks to her, you keep your eyes on Shane, tracking his movements behind the cup.

“Feel as bad as I do?” Rick calls over to him.

“Worse,” Shane mutters, grabbing himself a cup of coffee.

T-Dog squints at him. “The hell happened to you?” he asks, noticing the angry red marks on Shane’s neck.

Shane walks over to the table, sitting diagonally across from you. He doesn’t meet your gaze. “Must’ve done it in my sleep,” he says, his voice low.

You glance over at Lori, catching her eye just as she quickly looks away, her face pale and tight with tension.

“I’ve never seen you do that before,” Rick says, concern lacing his voice.

“Me neither… not like me at all,” Shane grumbles, his wide-eyed gaze shifting to Lori. You stare at him, waiting for him to look away from her, but he doesn’t.

Just then, Dr. Jenner enters the room, greeting everyone as he makes his way to the coffee pot. The energy in the room shifts, the tension still thick but more manageable.

Dale clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I don’t mean to bring up questions so early,” he starts, but Andrea cuts him off, saving him from the awkward moment.

“We didn’t come here for the eggs,” she says, her eyes fixed on Dr. Jenner.

He looks at all of you, taking a long sip from his coffee before setting it down. “Come with me,” he says.

You all file out of the room, following the doctor down the hall. You stray behind, trying to match Lori Grimes’ stride as she walks out. She has her arm around Carl’s shoulders as you match her pace. 

“Lori, I–” but she cuts you off, her eyes hard as steel.

“Don’t,” she looks over at you with hard eyes, “I’m fine, everything is fine ,”

All you can do is nod under her glare, falling silent as she walks ahead.

You trail behind, watching Shane as he walks up front, his head turning every now and then to glance over his shoulder at you. You ignore him, keeping your eyes down as you continue down the hallway.

A door opens to your right, and you look up to see a sleepy Daryl stepping out of his room, rubbing the tiredness from his eyes. He pauses, looking at you for a long moment, his gaze dropping to the change of clothes. His cheeks flush a light pink.

“Nice shirt,” he murmurs with a half-smile, his voice low and groggy.

All you can manage is a small nod, barely smiling back, your heart fluttering as you walk past him into the main control room.

You stand silently as Dr. Jenner shows the group his Test Subject 19 on the large screen. You already have a basic understanding of brain synapses and the different lobes from your first year in college, but you notice how invested everyone else is in what he’s showing. The screen lights up with a scan, taking you deep into someone’s brain, showing the electrical pulses of a living human.

“It’s a person’s memories, experiences, life,” Jenner explains, his voice quiet but profound.

“You don’t ever make sense?” Daryl grunts, crossing his arms, clearly unimpressed.

Jenner explains synapses and brain function, his tone patient. But the realization hits—the group is about to watch someone die on screen.

“This was someone who was bitten... infected,” Jenner continues, the sadness thickening in his voice. “They volunteered to let us record the process.”

He scans forward to the “first event” watching the virus invade the brain. The person on screen is dying in front of you. Conversations murmur around the room as people mention their own lost loved ones, faces tightening with grief. You glance over at Andrea, who looks hollow, her face drained when Amy’s name is mentioned. Your heart clenches for her.

Jenner pauses the video, asking his AI to fast-forward. What you see next makes your breath catch, your eyes widening as you stare at the screen.

In an hour, one minute, and seven seconds, a flicker of light appears on the brain stem. The rest of the brain is dark, lifeless—dead—but this flicker sparks something. It brings the person back to life, or at least what’s left of them. But just as quickly, a sudden flash blows through the brain, and the movement stops. Carol reacts first, asking what it was.

“He shot his patient in the head… didn’t you?” Andrea says. Jenner powers down his station. Jenner powers down the station, his face grim. More murmurs break out, trying to grasp the idea of something that brings people back only to turn them into mindless killers. You glance over at Daryl, and he’s already looking at you. The two of you lock eyes, almost like having your own silent conversation from across the room.

“So there’s nothing left anywhere, nothing?” Andrea says and you turn to watch the doctor. He says nothing. You stand there, processing the truth. The person may technically come back, but they’re not truly alive. Not in any way that matters. They don’t think, don’t feel—just walk aimlessly, driven by the need to consume. Nothing else.

“Man,” Daryl mutters, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I wanna get shit-faced drunk--again.” He walks away, leaning heavily against one of the computer desks, frustration etched into every line of his body.

The room is still when Dale speaks up. “Dr. Jenner,” he says cautiously, eyes filled with concern, “I know this has been hard on you, but I’ve got one more question.” He points to the large clock on the wall. “That clock… it’s counting down. What happens at zero?”

You all turn to look at it: 60 minutes remain.

“The basement generators—they run out of fuel,” Jenner replies quietly.

“And then?” Rick asks, the tension in his voice clear.

No answer.

Rick asks the AI what happens when the power runs out, and she explains: “facility-wide decontamination will occur,” her robotic voice making it sound even more ominous.

The silence is replaced by movement as Rick, Shane, Glenn, and T-Dog rush toward the basement to check the generators for themselves. The urgency is palpable.

You start to follow them when Daryl’s hand grips your arm, pulling you back. His grip is firm, his eyes searching yours. You glance around, noticing the others filing out of the room, but Daryl doesn’t budge. He looks back at the group, then pulls you into the hallway, steering you toward the room where you woke up earlier that morning.

“What happened last night?” he asks, his voice low, a rough whisper meant just for you.

“What do you mean?” you try to deflect, feigning confusion. You’re not sure you’re ready to face the truth of where he found you or how you ended up there. His eyes narrow, scrutinizing your face, searching for answers that you’re not ready to give. The hallway falls eerily silent. You realize the air conditioning has stopped, leaving the air heavy and still. When you glance back at Daryl, he’s still watching you intently, waiting.

You sigh, your shoulders slumping. “I… well… Shane…” You trail off, shaking your head, unsure how to even begin explaining the weight of last night. Before you can continue, the lights flicker and go out, plunging the room into darkness.

You and Daryl peek outside as the group surrounds Dr. Jenner, bombarding him with frantic questions as he walks briskly down the long corridor. The tension is palpable, the fear growing with each second that ticks by.

“Energy use is being prioritized,” Jenner explains, his voice distant and detached, walking faster than anyone can keep up. “Zone five is shutting itself down.”

Your heart skips a beat as the realization hits. “What the hell does that mean?” you shout, quickening your pace to catch up with him. Panic bubbles up, but you fight to keep your voice steady.

Daryl, more forceful, charges up beside you. “Hey, man, she’s talkin’ to you!” he shouts, voice rough with frustration. “What do you mean it’s shutting itself down? How the hell can a building do anything?”

Jenner barely looks back. “You’d be surprised,” he mutters flatly, his answer offering no comfort.

The group exchanges nervous glances as you follow Jenner back into the main control room. Anxiety spikes, your thoughts racing ahead, searching for an escape route, a solution—anything. You can feel the tension mounting, tightening in your chest. You hear Jenner suddenly bring up the damn French, rambling about how they were the last to try and hold out for a solution, only to run out of power, just like here.

Rick’s voice breaks through the noise, cutting sharp and clear. “Everybody get your things. We’re getting out of here—now.”

The air seems to shift as Rick speaks, the urgency in his tone making it real. The AI system blares an alarm, and the robotic voice announces coldly, “30 minutes until decontamination.” The words hit like a physical blow. A frantic urgency overtakes you, spreading through the group like wildfire. Before you can even react, Jenner rushes to his computer, fingers flying over the keyboard. You and the others start to make your way toward the exits, but suddenly, the thick, metal doors slam shut, cutting off your escape. The heavy thud echoes in your chest, and a cold sense of dread settles over you.

“Did you just lock us in?” Glenn’s voice trembles, panic lacing his words. “He just locked us in!”

Your eyes dart to Daryl, and in an instant, he charges at Jenner. “You son of a bitch!” he bellows, his fists clenched, fury etched across his face.

Chaos erupts. You sprint after Daryl, desperate to stop him, but Shane gets there first, grabbing Daryl just as his hands close around Jenner’s shirt. Shane throws Daryl off, sending him crashing into a desk. People are shouting, screaming for Jenner to open the emergency exits, demanding answers. But Jenner, eerily calm in the storm of panic, shakes his head. His voice is too steady, too cold.

“I told you, once that front door closed, it wouldn’t open again,” Jenner says, pointing a finger at Rick. “You heard me say that.”

The room falls into a deafening silence, the weight of his words crushing down on you.

“It’s better this way,” Jenner says quietly, a hollow certainty in his voice.

Rick steps forward, eyes blazing. “What is? What happens in 28 minutes?” he demands, his voice rising. Jenner looks away, refusing to answer. Rick grabs him, his hands fisted in Jenner’s shirt. “What happens?”

Suddenly, Jenner starts screaming, breaking his eerie calm. He's explaining that this place can’t let things out when the power goes out–small box, ebola, viruses that could wipe out humans. The HITs prevent organisms from getting out. There’s questions on everyone’s faces. But you know what that means. Organisms. No organism can escape this place for the safety of the planet. Your brain clicks into place as your heart starts pumping harder. 

The AI, “VI” defines HITs to the room. All you can make out over the pounding of blood in your ears is explosives. The air catching on fire. Absolute devastation makes your skin crawl.

“It sets the air on fire. No pain. End to sorrow, grief, regret…everything,” Jenner whispers.

There’s a deafening silence in the room as you all stare at him. Suddenly Daryl starts throwing things at the door, using hammers with Shane against it to open it. You join them with more weapons, trying to hit the door as hard as you can. You don’t back down from a threat. You know better. The Dixon brothers taught you better. You feel like a caged animal being backed into a corner. All you know how to do is kick and scream and fight . It’s the only thing that’s kept you alive all this time. The adrenaline in you is pumping so hard that you’re in fight or flight. You use all your strength to continue pounding on the door with the sledgehammer in the room. 

“Those doors are designed to withstand rocket launchers,” Jenner says from behind you, his voice infuriatingly calm.

Daryl turns and charges again, “Well your head ain’t!” Everyone goes for him, holding him back. You watch, your heart hammering in your chest, knowing Jenner is your only hope. He’s the only one who knows the code. The only one who can let you out. But he’s given up. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut. There’s no way out unless he decides to let you live.

“There is no hope,” Jenner says, his voice soft but heavy with finality. “There never was. This is what takes us down. This is our extinction event.”

The room erupts again, voices overlapping, but your mind zeroes in on Carol, who’s clutching Sophia tightly, her face streaked with tears. “You can’tkeep us here!” she screams, her voice cracking, her sobs growing louder.

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked cuts through the chaos. You whip around to see Shane, his shotgun aimed squarely at Jenner. His face is contorted in rage, eyes wide and wild. Rick rushes forward, shouting for him to stop, but Shane doesn’t seem to hear him. He’s like a rabid dog, on the edge of losing control completely.

But Shane turns, you’re not sure if it’s Rick that was able to turn him or he did it himself to shoot the machines all over the room. You duck behind a table across the room. Rick is on top of Shane, about to punch him with the butt of the gun, “you done now?” he asks. He turns and after a long moment, says he thinks the doctor is lying about no hope. He had to be here working all this time for something.

“I made a promise,” the doctor stands, “to her, my wife.” he’s pointing at the large blank screen.

“Test subject 19… your wife,” you say, standing now. Jenner continues to explain how intelligent and amazing she was, and that she died for this. Because of this. But his wife didn't have a choice.

“All we want is a choice–a chance,” Rick says quietly.

Carol pleads, “Let us keep trying. As long as we can.”

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Jenner hesitates. Then, with a resigned sigh, he punches in the code. The doors unlock with a loud hiss.

“Come on!” Daryl shouts, his voice like a battle cry, and the room explodes into movement.

You sprint to your room, adrenaline fueling your every step. Grabbing your gun and knife, you scan the room for anything else you might need. There’s nothing. Just the clothes on your back and the weapons in your hands. You tear back into the hallway, your heart pounding.

But where is everyone? You whirl around, checking each room, panic clawing at your insides. They were just here—where the hell did they go? The building feels like a maze, but you refuse to leave without Daryl. Not until you know he’s safe. So you keep running, searching every room, every hallway, your pulse racing as the clock ticks down. Time is slipping away, and with it, any chance of survival.

But you won’t leave without him. Not now. Not ever again.

Daryl

Daryl rushes toward the main entrance, hammers gripped tight in both hands. Shane’s right beside him, charging up the stairs with a gun in hand.

“Daryl!” Shane yells, holding out his hand. Daryl tosses him one of the hammers without missing a beat. They both start pounding the windows, desperate, each hit echoing in the dead air. T-Dog joins in with a chair, slamming it against the thick glass. Suddenly, Carol steps forward, trembling, and walks over to Rick. Her hand shakes as she digs into her bag and pulls out a grenade. Rick pauses for a second, eyes wide, then snatches it from her quickly. His movements are sharp as he pulls the pin and places it at the base of the window.

Daryl backs off fast, instincts kicking in. What the hell is he waitin’ for?  he thinks, watching Rick linger too close. Then the realization seems to hit Rick, too.

“Oh shit,” Rick mutters, bolting away from the window.

“Get down!” Shane yells. Everyone drops just in time as the explosion rocks the room, the blast shattering the window.

It worked.

Everyone scrambles to their feet, grabbing their things in a rush. Daryl slings his crossbow over his shoulder and leaps through the broken window, hitting the ground outside. One by one, the others follow, pouring out into the night. They’re running, sprinting through the maze of dead bodies, the stink of decay thick in the air, walkers already stirring, drawn by the noise.

Daryl’s foot catches on something. He stumbles, crashing to the ground. When he looks down, his heart stops. The lifeless body beneath him is wearing nothing but tattered, bloody pants and a Queen band t-shirt...the same shirt you were wearing. His mind reels, blood roaring in his ears. The image of your face flashes before him. No, no, no.

“Y/N,” he breathes, his chest tightening with panic. He’s wrenches himself to his feet, eyes wide, whipping his head around to search for you. His breathing is ragged, frantic. You’re not with the others, you’re not running ahead with the group like you always are. You’re not beside him. You’re nowhere.

Rick and Shane are screaming at him, their voices a blur in his mind. He can’t hear them. Can’t hear anything but the pounding in his skull. All he can think about is you. Where the hell are you? How did he lose track of you? His fists clench tight. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He knew better than to let you go off alone. Should’ve waited for you, should’ve been with you. Always together, always watching each other’s backs. He promised he’d keep you safe, and now… now…

Daryl spins around, ignoring the shouts from behind him. He bolts back into the building, his legs moving before his mind can catch up. He’s shouting your name, his voice raw, desperate. He passes Dale and Andrea—they’re trying to call him, but he doesn’t stop. Won’t stop until he finds you. His throat burns from screaming, his vision narrowing. He knows time’s running out, but he can’t think about that. Not now. Not when you’re still inside. 

He pauses for a second, gasping for breath, trying to pull himself out of the panic. He can’t do this. Not like this. He forces himself to stop, closing his eyes for a second, trying to clear the fog. Focus, track her. You’re good at that. You know how to find her. His mind sharpens. The noise, the chaos fades into the background. He listens. And then he hears it—your voice. Faint but there. Screaming his name. Daryl’s head snaps toward the sound. He sprints down the hallway, his heart pounding. The doors are all open, rooms emptied out. And then, at the end of the hall—you.

You’re running toward him, panic all over your face, your skin flushed. His own chest is tight, matching the terror he sees mirrored in your eyes. For a split second, everything stops. Just you and him.

And then you’re running again, full speed toward each other. He grabs your hand, his grip tight, pulling you with him. Without a word, you’re both sprinting, racing down the stairs, out the shattered window, feet hitting the ground hard. The cool morning air feels like a slap, but there’s no time to think about that.

In the distance, you both hear the others—Rick’s voice, Shane yelling—but it’s all a blur. Daryl knows they’ve only got seconds. Maybe two, if they’re lucky.

He shoves you down behind a pile of sandbags, throwing himself on top of you. His body covers yours, his arms hovering protectively over your face and neck, his breath quick and shallow against your ear. The ground shakes beneath you, the sound of the explosion deafening. The CDC building behind you bursts, flames erupting from the windows, shattering glass and sending a wave of heat and pressure through the air.

Daryl holds on tight as debris rains down around you. His body shields yours, his arms bracing against the force of the explosion, his heart pounding in his chest. For a long moment, all he can hear is the roar of the fire and the pounding of his own blood in his ears.

And then… silence.

Daryl’s breath comes in ragged gasps as he lifts his head slightly, looking down at you. His hand is still gripping yours, tight, but he loosens his hold, blinking away the dust and ash. Your face is pale, but your eyes are wide open, staring up at him. Alive.

You’re both alive.

He lets out a shaky breath, leaning his forehead against yours for a brief second, the tension finally breaking. You’re safe. You made it out.

For now.

x Flashback x

Young reader & Daryl 

It was a cooler day, the crisp bite of fall in the air, when Daryl showed up at your front door. You were maybe six or seven at the time—having only met him a few days ago. When you opened the door, you found him standing there, quiet and pensive, chewing on the inside of his cheek like he was working up the nerve to say something.

“Hi,” you greeted shyly, waiting for him to speak. After a long pause, he finally looked away from you, fidgeting with his hands.

“Wan’ come hunt squirrels?” he mumbled, twisting his fingers together, still avoiding your gaze.

A grin stretched across your face, showing the gap where you’d just lost a baby tooth. His shy grin mirrored yours, growing wider as he waited for your reply.

“Yeah!” you agreed, stepping outside to join him. Daryl’s grin got a little bigger, his shoulders loosening as you walked off the porch together.

“Don’t you gotta tell your mama and papa?” he asked, stopping you halfway down the stairs. The smile faded from your face as you glanced back at the door.

“Daddy ain’t here no more,” you said quietly, your eyes dropping to the cracks in the worn wood of the porch.

“And your mama?” Daryl asked again, softer this time.

You shrugged, turning away. You knew she wouldn’t notice you were gone. She rarely did these days, spending her time either asleep in bed or out late, reeking of booze when she stumbled back in the early hours. You doubted she even realized you were still in the house most of the time. Once in a while when she was conscious she would look at you with her nose crinkled or swatted a newspaper at you.

Daryl walked in stride beside you as you left the house, the cool wind picking up around you. The woods were nearby, the sound of a small stream trickling as you approached the trail. Daryl had a large crossbow strapped to his back, way too big for a kid his size, but he carried it like it was the most important thing in the world.

“What’s that?” you asked, pointing at the weapon slung across his small shoulders.

“My pops’ old huntin’ crossbow,” Daryl said proudly, puffing out his chest a bit.

“Wow,” you whispered in awe, your eyes wide. Daryl’s chest puffed up a little more, clearly pleased that you were impressed.

“Darylina!” a voice called from behind, interrupting your conversation. You both turned to see a lanky teenage boy on a beat-up bicycle coasting up to the curb. He had messy dark hair and a smirk plastered on his face.

“Who’s this, Darylina?” he taunted, jumping off his bike and walking over with a swagger. “Is this your girlfriend?”

Daryl’s face flushed, and he stared at the ground, the confidence he’d had moments ago disappearing.

“Stop callin’ me that, Merle,” Daryl muttered, kicking at the dirt.

“Aww, did I hurt your w’ittle feelin’s?” Merle sneered, crouching slightly as he leered at his younger brother. “Is this your girrrlfriend?” he asked again, this time directing his smirk at you.

“How ya doin’ little lady?” Merle approached you with a swing in his step, “I’m Merle. This kid’s big brother,”

 You had been around a lot of bullies in school–those who’d taunt you about your dirty clothes, your greasy unwashed hair, and sometimes even followed you home off the bus to taunt you about living in a trailer park. Merle seemed just like them. Your face was turning red, but not out of embarrassment. It had been a long while since you let other kids embarrass you. 

“What’d’ya want?” you stood straight, arms crossed. Daryl shot you a glance, eyes wide with surprise at your boldness.

“Ooohoo hoo! We love a girl with some spunk, don’t we, Darylina?” Merle said, whistling through his teeth. He looked back at Daryl, who remained silent, but his eyes never left you.

“Go away,” you said confidently, standing a little straighter.

“Or what? What’re you gon’ do, little lady?” Merle teased, taking a step closer. “What’s yer name, anyway?”

“None of your business,” you shot back, folding your arms tighter over your chest.

Merle’s leer just gets wider, looking you up and down, “I like you, Daryl needs someone to be his backbone for once,” 

That seemed to be enough for Daryl. “Get outta here, Merle. We’re huntin’ squirrels,” he said, turning his back on his brother, clearly wanting you to follow. But you stayed put, watching Merle closely, daring him to push you further.

“Aww, ain’t that cute—this your first date?” Merle laughed, his voice sing-songy. “Should I mark the date on my calendar for the weddin’?”

You stare up at the teenager, your mouth tightening into a thin line, eyes narrowing. He’s leering down at you too, waiting for what you’ll do next. You honestly think he might actually like your spunk, but you can’t be sure. You knew many bullies like him. But you make up your mind and turn your back, following Daryl.

“Darylina and his girlfriend, kissing in a tree, K-I-S-S-I–” you hear behind you, and you stomp back over and kick your foot out, hard into Merle’s shin.

“Ow! You little–!” he shouts.Without missing a beat, you grabbed Daryl’s arm and bolted into the woods. You could hear Merle cursing behind you, but the two of you veered off the path, ducking under branches and weaving through trees where Merle couldn’t follow on his bike.

When you were sure you’d lost him, you both collapsed into laughter, breathless and exhilarated. Bent over, hands on your knees, you looked at Daryl, who was grinning from ear to ear.

“He might kill you,” Daryl chuckled, still trying to catch his breath.

“I’d like to see him try,” you shot back, straightening up with a defiant smile. “Now, you gon’ show me how to hunt squirrels or what?”

Daryl’s grin returned, and he pulled the crossbow from his back, holding it like a badge of honor. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You and Daryl made your way into the woods, and kept telling you to keep quiet.

"Your fat feet keep scarin’ everything off," he muttered, glancing back at you with mild frustration. "You wouldn’t last a day on your own if you had to hunt fer yourself."

You whipped around on him, and he staggered to a stop, “Ain’t you s’possed to be teachin’ me?” you snapped, hands on your hips. he rolled his eyes at you, then pointed to your feet.

“You’re muckin’ up the trail, come here,” he said, pulling you back. You backed up so you were right next to him, following his pointed finger.

"I only see dirt," you said flatly, squinting at the spot he was so focused on.

“Look closer,” he whispered, leaning down to the ground. You squatted next to him, your face inches from the forest floor. That’s when you noticed it—subtle gaps in the leaves, some pressed down, others left undisturbed. It looked like nothing at first, but then you saw the faint shape of a footprint.

“Prints?” you said, heart swelling.

Daryl stood up quickly, a rare smile flickering across his face. "Yeah," he said, nodding, then turned to lead the way again. His sharp eyes tracked the trail effortlessly, pointing out when the path veered or when the prints led up onto a tree. His focus was intense, like this was second nature to him.

Suddenly, he stopped, scanning the branches above. His posture tensed as his eyes flicked to his right, across a small clearing. That’s when you both heard it—the chattering of a squirrel, hidden somewhere in the trees. Daryl glanced back at you, pressing a finger to his lips to signal silence. Then, with practiced precision, he raised his crossbow. Despite its size, the weapon seemed like an extension of him. He took aim, waiting for the right moment. When the squirrel ventured down to the center of the trunk, Daryl released the arrow. It flew through the air, striking the target with deadly accuracy.

"Wow!" you whispered excitedly, running up behind him as he approached the tree. "Where’d you learn to do all this?"

Daryl crouched by the tree, yanking the arrow free from the squirrel’s chest and tying the small creature to the strap of his crossbow with a piece of rope. "Have to eat somehow," he replied quietly, his voice distant.

You paused at that, his words sinking in. Sure, you had to fend for yourself most days, but you always managed to find a way to get food. Your mom was a mess, but there were usually a few crumpled dollars in her purse you could get away with stealing. But Daryl…Daryl didn’t seem to have that luxury.

"Your parents...?" you started to ask, but trailed off when Daryl’s eyes met yours, hard and cold.

"Pops always said if we couldn’t figure shit out for ourselves, we’d never learn," he grumbled, tightening the rope around the squirrel. "Ain’t old enough for a job. Merle’s barely around since he turned 16."

A heavy silence settled between you. Daryl stared down at his hands, fingers fumbling with the rope, his face tense.

"Sometimes I steal my mama’s money out her bag to buy somethin’ from the corner store," you admitted quietly, glancing away. You didn’t know why you said it—it wasn’t something you told anyone. But with Daryl, it felt like you could share that secret.

Daryl’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, then quickly darted back down. "If I ever tried that, I’d get whooped," he whispered, his voice tight. The weight of his words hung in the air, the reality of his life sinking in deeper.

For a long moment, neither of you said anything, standing there in the middle of the woods, two kids with too much weight on their shoulders. Finally, Daryl cleared his throat and looked up at you, trying to change the subject. "You got a crossbow at home?"

You shook your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. Daryl let out a long breath, nodding. "Right. Well, let me show ya how to make a snare, for the little guys like this. For when I ain’t around."

The way he said it—for when I ain’t around—made your chest tighten, but you just nodded. You followed him closely, watching his every move as he showed you how to set a snare, feeling, for the first time in a long while, like maybe you weren’t so alone.