#but he covers it up by doing everyone elses

[greengoblinswifey]

Little Do You Know—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary—after making a passing remark on the possibility of the front man being attractive, your crush on young-il who unbeknownst to you is the front man, boils over. based on this request.

warnings— flirting, oral(f&m receiving), praising, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

The group sat gathered around with a small meal, the kind of makeshift dinner that felt comforting despite the bleak circumstances. Gi-hun leaned back, his arms crossed, recounting some story about the Front Man. “I’m telling you, he has cameras everywhere. He probably sees and hears everything we’re saying.”

The mood was tense, as it often was when the Front Man became the topic of conversation. But your lips twitched upward, a thought making you suppress a giggle.

Dae-ho, ever the curious one, caught it immediately. “What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. It’s silly. Forget it.”

Young-il, sitting across from you, tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Come on,” he said gently, his voice soothing in a way that made you feel oddly safe. “Anything you have to say, we’ll appreciate. Don’t hold back.”

Encouraged by his tone, you hesitated for just a moment before shrugging. “Alright, but don’t judge me.” You exhaled a breathy laugh, looking down at your lap for a second before glancing back up. “What if the Front Man is, like—really hot?”

The reaction was instant. Dae-ho choked on his milk, sputtering, while Jun-Hee’s eyes widened slightly before she went back to eating as if she hadn’t heard you. Even Jung-Bae, usually laid back, looked at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Seriously?” Gi-hun said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“What?” you asked defensively, your shoulders lifting in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. It’s possible!”

Gi-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “We’re talking about a guy who might be orchestrating all this madness, and you’re worried if he’s good-looking?”

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to Young-il. Everyone else was either laughing awkwardly or shaking their heads, but Young-il wasn’t saying a word. Instead, a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Almost.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, your brow quirking as you tilted your head slightly in return, a silent question hanging between the two of you. His smirk deepened just enough for you to catch the meaning, amusement, maybe even intrigue, but he quickly smoothed his expression before anyone else noticed. He was hot too, you thought.

Gi-hun, still shaking his head, muttered, “Out of everything you could be thinking about.”

“Well, excuse me for lightening the mood,” you shot back playfully, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry him or something. Geez.”

As the group moved on, you couldn’t help but replay the moment in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it, but wasn’t Young-il’s smirk a little too knowing? Or maybe it was just your ridiculous crush on him twisting your perception. You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet confidence, the calm authority he exuded even in casual moments like this.

It was ironic, really, here you were crushing on Young-il while joking about the Front Man. Little did you know, the very man you were teasing about might as well have been sitting right in front of you, wearing the mask in plain sight.

You shook the thought off with a small laugh. Overthinking, as usual. Still, when Young-il glanced your way again, his gaze warm and unreadable, you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering.

The night had settled into a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep. You couldn’t sleep, your earlier exchange with Young-il replaying in your mind. That smirk, so brief, had lodged itself in your thoughts.

You were still awake when he appeared, his footsteps quiet as he approached where you lay, tucked into a dim corner of the quarters. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked softly.

“Guess not,” you replied.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Still thinking about the Front Man being hot?”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said laughing and flustered.

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a type.”

Your cheeks warmed under his words, and you rolled your eyes, trying to deflect. “Oh, come on. I was joking.”

“Were you?” he teased, his smile widening just a bit.

You were about to retort, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “if you wanted to get something off your chest, now’s the time.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you trying to say, Young-il?”

“Just that I’m here,” he replied, “If there’s something you want.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss started slow, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as his hand came up to cradle your face.

The thought of the games seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands were firm but gentle, holding your face as the kiss turned hungrier, more insistent. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging slightly, drawing a low moan from him that you quickly stifled.

“Quiet,” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk playing on his face as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would we?”

Your heart raced as his lips moved to your neck, his hands on your waist as he guided you back against the small bed. He trailed kisses down your chest, his kisses slow and savoring every moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his kisses grew bolder, trailing lower. He pulled off your bottoms and your lace panties, tongue licking from your hole to your clit. The way he did it so suddenly, so smoothly, made your pussy throb. You instinctively bit down on your lip, your hands fisting the fabric beneath you as you fought to keep your composure.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them open as he adjusted your position. He glanced up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of mischief and tenderness. You pressed your lips together tightly, his skilled tongue flicking your clit then moving to your leaking hole.

“Don’t hold back too much,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I want to hear those pretty moans, just a little.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, his tone leaving you breathless. You felt the warmth of his fingertips on your thighs and the tenderness of his kisses on your pussy, and his praises were a quiet balm to the storm of emotions swirling inside you because of the game.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he continued ravishing your pussy, mouth engulfing you and sucking as though the meal from earlier wasn’t enough. He was attentive to your pleasure, fingers pumping steadily inside your pussy as sucked and flicked your clit with precision. The precision you expected and appreciated in an older man. No one had ever made you feel this good. The pleasure was otherworldly and your legs shook from it all.

The coil in your abdomen and euphoria built with every passing second and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. His words and actions blurred together, creating a warmth that left you trembling. When his tongue brought you to your peak, you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry, your entire body shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit.

“You did amazing,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned closer.

You gently nudged Young-il to lie back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “My turn,” you murmured, your fingers grazing the waistband of his bottoms.

He raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly.

Slowly, you slid his bottoms down, taking in the sight of his, long, thick cock with a mixture of nervousness and determination. He was big, but you could take him. His sharp inhale was audible as your lips wrapped around the head, his hand instinctively brushing against your cheek as you went down.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with awe.

Your fingers wrapped around his girth, careful and deliberate, and you began to stroke as you sucked with a rhythm that earned a quiet moan from him. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused, letting his quiet praises guide you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his fingers threading in your curls. “You’re doing so well.”

You glanced up at him, mouth full, eyes watering and saliva mixed with pre cum dripping down your chin. Your cheeks warmed from his words and the darkness of his gaze. The way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful little thing in the world as you took him down your throat made your heart race. You bobbed your head faster, using as much tongue as you could on his thick shaft, your actions conveying what words couldn’t.

The effect was immediate. His head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as his free hand gripped the fabric beneath him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “That pretty face of yours, how will I last?”

You couldn’t help but smile with his cock buried in your throat, your movements continued, now slower and purposeful as you went up and down. His breathing grew heavier, and his hand in your hair tightened slightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re too good,” he managed, his voice breaking slightly. “I—”

Before he could finish, the coil in him snapped, and his praises were replaced with a low, drawn out moan of relief. You swallowed the ropes of hot cum, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his gaze locking with yours almost immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his tone full of affection and disbelief. He reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours, savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

Your confidence emboldened by the way he looked at you with dazed, lust filled eyes. His hands still rested on your waist, fingers brushing your skin as you leaned into him, your voice soft but teasing.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, pussy aching for him.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hips. “Anything you want, princess,” he murmured.

You bit your lip as you shifted, settling over his hard cock with a nervous laugh that he silenced by cupping your cheek. “Take your time,” he said.

When you finally sank down onto his length, his hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you with a steady rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet moan he let out made you even wetter, and you instinctively leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest for balance.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with admiration. “You ride me so well, just like that.”

His praises made you bolder, and you bounced on his cock with more confidence, your breathing shallow as he let his hands roam, one sliding up to gently cup your tits. The warmth of his touch made you bite back a moan and his eyes darkened as he noticed.

“You’ve got to be quiet pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands still steadying you. “Think you can do that?”

You nodded quickly, though the feeling building inside you made it harder with every moment. His grip on your hips tightened, and he thrusted up into you, the two of you finding a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything but how he stretched your pussy. He was so big, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock after you were done.

“I want to cum with you,” you admitted breathlessly, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Inside me.”

Young-il’s breath hitched, his eyes meeting yours with pure lust. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Beg for it,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but the desire in his gaze made you bold. “Please,” you murmured, leaning closer. “I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice unsteady. “Just hold on to me.”

The pleasure between you reached its peak as his praises and your whispered pleas filled the air. When the release finally came, it was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his neck to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. His hands held you firmly in place as he came with you, cum spurting inside you while you soaked his cock, his breaths ragged but filled with relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured after a long pause, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. His gaze softened as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you settled against him. “So are you,” you whispered back, letting the moment linger in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

[giveemhales]

🦇 My 30 Favorite Batfam Fics of 2024 🦇

I’m continuing my annual tradition of sharing some of my favorite fics that came out in the past year (you can see last year’s list here). This is just a way for me to show my love and appreciation for the many amazing artists/writers who keep the fandom alive. If you read any of these fics, please make sure to leave some kudos and comments! And there are so many amazing fics I wasn’t able to include, so I encourage you to show some appreciation to your own favorites!

Please be sure to read all tags and warnings. I’ve provided warnings for the darkest fics.

All of these fics were completed in 2024. I only do one fic per author, but definitely check out all of these authors’ other works. Also, most of these feature tim, because he is my favorite. Now, without further ado…

Sparkles by @iselsis (2k, jason & bruce, fluff, a/b/o dynamics, batman finds an omega kid covered in cuddle pollen and going into heat)

until the bounds of death have been unwound by @vinelark (2.9k, tim & jason, fantasy and angst with a hopeful ending, tim is a demigod and he goes to save jason from the underworld) (the sequel is also great!)

Sacrificial Lamb by @kgraces (3.3k, tim & bruce, angst with a happy ending, bruce makes a deal with the devil to trade tim’s life for jason’s, his kids later find out) (this fic messed me up, i actually think about it all the time)

wouldn’t wish it by @green-eyedfirework (3.3k, jason & damian & tim, whump/angst with a hopeful ending, talia calls jason to save his brothers from the league of assassins) *READ THE TAGS

Lucky Number Three by @sohotthateveryonedied (3.4k, tim & bruce, angst and hurt/comfort, bruce has to deal with the consequences of his actions while he was under the influence of truth serum) (won’t make much sense unless you read this fic which honestly destroyed me)

Anything by @byrambles (3.5k, dick-centric, angst with a happy ending, bruce tells dick he wants to adopt his siblings, dick assumes this does not mean him)

possess by @envysparkler (4.6k, bruce-centric, angst with a happy ending, bruce is possessed by a demon that want, fortunately jason has magic swords)

The Guilt Never Really Left, You Know by @neuro-psyche (4.9k, dick & jason, angst with a happy ending, nightwing saves and then confronts red hood) *READ THE TAGS

Sacrifice by @onemuseleft (5.4k, bruce & his kids, light angst with a happy ending, the justice league is successfully negotiating with alien invaders until they request the sacrifice of one of Batman’s children)

you’ll be alright [or else] by @call-me-quill (5.9k, tim & jason, angst with a happy ending, tim takes a bullet meant for jason and doesn’t understand why jason is so upset)

the bed and breakfast by @adelfie (6.2k, dick-centric, fluff and angst with a happy ending, dick is stranded at a b&b during blizzard, things seem fine until he realizes he’s being held hostage)

with the exception of… by @dss1101 (6.4k, tim-centric, hurt/comfort, everyone realizes tim had a very different experience with his batman than all the other kids)

How to be a Little Brother by @die-erlkonigin6083 (7.4k, damian-centric, fluff and light angst, damian tries to learn how to be a good younger brother)

Reply ‘STOP’ to Unsubscribe by @motleyfam & @batmoniker (8.4k, jason & tim, angst with a happy ending, tim imagines his dad when he’s hit with fear gas at school) (this will probably make more sense if you read the rest of the series first, but I don’t think is strictly necessary (but you should read the series anyway bc it’s great))

Of A Genius’ Legacy by @sparkoflena (8.5k, tim-centric, fluff, tim graduates high school, a lot more people than he expected show up)

Flatline by @dragonpyre (8.9k, jason-centric, angst with a happy ending, jason is injected with a drug that basically shuts down his body, he has to watch his family’s reactions to finding his “dead” body)

Our Dead Drink the Sea by @ghost-bxrd (9.2k, jason-centric, angst with a happy ending, jason is a selkie and bruce kept his pelt when he died, the red hood takes the pelt and the batfam want it back)

In The Back Room by WhumpKing223 (9.9k, dick & jason & tim, heavy angst with a hopeful ending, batman discovers black mask is holding three boys captive, bruce wayne decides to take them in) (the rest of the series is about the boys’ time with bruce and it is great) *READ THE TAGS

Boom, Boom, Pow! by LilaVaporizer9000 (11.1k, tim-centric, absolute hilarity, kid tim steals the batmobile and wreaks havoc/ saves the day)

how to feed your local demon by @inkpotsprite (14.5k, tim & dick & bruce, fluff and humor and light angst, dick is an incubus and isn’t doing well after jason’s death, tim shows up to help)

the fire under your feet by @phneltwrites (17.8k, tim & jason & damian, angst with a happy ending, tim shows up to the league of assassins while jason is still there, they must team up to save damian from ra’s)

Perfect Storm by @banditywrites (25.1k, tim-centric, angst with a happy ending, tim is winning the game of not needing anything from his parents, but it starts getting harder and his neighbors are concerned)

you’re not defenseless, i’ll be your shelter by @fandomtrash-whataboutit (26.3k, tim-centric, angst with a hopeful ending, tim is lex luthor’s captive and is in charge of watching over the new captives- young justice) (the only batfam relationship in this is tim & dick, but the rest of the series has more batfam plus timkon and is so good)

Brother of the Fucking Year by @aceofdivinechlorophyll (26.4k, jason-centric, fluff and crack, jason makes plans to chaotically meet and bond with his siblings… as red hood) (will probably make more sense if you read the first part of the series first, which is also funny and great)

Join the Club by @cephalog0d (26.9k, jason & tim & dick, fluff and humor and light angst, where tim and jason meet at school, tim is dick’s biggest fan, and jason thinks it would be funny to make them meet) (this was filled for me for FTH but I would have included this fic regardless, it’s great)

What Christmas Means To Me by @taralaurel (29.9k, tim & dick & jason & bruce, fluff and angst, tim meets bruce when he is dressed as santa and asks for his parents to be home for Christmas, the batfam takes this as a challenge)

Screaming In The Dark (While We All Play Our Part) by @yourwakingnightmares (32.9k, dick & jason & tim & damian, heavy angst with a hopeful ending, the batboys are captives of a very evil batman, they escape and go to the justice league for help) (I also rec the sequel, which is ongoing and great) *READ THE TAGS

The Right Substitution is Key by @addictedapple (34.4k, jason-centric, fluff and crack and light angst, nightwing and batman go missing, robin asks red hood to fill in as batman)

the loneliness in worth by @yeeyee123 (56.1k, tim & damian, angst with a happy ending and humor, tim is supposed to be training in paris, he instead ends up with the league of assassins and decides he’s gonna help damian get to his father)

Northern Attitude (I Was Raised on Little Light) by @theskeptileptic (103.2k, tim-centric, heavy angst with a happy ending, tim is bruce’s biological son, jack drake has been punishing him his whole life for this, the batfam just want tim in their life) (technically not finished, but I didn’t put it in the WIP section as there is only one chapter left and it’s honestly at a satisfying stopping point) *READ THE TAGS, there is graphic child abuse

+5 WIPs I’d love to see more of in 2025!

[Refuge] by @raberbagirl (7.6k, tim & jason & dick, mostly fluff, the boys take refuge from the streets in the abandoned and supposedly haunted Wayne manor, the spirit of the manor is just happy to care for the kids)

a cuckoo in the nest by @antebunny (9.4k, tim-centric, angst and fluff, bruce makes a deal with the fae to get jason back, he has to take tim in in return, tim just wants to be loved)

Mine by @millytsworld (18k, jason & dick, angst with a happy ending, dick is the right hand man to an infamous mob boss (bruce) and decides jason is his new little brother, jason completely misunderstands dick’s intentions) *READ THE TAGS

Losing Time by hatlessmule (40.3k, tim-centric, angst (hopefully with a happy ending), tim finds himself in a universe where he doesn’t exist, the batfam want to know who this flighty kid is)

Care and Keeping and Kryptonite by @mild-and-hammered (96.9k, superbat ft. the bat kids, fluff and light angst, mild-mannered reporter clark is injured and has to stay with playboy bruce wayne and neither know the other’s secret identity, meanwhile bruce’s kids start meddling to bring the two closer together)

[cvnt4him]

Inexperienced izu thanks to candie

just izu who remembers over hearing not only on social media but from some of the guys that eating oysters help with the male cumshot, supposedly making it longer and more enjoyable for women! he obviously had never had a girlfriend before and wanted his partner to be happy with him. Izuku was slightly insecure of what he had, especially because he was on the short side too! Maybe he was overthinking it but he couldn't take any chances!!

The next day you'd see a complete shift in his diet, izuku always had some kind of protein based diet with tons of rice and some veggies to even it out of course but the way it seemed to strictly consist of more water cranberries celery and a ton of oysters concerned you. Izuku loves sea food by all means but too many of the same things get a little annoying, you walked over to izuku and seen him absolutely destroying the oysters and then everything else on his plate. Izu was an eater by all means but this was just crazy to you

“ izu?”

Izuku squeaked and jumped up at the sudden call of his name, nearly choking on his food as he slowly turned to face you swallowing the fuck ton of food he had in his mouth with a hard gulp.

“ oh.. uhm, hi baby! I- I mean uh.. honey...?”

Your heart couldn't help but to flutter at his nervousness, you and izuku had only been dating for about 4 months not that long but long enough to where you occasionally kiss and hold hands and just want to be around each other more. Izuku was your first boyfriend just as you were his first as well, you were easily as excited as he was if not more. Or so you thought...

You mean down and kiss his forehead ruffling his hair as you take a seat beside him making him blush, red crawling up his neck and completely covering his freckled face. He gave you a nervous smile as he scratched the back on his neck looking away from you.

“ don't feel forced to call me any pet names if you're not comfortable with it, izu.”

He hummed fiddling with his fingers. It's not that he didn't want to call you them, it's more than he wasn't sure which one. He feared that maybe if he called you the wrong one you'd cringe and die! You'd break up with him immediately and tell everyone he was lame! Of course you would, why would you even want to be with someone like him anyways..

“ what's with the sudden diet change zuzu?”

A ton of thoughts started taking over izukus mins, making him feel kind of bad about himself reminding him why he was even doing this to begin with. The question you asked him had him holding back to reality with wide eyes and an even more flushed expression, he was stuttering and his vocal range was rising hands moving all about as he came up with some sort of excuse.

“...uh..huh, so I have to go but uhm... maybe text me?”

You excused yourself figuring if he wanted to tell you he would. Not thinking much of it as you left, however izuku was beating himself up the entire time. You were probably so embarrassed to be his girlfriend, he was embarrassed. He couldn't even tell his girlfriend that he wanted to pleasure her but was too insecure about what he has and what it wouldn't be able to do so he asked around and got advice and now he's trying to change the way he eats to ensure he gives you a good time...whenever you're ready for that step, of course.

Izuku didn't tell you what was up so you asked around, despite wanting to leave it up to him to tell you, you were nervous. This is your first time having a boyfriend and normally izuku is quite open with you so of course the sudden change startled you. You end up asking the girls for advice first hoping they can give you just a little foresight in the situation.

“ so what's the problem?”

Mina asks you, changing out of her training uniform.

“ he just.. it's nothing too big I suppose, maybe I shouldn't even be all that worried.”

You think about it more, maybe it's not that big of a deal anyways..

“ don't beat yourself up too much you're allowed to be worried about him!”

Ochako chimes in helping you shut out any negative thoughts, she was good at that. You smile at her and sigh.

“ he's changed his diet like...a lot, drastically even. I'm concerned he's not getting all that he needs, I guess? I mean he's normally really good with himself and the way he eats y'know so there must be a reasoning behind the sudden change, especially because all it consists of is a couple of cranberries that I can remember and a couple sticks of celery and a shit ton of oysters. And water. Like two bottles”

The girls hummed at your words, thinking together at what it could possibly be. That wasn't much of a diet anyways given most of them dieted or watched their food to help maintain their image or to help them in any way they were sure this was quite strange.

“ well, the only time I eat cranberries or drink cranberry juice is to help my pH levels, maybe that's the case for him too. I hear they also make you taste better so y'know win win”

You hum at minas words, but would it provide the same results in him that it would someone with traditionally female anatomy? It stumped you.

“ same thing for water and oysters by the way! water helps clean out your system and balance everything inside of you, regardless of gender y'know given we're made up of water and all-”

Yaoyorozu then went on a ramble sesh providing information of the human body and how certain foods help. As helpful as this was for you it didn't really help in the case of izuku, why would he need to detox in such a big way?

Mina eventually cut yaomomo off explaining a Google search she'd found.

“ hey look what I found; supposedly it's common to think oysters can help you shoot ropes out of your dong.”

The double take you did when mins gave the news had her laughing, you just sat there wide eyed as the girls broke into conversation about it, blushing laughing and giggling about different things. Was izuku trying to... Had he thought about moving forward with you in such a big way? You bit your lip at the thought, maybe that was it. It made more sense to you than anything else. You had to talk to him and fast.

You ran to izukus room as fast as you could once the day was over and you were finished studying, your main priority was finding out the truth. You couldn't help but think about it on the jog there from the library to the dorm house. You didn't know how to feel about it, it's normal to want to move forward with your partner especially if you've been together for a while and haven't done anything, that was your case.

But you hadn't been together that long so..it's not as if he was sullying your relationship with his wants and needs you knew this day would come but...were you ready for this? The think about it wasn't too long given how you'd touched yourself a couple days earlier thinking about him.

Clearly the both of you were ready for this so why the wait? Suddenly you felt better about this and almost hoped that what you found out was the reasoning behind his sudden change. Once you made it to izukus room you caught your breath and were quick to knock on his door practically beating on it. There wasn't a quick answer, it took him a moment to stutter out a breathy response.

“ huh.. i- com..coming!!”

You heard shuffling and rearranging in his bedroom before the steps came closer, he swung the door open and his facial expression was slightly annoyed and he was sweaty chest lightly heaving up and down as his beautiful green eyes were lidded a light shade of red dusting over his cheeks. His shirt was kind of wrinkled and....on backwards?

“ oh! Y/n! what- what uhm are you doing here!!”

His expression changed immediately upon seeing you, the annoyed one being replaced with nervousness. You loved how nervy he got when he seen you, and how shaky he'd get when you would stand too close to him or kiss him or hug him. He was such a cutie

“ can I uh come inside?”

“ uh- yes! yes please- I- of course! come in!”

,“ thanks baby”

You walked past him and sat your bag down on the floor in front of his bed, fixing your skirt over your thighs as you waited for him to sit next to you. After studying you'd ran straight to his dorm and didn't get the time to change, unlike izuku who was in his adorable little set up. You couldn't help but to giggle at his backwards bed shirt and shorts as he sat next to you he got quite a blushed look at the sound of you giggling.

You lift a hand and cup his cheek kissing his nose with a smile causing him to literally melt in your hand, his face leaning into the warmth of your palm as his lids droop over his eyes, you could almost see hearts in them. He sighed through his nose and moved forward to kiss yours leaning his forehead against yours with a giggle that you gave back.

“ y'know your shirts on backwards my love.”

You whisper to him with your eyes closed and a gentle tone, you hear a little gasp come from him but he didn't move away just a mumble leaving him. You couldn't help but to giggle lowly at your boyfriend's cuteness.

“ I have something to ask you. I would appreciate if you told me the truth.”

That scared izuku to be completely honest. Why would you say something like this all of the sudden, you two were having such a cute moment and you randomly said that during it. He was frightened. Maybe you finally decided to get rid of him, he figured it was only a matter of time. He didn't want to jump to conclusions but what else could it be. You were absolutely perfect in his eyes, it was only a matter of time before you found someone equally as perfect. Maybe shoto, he'd really handsome and looks like he could be a model. Or maybe katsuki, he'd furiously attractive as well, or maybe-

“ did you change your diet because you heard it'll help you with sex..?”

You whispered lowly to him kind of embarrassed that you were even asking. Izuku squeaked out a pitchy "huh?!" at your question. That was NOT what he thought you were going to say let alone ask. But yes, that was indeed why he changed the way he ate. He wanted to be better for you in case you decided that you were ready. But he couldn't tell you that, oh no, he couldn't even move. He had moved away from you and simply looked at you with wide eyes and a crazy blush taking over his features. He was speechless.

“ I...just overheard that some of the things you were eating and the way you were drinking tons of water supposedly helps with....uhm rather intimate acts..?”

He was shaking literally speechless and shaking. You could hear the shakyness in his stuttering which is surprising. He didn't know what to do let alone say to you, he was so embarrassed that you'd found out. You probably think he's such a loser now..

“ ...if..if you wanted to do something like that. I wouldn't be opposed.”

If his already widened eyes could get any more wide they would. You literally seen the way they wanted to pop out of his head, it honestly made you laugh.

“ izuku calm down hun! you're so red and you look like your eyes are gonna pop out of your head!”

“ i- I just-...”

He covered his face with his hands whinging beneath them and falling into your arms, you laugh out awing at him rubbing his back as he whined into the crook of your neck, he was so embarrassed that not only had you caught on but you wanted to stay with him and you wanted to do more with him. He really felt like he could die.

“ why is your shirt on backwards, honey”

You coo down to him with laughter laced in your voice, he whines once more peeking up to look at you in your eyes before averting eye contact. His brows furrowed in embarrassment you could see the blush taking over his features, he trusted you a lot and he wanted you to know that. Maybe if he told you the truth then....

“ ....I was...”

He mumbled the rest to the point it was unheard by you. You hum brushing your finger over his forehead removing some hair from in front of his eyes making him get even more flustered as if that were even possible.

“ ...you know...”

Literally nothing came to your mind when he said that, definitely not what he said next.

“ I was.. masturbating....”

He said it lowly expecting not to be heard once again however you heard him all too well. It was your turn for your eyes to widen. You were shocked to say the least, it's not that you didn't expect izuku to...indulge. you just didn't think you would catch him in the act.

Given your lack of response he felt a rush of shame, he was so embarrassed that he told you. You must've thought he was a disgusting slob who lusts after himself like some....creep! To his surprise you continued taking your fingers through his hair and even placed a kiss on top of his head making him lift up to look at you with slightly glassy eyes.

“ is that so, my love.”

You spoke softly in attempts to calm him down, you figured he felt somewhat ashamed of himself given his lack of response. He was prone to getting in his feelings when things went south. However in izukus eyes the way you spoke to him was so sultry and seductive, the way you cooed to him and looked down at him with love in your eyes despite what he does.

“ ...b- but it was only to see if anything had changed! y'know because..I changed the way I ate to...to..”

“ so I was right!”

Izuku hums in embarrassment laying his cheek on your chest. You pull his head up to kiss his lips, he absolutely melts in your arms rough lips meeting with your soft ones in a sweet and gentle dismay. You were so soft with him and so patient too, he couldn't help but to want more given you'd interrupted his....activities that he normally indulges in after class is out of when he has time.

He climbed on top of you and laid you down on his pillows letting one of his knee find it's way in between your legs and his hands on your sides just sitting there not daring to move any further without your authorization.

The kiss grew sloppier more full of need from both ends, you heard a groan leave him as he felt you slightly grind down on to his knee, he broke away from your lips momentarily to catch a breath, it fanning over your face before he experimentally shoved his tongue in your mouth it was only to test the waters, he never expected you to moan into the kiss making his already hardened cock twitch against your thigh his breath hitched at the unexpected movement from his member the kiss broke and he didn't want to look at you.

He was red from embarrassment and being heavily turned on, he wanted you but didn't want to push your boundaries. He bit his bottom lip and exhaled shakily. To his surprise you flipped him over and was now on top of him rubbing his chest with your hands, he looked up at you with his wide green eyes izuku was ready for whatever you wanted as long as you wanted it with him.

You ground your hips into his slowly to see his reaction and to your surprise his head slowly rolled back along with his eyes earning a deep gasp, his hands immediately rushing to your hood and gently squeezing. He tried to raise his hips into your head as you continued grinding over for you to stop with a laugh. he sighed quickly, extremely upset at the stop of movement.

“ ..baby....please?”

So whiney. He was such a sweet thing, you figured he deserved it. why not make your first time truly memorable?

[gothicfied]

more for 124 :(((((((

Hand in Hand - Nam-gyu / Player 124

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x Reader

Summary: The fight in the men's bathroom and the rising tension between players gave you much to worry about, but Nam-gyu gave you to comfort you needed

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, blood, killing (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 721 words

A/N: Tihihihi, I love this man fr. I hope this isn't too cringe🧍‍♀️

You couldn't sleep, actually, no one was able to sleep. Sitting on the bed under you was Nam-gyu, who didn't want to talk to you - talk to anybody - after the fight was broken up. You immediately understood what was up when he yelled out that the men who voted 'X' had attacked them, killing some of the players. Thanos didn't return. Yeah, it was pretty obvious why he seemed so pissed off, so shell-shocked. Quietly, you sat up, carefully leaning down to see what he was doing. Nam-gyu was biting his fingernails, eyeing Thanos' cross necklace that he was holding in his slightly shaky hands. Seeing you leaning down from the corner of his eye, he frowned.

"What?"

"I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I'm scared.."

Nam-gyu's face immediately softened upon hearing your words. He swallowed hard and hastily tucked the necklace into his pocket, gesturing for you to come down and sit next to him. As gently as possible to not catch anyone elses attention, you dropped down from your bed and leaned against the headboard of Nam-gyu's bed, your shoulder pressed against his. "Are you sad?" you asked quietly, just looking down at your lap as you spoke. You heard his breath hitching for a moment, but he still asked you what you meant by that. "Sad about- well you know." Silence.

Nam-gyu wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He has witnessed so many deaths in this place by now and none of them have affected him in the slightest. He didn't know them well, so why should he care about a random player? "Because, I'm not sure if I should be." your voice interrupted his thoughts. Slowly, he turned his head your way, taking in your side profile in the dim light. "Nah," Nam-gyu chuckled, "he was an asshole. Had it coming, in my opinion." Despite his words, he sounded bitter. It's not like he didn't mean them, because that's exactly how Thanos was, but they still had some kind of.. friendship.

You met his gaze, your eyes wandering over his face covered in splatters of blood. That was worrying by itself, but you didn't have any interest in asking about what role he played in that fight. "And why are you scared?" You looked at him like he asked you the most stupid question in the world.

"Come on, you know everyone will try to kill each other now."

"And you know that I won't let anything happen to you."

Ever since he defended you from a group of men, who were making more than weird comments about you, immediately on the first day you woke up in this hellhole, you've just stuck with him. On multiple occasions now, Nam-gyu has proven that he actually won't let anything or anyone harm you. Why? He doesn't know it, either. He just likes you and you didn't take that for granted. Nam-gyu made you feel safe, you trusted him, even if that's hard to believe. Usually, he'd be compliant with what Thanos would say or tell him to do, just not when he was giving you a hard time — That's partially why he just couldn't feel sorry for that man.

Slowly, Nam-gyu wrapped his arm around your neck, making you lean your head against his. The silence between you two was never awkward and more comforting than anything. You were able to hear faint whispers of other players, feet tapping the ground and the occasional cough from that old guy, Player 100. Nam-gyu's hair tickled the side of your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Whatever happens tonight, I promise I'll keep you safe."

[sevenangrybees]

YES!!! YEAS!!!!!!! I also think about Flamela yelling at Mithrun over the fairy when he first wakes up in The Big Shirt. She tells him to do his duty to the queen! The queen she fucking hates!!! I think Flamela thinks she's subtle when she absolutely is not. She tries to hide her resentment towards the queen out of necessity (in Queen Hemea's blurb in the new adventure's bible it says the Canaries report to her directly and Flamela's the Deputy, so having open personal beef with the queen would be bad for her job prospects, if not her survival prospects), and tries to cover them with very loud false patriotism. But of course, because she is Not Subtle, everyone who knows her knows she's full of shit.

Mithrun meanwhile definitely played the nobility social game before getting shipped of to the Canaries, probably after as well when on leave, and he was good at it! We see from Milsiril's extra that he was largely well regarded and "perfect" from her perspective. He'd have social skills! He'd know how to schmooze and leverage his family's wealth and status, how to charm people, and collect information and allies!

He has all the skills to be the perfect scheming mean girl at the office, but he can't be fucking bothered, and that makes it worse!!! He used to be the EPITOME of the parts of society that Flamela hates. He would have been her perfect rival, except. He just. Doesn't care.

She could back talk him all day, say shit that would get her court martialed by any other commanding officer to him, and if it doesn't interfere with his ability to delve dungeons, he does not give a single shit. No reaction. And that's the WORST because what she wants more than anything is to FIGHT, but Mithrun just won't (read can't) give her that, so she hates him even more!

And he's everything she wants to be: competent, able to pit himself against danger and prove himself, unaffected (as far as she knows) by the gossip and behind the back talk all around them. Like, of COURSE new recruits gossip about Mithrun, he's got a rivating, juicy, and mysterious history, butt once they get over that and his desirelessness, there's just not much to talk about. He's predictable, he doesn't do anything interesting or scandalous except get his seconds killed, and death's just part of the job.

Meanwhile Flamela's EVERY MOVE is probably subject to endless discussion because of her royal heritage, and unlike Mithrun (as she sees him) she's not made of stone!! She wants to be as unflappable and untouchable as he is, but everything she idolized about Mithrun is either something he hates about himself or a self destructive coping mechanism.

I think she's obsessed with him. I think everyone else thinks she has a misplaced crush on him and bullies him because of it, and no matter what she says no one believes her when she says she just hates him!!! Because she doesn't just hate him, but she's not gonna say that she idolizes him as someone who has everything she wants and is everything she wants to be. Both cause she not recognize those feelings it and because could you IMAGINE the field day everyone would have gossiping about that????

Ryoko Kui's characters make me go fucking rabid cause she knows how to imply so much complexity with so little. (I think about Mithrun's "I used to drink a lot before I became like this, and I acted poorly." so fucking much cause it implies he used to cope with his insecurities through alcohol and behaved in a way he knew was unacceptable, but did it anyway. It's so much fucking complexity added by a single sentence in an alcohol tolerance extra!!!) She really is one of the best to ever do it.

elf drama i just made up

[janiehellion]

Revved Up

ONESHOT

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Learning to ride a motorcycle should’ve been simple. After all, you knew your way around bikes better than anyone in Alexandria—except Daryl Dixon. But one crash and one pissed-off redneck later, and you're stuck with him giving you a hands-on crash course in focus and control.

���ᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: DARYL DIXON X FEM!READER

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: SMUT / LANGUAGE / MINOR INJURIES / VAGINAL FINGERING / CUNNILINGUS / SEMI-PUBLIC / ROUGH SEX / PAIN PLAY / MARKING

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 14.441

ꜱᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ: S05E13—ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ & S05E14—ꜱᴘᴇɴᴅ

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ's ɴᴏᴛᴇ: My first oneshot of 2025—and my longest yet! Sorry, not sorry, for the length; Daryl Dixon refused to stop until the lesson was fully drilled in. Hope it's worth the ride.

MASTERLIST & REQUEST GUIDELINES

You couldn't take your eyes off of him.

Out of everyone from the new group in Alexandria, he was the one who made the least effort to fit in. He was quiet and always looked ready to leave, like this wasn't a place to call home. He preferred to keep his distance, doing his own thing around the community, and that made him even more interesting to you.

Daryl Dixon was certainly different from the rest.

The first time you caught him working on the motorcycle and the parts he got from Aaron, in Aaron's and Eric's garage, something caught your attention. It wasn't just the way he moved, though the way his hands worked on the machine was something you couldn't ignore. No, it was more than that, and it pulled you in.

And for you?

The sound of metal and the smell of oil were all too familiar. You'd grown up around motorcycles and spent hours watching your old man work on his Harley Davidson most of the time, until you decided to become a mechanic after school, especially for motorcycles. That knowledge was something you didn't share with many others in Alexandria, but when you saw Daryl putting that motorcycle together piece by piece, you figured it might be a good way to start a conversation, if nothing else.

Sure, he kept to himself mostly, spending more time with his crossbow than with humans. But it made him stand out in a place where most people were getting used to living 'normally' again. And you didn't want anything normal. You wanted real.

That's what led you to the garage.

Daryl, of course, was bent over the motorcycle he'd been working on for some time now.

As you walked closer, you pretended to inspect his work. "What is this, a '92 Honda? Nice setup. Yamaha front end, though? Bit of a Frankenstein's monster, huh?"

That got his attention. "The hell ya know 'bout bikes?"

You shrugged, smirking at him. "What, do you think just 'cause I live in Alexandria, I can't tell a carburetor from a walker? Oh, please."

He hadn't spoken to you much since he arrived, but then again, Daryl didn't talk to anyone much. But you? You barely ever got a grunt in your direction since he'd been here.

"Looks like it's finally coming together," you started, trying to sound bored. It was a shitty way to break the ice, but small talk wasn't your thing after all.

Daryl didn't even look up. Grease covered his hands, and his current expression made him look like he'd rather punch you than say hello.

"Yeah, maybe if ya'd stop annoyin' my ass," he murmured, tightening a bolt.

"I'm only annoying the bike," you snorted. "And I'm making sure it doesn't fall apart the second you ride it out of the community."

That earned you a glare. A quick one. And you held his stare for that moment, refusing to look away.

"So yer always this annoyin'?" He shot back, wiping his hands on a rag and finally standing up to his full height.

"You tell me. So what is it? This… special kind of build?" You asked, gesturing to the motorcycle. You had to admit, it did look quite nice.

His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be a little surprised about your curiosity. "Do ya really know bikes?"

You shrugged, playing it cool. "Enough to know that this isn't a normal setup, but that's just personal taste, you know?"

"It'll work."

"Sure, until it doesn't," you continued with a smirk. "But hey, it's your funeral. Or someone else's if that thing gives out mid-run."

He grunted, clearly not in the mood to admit you might have a point.

"Still, not bad for what you had to work with. Must've been a pain in the ass to track down some of the other parts," you moved closer, getting a better look at the setup. "But I heard Aaron's been helping you out. He's good with scavenging stuff. Though, I bet he didn't know half of what you needed."

That got a grunt of agreement from Daryl. "He ain't bad. Jus' don't need anyone watchin' when I'm workin'."

"Noted." You raised your hands, but you didn't back off. Instead, you crouched next to the machine, inspecting the details up close. You could feel Daryl's eyes on you, probably wondering what the hell you were doing.

After a moment of silence, you looked up at him again. "You ever really gonna take this thing out, or are you just building it for the hell of it?"

Daryl looked over to the garage door as if he was thinking whether or not to answer. Finally, he sighed. "Gonna use it. Aaron wants me on the road, recruitin' and all. Need somethin' fast."

"Yeah? And what if you end up with a flat tire out there? Wait, that might not even be a problem, since it kind of looks like you're building yourself a time machine there," you answered, standing up. "But you're gonna need more than just duct tape and spit to get this thing running."

Daryl's eyes narrowed again. "Told ya I know what I'm doin'," he snapped, his hand tightening around the wrench like he was itching to throw it at you.

But you weren't about to be ignored that easily. "You've really got some interesting mismatched parts here. Yamaha forks on a Honda… Look, I'm just saying that you might wanna check the suspension before you ride outta here. Unless you're aiming to get launched off it."

"Gonna manage."

You snorted. "Sure, you will. But hey, if you ever feel like teaching someone else how to ride, I wouldn't mind learning. I mean, someone's gotta be around to save your ass when that thing tries to kill you."

Daryl shot you a look, his jaw clenching slightly, but this time, he just stared at you like you were the most confusing person he'd ever seen.

"Ya wanna learn how to ride?" His voice sounded annoyed, like the idea was somehow offensive to him, but there was also some slight disbelief to be heard as if he wasn't sure why you'd ask him of all people. "Ain't got time for that. Got 'nough problems without babysittin'."

"Come on," you pressed further. "What's the harm? Or is the asshole routine just for me? Besides, if you ever crash, I promise I'll write you some kinda eulogy. Something about how you died doing what you loved—which is looking perpetually pissed off."

You could've sworn you saw the slightest smirk, but Daryl quickly busied himself with the motorcycle, like he hadn't shown you might really have a point with your tips.

Keeping your voice casual, you stepped back. "Let me know if you change your mind," you continued, brushing off your knees. "Might be fun."

With that, you gave him one last smirk and turned around, leaving him to think about whatever he thought of you.

You spent the next couple of days trying not to think about Daryl Dixon, which was about as easy as trying not to notice a walker biting your arm. But despite your best efforts to act like it was no big deal, the thought of riding that motorcycle—and more specifically, him teaching you—kept making its way into your head.

Daryl didn't say anything about your offer for those few days, too. Hell, he didn't say much of anything, really. He'd pass by you in Alexandria, his crossbow by his side, always looking like someone just spit in his drink. But you had gotten used to the silent treatment by now, so you didn't let it get to you... much.

Indeed, it didn't take long to figure out that convincing Daryl Dixon to teach you how to ride a motorcycle was like trying to herd cats—but grumpy, feral ones… with knives.

It was late afternoon when you found yourself near the garage again, and you hadn't planned on seeing him, but let's face it, you were intrigued. And there he was—still working on the motorcycle and still looking like it personally insulted him.

However, the thing looked all patched together with scavenged pieces and maybe a little bit of wishful thinking. It had a certain look to it, like it wanted to run off into the wild and never come back.

Daryl didn't even move. He didn't look your way. He just kept wrenching something near the seat before he glared at you like you'd asked him to solve a math problem.

"Thought I'd come by and bless you with my knowledge once more," you announced, smirking as you leaned against the workbench.

Daryl only rolled his eyes—actually rolled them—like he couldn't believe he had to put up with you again. "Ain't nobody asked for that."

"Yeah, well, nobody asked for that bike to look like it's held together with a plea and a prayer, but here we are," you shot back, leaning forward slightly. "'Livin' on a Prayer,' in fact."

He grunted, shoving the wrench into the toolbox with force. "The hell do ya know 'bout motorcycles, anyway?"

"I do know motorcycles! I told you, didn't I? And that thing," you pointed to the machine, "is one bad pothole away from turning into scrap metal."

Daryl scoffed, clearly not a fan of having his work criticized, especially by someone who, in his eyes, hadn't earned the right to say something about it. "It'll hold. 'S a good bike."

"Sure, sure," you said, grinning at him. "But if you're so confident, why don't you accept my offer? Teach me how to ride. Let's see if this thing here can handle it."

He stared at you for a long moment, like he was thinking about his options. You could practically see the gears running in his head—whether to shut you down and tell you to piss off or give in just to prove you wrong.

"Ya serious 'bout this?"

"Dead serious," you said, holding his stare. "What? Are you afraid?"

His nostrils flared in the way they did when he seemed to be two seconds from snapping at you, but instead, he just turned back to his work. "Ya wanna learn? Fine. But don't come cryin' to me when ya hurt yer ass."

"Oh, don't worry, Dixon. If I hurt my ass, I'll make sure you hurt yours, too," you said, biting back a laugh as you straightened up. "But I swear, this thing's gonna be your mid-life crisis. What's next, leather pants and chaps?"

He showed you one of those stares again—half-annoyed, half-confused—like he wasn't sure if he should bother responding or pretend you didn't exist.

"Ya done?"

"Done? I'm here to save you from yourself, Daryl. You keep this up, and in a week, you're gonna be having a mullet and wearing a crop top."

He stared at you like you'd grown an extra head. "What the hell're ya talkin' 'bout?"

"Mid-life crisis, Daryl. First, it's the bike. Then, it's questionable fashion choices. Next thing you know, you're coming back from a run with a Corvette and crying over Bon Jovi ballads. I'm just here to make sure it won't happen."

"Ain't havin' no damn crisis."

You smirked. "Uh-huh. That's what they all say. Just remember, I offered to help. I can't wait to see you when you're rocking those chaps and a bandana."

"So, ya still wanna learn to ride or not?" His voice sounded definitely pissed off.

You raised your eyebrows, as if in shock. "Oh my, was that an offer in return? From you? I'm touched, really. Let me just—" You pretended to wipe a tear away from your eye and sob. "This moment's very special to me."

"Shut up," he grumbled, but his voice gave way that he almost sounded amused.

"I'm just saying, this is progress," you said. "Next thing I know, we'll be exchanging friendship bracelets."

Daryl didn't respond right away, but you thought you had seen enjoyment, maybe? Or irritation. It was hard to tell with him. Either way, he was back on his feet now, pulling the motorcycle upright and kicking the stand back. Soon enough, the familiar sound of the engine made its way through the garage, and damn if it didn't make your pulse race just a little.

"Get on."

His sudden words made you blink at him in surprise. "Wait, like… right now? Where's the foreplay, Dixon? At least buy me a drink first."

"Nah, when I'm dead. Yeah, right now," he snapped, unable to believe you were even asking.

"Okay, okay," you mumbled, swinging your leg over the motorcycle with as much confidence as you could have at that moment. The seat seemed normal, but it still felt bigger than you expected.

Daryl stepped beside you, his arms crossed as he watched you. "Ya know how to start?"

"Of course I do," you said, reaching for the handlebars.

You were halfway through fumbling with the throttle at first when Daryl's hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. "That ain't how ya do it," he growled as he leaned in. "First lesson: This here's the throttle—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know what a throttle is," you interrupted, waving him off. "I'm not a complete idiot. I could turn this thing into scrap and piece it back together if you wanted me to, so..."

His eyes narrowed. "Then maybe shut up and listen."

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You couldn't help it—pissing him off was just too easy.

"Clutch on the left, throttle on the right," he continued, his fingers tapping the handlebars. "Brake's here. Don't yank it like an idiot." He then gave the machine a once-over. "Ya pull the clutch, twist the throttle slowly. Too much, and yer gonna stall it."

"Okay, understood. Show me."

Daryl let out a frustrated sigh but soon moved behind you, reaching around to grip the handlebars. His strong chest pressed against your back, and you immediately forgot how to breathe.

"Ya gotta ease into it," he instructed while his fingers guided yours on the throttle.

"Uh-huh, yeah, sure, ease into it," you mumbled, trying to sound unimpressed. "And what happens if I don't ease into it? The whole thing explodes?"

"Nah. Ya gonna wipe out an' eat dirt," he shot back, his lips showing a bit of a smirk. "But maybe ya'll learn faster that way."

"Yeah, well, I've eaten worse," you answered, glancing over your shoulder at him. "Besides, I doubt you've ever taught anyone how to ride before. What if you're just a terrible teacher?"

He huffed against your neck. "Ain't teachin' ya much. Now, idle it forward."

You followed his instructions, twisting the throttle just enough to get the engine purring beneath you. The vibration went through your legs, and despite yourself, you had to admit it felt very, very good.

"Okay, now what?" You asked, trying to sound bored even though the adrenaline was starting to kick in.

"Now ya balance," Daryl said, his voice neutral like this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Try not to fall over." You could feel his eyes on you, judging every movement you made. "Quit messin' 'round. Friction Zone is how ya idle forward."

You shot him a look but did as he said, trying not to stall the motorcycle. For a second, you wobbled, and you swore you heard Daryl whisper something—probably betting on how soon you'd crash.

But you didn't. You steadied yourself. It was a weird feeling—kind of thrilling, kind of terrifying.

"Well, look at that," you said, showing him a grin. "Didn't fall over. Guess you're not the worst teacher after all."

"Jus' keep 'em hands on the bars," he instructed, his voice rather patient—well, as patient as Daryl ever got.

You did as he said, gripping the handlebars harder, trying not to think about how close you were to him. His smell wasn't exactly unpleasant. In fact, it was kind of… intoxicating.

Not that you'd ever admit that to him out loud.

"Fine, so what's next? Do I just rev it up and hope for the best?"

Daryl snorted, clearly unimpressed with you being unable to wait. "Ya listen, or yer gonna end up on yer ass."

"You know, Daryl, I don't usually take threats during lessons, but I'll make an exception for you."

His grip tightened on the handlebars, and you thought he might just leave you there. But he didn't. "Don't jerk the damn throttle, woman, or yer gonna take off too fast."

"Throttle, got it. Don't jerk it off. Guess I'll save that one for later." You wiggled your eyebrows, even though he couldn't see it.

Daryl stiffened, grumbling something you didn't quite catch, though it definitely wasn't a compliment.

"C'mon now, twist it—slowly," he ordered.

You followed his lead, the motorcycle easing forward just a bit as you worked the throttle.

"There ya go," Daryl said, his voice sounding a bit less harsh now that you weren't about to play around. "Gotta ease into it."

"Wow, who knew you could be so supportive?" You teased. "Almost makes me think you care."

He grunted. "Jus' don't wanna pick yer ass up off the ground."

"Got it, got it. Now, let's see if I can actually ride this thing without killing myself."

Daryl's hand moved to the clutch, his fingers touching yours as he guided you through the motions. You weren't sure if it was the machine or him, but your heart was beating much faster than usual. Maybe it was both. Either way, you were in for one hell of a ride.

His hand was warm, calloused, and—despite everything—comforting as he guided you out of the garage.

"Okay, slow down a bit, but not too much," he instructed, his voice almost a growl. The way he said it made you shiver, but you refused to let it show. You could be cool about this, right?

"Or I could just go full throttle and see how far I can fly through the streets of Alexandria," you laughed back.

"Real funny," he answered, rolling his eyes. "Jus' don't fuck up. Y'ain't flyin' nowhere. Ya gotta keep it steady."

"Right, no jerking off," you said, moving your head to the side just enough to glance at him. "That's usually my motto, you know, but I can make an exception for you regarding that as well."

"Focus. Don't push it," he warned. "Ya gotta keep yer focus on the bike, not me."

"Really? I thought you were my main distraction." You leaned back a little. "Sure, I'll focus. But I'm also pretty good at multitasking." As you worked the throttle again, you felt a rush of adrenaline. "So, what happens if I actually do fall? You gonna come to my rescue?"

Daryl didn't answer immediately. Instead, he loosened his grip on the handlebars, his body tense next to you. "Ya get back up. Everyone falls. 'S what ya do afterward that matters."

"Profound," you smirked. "You should start writing poetry! 'When life knocks you down, just get back on your bike.' Classic wisdom."

"Shut up and drive."

The motorcycle moved as you used the throttle too hard, and you fought to regain control, laughing nervously. "Shit! Maybe I should have listened to that part about not jerking it!"

He sighed, not bothering to hide his amusement this time. "Ya keep talkin', and ya might jus' convince me to kick ya off myself."

"Promises, promises," you smirked, adrenaline rushing through you, making everything feel a bit more exciting.

He grumbled something again—probably another insult—but he didn't try to stop you. Your movements weren't exactly smooth, but it was a start.

"You're a terrible teacher, by the way," you soon said, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye.

"Good," Daryl answered. "Means ya won't ask me to do this shit again."

You were just getting into the rhythm, feeling the motorcycle beneath you and getting the hang of it, when you heard the sound of footsteps getting closer behind you.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Aaron's voice destroyed the moment, and you felt Daryl tense near you.

"Shit," he groaned, practically gritting his teeth. You tried to process what was happening as you got off the seat, the way Daryl's body stiffened and the smirk faded from your lips.

"Oh, nothing, just a little driving lesson," you announced, trying to keep going despite the sudden stop. "Motto: 'Try Not to Die, but If You Do, It Ain't My Problem.'"

Aaron laughed, walking closer to you both. "So, it's finally finished?" He looked at the machine, inspecting the mix of parts that somehow came together into something that resembled a proper motorcycle.

"Jus' 'bout," Daryl replied dryly.

Aaron raised an eyebrow, looking from you to Daryl, who was already stepping away from him and you.

"That's great. Looks like you're making some great progress," Aaron continued, stepping closer.

"Ain't needin' ya to worry 'bout that," Daryl grumbled, the annoyance in his voice unmistakable. "Lesson's over."

"Wait, what? You can't just—"

"Don't push it," he snapped, shooting you a look that said he was done. "Ya wanna learn, ya have to find someone else."

You blinked, stunned as he walked away with the motorcycle by his side. "Daryl, stop!"

"Forget 'bout it," he called back, almost like his voice belonged to a different person. "Y'ain't ready."

Your frustration boiled over, and you turned to Aaron, arms crossed. "Thanks for ruining my lesson, by the way. Just what I needed today—more interruptions."

Aaron frowned, glancing between you and Daryl again as he watched him walk away. "What did you expect? He's still new here. Trying to keep his distance from the rest of us."

"Yeah, well, he doesn't need to be an asshole about it," you snapped. "I was getting somewhere!"

"You have to understand that the whole group has been through a lot. Daryl's not always going to be open with people," he explained, but it didn't help your mood.

"I get that, but I was just trying to learn something! Guess it's my fault for thinking he could actually teach me without being a complete asshole about it."

"Maybe give it some time?" Aaron suggested, his voice softer now, sounding more sympathetic. "He'll come around."

"Maybe," you sighed, running a hand through your hair in frustration. "But just when I thought I could finally get him to smile and to talk, you pull this."

Aaron's expression was by now somewhere between concern and curiosity as you huffed, glaring at Daryl walking away.

"Really, Aaron…" You continued, throwing your hands in the air. "You couldn't have waited five goddamn minutes longer to come and ruin my day? You see me finally making some progress, and you think, 'Oh, hey! The perfect time to interrupt!'"

Aaron raised his hands defensively. "Hey, I didn't mean to ruin anything. I didn't know you two were having... whatever that was."

"Whatever that was?" You repeated, your voice rising. "It was a goddamn driving lesson! Or, at least, it was supposed to be before you came along with your good intentions and your bad timing!"

Aaron frowned, the tone in his voice still kind, but he wasn't backing down. "Look, I was just checking in because I heard the sound of the engine. I thought Daryl wanted to head out, and I only wanted to see if he's done with his work on the bike. I didn't realize you were both so busy."

"Busy?" You let out a loud laugh, shaking your head. "You know what? Forget it. Next time I'm about to get Daryl Dixon to do something other than grunt or skin dead animals on the porch, I'll write you a goddamn note so you don't fuck it up. Now he's all pissed off and stomping away with my only chance at learning how to ride a damn bike and not kill myself."

"I doubt he's mad at you," Aaron responded. "Daryl's complicated. Like the rest of the group. They're still very new here. And you were the same when I found you and brought you here. But you're probably closer to getting through to him than anyone else."

You snorted. "Yeah, sure. 'Cause nothing says 'bonding' and 'getting to know each other' like storming off with his damn Franken-bike in a hurry. Really fucking touching."

Aaron smiled, squeezing your shoulder. "Just think about it."

You exhaled loudly, putting your hands on your hips. "Sounds like it's from a fortune cookie. Thanks for nothing."

With that, Aaron simply walked off, leaving you alone.

Soon, some days had passed since your lesson with Daryl. Days that quickly turned annoying when you realized he was avoiding you like you were the last slice of cold pizza at a party.

It felt weird.

Like, ridiculously weird.

And it didn't help that every time you tried to casually walk into the garage or catch him before he went on a supply run, he was either nowhere to be found or suddenly too busy to talk. You even half-expected to see a 'Do Not Disturb' sign near the bike.

It wasn't like you were stalking him—okay, maybe a little—but it was hard to stop thinking about him.

"Should I ask for him? Should I knock on the garage door? Maybe he's just sleeping? Or dead?" You laughed at the last thought. With Daryl, it wasn't a real possibility.

Finally, you sighed and decided to call it a day. "Alright, Daryl Dixon, you win," you said to yourself, kicking the dirt as you turned to leave.

But just as you made it halfway down the street, you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps, followed by a clink of metal that made your heart race. You turned, and there he was—finally. Daryl Dixon, leaning against the side of the garage, arms crossed, his eyes hidden behind his hair, and with a cigarette in one hand.

Oh no, you're not getting away this time.

"Been hiding from me, huh?" You asked as soon as you reached him. "Gonna run off again? Or maybe you've just been too busy?" You faked a yawn, your eyes narrowing. "Or hiding from the bike lesson, maybe?"

Daryl simply scoffed, the only sign of life you got out of him as you stood a few inches from him. His eyes looked down, clearly not thrilled to see you standing there, but you didn't give a damn.

You put your hands on your hips, pretending to inspect him like he was the most boring human in Alexandria. "Hey… You did promise, you know? I didn't just imagine that part now, did I?"

"Dunno what yer talkin' 'bout."

You raised an eyebrow, your smile growing wider. "Oh? Sure feels like it. Guess you finally realized you're not as good of a teacher as you think."

Daryl sighed, sounding not only frustrated but... pissed off? Maybe both?

"Don't need to explain shit to ya," he grumbled in return.

You grinned, shrugging. "Well, if you're busy doing... whatever it is you do when you're not being an asshole, I guess I'll just go back to trying to learn from someone else." You turned to leave, but not without looking back over your shoulder again. "Don't worry. I won't ask you to teach me again."

That got him. He pushed himself off the garage, taking a few steps closer.

"You promised, Daryl. Or is that just another thing you like to say and not follow through with? You were gonna teach me. Not that I care; I'm sure I'll learn from someone else... unless you finally stop being an ass," you taunted, still looking over your shoulder at him.

Daryl's hand shot out before you could get too far, catching your arm in a grip that could've cracked a tree in half if he wanted it to. He was definitely pissed.

With a growl, he yanked you back toward him. "Fine. I'll teach ya. But not here. Not in Alexandria." He released your arm. "Meet me by the gates. Tomorrow, at dawn."

Without waiting for a response, Daryl walked back inside, leaving you standing there with a grin.

The next morning, you woke up early, a little earlier than you'd planned, but that was the least of your problems. There was a knot in your stomach that you couldn't get rid of, not even with a few stretches or by putting on your clothes.

This wasn't just another run. It wasn't just another 'do this or die trying' kinda deal. No, this was different. And for some reason, you were extremely nervous. What was he gonna do? What was he thinking?

You threw on your jacket, tied your boots like they were the last thing you'd ever do, and then... you hesitated.

What the hell was wrong with you?

With a deep breath, you forced yourself out the door and towards the gates of Alexandria. When you finally made it, you saw him. There he was—Daryl Dixon, standing there like he was waiting for the bus, except minus the whole 'bus' part. The motorcycle was leaned up against the walls, and he was staring straight ahead as if you were the last person he wanted to see right now.

"Well, damn. You did show up. Thought maybe you'd hide behind that attitude of yours for another day," you said, taking your time to walk up to him, not quite giving a damn whether he was ready for you or not.

But Daryl didn't even acknowledge you. He just flicked his cigarette away and gave you a look that could probably kill.

He then grunted, clearly not amused. "Ain't here to talk."

You looked at him, smirking a little. "Oh, I thought we were here to talk. 'Cause last time I checked, you were too busy to teach me anything useful. Guess you did promise, isn't that right?" You continued and raised an eyebrow. "So... what's the deal, huh? You just gonna stand there, or are we gonna start this driving lesson?"

He was still giving you that dead-eyed stare like you just asked him to swallow down rusty nails. The way Daryl was looking at you, all calm but irritated at the same time—it made everything weirder. But now, you had no choice. You had to get on that machine if you wanted to learn.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to him after he took the motorcycle and got onto it himself. "Get on."

You hesitated before swinging your leg over it as well, the movement too awkward to be smooth. There was no denying it—there was a whole lot of you that wasn't exactly eager to be pressed up against him.

You bit your lip but tried to keep your cool. "Alright, I'm on."

Daryl didn't answer. He just started the engine, his hands gripping the handlebars, and that was when you had to settle into place—right behind him. You were close now—way too close—and that knot in your stomach was only tightening itself. You couldn't help it. You had to steady yourself, right? And as much as you hated to admit it, you found yourself sliding your hands down, almost instinctively. But... it wasn't enough.

And it wasn't fair. Nothing about this was fair. The way he was so broad, strong, and so very close made it impossible to think straight. Your palms were sweating, and it wasn't because you were nervous about falling off. It was him. Just him. And God, it was infuriating, letting your thoughts run wild.

Why does he have to smell so good? Why can't he just be an asshole and not… this?

Your hands moved. Lower.

You didn't mean to, but... there you were. Your fingers grabbed his hips, right there in front of you and so, so very close. He was warm, so warm, and you couldn't not notice it, even if you tried. But you weren't even trying.

Oh, no. Don't. Don't do it. Not now...

But your hands stayed right there. Resting on his hips. You couldn't help it.

God, he feels good. Warm. Strong. Hell, if I slide even lower, maybe I can make him feel me, too. What if I just—

You quickly cut your thoughts off, but the temptation was there. It was stupid. It's Daryl, you reminded yourself, though it didn't make the racing of your heart in your chest any less intense.

"Quit it. Jus' hold on," he suddenly said, still keeping his focus on the road in front of you.

You snapped out of it, blinking as though you were just pulled back from the edge of a cliff.

"Me?" You shot back, trying to sound as neutral as possible, hoping he didn't feel the way your heart was pounding. "You're the one acting like you've got a stick up your ass. Don't act like I'm the problem here."

Daryl didn't respond—again. His hands tightened on the handlebars, and you felt him move slightly on the motorcycle. You wondered if he could feel the way you were still pressed against him, too. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign, but hell, you weren't sure whether that was calming you down or just making everything worse.

Your hands were still grabbing his hips. Still low. Still in the danger zone. And every second you stayed on that seat that close behind him, the more you realized just how close you were to crossing a line you couldn't uncross, too.

Just stop touching him like that. For God's sake, control yourself...

But it was too late, wasn't it? Your hands were already doing what they wanted, sliding ever so slightly as Daryl revved the engine beneath you. And as the machine roared further and you felt the vibration between your legs, you couldn't deny it—you were holding on tight...

And shit, you hated yourself for it, but you couldn't think straight.

Your hands—those traitorous, slightly trembling hands—started to move further without you even trying. At first, you could feel the hardness of his muscles under his shirt. You didn't mean to, but your fingers couldn't resist anymore.

What the hell is wrong with me?

You kept telling yourself you weren't like this, but the warmth of his body in front of you, the vibrations of the motorcycle—the whole situation—it was clearly messing with your head.

And then your fingers touched the waistband of his pants. Your mind started spiraling.

Fuck, stop it.

But your hands were moving still, just a little further, and before you could catch yourself, you were dangerously close to slipping one whole hand past the button of his pants.

Why does this feel so fucking good? So right? No! This is so wrong!

You knew you shouldn't be doing this. You were driving yourself crazy just being this close to him. You should pull away and act like nothing happened. But the thought of him—of the way he looked, the way he smelled—it was too much.

Should I really keep going? You wondered, heart racing. What if I just slide my hand inside and just feel him?

The idea was so sudden it made your stomach growl, but you couldn't stop imagining it. The way he'd react—if he'd stop the motorcycle and throw you off, or if he'd just let you have your way.

But your hand froze at the button of his pants, resting there, barely touching it. You hated how much you wanted to go further, how much you needed to.

Pull back. Move your hand away. Stop thinking about how strong he is.

The way his muscles moved under your fingers, how he wasn't even saying one thing to stop you. Did he want this? Did he feel it too? You hated how much you wanted to find out.

But Daryl kept driving, focusing on the surroundings and possible dangers as you left Alexandria.

Why isn't he stopping me?

He was tense, but that was it. No words, no warnings. And that drove you wild.

Maybe he wants this as much as I do.

Your mind was on fire now, and you wanted him so badly, it felt like your whole body was about to explode. And the weirdest part? You weren't sure you even cared anymore if this was wrong.

If you don't stop me, I swear I'll—

You didn't finish that thought, and as soon as Daryl pulled off the road and into a clearing surrounded by trees, the motorcycle came to a stop.

"This'll do," he said, getting off it and motioning for you to follow.

You stumbled off, your legs still shaky from holding yourself together.

Right now, you wanted to hate him. To scream at him. But the truth was, you were more pissed at yourself. You were supposed to be learning how to ride a motorcycle, not imagining what it would feel like to be all over him and…

No. Stop it. Get your shit together.

"Alright, what's next?" You asked, doing your best to sound casual even as your heart was still racing. "You gonna teach me how not to eat dirt or just let me ride it?"

Daryl glared at you, one eyebrow raised like you were the one making this complicated. "Jus' pay attention."

You snorted, shaking your head. "Sure, 'cause that's been working out for me so far." You crossed your arms, a little too aware of how your body felt like it was overheating.

Stop thinking about him, stop thinking about him...

He was already gesturing to the motorcycle again, explaining the controls all over. "Clutch, brake, throttle—all that stuff."

You nodded, doing your best to stay focused despite how goddamn awkward you felt.

Focus; you can do this.

You glanced at him and caught the way his hands moved around near you, the way his fingers got hold of the throttle like he was born to do this.

"Ya won't wreck it if ya listen."

You scoffed, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah… 'if,' but okay."

Daryl took a step closer, the space between you suddenly feeling way too small. "Stop makin' jokes, and start payin' some real attention."

You could feel how he stared you down, even without looking into his eyes, and before you could stop yourself, you were blushing—hard.

Shit, shit, shit.

He then smirked, only a little, and you wanted to punch him for it. Or kiss him. You weren't sure. Either way, you tugged at the collar of your shirt like it was too tight, but there was no escaping it.

Daryl was watching you, though his smirk was already gone again. "Jus' sit down on it. Let's see if ya can at least do that alone while out here, without fallin' over."

You had to swallow hard.

Just get on, just get on, and don't think about him.

Your mind was screaming at you to stop acting like you wanted to crawl all over him, but your body was betraying you.

And Daryl for sure wasn't even trying to make it easier, and all you could do was grit your teeth and pray you didn't lose it.

The first time you tried to balance the motorcycle, you almost tipped it over, but Daryl quickly got a hold of it—and you—before you really ate dirt.

"Goddamn it," he groaned, yanking you upright and keeping the motorcycle steady. "Yer fightin' the damn thing instead o' drivin' it. Quit makin' it harder for yerself."

You shot him a glare but didn't respond, figuring it was easier to just get the lesson over with. This time, he stepped in behind you, hands landing on your waist like he was holding onto a ticking time bomb. His grip tightened just enough to make you aware of his presence, but you weren't going to let him throw you off balance.

"Ease up on the damn clutch," he grumbled. "Slowly. Ya ain't in a damn hurry."

By the third or fourth try, you were starting to get the hang of it. You made it a few feet without the motorcycle wobbling like it had been possessed. You didn't even stall it this time.

"Look at me!" You grinned over your shoulder at him all triumphant as you stopped at a treeline. "I'm basically a stunt double at this point! Wanna try jumping flaming buses next?"

Daryl shot you that look again. The one that made you want to throw something at him. "Nah, yer bein' an amateur stunt double wantin' to set yerself on fire… 'cause ya can't keep yer hands to yerself."

You ignored him.

You had it now. You totally had it.

But who needed to play it safe when you could push this lesson to the limit and prove yourself?

You twisted the throttle again but felt a sudden rush of speed. "Shit!" You screamed from far away. "Fuck!"

"What the hell are ya doin'?!" Daryl shouted before you were hurtling forward at fast speed, your stomach dropping as it made everything around you blurry in sight. You had no idea how to stop in the heat of the moment without throwing yourself off it, and that realization hit you hard. You were in panic mode now, and trying to steer only made it worse.

"Daryl? A little help here, please!" You screamed, gripping the handlebars as your hands shook.

"Hold on!" Daryl yelled, but his warning was already too late. The front wheel hit something—a big rock? A tree stump? You didn't even see it. All you knew was that the motorcycle lurched like a wild animal wanting to throw you off its back.

For a moment, you were sure you were about to die. But Daryl wasn't about to let that happen. He lunged forward, grabbing you and yanking you off the seat just before it tipped completely and threw you off.

You and Daryl went down, both of you slamming into the ground hard. You landed on top of him—completely on top of him, with your thighs pressed against his hips and your upper body crashing against his chest.

You knew you fucked up, but his expression only made it worse. The slight pain in your body was nothing compared to the humiliation you felt. All you could do was catch your breath and stare at him.

And Daryl was flat-out pissed. His face was full of rage, and he was breathing hard from the crash. He shoved you off him, his hands on your shoulders as he stood up.

"What the hell were ya thinkin'!?" His eyes were practically burning holes through you. "I told ya to slow the hell down and focus! Ya don't listen for shit!"

You didn't want to admit that he was right, that you'd been very reckless. "Well, maybe you should've taught me how to actually ride instead of standing there like a statue and just barking orders!"

Daryl's hands were clenched into fists at his sides.

He wasn't just angry.

He was livid.

You were both breathing fast now, adrenaline still running through your veins. "And maybe I'm just a fast learner, okay?" You continued.

Daryl looked at you like he was about to rip you in half. "Yer not a fast learner; yer a damn idiot! And now I gotta drag yer dumb ass back!"

He grabbed the motorcycle and swung his leg over it with a grunt. "Get the fuck on," he growled in frustration.

You glared at him for a moment, but you weren't about to argue. You had to get home. You had no choice but to follow him.

Throwing your leg over the seat, you settled behind him. You couldn't even look up now. Every time you did, your stomach hurt in a way that made no sense. The anger, the shame—it was all so degrading. You wanted to argue. You really did. But you were too embarrassed, and your body was too sore to keep up any fight.

Daryl started the engine, and the motorcycle roared to life under you. As he sped down the road, you couldn't help but notice how tense his body still was. Every muscle in his back seemed to be stiff. And he didn't say a word anymore. Not a single word as you rode back toward Alexandria in silence.

His hands gripped the handlebars with such force, you swore the motorcycle might crack in half under the pressure if he kept it up.

You were pissed as well. Pissed at yourself for fucking up and pissed at him for making you feel all... this. You hated that you couldn't read him, hated how he could just shut everything out like that, and especially for making you feel something you didn't want to feel.

Once back at Alexandria, the garage door had barely been shut when Daryl's frustration exploded. He was still breathing hard from the ride, and he hadn't pushed you away since you'd now gotten back, but the way he was glaring at you said enough.

He took a step toward you, pushing you back a little. "Crashed my damn bike…"

"I didn't wreck it, Daryl," you argued. "It's fine!"

"Fine?" He repeated. "That's what ya call near splittin' yer skull open?"

"I didn't crash on purpose!" You shot back, the frustration boiling over. "I'm not dumb!"

He let out a mean laugh, his eyes narrowing. "Coulda fooled me, dumbass!"

"You're the one all trembling here, not me!" You crossed your arms, trying to hold onto whatever bit of defiance was left. "It was an accident, Daryl," you continued, glaring right back at him. "It's not like I'm trying to be your damn stunt double!"

He scoffed, not buying your excuse. "Bullshit. Ya were pushin' it, tryin' to prove somethin', weren't ya? Ya coulda gotten yerself killed!"

Maybe he was right; maybe you had been showing off, but why bother with giving him the satisfaction and letting him know that it was the truth?

"What's your problem, Dixon? It isn't like I destroyed the damn thing," you scoffed.

He shot you a glare. "Problem is, ya don't think. Out there, one screw-up ain't jus' a scratch—it's the difference 'tween comin' back or not comin' back at all!"

You rolled your eyes. "Oh, please! Spare me the PSA! It isn't like I don't know how this shit works! We're all one wrong turn away from dead anyway! What's the big deal?"

"The big deal," he growled, "is ya don't get to pull that shit with my bike!"

His finger shot out, pointing toward the side of the motorcycle. "Look at this," he growled. "Ya see that?"

You glanced where he was pointing and shrugged. "What, a couple of scratches? Boo-fucking-hoo! Rub some dirt with your spit on it; it'll be fine!"

"Couple o' scratches?" His voice rose, and he bent down to run a hand along the damaged part. "Ya know how I worked on this, ain't that right? To get it runnin' smooth?"

He crouched, looking at the machine like he was inspecting a wounded animal. "Look."

"What?"

"Look," he snarled once more, pointing his finger at the gas tank.

Reluctantly, you stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. The scratches weren't as bad as you'd expected—some scuffed paint and a tiny dent, hardly catastrophic.

"Oh no," you pretended to be shocked and threw your hands up. "It's ruined! Better put it out of its misery!"

Daryl turned around, staring at you in disbelief and anger. "That funny to ya?"

"A little," you shot back, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded. "Newsflash, Dixon! This is a hunk of metal. It'll survive!"

His jaw clenched, and he stood up so fast you stumbled back. "Ain't the damn point," he snapped, stepping closer.

"Then what is the point?" You demanded in return.

"The point is," he growled, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous register, "ya don't listen. Yer always so goddamn dumb, thinkin' ya know better—"

"I do know better!" You interrupted him. "I could rebuild this bike with my eyes closed! Hell, I could build you a new one from… a scratch!"

Daryl's hands dropped to his sides, his breathing fast as he stared at you. His eyes looked down to your arms, and you followed his line of sight, realizing for the first time that you were trembling.

His eyes softened, just for a second. "Ya hurt?"

"No," you lied, crossing your arms to hide the shaking.

Daryl huffed, and his frustration was boiling over again. "Bullshit."

He moved toward you, closing the space between you as he grabbed you by the arm. You flinched but didn't pull away. His grip tightened, pulling you back toward the motorcycle you'd nearly wrecked.

"Get on," he growled, holding you still.

You froze, glaring at him. "Excuse me?"

"Get on the fuckin' bike," he repeated, his eyes narrowing.

You shook your head. "You're out of your damn mind."

But you didn't fight it when he shoved you over to the seat, guiding you like you were weighing nothing at all. You hadn't expected this—his touch and his obvious anger.

But it wasn't just the crash. No. It was the way his eyes looked at you—like he was waiting for you to back down, to beg for mercy even.

"What?" You scoffed. "You're pissed 'cause I fucked up your bike? Is that it? So fucking ridiculous!"

"'S part of it," he answered, and before you could respond, his hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at him.

And you weren't sure what you expected from him, but you didn't expect the force of his lips on yours.

His kiss was aggressive. It wasn't tender. It wasn't gentle. It was all teeth and tongue and the feel of his stubble against your skin.

You tried to pull back, pushing at his chest. "What the hell—!"

"Shut the fuck up."

You barely had time to react before he was pushing you against the motorcycle, and his hands found their way under your shirt. It was almost too much to bear—the roughness of his touch. It had no place here, not with you two practically being strangers in this world, but somehow it made sense.

And no, you didn't pull away. Not now.

"Daryl—" You cut yourself off when his hand slid down to your waistband, tugging at your pants, a movement that was fast and urgent. Your breath hitched, a gasp escaping your throat.

He didn't respond, not in words anyway, as he lowered himself to his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, forcing you to stay still.

He wanted you—had wanted you, maybe for longer than he'd ever care to admit.

You gasped again when he pulled your pants down roughly, his hands moving along your hips before dragging them down your legs. You knew his hands were capable—he could gut a deer in under a minute, rebuild a bike from scratch—but this? This was a whole different level of skill, and you weren't sure whether to be impressed or terrified by how quickly he had you undone.

But you didn't have time to process it before Daryl was standing again, his face dangerously close to yours, eyes burning with a fire that made you blush.

God, his eyes.

They weren't just looking at you—they were staring you down.

Before you could say anything else, he kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands sliding down to your hips and pushing himself closer until there was no space between your bodies.

And then, his fingers slipped beneath your panties, and he slid two of them into you. Without warning.

You cried out at the suddenness of it, at the overwhelming feeling, but you didn't stop him.

"Still think I'm tremblin'?" He asked as he moved them inside you with a pace that made your head spin. You couldn't think. Couldn't breathe.

Sure, he was frustrated—but now it was all coming out, only in a way that you'd never expected. You didn't know what this was—what this would be afterward—but damn if it didn't feel like the only thing that mattered right now.

As his breath turned quicker against your neck, the urgency of his fingers quickened, too. Until he pulled them out of you. The moment he removed his hand, licking his fingers clean, you almost cursed aloud, the emptiness threatening to drive you mad.

He didn't give you time to say anything, didn't even let you think about it, because in the next moment, his hands were yanking your shirt up over your head, and your bra was gone just as fast.

But the way he studied you, every inch of you—like he was savoring the moment as if you were a piece of art he needed to drink in—made everything feel too much. Too much to take. Too much to bear. But also too good to stop.

You couldn't protest, couldn't do anything but let him have his way, and your eyes squeezed shut as you fought to hold it together.

Without a word, Daryl kneeled back down onto the ground again, his hands moving to your thighs, pushing them apart for him.

"Open yer eyes," he ordered, but you didn't. You just couldn't. But you could feel him there, right between your legs, and the anticipation was nearly killing you.

No, you couldn't do anything but obey as his hand was pulling your panties down and his other hand's thumb stroked across your clit, but something else caught his attention. A bruise on your thigh started to slowly form itself from when you'd crashed.

And then, without a word, he leaned forward, his lips pressing hard against the bruise. His teeth bit into the skin, and then he sucked on it with a hunger that had nothing to do with the motorcycle and the crash.

You gasped loudly, eyes opening wide as the sharp sting of his bite was followed by the slow, deep suck of his mouth.

His lips left the bruise for a moment, but it wasn't gone long. His tongue licked over the edges of it, then his teeth, scraping some more, making your legs shiver with lust and a little bit of pain.

As his fingers moved toward and away from your wet pussy, to brush over the scratches on one leg from the crash, you could feel the pressure of his touch as he traced over each one. He didn't care about the discomfort it caused, didn't care about the marks—they were his to play with.

A growl left his throat as he scratched them a little harder, just a little deeper, making you whimper.

You didn't even realize you were staring at him until his blue eyes looked up into yours, a silent claim that went deeper than anything else.

"Ain't lettin' ya look away," he warned as his hands gripped your thighs again, forcing your trembling legs to stay open for him.

And God, they were.

His touch was everything you didn't know you needed as he slipped his fingers back into you—simply all-consuming. His thumb stroked your clit yet again, and you were sure you were going to lose it way too fast.

And the way he kept looking at you—like he was daring you to look away…

But you didn't. Not once.

The pressure was building, that sweet, unbearable pressure, until it felt like you were going to burst into flames.

Indeed, it was pure fire.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya look away."

His fingers found their rhythm, slow but deep, making you moan out loud, trying your hardest to keep your eyes open and on him.

"Yeah, 's it," he growled. "Focus."

You nodded wildly, the feeling overtaking everything, your body desperate for more. Every bit of your skin was burning, and you hated how badly you needed this.

"Daryl… I," you gasped, your hands holding on for dear life on the motorcycle seat, trying to stay upright but close to losing the battle with every pump. "I can't—fuck!"

"Can't what? Focus? Ain't nothin' new," he answered, his thumb still on your clit while his fingers were thrusting away. "Can't handle it? Ya jus' gotta focus. Keep yer eyes on me."

You were close, so fucking close already, but he wasn't letting up.

His fingers moved so roughly inside of you, pressing against your G-spot, which soon made you feel certain this was it—this was the moment.

Your legs were shaking hard, your breath coming in quick, desperate moans. "Fuck… fuck…" You whimpered, fingers tightening on the seat behind you.

But then he stopped. Just stopped.

The sudden loss of his fingers was like being thrown into a room full of walkers. You groaned, your hips bucking in a desperate attempt to go after what was just within reach, but he pulled his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and half-crazed.

"What the fuck, Daryl!" You cried out loud as you glared down at him, but Daryl only had the audacity to smirk, licking his fingers off once more like you hadn't been about to shatter into pieces.

"Keep still and shut up," he growled, and before you could scream at him, his head was between your legs.

Your words turned into a choked cry as his tongue moved over your clit, the feeling of his stubble against your inner thighs making you squirm.

It wasn't fair. You were already so close, your body trembling so hard it hurt, but now he was dragging it out, taking his sweet-ass time, licking and sucking like he had all damn day.

"Fuck—fucking hell, Daryl," you hissed, hands grabbing his hair, tugging hard enough to make him groan against you. The vibrations shot straight through you, making your thighs clench around his head, but he didn't stop—he didn't even flinch.

"Thought ya were so good at takin' risks," he taunted, his lips brushing against your clit as he spoke.

And with that, he sucked on it so hard you nearly screamed, the feeling of it being just on the edge of pain, but God, it was perfect. You were so damn close again, and this time, you needed it.

If he pulled away now, you swore you'd kill him.

"Please," you whimpered, your hips grinding against his mouth in a way that should've embarrassed you. "Daryl, fuck, don't you dare stop again—"

His grip tightened on your thighs, keeping you exactly where he wanted you as his tongue pushed you further and further until there was nowhere left to go but over the edge.

But it wasn't just his mouth—oh no. His hands were keeping you in place, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was claiming you, and maybe he was. You didn't care. You just wanted more.

"Fuck—Daryl, I'm—" Your voice broke, too far gone to even finish the sentence.

He pulled back just enough to growl, "What? Yer what?" His voice was rough and way too sarcastic for a man who was driving you insane.

"Stop it and finish me!" You snapped, your hands pulling at his hair like it would somehow speed him up.

He laughed—actually laughed—and that sound went straight through you. But before you could cuss him out for being an 'insufferable bastard,' his fingers were back on you, two sliding inside so easily you swore you saw stars.

Your breath hitched, and then he added a third.

"Fuck—holy shit!" You gasped, your thighs trembling as he stretched you wide. The feeling was nearly too much, but it was just right, and when his fingers started pumping in and out, so deep and hard, you couldn't do anything but ride it out.

He looked up at you then, his blue eyes searching for yours. You wanted to look away, to hide from the way he was watching you like he was saving every second of this to memory, but you didn't. He wouldn't let you.

"Eyes on me," he growled. "Don't ya fuckin' look away."

You didn't think you could blush any harder—you didn't think you had the energy left for it—but then his other hand moved, his thumb pressing into the bruise on your thigh, just hard enough to make you wince.

"Shit—Daryl, that hurts!" You hissed at him, but his grip tightened, keeping you still.

"Good," he growled, looking at you. "Should hurt."

His fingers inside your pussy were picking up speed, driving you mad with how good they felt.

"Ya think I'm jus' gonna let ya off easy after crashin' my bike?"

He pressed harder into the bruise, making you whimper from the pain that somehow only made everything hotter.

"Nah. Yer gonna feel this. Remember this."

You hated how much it turned you on—the sting of his thumb on your bruise along with the pumping of his fingers inside you and the way his mouth was so close to your clit again.

"Please—fuck—please," you begged, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. You just needed something—anything—to finally push you over the edge.

"C'mon," he growled against you, not stopping. "C'mon, woman. Fuckin' let go. Let me fuckin' have it."

And that was it. That was all it took.

Everything inside you exploded so intensely you moaned out loud, your whole body arching as the orgasm ripped through you.

"Fuck—fuck, Daryl!"

You tried to keep your legs from giving out, but they were done, trembling so hard you had no choice but to lean fully against the motorcycle once more, trying to hold yourself steady. But Daryl didn't stop. His mouth stayed on you, his tongue again working your clit, dragging out every last bit of your orgasm until you were shaking all over, whimpering and sobbing from the overstimulation.

Only then did he pull his fingers out in a way that made sure you'd feel everything.

But before you could catch your breath, his hands were on you again, gripping your thighs like they belonged to him. Without a word, he hoisted your legs up, wrapping them around his neck. The sudden movement made you yelp, but he didn't care—not one bit.

"What the fuck are you—"

"Shut up," he growled, his voice ragged as he shifted you off the motorcycle and onto his shoulders like you weighed nothing. "Focus."

The cold floor hit your back as he lowered you down, your body shivering against it. He moved near you, his hands gripping your thighs to keep them spread wide as he settled between them again, his face just inches from where you were still dripping for him.

You barely had time to process the new position before his tongue was back on you, licking slow and deep, making you moan aloud through the garage. All you could do was writhe and shake beneath him, your hands searching for anything to grab and hold onto—his hair, his shoulders, the cold floor—trying to keep still as he worked you over.

But then, just when you thought he'd keep going until you couldn't take anymore, he moved, his mouth leaving your pussy as he started to lick and kiss—hot, wet, and sloppy—all over you.

And he didn't move fast. He took his time, crawling up your body like he was deciding which part of you he should tease next. You felt his breath across your skin, so warm yet unsteady, while his hands worked on keeping you exactly where he wanted you—legs spread wide, no room to close yourself off, no room to argue.

His hands? Oh, you knew those hands could kill you if they wanted to, but the way he traced the edges of the scratches on your thigh? Fuck, it was worse. Slow. On purpose. Just enough pressure to remind you it was there. A reminder you didn't need, but apparently, he thought you needed.

The tip of his thumb ran over them once, twice, then pressed down harder. You flinched—it was pure instinct—but his other hand clamped down on your leg, pinning you to the floor. His thumb didn't move, didn't give you a break. If anything, he pressed harder, and you hissed through your teeth. He groaned, low and deep, like your slight discomfort was exactly what he wanted.

Daryl soon leaned down and kissed them. He kissed them like he was apologizing. Then his teeth grazed over the same scratches, and you realized he wasn't sorry for it at all. His tongue followed, licking slowly and wetly over the stinging feeling of them, and your back arched itself off the floor.

By the time he moved up to the bruise on your hips, his fingers found it first, pressing into your flesh like he was testing it, seeing how much it was hurting you. You flinched again, but this time, his response was immediate—a growl coming out of his throat as his fingers dug in deeper.

"Daryl," you started, but your voice cracked, and you knew that he wasn't listening anyway. His mouth replaced his fingers, and the first kiss of his lips made your head snap up.

Not soft, not tender—he sucked on the bruise as if he wanted to drag the pain out of you, to make you feel every sting of it.

He kept going, his mouth kissing up your ribs, licking, biting, sucking, finding every bruise that was forming itself, every scratch, and making sure you knew he'd found them.

"Fuckin' hell…" He whispered as his mouth moved higher, pressing kisses to your chest, in between your tits, before his tongue licked over one nipple.

You gasped as he sucked it into his mouth, one of his hands moving to tease the other, pinching and rolling it between his fingers.

"Daryl, please! Please… just—"

He didn't let up. He crawled higher over you, his body pinning you down, his mouth moving up to your collarbone, where his tongue licked over it next.

By the time he reached your neck, you were a mess, your hands now clawing at his shoulders, desperate for him to give you more, to stop teasing. And he knew it.

But he wasn't done. His teeth found your neck, and he bit down, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, your thighs instantly squeezing around his hips.

"Goddamn," he growled as his mouth finally reached yours. "Look atcha… all wrecked."

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, rough and hungry, his tongue pushing into your mouth like he needed to taste every part of you.

And fuck, you didn't care.

Daryl left no room for argument—not that you had any strength left to argue.

His hands were everywhere at once, sliding over your thighs, your hips, your waist. You moaned into his mouth as his fingers moved back down between your legs, slipping through the wetness he'd left behind when he dragged his fingers through your wet folds, and his smirk certainly showed that he was satisfied with himself.

He wasn't asking for permission, no, but he wasn't rushing either. And he was now giving you the chance to stop him without saying a word.

When you didn't push him away, he leaned back just enough to look at you. His blue eyes seemed darker now, his pupils all wide, searching for something, waiting.

Your hands slid up his strong back, trembling slightly but steadying themselves as they reached his shoulders. You gave him a small but quick nod as you took a shaky breath.

That was all he needed.

With a growl, Daryl's hands gripped your hips, flipping you over onto your stomach fast but not harshly. Before you could even process it all, he pressed himself down against your ass.

"Don't move," he whispered.

You weren't planning to.

He grabbed your hips again, pulling you back just enough to hold them upward. You felt his cock pressing against your ass, still in his pants but unmistakably hard as he grunted and pushed it against you, his hands only holding on harder.

The deep and loud groan he made? You couldn't help but push back against him.

You barely had time to listen to the sound of his zipper before he was back, his cock sliding between your thighs, teasing, the wetness of your pussy making it too easy for him to glide against you.

Your fingers were clawing at the floor as you tried to push back, but his hands held you in place.

His hips rocked forward, and the tip of his cock pressed into your pussy. You tensed, your breath stopping at the sheer size of it, but he didn't push in—not completely. He was letting you feel every inch of how big he was.

When he did push inside, it was enough to stretch you wide open, and with one slow thrust, he sank into you, filling you up. Still, Daryl didn't move right away. He stayed there, buried to the hilt, as he gave you a moment to adjust and made sure you were okay.

Then, he finally started to move.

Slow at first, his hips pulling back before thrusting forward again, each movement so controlled.

But it didn't take long for him to move faster.

Harder.

Deeper.

And you couldn't do anything but take it as he pinned you down.

"Daryl—" you moaned, but he cut you off with a growl, his arm sliding down around you, pulling your hips higher to give him better access.

"Don't talk," he ordered, trying not to lose himself. "Jus' take it."

And you did. God, you did.

The garage felt almost suffocating now, and all you could smell was the scent of sweat and sex. The only sounds to be heard were your fast-breathing moans of yourself and his feral grunts as Daryl moved behind you. Every thrust was deep, driving you forward just to pull you back again with a growl, his grip on your hips leaving marks you'd wear for days.

Your hands still searched for any kind of hold against the floor, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of it all threatened to break you apart. His cock stretched you in a way that still bordered on too much, each thrust rougher than the last, and yet you couldn't get enough of it—of him.

"Fuck," Daryl grunted, his voice sounding as if the word was being dragged out from deep inside him.

You couldn't respond to him, not with the way he filled you so completely, your body trembling under his control. But he didn't need any words in return from you. His hand slid from your hip, moving along your ass and up your spine, before he put his arm around your shoulders to keep you steady.

"Don't lose focus now," he growled, leaning over you, his chest brushing against your back. His stubble grazed along your shoulder as he pressed his mouth down, his lips rough, almost punishing. He bit down hard, his teeth sinking into your skin just enough to leave another mark.

You cried out, clenching around him involuntarily. "Daryl—"

"Shut up," he said, cutting you off with another bite to your shoulder, this one softer than the last. His teeth were still on the mark he'd made, right before his tongue soothed it, leaving you shivering.

Daryl's pace quickened, each thrust making your overstimulated body shudder.

"Goddamn, look atcha," he grumbled, his voice full of lust. "Really fuckin' wrecked, ain't ya?"

You whimpered in response, your head falling forward and almost hitting the floor, but your body was still being held on tight by his grip.

"Ya like that?"

You nodded.

"C'mon," he growled, his hand tightening around your chest to keep you steady as his thrusts grew erratic. "Stay with me, woman. Focus. Fuckin' focus."

You didn't have a choice. His arm around your chest and his cock buried so deep inside you made it impossible to think about anything else. And the pressure was building again, unavoidable, and you knew he could feel it—the way your pussy clenched around him, desperate to feel him come, too.

And he didn't slow down. He didn't ease the pace or give you any room to breathe. Instead, he buried his face against you again, his lips sucking on your neck, his tongue following to taste the sweat of your skin.

"Shit," he hissed, his voice all muffled against your neck. "Goddamn, ya feel so fuckin' good."

His hips thrust forward, harder and faster, and you could feel him getting close, his movements losing their rhythm as his breathing turned ragged.

"Fuck—fuck," he groaned, his arm moving from your chest to hold your hip again, his hand grabbing you roughly as his thrusts went deeper. "Gonna—fuck, I'm—"

He didn't finish the sentence. With a loud groan that was almost sounding more animal than man, he pulled out, his hand gripping his cock as he came all over your back with force.

You stayed there momentarily, still on the cold floor of the garage, as you tried to piece yourself back together. Your legs felt like jelly, trembling so badly you weren't even sure they'd hold you if you tried to stand up.

Daryl soon moved off behind you, his heavy breathing just as loud and uneven as yours as he leaned against the motorcycle for balance. His cum was feeling all warm across your back, but you didn't have the energy to care—not yet.

Finally, he straightened himself, pulling his pants back up and putting his softening cock away. You heard the sound of his footsteps next to you as he walked around the garage, and for a second, you thought he was going to leave you there, fucked and half-naked in the garage.

But not long after, he was back, something soft and slightly damp rubbing over your skin.

"Hold still," he grunted. "Gotta clean ya up."

You flinched, moving your head to see what he was doing. Daryl had an old, torn rag in one hand, smudged with a little bit of dry oil, but it was enough to do the job. His other hand pressed against your shoulder, holding you still as he wiped away the mess of his cum he'd left behind.

"You could've at least grabbed a clean one," you grumbled, but there wasn't any real annoyance in your voice.

When he was done, he tossed the rag aside. "Yer alright?"

You smirked, despite the ache in your legs. "What, worried I might've cracked under all that control?"

For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue. Instead, he just grunted before crouching in front of you. His hands found your arms as he helped you up, his strength the only thing keeping you from falling right back to the floor.

"Easy," he mumbled, sliding one arm around your waist to steady you. "Ain't wantin' to pick yer ass up again if ya fall."

"Not my fault," you answered, your legs wobbling as you tried to find your balance. "You're the one who—"

"Don't even start," he cut you off quickly, but definitely with amusement. "Ya got no one to blame but yer damn self."

His arm stayed around you as you took a few shaky steps with him by your side as if you had to learn how to walk again, your knees still threatening to buckle. You hated how he looked at you right now, showing you a smirk as he watched you struggle.

"Shut up," you grumbled, leaning against him more than you wanted to admit.

"Ain't said nothin'," he smirked, but the way his hand tightened on your waist betrayed his satisfaction.

Once you were steady enough to stand on your own, he let go, his hands falling to his sides. As you reached for your clothes, putting them on with clumsy, trembling fingers, Daryl leaned against the motorcycle again, watching you with that same gaze he'd had earlier, his blue eyes tracking every movement of your body.

"So? Ya still reckless?" He suddenly asked, as if to taunt you.

You glared at him as you put on your bra and shirt. "Excuse me?"

"Crashin' my bike," he continued, crossing his arms over his chest. "Then gettin' all riled up when ya can't handle shit."

Feeling your cheeks turn red, the heat was spreading all over your face as you turned to zip up your pants. "Maybe if you weren't such a goddamn caveman, my attention would've—"

"Caveman, huh?" Daryl stepped closer, the space closing between you until you could feel the presence of him behind your back. One hand came up, his fingers brushing lightly over the bruise on your thigh from earlier, the touch rather gentle.

"Caveman kept ya focused now, didn't he?" He continued, his lips all close near your ear. "Got yer attention real good."

You hated how easily your body responded to him even now, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

"Next time," he said, his voice dropping slightly, "ya might think twice 'bout tryin' to show off."

His fingers then pressed into the bruise just enough to make you wince, reminding you of the lesson he'd drilled into you—literally.

"Control," he said, stepping back again. "Might save yer damn ass next time."

You turned to face the motorcycle with a scowl as you adjusted your clothes, looking around for your jacket. "Are you done lecturing me, or should I grab a notepad?"

"Nah. Jus' get yer shit together," he answered. "We're headin' out again tomorrow. Yer ridin' bitch till ya prove ya can handle it."

Laughing at that, your words were coming out faster than your still-wobbly legs could even move. "Riding bitch, huh?" You repeated as you turned to face him. "Next time you're teaching me to drive, I'll be riding something, alright—but it sure as shit won't be the bike."

It was a bold answer, considering your legs still felt like they'd been switched for spaghetti, but you weren't about to let him see you back down.

Daryl's lips twitched, that small smirk coming back as he closed the distance between you in a few quick movements. One hand shot out, gripping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze.

"Keep talkin'," he grumbled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "See where it gets ya."

You grinned, biting his thumb just enough to make him hiss. "I think it gets me exactly where I want to be," you responded, voice all daring, even as your pulse kicked up a notch all over. "Don't you think?"

Daryl's silence was answer enough, and for a moment, you thought he might snap again, dragging you into another round right there on the spot. But for now, and for once, you decided to savor and enjoy your little victory. Of course, it didn't last long.

You weren't sure who moved first, but before you knew it, you were pulling him down by his collar, your lips crashing onto his like they had something to prove.

The kiss was all grunts and stubbornness, his teeth biting at your lip as you ran your fingers through his messy hair. You didn't even notice when his hands found your waist, pulling you closer until there wasn't an inch of space between your bodies.

"Y'ain't got any sense o' self-control," he mumbled against your mouth, but he didn't stop kissing you, one hand sliding up to grab the back of your neck.

You broke the kiss just long enough to catch your breath, smirking up at him. "And you've got too much of it," you shot back.

You knew this would've gone on longer—should've gone on longer—but the sound of the side door from the garage to the house opening stopped you both in place like a couple of kids caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

"Daryl?" Aaron's voice was to be heard, and you felt the blood freeze in your veins. "Are you both back already?"

Daryl let out a growl, his forehead slowly dropping to yours like he was trying to collect himself before turning to look toward the unwanted interruption.

Aaron stood in the doorway, his eyes looking between the two of you, taking in the sheer awkwardness of it all. His eyebrows shot up, and he blinked like he was trying to reset his brain back to factory settings.

"Oh…" Aaron said after a moment, his voice sounding a little bit higher than usual. "I just—uh—saw the garage door was closed from the outside when I came back. Thought you were done with, uh, teaching? I just wanted to get—"

Daryl cleared his throat, stepping back from you but not bothering to hide his irritation. "'M still teachin'."

Aaron's mouth opened like he was about to ask something else, but you jumped in before he could make things even worse. "Yeah, exactly," you said, smiling at him before you looked back at Daryl. "He's teachin' me how to… focus."

The words had barely left your mouth before Daryl shot you a look. Still, he couldn't resist adding, "And 'bout… control."

Aaron stood there, his mouth opening and closing like a fish in urgent need of water. Finally, he managed to let out a quiet, "Still teaching, huh?" His voice was full of disbelief. "About control and focus?"

You crossed your arms, smirking. "Of course! And let me tell you, Daryl's got a real hands-on approach." Daryl gave you a warning look, but you ignored him. "Next time, maybe we'll move on to, I dunno, accelerating!"

"Yeah," Daryl answered flatly, his tone as casual as if Aaron had walked in on him fixing the motorcycle, not having had you taken against it. "Focusin' on the road ahead. Controllin' the bike while… ridin' it."

Aaron arched only one eyebrow this time. "Right," he said, dragging the word out like it was hurting him. "Well, maybe teach her outside of Alexandria next time instead of Eric's and my garage?"

You snorted. "Oh, we can, for sure. But Daryl's really good at teaching me how to focus on what's in front of me," you said sweetly. "It's the control part I keep getting stuck on."

Aaron let out a short, strangled laugh, already backing toward the door. "Yeah, okay! Don't let me interrupt your lesson." His face went red, and he backed up so fast he nearly tripped. "I mean, it sounds, uh... productive. I'll just—yeah." He gestured around awkwardly as he was about to hurry back inside the house.

When he left, you could've sworn he whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, "What the hell is wrong with all these people?" before he closed the door behind him.

The second the door clicked shut, you leaned against the workbench, your eyes moving to the motorcycle that had started this whole situation, after all. It stood there innocently enough, like it hadn't been witness to your absolute lack of keeping control. Stepping forward, you traced your fingers along one of the scratches on its gas tank.

"Looks like Frankenstein's bike's seen some rough handling, thanks to me," you said before your eyes moved back onto Daryl, who was watching you like an animal sizing up its next meal. "Guess it'll get used to bein' ridden hard."

Eyes looking up, you were daring him to take the bait. "Think you'll leave some scratches on me next time?"

His muscles were flexing like he was seconds from pulling you back to him. "Keep talkin', woman, and I jus' might."

You grinned, stepping away from the motorcycle and grabbing your jacket, which was on the floor near the workbench. "Guess I'll just have to wait and see, huh?" You put the jacket on, taking your time on purpose to let him stew in his frustration.

Just as you reached the garage door and opened it, you turned back toward Daryl, who'd started to talk, watching you lean your shoulder against the frame. "Yer walkin' funny, woman."

You stopped, moving your head up with a glare. "If I walk funny, I'm tellin' everyone it's 'cause of the bike." You made sure to add a smirk. "I'm going to say it was a wild ride—not a crash."

As you pushed yourself off the frame and stepped outside onto the streets of Alexandria, your grin was as wide as ever. "Thank you for the thorough lesson, Dixon."

But before the garage could even close behind you, something soft and slightly damp was flying past your head, landing on the ground in front of you.

"Jesus, was that—?" You started to laugh, realizing exactly what he'd thrown after you. "Oh, come on! Did you seriously throw that at me? Gross!"

Daryl leaned against the motorcycle, his smirk not obvious, but it was there. "Missed, didn't I?" He didn't flinch, didn't apologize. "Didn't miss on purpose."

"That's disgusting," you called back and laughed, unable to help yourself. "And I'm not picking that up!"

"Didn't ask ya to," he answered, pushing himself off the machine and taking a few steps closer to the street. "But yer might come back in here 'n pick up somethin' else."

"Not a chance," you snorted, shaking your head while you stumbled a little bit. "Better luck next time. Or… tomorrow."

"Fuckin' reckless…" Daryl growled, but with amusement in his voice as he watched you disappear ever so slowly. But he didn't move, not yet. "Jus' get yer damn ass back here!"

You were already down the street and smirking to yourself as you tried to walk and just waved him off, making it clear that it was all for show as you held up both middle fingers, trying to make it seem like you were stumbling away with your body intact.

And, of course, you were—kind of.

Either way, Daryl knew that next time, the only thing you'd be riding was him, and you'd make sure he would be the one struggling to keep focus and control.

[fl3shm4id3n]

ʀᴇᴅ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀᴘʟᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐬, 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴛʜᴀɴᴏꜱ (ᴄʜᴏɪ ꜱᴇᴜɴɢ-ʜʏᴜɴ) x ꜰᴇᴍ! ��ɪɴɢᴇʀ/ʀᴀᴘᴘᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: Squid Game 2 SPOILERS, smoking, slut shaming, criticism from the public, death, blood, Thanos having the hots for reader, reader is kinda based on Megan Thee Stallion.

A/N: I've been listening to Megan Thee Stallion and Doja Cat again, I got some inspiration.

Masterlist

You were know as the infamous rapper 'Cherry' due that signature bright red color you wore all the time. You were at your golden age, everyone loved you. Specially young women your age, probably due because you sang songs about women struggles and anything involving women. Everywhere you went, you got recognized. You asked to take photos, sign pictures and other kinds of merch that your fans had in hand. You didn't mind, you loved your fans. They were the reason you became famous in the first place.

But then, you began to get criticized, according to a much older audience you were vulgar and not very lady like. They also criticized your music and how it was a bad influence to the younger generation. Not to mention your music videos. They criticized those too, simply because you wore very provocative outfits and danced inappropriately. The final straw was when you were spotted smoking cigarettes outside a night club. You got criticized even more. You even got slut shamed for it. You didn't understand the hate you got, you wondered if you were a man, would they still treat you the same?

You began to loose deals, no one really wanted to work with you. Scared about their reputation, you understood their explanation. It just sucked that you couldn't do what you really love. At some point, you had considered in no longer making music. But your fans had encouraged you to keep doing music, some even suggested you move to the States. You thought about it for a while now. Moving to the States wasn't so bad, you knew they weren't as critical as they were here. So you've made up your mind and decided to move to the US. But there was a problem, you barely had any money. That was going to be a problem, and your savings weren't going to cover the expenses. You needed money and needed it fast.

So, here you were. Dressed in a green tracksuit with the number '013'. You were told you'll be playing some games and get a huge amount of cash. There was a lot of people, were they here for the money too? Interesting. You were explained the rules and even signed a consent form and all that. While you were getting escorted to the first game, but first you had to get your picture taken. As you waited in line, you noticed a group of people huddling over a guy with purple hair. You knew right away who it was, it was the one and only Thanos. You were a huge fan of his, you had wanted to do a collaboration with him at some point.

"Omg, is that Cherry?!" Someone said, making everyone in that small group turn to look at you. "It is!" Someone else chimed in. Then they began to try and get you to go over to take a picture. Even Thanos chimed in. "Hey, I don't mind one more person, come on." He encouraged, before you could say anything, the guard came over and had told the group that they couldn't take picture that way, they had to be individual. No matter how much they begged to make an exception. The guard said no, Thanos then told that after the games, he'll take pictures with all of them. They all agreed and processed to get in line to get their pictures taken. When it was your turn, you made sure your hair was descent then processed to do your signature pose. You wondered if you could get your picture printed.

As you continued to walk to the destination of the game. A girl behind you, better known as player 196. "You're Cherry right?" She asked. "The one and only." You responded, she kind of squealed in excitement. "OMG, I always wanted to meet you in person. I've been to every single concert of yours!" She said, you couldn't help but smile and chuckle. "You have?" She asked. "Of course. I love your album RED, I listen to it 24/7." She explained excitedly. "I wish I had my phone so I can take a picture with you. Maybe even follow each other on Instagram." She said, still very excited to be right next to her idol.

Once outside, you and player 196 were still right next to each other. You had a feeling that she'd be stuck with you for the rest of the games, you didn't mind. "Hey, Señorita." You heard someone say behind you. You and player 196 turn to see who it was. It was the one and only Thanos. "Don't you know who I am?" He asked, while walking along side you and 196. "Do we have to?" She asked. "I do. Thanos The Mad Titan." You responded, making Thanos smile. "Das right. We can get to know each other. Tell me about yourself." He said, directly at you. "Are you hitting on me?" You couldn't help but asked. "Oh yeah, he definitely is." 196 said in response.

"In the sea of faces, you caught my eye. My beauty, my flower blooming among weeds." He paused as he sang to catch his breath. "Red, orange, yellow, green. I'm a legend Thanos." He finished as he did his very known pose. You and 196 listened and watched as he continued to small rap. "Look at us in this blue-green. Now give me the green light." He paused, then look directly at you. "I like you!" He said, as he did the heart with his pointer finger and thumb, then wiggled his eye brow at you. You couldn't help but chuckle and feel your face heat up. "Do you even know who she is?" 196 asked. "Of course I do. The one and only Cherry." He said, but then he continued. "'I'd rather be a B.I.T.C.H 'cause that's what you gon' call me when I'm trippin' anyway'. Real Hot Girl Shit, Ah! " He finish his sentence with a quote from one of your songs and your catch phrase, as he then posed just like you did earlier in your picture. Making you chuckle. "I never thought thee Thanos listens to my music." You responded. "Of course I do. I know talent when I see it." He said. "Ya know, red really is your color. That lipstick suits you well." He said confidently. You couldn't help but smile at him.

Then the game rules were explained. It was green light, red light. It should be easy right. Then a guy began to yell and scream on what to do and what not to do. Who even was he. When the game started, he continued to yell and tell everyone not to move. "Freeze! Nobody move!" He yelled. You, Thanos and 196 stood still near each other. "Is he high or what?" 196 asked. "Nope. No one is like that when they're high." Thanos added. "Then he must be drunk or off his meds." You also added. You then heard a small bug fly by. You followed it with your eyes and noticed how it landed right on player 196. "What's that?" She asked, still not moving. "He knows you're a flower. There's a bee on you." Thanos teased. "A bee?!" She then began to freak out an move like crazy. You remained still, just watching her.

She stopped then turn to look at you and Thanos. "Crap, I just moved." She said as she chuckled. Then a gunshot was heard, followed by 196 getting her brains blown and falling right in front of you. Both you and Thanos got splattered in her blood and some brain matter. Even at that, you still remained frozen. Your eyes shifted to look down at her, seen a huge bullet wound on her forehead along with blood. The bee had come back and landed onto her cheek. The man yelled again. "Do not move!" He warned. You were frozen, you just witnessed someone getting shot. You wanted to scream, but you didn't. You feared that if you moved, you'd be next. Then people began screaming and running. Gun shots were heard and people were getting shot. Despite that, you still didn't move. You didn't want to die like this.

For the remainder of the game, you followed the guys instructions. It was obvious that you were scared, but you kept on going. You threw yourself across the finish line. Relieved that you were alive.

Back at the lobby, you were sitting on the floor near your bunk. Still breathing heavily, your hands were shaking. You were also slightly biting your extra long stiletto red nail on your pointer finger, nervously. You felt yourself slightly gag, you then covered your mouth with your hand. Feeling sick. Nothing came out, but your stomach was turning. You didn't even notice Thanos sitting next to you. "You okay?" He asked. You then uncovered your mouth. "I'm good, no worries." You said, still shaky. Thanos noticed and took your hand into his. Giving them small rubs and trying to ease your nerves. His hand were pretty warm and felt very comforting. You were more calm by his small kind gesture.

A bit letter, the same man began to argue with the pink men. Asking about the votes and all that. You weren't focus on any of that, you were more focus on what the hell you jus witnessed. The image of that girl was engraved in your head. You sure needed therapy after this. When the pink showed the amount of money in the piggy bank, your eyes were glued to the clear piggy. Seen that much money all together. Made your worries go away. All that money could help you get to the States and more. When you heard the more eliminated players, more money will be added. Was it bad that you wanted to stay for more? Who care if people will die, they're fucked from the get go. They'd either die here or out there.

When it came to the voting, a lot of people voted to stay. There was arguing with that guy. Claiming he played these games before. But no one really cared, people chose to stay and play. When it was your turn, you pressed O and given the O velcro patch to put on your jacket. When you headed to the O side, Thanos and some guy stood right next to you. "Good choice Señorita." He said with a goofy smile. "I need to the money, so. Either I get it here or I go back home empty handed." You simply said, almost cold. Thanos nodded his head, then wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to him. "Just stick with me, I'll protect you." He said, very confident. He then leaned down and literally licked the blood off your cheek. You groaned, but didn't mind. You couldn't help but chuckle by his action.

"You a freak or something?" You asked, while you wiped the saliva off your cheek with the jacket sleeve. "Baby, I'll be whatever you want me to be." He said, with a smirk while looking directly at you. You couldn't help but slightly bite your red bottom lip. Almost as if you were flirting with him. "I like you, like really like you." He said. "You only just met me today." You added. "Pfft, so? The moment I saw you, I knew I'd like you." He said with a flirtious smile. "Maybe this is fate." You teased. "Ya know, maybe I didn't get all the infinity stones." He said. You raised your brow. "Oh? And why is that?" You asked. "Well, I do have purple, yellow, blue and green. But, there's one missing." He said. "And that one is?" You asked. Thanos then responded. "I just need red. Red is the Reality stone." He said. You tilted your head to side, waiting for him continue. "And Baby, you're my reality." He said with a wink. You couldn't help but roll your eyes and laugh at his corny line. "What? It's true." He said. Maybe being in these life and death games wasn't going to be too bad.

[justkitkatthings]

OH MY GOD OR THIS https://www.tumblr.com/justkitkatthings/768357089618903040/i-know-this-isnt-possible-but-just-hear-me-out-a AND READER WHO BECOMES THE ONE WHO INCLUDES SIMON IN EVERYTHING OR IS NOT SNAPPY TOWARDS HIM???

YES ANON THAT'S WHERE I WAS THINKING OF TAKING IT!!! That or making them all in a poly relationship (because I did tag it as that) if I continue this but idk how to write for that, so just lmk what everyone wants because I fear I AM a people pleaser.

ANYWAYS, HERE’S PT 2

———

It was stupid, really. Sure, you had to relearn how to walk and run and drive and kneel down and do a push up, etc etc. But, like, after you did all that (with the help of some physical therapy and Just Dance) it was like nothing changed.

And it wasn't like it was your fault the bottom half of your leg got blown up. The least they could do was let you keep your job!

To make things worse, John, Kyle, and Johnny seemed extra busy nowadays. Or maybe it's just because of your replacement, which John is adamant about you meeting. It’s how you find yourself in the base you used to call home several years ago, with your old family practically smothering you in affection. It was less of you meeting this new guy and more of a reunion, which is how you wanted to keep it.

At least, at first.

You liked having the attention and affection of your three best friends, but you could only stand so many of the longing gazes from the brooding man before you cracked. He looked… kind of hurt, and definitely lonely.

He looked like you, almost.

As much as you tried, you can’t resist those big brown eyes and slumped broad shoulders. The night you finally cracked, everyone was drinking. Your stump was hurting and John, Kyle, and Johnny were too drunk to carry you, so you were stuck with Simon.

He picked you up with ease and you thought that it was done there, until he quietly spoke up.

“Why do you hate me?”

You’ve never heard his voice sound this small and vulnerable before. This wasn’t a big tank of a man asking you that, it was a scared and insecure child. Yep. Yep, definitely looks like you.

“I don’t hate you.” You huff and roll your eyes, but it’s not like you can do much while trapped in his arms.

“You act like it.” He countered with a petulant pout, or what you think is one, covered by the mask.

It's not fair! He can’t do that to you. His stupid pout and his stupid, strong, steady arms were going to be the death of you. He pulled on your heartstrings so hard, he made you take him under your wing (which is ironic, because he’s larger and older than you).

You didn’t act like you hated him for too long after that. Someone finally gave him the comfort he never got from anyone else, you offered him kind words and gentle touches, and now he’s stuck to you like glue. Soon enough, you’re spending more time with him than with John, Kyle, and Johnny.

You can’t say you hate it. The two of you understand each other more than anyone else ever could. It’s not that the other three don’t understand you both, it's just that you understand each other more.

No one will ever take that away from you. No one will ever take him away from you.

[kyunniebuns]

˗ˏˋ Entry : 055 - Big Brother! Sylus x Little Sister! Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚ 𝕊𝕪𝕝𝕦𝕤 ˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

‼️[ tw: contains some spoilers for his myth except i dont fully understand but all ik is waw dragon man ayeeee. Child abuse mentioned as well as human trafficking. Murder and body horror. pure fluff ending btw....]‼️

╰┈➤ ❝ [ Hush Little Bird, Brother is Here to Keep You Safe ] ¡! ❞

Sylus had finally awaken from a long and tiring slumber that felt like he would be asleep for an eternity. But somehow he had awaken... In a body of a child.

His tall and proud body reduced to a bunch of stick and bones. He's wearing an oversized white shirt. He takes a deep sigh and decides to look at his reflection on a puddle.

Surely enough, he still has the bloody crimson eyes and the same silver hair except his masculine body is that of an 12-year old's.

Great.

Just great.

He died a miserable death in the arms of his beloved and yet here he is in the body of a child.

How the hell is he supposed to survive in this case?

"...."

Sylus takes a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He needs to figure out what the hell to do before setting off to look for his dearest.

He'll figure it out.

He has to.

꒰ .... ꒱

Sylus managed to figure out how the world works through some snooping and watching other mortals go about their days. He figures out that the 'city' he resides in is known as the n109 zone. It's an underground city similar to the slums of his time full of crime and well... Danger.

Not that he's afraid of course.

Sylus had already managed to make a living through street fights and occasionally stealing from oblivious passerbys.

What else can he do for now anyway?

It's demeaning in his honor as a proud dragon who once guarded a cave of luxuries but he needs to live.

This city he's in leaves everyone struggling in it's murky alleys.

It was either he succumbs to it's mercy or he overcomes everything as the topdog.

Survival is his priority if he wants to find that person again. He needs to make a name for himself and secure money in order to live in this brutal world where anything and everything is after his throat.

Cough... Cough....

He hears small sounds coming from behind a slanted signboard abandoned on the side of the alleyway. It sounded like it comes from a little girl.

Against his logic to leave it alone incase it might be a catfish pretending to be a helpless child— Sylus cautiously approaches the sign board and peers underneath it.

And there, he finds a little girl all ruffled up with her hair sticking everywhere, dressed in a makeshift adult shirt covered in grime and dirt.

Sensing his snooping, she lifts her tiny little face and looks up at him with her wide and tired beady eyes.

"...." Sylus stares back at her for a while before reaching behind him and handing her a pack of crackers.

After that, he just gets up and leaves her be.

What good is there to bring deadweight on you? She's a child, she'll be a hindrance to him. Giving her some food should sustain her enough to survive a few more days.

꒰ .... ꒱

Maybe he shouldn't have helped the little girl back then.

It's been three days since she started following him around whenever he's out to pickpocket or get into street fights to make some money.

She's a stubborn one.

But a clever little girl too.

She knows how to utilize her small body well to hide herself from the adults and everyone else. She never once got him into a tricky situation.

Oddly enough, Sylus had a feeling she knew more of the city than he did since she always manages to pop up anywhere he is and disappear just as fast whenever she senses danger.

At least he doesn't have to worry about her getting mixed up into the mess he gets himself into.

... Why is he worried about her anyway?

Ugh.

Anyway.

Sylus just finished one of his matches and secured a hefty sum as well as some food to sustain himself with.

Humans in this age are really fragile bastards. How come they're shitty at even the most basic fight? Their fighting forms are all over the place and it's pure bullshit they call themselves proud fighters!

They mind as well frolic in the arena waving their stupid delusions of being top fighters.

It irritates him to no end that they are no match eve a twelve-year-old's body but atleast he has it easier in building himself a name in this shitty place.

"You're here again, sweetie" Sylus said coolly as he lifted a cardboard box where the little girl was hiding herself in while watching him fight. "Aren't you scared someone might sit down on this wobbly box and crush your cute little body?"

"..." She starts giggling as she shows him a toothy smile with a missing front tooth.

'Does she think I'm playing with her?' Sylus thought as he watched her jump in her steps when she stood up and took his hand with her smaller ones.

The little girl started dragging him by his hand and leading him somewhere.

"You..." Sylus sighs and lets himself be dragged by her.

He followed her through winding alleyways and even went so far as entering a pipe just hanging in the backside of the tall buiding of n109 zone. When they came out of the dripping and dark pipe, they arrives at a makeshift base made in a withered and empty building.

It's lightsource is nothing more than a flickering light bulb and the contents of the little fort held up by sticks is a small blanket serving as a bed and a ruined bunny plush that is covered in dirt and dust.

"!!!!" She rummages on a box she had stashed under the blankets and pulls out a piece of bread then offers it to Sylus with twinkling eyes. "Brother... Eat!!!"

He was quite for a little while, scrunching his nose at her little action.

Regardless, he takes it and takes a small bite out of it before shoving the bread to her little mouth.

"Much appreciated, sweetheart" He said, glancing at her with less hostile crimson orbs. "But I'd rather you eat this."

Sylus made sure she finished the food before laying down on the makeshift bed, crossing his arms behind his bed.

He didn't have shelter yet, and since the little girl was so kind and naive enough to lead him to her hideout— What else should he do but rest? He has a lot to do tomorrow and he cant go around sleeping on the streets like he usually did.

So mind as well, right?

꒰ .... ꒱

In contrary to his previous thoughts, he ended up taking care of the little girl who always followed him around quietly or running behind him calling him "Brother, brother!" with that awfully cute voice of hers.

She's just like a stray kitten that he can't shake off no matter what he did.

Does he push her away? A few days back he would have, but now?

Yeah. No.

Absolutely Not.

It's another day of pickpocketing and petty street fights.

Sylus knew his shenanigans are going to catch up to him, but does it have to be so soon?

"Ack!" Sylus groans as he was hit with a pipe straight to his stomach.

He curls himself on the floor, panting heavily as he tries to school himself.

'These... Bastards!' He curses at them repeatedly in his head.

The fuckers followed him all the way to the back alley and ganged up on him in revenge for humiliating them in the previous fights.

"Fucking little shit" One of the men scowls, inhaling his smoke then stomping it out on the floor after blowing it out while his face is black and blue from being hit by Sylus earlier. "That son of a bitch put up a fight despite already being tired. What the fuck is he anyway? A fucking monster?"

"Shit, that must be it" Another sneers, kicking Sylus's stomach when he was already down. "What should we do with the bitch anyway?"

"Break his fucking legs, maybe even cut off his arms"

They laugh wickedly at that, making Sylus feel more pissed off at them.

"B-brother!" He hears a familiar voice crying out for him.

"What the hell?!" Another one of the group grabs the girl by yanking her back by her hair. "Why is there another rat here?"

"She's young?" The main perpetrator moves forward, ignoring Sylus's hand that grabbed his ankle to try and stop him.

"Don't touch her!" Sylus yells desperately, coughing out blood when his head was slammed down on the pavement.

"Must be his sister?" The one holding his head down laughs.

"Nah, I see no resemblance, this bitch looks like trash" The head man yanks the little girl's face. "She's around 5 or six? Maybe even younger? Either way, she'd fetch a good price at the black market"

"!!!!" She wriggles out of his hand and bites it, causing the fucker to pulls his hand out and hiss at the sharp pain.

"Fucking dipshit! She's just like that brother of hers!"

Sylus's eyes widened when he saw the same hand raise itself— About to hit her.

'Wake up.'

'Wake up.'

'WAKE UP'

'I'M TELLING YOU TO FUCKING WAKE UP!'

Boom.

An explosion suddenly resounded in the otherwise decrepit alleyway.

The hand that was holding Sylus down exploded, blood splatter painting the walls and falling onto his dirty silver hair.

He stands up, breathing heavily as crimson black wisps covered himfrom head to toe. Blood dribbles from his mouth to his chin, creating a wicked image with his bloodshot eyes.

The men attempt to scatter and call for help, but they only ended up having heads either severed or their limbs exploding.

He raises a hand towards the fucker that tried to hurt his dearest little sister.

"You..." He snarls, his red eyes overflowing with absolute malice. "I don't give a fuck even if you kidnap me to beat the living shit out of me, but involving my little sister who has nothing to do with anything crosses the line."

And with that, the man's head with suddenly explode into nothingness and his body would flop on the floor with a thump.

Blood puddles beneath him as the dead men spill out what they had in them from the injuries he gave them.

Sylus was in great pain.

Regardless, he stumbles towards the little girl he calls his family and tugs her to his chest.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Oh I'm so sorry" Sylus breathes heavily, stroking her head lovingly and placing kisses on her hair. "Brother is sorry, I should've awakened earlier. I'm so sorry."

"Brother... Wahhh!!..." Her loud sobs pierces at his heart, opting Sylus to hold her even tighther.

"Sshh..." He hushes her lovingly. "Brother is here, baby bird. It's alright"

He can't continue on like this.

He needs to be stronger and better.

Not just for the sake of the beloved he is looking for, but for this little girl who clings onto him so weakly.

This sweet little thing who still calls him her family despite the monster that he is.

He isn't really human even, but this girl loves him as a little sibling would for an older brother.

What can he do but to pamper her and shield her away from everything?

And so, he holds her against him, soothing the sweet little thing he calls his beloved sister.

꒰ .... ꒱

Through the years, Sylus rose in the ranks and soon enough was crowned as the Onychinus leader. He became the rightful leader that he should be with all the wealth and power he can flaunt as much as he pleased.

He raised his little sister along with the struggles he went through.

She didn't have to be involved in the bloody things he does, so it's alright that she herself is just hiding away in his home safe from the dangers of the n109 zone.

He is comforted as long as he knows she is safe and sound.

Sylus made sure no one touches her or even aware of her existence as his family.

So, he managed to live a peaceful life with his little sister who often banters with him for fun.

If there's anyone who can be outright shameless and call him insulting names— It's his baby sister who can do it without fearing for her head to be flying.

"Bastard Santa"

"Old man onychinus"

"Walmart edgelord santa claus"

"If only everyone knew that the leader they all fear is shit at singing"

... Yep, totally shameless.

But does he do anything? Nope.

He just teases her back and pinch her cheek as a form of revenge for each insult she throws out to him.

Right now, he was accompanying his little sister in linkon city for their weekly outings. She was quite sickly and fresh air is a need for someone like her with a weak body.

And what better way to do that than to take her out to Linkon since the air here is much more cleaner?

The colors in the city are also brighter, lifting anyone's mood despite the fact he absolutely detests the sunlight.

"So I managed to pull a new five star in the game yester...day." Her voice drifts off as she passes by a tall man.

She turns her little head to the stranger, glancing back at the tall back wearing a black coat over his broad shoulders. His hair is neat and the ebony black locks made him captivating, underneath those black locks are a pair sharp and charming hazel-green eyes behind rectangular glasses that gave him an air of sophistication and maturity.

His features are sharp and extremely handsome, not as intense as her brother's but still giving off this ethereal air to him. He's beautiful with the small bump on his nose, but not as prominent as Sylus's nose bump.

The stranger's gaze is cold but alluring, almost captivating even.

So captivating that she doesn't realize the fact that she is holding her breath.

Sensing her gaze, the man politely nods at her— Causing her to be a bit flustered and nod back before turning back to Sylus.

"Something catch your eye, sweetheart?" Sylus cocks an eyebrow up as his sister suddenly clung onto his arm.

"No, no!" She shakes her head, bashfully hiding her expression with her hair.

"... Is it a handsome man?" He teases, nudging her gently causing a pout on her lips to form. "What? You always tease your brother when it comes to his girlfriend, why can't I have a bit of fun when my baby sister finds someone attractive?"

"...I'm telling Rei-unnie about this!" She spites at Sylus who always chuckles, amused at her little tantrum and then ruffles her hair up with his free hand up.

"Don't grow up too fast, baby sister. Brother isn't willing to walk you down the aisle and hand you off to someone else" Sylus said affectionately, earning him a soft punch from her.

"Oh don't be so dramatic! If you're so upset about the idea then go and propose to Rei-unnie!"

"Help me pick up a ring then?"

"Buy me plushies after~"

꒰ 🪼 A/N: //Gasp!!!. Kyunnie posted twice for a day???!!! Omgg!!!!! Hahah jk x3!!! I was hit with inspiration because I've been daydreaming about being Sylus's baby sister for quite a while now!!!~~~ I'm always rambling to my mootie about this idea because I like the idea of being Sysy's baby sis who roasts him everyday heheh!!! I even sneaked in Zaynie//giggles. My hubbyyy~~~~ Should I make a fic where the other three lads men date sysy's lil sis 🤔🤔🤔. Maybe? Heheh٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡. Soon, one day>:3!!! ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡✧: ~ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

[paniniani]

cooking with fire: katsuki bakugo x reader

"you really hate celery that fuckin much??" bakugo yelled, a look of horror on his face as he stomped into the kitchen. he just wanted to make a cup of tea in peace, but when he saw you mutilating these poor vegetables, he had to step in.

rolling your eyes, you spit out a response: "can you be a little more annoying? since everyone's been getting sick, i'm making soup. im doing a nice thing. do you know what a nice thing is? it's when people-"

"SHUT UP." he interrupted, scowling at you as he braced his elbows on the kitchen counter, leaning over to inspect your poor cutting job. you certainly didn't mind the view as you continued chopping, eyes raking over his muscular forear-

"SHIT" you cried, as the knife nicked your pointer finger, leaving a tiny yet slightly painful scratch. great. first you're terrible at cooking, then you cut your finger because you're thirsting over the class' biggest asshole. for a brief moment, a flicker of concern crossed his face, quickly replaced by his trademark smug smirk.

"need a bandaid or somethin? didn't take you as someone to be so.. easily distracted." turning your attention away from your finger, you raised your chin to meet his gaze, sparking with pride and... something you couldn't quite pin down.

"what's your problem anyway? can't you just leave me alone?" you replied, trying not to flush at the eye contact.

"i'll leave you alone when you stop fucking butchering these vegetables!" as his eyebrows drew together, you saw the same unfamiliar expression flash across his face before he closed his eyes and sighed with annoyance. picking up the knife again, you began chopping. you were focusing so hard on the celery that you didn't notice his strangely quiet steps, moving closer and closer until his large hand settled over yours on the knife, standing behind you to watch your movements.

your breath hitched at the uncharacteristically gentle contact, causing your mind to race as you suddenly felt hot, burning hot, all over your body.

"somethin the matter? what happened to all that shit you were talkin? soup's not gonna make itself." you could practically hear the smirk in his face as you stood stone-still, his thumb having the nerve to draw tiny, delicate circles over your own. reaching his other arm around you, he grabbed a new piece of celery and began to chop, still keeping your hand underneath his.

his skilled hands made quick work of the vegetables, finishing the task in just a few seconds. you would never forgive your brain for the nasty thoughts you were having of what else he could do with those han-

"aw come on, don't go all shy on me now..." he quietly spoke into your ear, flustering you further if it were possible. this wasn't fair. you didn't know what the fuck had come over him, but two could play at this game, no matter how incredibly turned on you were.

"you gonna help me with some more or just stand there? still gotta chop up these carrots.." you looked back at him with heavy lids, letting your head tilt to the side, almost grazing his shoulder. internally, you giggled as it was his turn to flush deep red. his face was painted with that same odd expression, finally realizing that it was-

"don't give a fuck about these damn carrots" he murmured, staring down at you. he was whipped, and he knew it. grabbing the knife and your hand again, he grabbed a few carrots, leaning his strong chest against your back.

"gotta see better" he spat out, but you knew he was about to give in. in a moment of desperation, you arched your back, pressing your ass against him. looking up at him again through lust-covered eyes, you choked out a few words:

"need.. your help.. bakugo."

screwing his eyes shut, he knew he was done for- shit. he was hard as a fucking rock. you could definitely tell too. grinding against you, he bit back a groan. you felt so fucking good.. fuck, he needed you so bad. suddenly, you felt strong hands grabbing your waist and spinning you around to face him.

shit. this was much easier when you weren't having to look at him. crimson eyes staring at your lips, you gulped and looked up at him with wide pleading eyes. knowing this would push him over the edge, you leaned in, your lips magnetic towards his own. at the last instant, you moved, pressing gentle kisses across his jawline, watching his throat struggle to keep his pretty sounds in. kissing and gently sucking down his neck, he finally gave in. opening his mouth, he managed a few mumbled words between quiet groans.

"itskatsuki.please."

his voice cracked with desire, begging, pleading you to continue. kneeling down, you trailed kisses across his rapidly rising and falling chest, watching his abs twitch as you continued downward to his v-line. slipping a finger in his waistband, causing a whine, you knew you had him. why not make this a little more fun? you looked up at him with a sweet smile, speaking in a low, sultry tone.

"okay. katsuki..." you drew his name out with a long groan, watching him look at you pleadingly. "we still gotta chop the carrots".

[viiennie]

𝕭𝖊𝖙𝖜𝖊𝖊𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖆𝖘𝖙 𝖇𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖙𝖍

Gojo Satoru x f!reader

chapter one

Tags and warnings: Zombie Apocalypse, mentions of gore (including blood and death), slight angst (?), spoilers to ‘Happiness’, eventual smut, female reader, p in v sex, fingering, creampie, lovey dovey sex in the midst of a literal lock down, masturbation, slow burn kinda?, fluff, romance, drugs, manipulation, exhibition, gojo is a pervertttttt, mdni — 18+, enemies to lovers word count: 4093

You never thought that at the ripe age of 29, you’d be taking walks for the sole purpose of hoping to find dropped money on the road. 

Hey, You can’t be blamed now, can you? Life is completely unpredictable, and you’re just glad you at least have an apartment to sleep in and a job that pays kinda enough. But what can you do when the bills are still high, and you still got a loan to settle? Your salary barely covers your living expenses, and you’ve got those damn loan sharks to be worrying about to add to the list. 

You always thought life would go well after graduating Criminology and getting a job in the military. To top it all off, you climbed the ranks and secured a respectable position without getting your hands dirty. Back then, you lived on the tallest floor of your dream apartment and bought all your dream cars to drive and wake the neighbors with.

It was the sweetest life had gotten. 

If only you didnt—

Riiiiiing!

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, the lights flashing as the name of your boss along with the picture of a very stern looking pig pops up on screen. You sigh, staring at it and pondering if you should answer the call. Your finger hovers over the green logo, a hesitation in the twitch of your digits as you debate missing the call and getting a handful of scolding when you go to work or answering and getting the same amount of scolding for something stupid you probably did while on the job. 

Another sigh leaves your lips when you decide to answer.

“There’s a job for you. I emailed all the details to you.”

He hangs up, not even bothering to hear a response from you. 

God, he’s always like that. Acting like some VIP, treating everyone else like they were below him. Countless times have you slapped the shit out of him in your dreams, and countless times have you hurled curses at him behind his back. Why’s there always a stick up his ass anyway?

You open the pdf file in your email, groaning at the 42 pages you have to read over. 

You work as a bodyguard now, the only place that didn’t blacklist you being an executive protection services company. Your job was to make sure your clients stayed out of harm's way, and so far, it’s been an absolute piece of cake compared to your previous occupation. You just had to stand behind them, look intimidating, and keep that up for the rest of the day.

As you skim over the file, you realize that this was the typical case of a nepo baby being rebellious whilst getting neglected by their parents. It was always, ‘I just can’t seem to control my teenager’ ‘He gets out of hand and always ends up almost killing himself.’ but they have never considered the fact that they’ve barely present in their child’s life?

Your duties consisted of absurd things, like cooking and making meals for the client, ensuring he does not leave the house, and even doing the laundry. A rise of annoyance boils in you as you continue to read down your responsibilities—things that nannies would do. If they wanted to hire one then they should’ve contacted someone else, not a body guarding company. Besides, why was this task assigned to you and not someone more qualified? You don’t ever remember putting ‘experienced nanny’ in your resume. 

No. You’re not doing this. You had your pride to—

Total Salary: 15,000,000 ₩ per day.

Well, it’s not like taking care of a child is that hard right? Besides, you do these so-called duties everyday for yourself! Not like adding an extra pair of clothes to the washing machine or cooking for two would be that hard. And! you get to sleep in a million dollar penthouse for three whole days, who wouldn’t miss that offer? And the living expenses are covered by your client too? Man, the pros are really outweighing the cons right now. 

You carefully read through the pages, scanning over the personal details of your new beloved client.

Full Name: Gojo Satoru

Birthday: 1994 December 7

Age: 28

Gender: Male

You blink

Once, twice, and then thrice.

Are you seeing this right?

The person you’re going to be babysitting is in fact not a little boy, but a grown ass man at the ripe age of 28? The person you’re going to be cooking and cleaning for is a grown adult capable of doing these daily chores with all of his four limbs intact? This couldn’t possibly be right, could it? You shake your head, scrolling back to look at the delicious view of the 15 million displayed on your phone screen. So what if it was a grown man? That means you wouldn’t have to be too worried about buying toddler food and all that, right? And him being an adult means he’s perfectly capable of doing his own chores, meaning, less work for you! 

Yeah, that’s right.

Things don’t have to be negative.

You inhale, gathering your thoughts and prayers, hoping this wasn’t about to be the worst decision of your life. No way it will be. It’s just for three short days anyway. And what if you actually end up getting along well with the guy?

Day One

Standing before these grand doors bring back memories you never liked. It reminded you of what you used to be—what kind of glory you used to hold. The keys in your palms feel cold, like ice that doesn’t melt despite the warmth your skin radiates. It feels illegal entering someone’s home without knocking— it's like you’re trespassing. But what can you do when those are your instructions?

The door to the penthouse swings open, the sound echoing through the spacious hall. The moment you step inside, the air feels different—cool, fresh, like everything in this space was designed with immaculate precision. You take a second to absorb the layout: sleek, minimalistic furniture, modern art pieces hanging from the walls, soft ambient lighting, and large glass windows that offer a wonderful view of the city. It’s everything you’d expect from a man who has money to burn but little else to do with it. It’s also everything you’ve ever wanted ever since falling into this pit of poverty.

You take another step in, and the door closes behind you with a soft click—a sound that tells you you’ve just sealed your fate. You take a deep breath in, to prepare your beating heart, and exhale, reminding yourself that you’re here now, and that this is really happening. 

“Hello?” you call out, your voice carrying a bit farther than you intended in the vast silence. You wait for a response, but there’s nothing but an eerie stillness. You feel awkward in this large space, your senses used to the small cozy apartment you lived in. You feel like a misplaced object here, like a piece of banana peel in the middle of a diamond sea. 

Then, suddenly, you hear a loud thud from what sounds like the far side of the apartment, followed by a burst of laughter. It’s carefree and youthful, almost too much so for someone who’s supposed to be the CEO’s son. Your eyes narrow as you start walking further into the apartment, your boots clicking sharply against the polished floor.

"Yeah, yeah, I’m coming!" The voice calls out lazily, not even bothering to sound apologetic.

You stop in your tracks as a figure finally appears at the threshold of what you assume is the study. Satoru Gojo strides out, looking like he couldn’t care less about your presence. His white hair is slightly messy, falling carelessly over his forehead, and he’s dressed casually in a loose-fitting white shirt and black pants, the kind of outfit someone of his status might wear to keep things comfortable while still looking polished. You stare at him for a moment, noting how his playful, almost mischievous grin makes him seem like someone who hasn’t taken a single thing seriously in his life. Maybe this is why they told you to just walk in without warning. This guy didn’t even bother standing up the moment he heard someone entering his home.

“So, you’re the new babysitter?” His tone is light, amused, and you can already tell he’s not taking this job seriously at all. He doesn’t even bother to get off the couch, merely reclining with his legs sprawled out in front of him. “I thought they’d send someone with a little more... personality.”

Your lips press into a tight line, frustration rising in your chest. This was the guy you were supposed to be protecting? It was a far cry from what you had imagined. It’s okay! You expected this. I mean, the pay wouldn’t be 15 million for no reason right? All you had to do was endure this asshat for 3 days, and you’d be out, never having to do it again with the amount of money you’ll accumulate by then. 

“I’m not your babysitter, Gojo,” you reply flatly, setting the file down on the coffee table between you. “I’m here to ensure you stay out of trouble for the next three days.”

He doesn’t seem fazed, however. He tilts his head back and stretches his arms over his head with a casual ease that only someone with his kind of wealth and status could pull off. “Oh, come on, you don’t have to be so serious all the time, miss. Relax a little. This doesn’t have to be a hard job, does it?” 

You nod, a small, twitching smile on your lips. Yeah, this doesn’t have to be hard for the two of you, just don’t let yourself be absorbed into his insufferableness, and things will be all fine and dandy.

The smile on his face never fades, though there’s something in his eyes—something that makes you realize he’s enjoying the tension between you more than he should. He leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he regards you with a look that borders on teasing. “Don’t worry miss bodyguard, I’ll make sure to cooperate extra well for you,” he says, his voice oozing with mock sincerity.

Gojo’s eyes flicker with curiosity for a brief moment before his grin turns more knowing. You were far from what he expected. When his father told him he’d be hiring professionals to keep him in check, he was expecting a middle aged old grump with a tragic backstory, not an angry little kitten that was his age. 

You take a deep breath, keeping your cool. You’re a professional. You endured 4 years of brutal training, and spent the next 5 years being an active soldier, one man child isn’t gonna break you. “Where do we start?”

“Start?” Gojo repeats, his eyes twinkling with a challenge. “I’ll give you a tour of the place. Get settled in, and we’ll figure things out from there.” All of a sudden, he’s all buddy-buddy and normal, standing from his seat with a groan that tells you it’s the first time in a few long hours he’s standing from that couch.

“Okay,” you mutter, though you know the last thing you need is to be stuck following him around all day. But you have no choice now—this is the job you so happily accepted. Perhaps you just had a bad first impression, right? Maybe this is just his personality and he’s actually a nice guy under all that ego!

Gojo leads you through the penthouse with a surprising amount of enthusiasm, his movements exaggerated for your benefit. The whole time, you feel his eyes on you, like he’s analyzing you as much as you’re analyzing him. He talks non-stop, making sarcastic comments here and there, each one more annoying than the last, and you keep your responses short but interactive. Last thing you wanna hear is him whining about you being a cold person. 

When you finally arrive at the guest room, he gestures dramatically to the sleek, modern decor. “There you go. It’s not much, but it’ll do for the next ten days. I hope you like the view,” he adds, pulling back the heavy curtain to reveal a stunning view of the city skyline, one you’ve seen countless times in your dreams. 

You take a step inside, but before you can say anything, Gojo’s already made his way back to the living room. “I’ll be in my office if you need me. Don’t break anything while I’m gone.”

As you stand there, staring at the sprawling apartment, you feel a strange tension in the air. You’ve dealt with dangerous situations, but this—this was something else. This penthouse may be the safest area in the entire apartment complex, but there’s something in here that greatly unsettles you, that what’s dangerous isn’t outside of this place, but inside. Your eyes linger on the door that your manchild is behind and you finally realize how hard your heart is thumping against your chest. 

It’s Gojo.

Gojo’s the dangerous one here. 

Shaking your head, you set down your bags, neatly placing them against the door before you pull out your phone to check if there were any updates from your boss—any additional information or duties perhaps, but your notification bar is empty. (thankfully)

Ding!

Omg, have you heard about the attack at the training center?

You raise an eyebrow at the text you received from a friend that was followed by a 10 second video she sends. The thumbnail sends chills down your spine, the image of an unsettling trainee with bloodshot eyes and protruding veins being the first thing you see. He has blood dripping down his chin, his teeth stained with a deep red. There's no possible way that was real. This is probably a prank, right?

As you play the video, you realize the unmoving body in the background with blood pooling around it isn't a prank. Neither is the way the zombie thing continues to bang its head against the glass part of the door where the cameraman stands behind. You can hear people screaming in the background and the labored breathes of the person holding the camera.

What the fuck?

For this type of thing to happen in a military training center is unheard of. With the amount of security and the amount of trained professionals around, they would shoot at the sight of suspicious movement. Perhaps that trainee was infected in the facility itself?

You sigh, shaking your head. That wasn't for you to worry about. You're sure they've already taken care of the situation, making sure no one else would be harmed after one casualty. Besides, you weren't even in the military anymore, so what business did you have with all this?

You lock your phone and toss it onto the counter with a bit more force than intended, the dull clatter echoing in your quiet apartment. For a moment, you stand there, staring at the blank wall in front of you, the disturbing video replaying itself in your mind despite your best efforts to shake it off. It was none of your business, you remind yourself. You weren't a part of that world anymore—no chain of command, no classified briefings, no need to carry the weight of threats on your shoulders.

Still, the unease lingers like an itch you can't quite scratch. The image of that bloodied trainee and the helpless body in the background refuses to leave your thoughts, clawing its way into the forefront no matter how hard you try to shove it back. The screams and the clattering of rushes footsteps ring in your ears like a broken radio.

“Snap out of it,” you mutter to yourself, dragging a hand through your hair. Standing still wasn’t helping. Maybe you just needed to clear your head, step outside for a bit and distract yourself with something mundane. Groceries. That was the perfect excuse to leave this place. And besides, it would help to restock in the case that a zombie apocalypse would really break out soon.

Opening the door, you’re surprised to see Gojo sitting in the living room, manspread as he switches through the channels with a bored look on his face. His eyes glaze over to you, a grin stretches through his lips. “Out so soon? I know my face is irresistible, but you barely spent 5 minutes in there, miss bodyguard.” As soon as he opens his mouth, it’s like flies are flocking over to him. You push aside the feeling of annoyance, not wanting to waste energy on him. 

“I’m going out to buy groceries. Is there anything you want?” You sigh for the fifth time today, hand resting on the doorknob of the front door. 

“Anything sweet pleaseee” He hums sending you a wink that has you cringing before focusing back on the TV.

Nodding, you make sure the credit card provided to you is safe in your pocket before heading out. You’re greeted by a kind cleaning lady who smiles at you with fondness, “My, I didn’t know such a pretty young lady lived here!” Her voice is soft, reminding you of your grandmother whom you dearly miss. You smile back at her, feeling yourself relax in her presence, “I’m not moving in, auntie. Just staying with a friend for a few days.”

“Oh my, that’s a shame. I would have loved to see you everyday!”

You chuckle at her response, politely saying goodbye before stepping into the empty elevator. 

Whilst you were out on a grocery store run, Gojo shuts off the TV, a serious expression overturning his previously cheerful one. He was getting sick and tired of his father hiring these people to watch over him like he was a child. Being a detective was a step he took to free himself from the chains of being born into his family, a step he took to rebel against his unreasonable father, who was a businessman obsessed with continuing his legacy, he didn't expect the price he had to pay would be getting house arrested by his father in his own home with some stranger.

He hops off of the couch, walking over to your room and opening the door without a care in the world. He snoops through your things, looking through your identification cards, opening all the pockets in your bag. He’s surprised when he discovers an ID tucked away in the deepest depths of your bag, as if you didn't want to see it but kept it with you because you didn't want to let go.

​​Gojo's fingers brush against the smooth, metallic edge of the card as he pulls it out of the hidden pocket in your bag. The ID feels substantial in his hands, heavier than an ordinary card, exuding an air of authority and importance. He almost feels guilty snooping around like this.

The front of the card is dominated by a sleek, black matte finish that absorbs light, giving it a tactical, almost stealth-like appearance. At the top, bold silver letters gleam against the dark background:

“13th Special Mission Brigade”

Below that, a faint watermark of the Decapitation Unit’s insignia—a black panther—catches the light at certain angles, visible only upon close inspection. 

Your photograph occupies the upper-left corner, a stern, no-nonsense expression on your face. You wear your ceremonial full dress uniform, badges of what you've done and where you've been displayed onto the clean cloth. Next to the photo, your name is printed in capital letters, the font crisp and official: 

Y/N L/N

Lieutenant Colonel, Decapitation Unit

Beneath your name, your serial number and rank are listed in smaller, but equally precise text, alongside a QR code that has been scratched out, an occurrence that happens only if you've been discharged from duty.

The right side of the card displays the unit's motto in embossed silver script:  

Silence in Action, Swift in Justice.

Just below the motto is a small holographic seal that shifts between the South Korean flag and the emblem of the Decapitation Unit, further verifying its authenticity that Gojo was most definitely not doubting at this point. Around the edges, faintly visible microtext runs continuously, forming a border of tiny but legible words repeating:  

For honor, for country, for the safety of all.

On the back, the design is equally meticulous. The background is a faint camouflage pattern in shades of gray and black, with a magnetic stripe running across the top. Centered in bold red letters is a warning:  

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY: This card must be presented upon request. Unauthorized use is punishable by law.

Beneath it, a small, clear rectangular panel reveals an embedded fingerprint that has also been scratched out by a blade. The rest of the back contains rows of text detailing clearance levels, blood type, and emergency contact information.

Gojo turns the card over in his hands, raising an eyebrow. "So, former Lieutenant Colonel, huh?" he murmurs to himself, a mix of admiration and suspicion flickering in his eyes. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he slipped the card back where he found it, making sure to tuck it away with the same care. 

“Guess you’re not as simple as you seem, miss bodyguard,” he mutters, stepping out of your room. The gears in his mind are already turning, trying to piece together just how someone with your past ended up here, protecting him.

The buzzing of your phone on the bedside table catching his attention, the constant dings sending a mix of irritance and curiosity through him. Well, he’s already touched all your things, what more was a phone? He takes the phone in his hands, testing his luck by typing 12345 in. He face palms when your phone opens, wondering why a special forces agent would set a password like that on her phone. He opens the chat that’s been spamming you, skimming over the ‘y/n stop ignoring meee’ ‘i know you’re seeing this’ and the random emojis being sent. 

A video with the thumbnail equivalent to a zombie horror movie garners his attention, his finger tapping the play button without much thought, thinking he’d be watching some kind of trailer to an upcoming film. But he’s met with a gruesome sight, the same thing you had watched before leaving. His eyebrows furrowed as he tries to comprehend the scene.

Then he’s reminded of a recent case he investigated before being locked in this penthouse by his father. It was manslaughter, with the victim being the front desk worker of a motel. The crime scene was gruesome—bite marks and ripped flesh along the neck of the man. They had originally thought the perpetrator fled from the scene, but as he scanned the room, he discovered the motherfucker hiding under the bed, his mouth still dripping with blood. “I don’t remember much of what happened.” He said as they interrogated him on the scene, “I just took this drug, and before I knew it, I kinda blacked out.” 

He had originally thought it was a classic case of reckless manslaughter under the influence of illegal narcotics because the perpetrator seemed perfectly human. No bloodshot eyes and no visible veins like in the video he watched. 

Perhaps they were completely unrelated. 

He’s about to erase all evidence of him snooping around your phone until the last message your friend sends makes him pause.

‘They say he returned to normal when he was transported into the vehicle, that’s so freaky!’ 

Okay, they’re definitely related.

He puts your phone back on the table, rushing to his room where he opens his drawer and removes the hidden compartment that contained a capsule he found in the crime scene of the motel safely sealed in a tiny ziplock bag. It’s clear blue with a shine around the edges. He opens his laptop, entering the police force search engine and encoding his badge number before surfing the net for information about a blue capsule drug. 

The most similar one in appearance is a treatment drug for pneumonia called, ‘Next’. It had failed due to the fact that it was mutagenic, meaning it had the chance of mutating human DNA. 

It didn’t take a lot of brain cells to conclude that this drug was probably the cause for the odd series of events. Judging from the way an apocalypse hasn’t started and he doesn’t hear people screaming for their lives, then the military probably has this disease under control. Just when he’s about to sigh from relief, he hears a loud thud from the hallway of his apartment building, followed by three more before an eerie silence deafens him. He has half the mind to check outside, but he knows that’s probably the last thing he wants to do. The amount of horror movies he’s binge watched tells him that the first to die is always the one to check whatever’s going on.

Then his front door opens. 

“(y/n)...?” He calls out, goosebumps rising on his skin. 

“Gojo, stay in your room.”

He’s not sure why, but he’s relieved it’s you who walked through that door, and not some flesh eating monster.

a/n: first chapter outtt yaaayyyyy!!!! kinda scared for this series bc the premiere didnt get a lot of attention😞 anyway!! hope u guys enjoyed this chapter💖

taglist: @atomicweaselpaperapricot @boothillglazer

[literaryvein-reblogs]

How to write a character’s dialogue where they make jokes a lot but have suicidal thoughts?

Philosophers such as Plato and Aristotle have been trying to explain humor since ancient times. Recent scholars have proposed several theories explaining the underlying mechanisms of humor:

Release Theory of Humor - the theory that people laugh out of a need to release pent-up psychic energy. In Sigmund Freud’s version of this theory, humor permits the expression of normally taboo impulses, and the energy it releases is that normally used in keeping such impulses out of consciousness.

Relief Theory - focuses primarily on the motivational mechanisms of interpersonal needs, positing that humor provides relief of tension. The authors describe this as akin to a hydraulic engine, with laughter serving the function of a steam pipe pressure valve. In this way, pent-up pressure is relieved through laughter. More specifically, the muscular and respiratory processes involved in laugher serve the important role of releasing pent-up nervous energy (Martin & Ford, 2018).

Incongruity Theory - believed to be the most influential humor theory, with some proposing that “incongruity is at the core of all humor” (Zhan, 2012, p. 95). This theory is intuitive, as a joke with an expected or obvious punchline is simply not funny. Instead, laughter occurs in response to unexpected punchlines or those that go against usual patterns (Wilkins & Eisenbraun, 2009).

The "Sad Clown" Trope - This character trope is the wisecracking funnyman who copes with his hopeless position with humor — usually of the groan-inducing kind.

He is totally insecure at heart and keeps on running his mouth to fool himself into thinking he's confident or to get people to like him.

In the most tragic cases though, people do actually find them genuinely charming and likeable because of their humor and like being around them.

This is usually of little comfort to the Sad Clowns, whose insecurities cause them to fear that people only really like the "Clown" part of them, and so they do their damnedest to always be the "Clown" in public, but bury and suppress the "Sad" side of them as deeply as possible, because they are afraid that people would like them less if they were to find out about it.

Often put in more serious series to add some comic relief, while at the same time secretly revealing to the audience that the character is a simmering pot of hidden insecurities and angst, just like everyone else in the cast.

Very commonly tragic Truth in Television, as it's actually very common for people afflicted with mental illnesses (especially Bipolar Disorder, anxiety, depression, schizophrenia, Personality Disorders, and Obsessive-Compulsive Disorders for example) to actually have a great sense of humor.

It sounds contradictory, but mental illness isn't all sadness and darkness. One thing that is common to many people with mental illnesses is severe self-doubt about their value as a person.

Cracking jokes and making people laugh can help temporarily ease some of those feelings. Not to mention that humor is a very effective coping mechanism.

Examples: "Sad Clown" Trope

East of Eden offers this exchange about the stereotype of the Irish. Lee: "But the Irish are said to be a happy people, full of jokes." Samuel Hamilton: "There's y our pidgin and your queue. They are not. They are a dark people with a gift for suffering way past their deserving. It's said that without whisky to soak and soften the world, they'd kill themselves. But they tell jokes because it's expected of them."

Hector from Coco seems like a carefree, charming con-artist who just wants to go to the Land of the Living like everyone else on the holiday. Then it's revealed that he is a deeply tragic character who has been unjustly hated and separated from his family for decades, and all that energetic silliness was a front to cover up a lot of sadness and shame.

Homer Simpson is a pretty good example of this trope. Though he's usually fairly exuberant, he's attempted suicide at least three times in the series, and during the early seasons, was often shown to be insecure about the way he looks, not to mention the stress related to his job. In the modern episodes, Homer's childhood was revealed with his parents constantly fighting and his father taking out his frustration on him, bringing about Homer's constant eating habits.

Sources: 1 2 3 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Considering some theories on humour, like those mentioned above, and studying the dialogue of characters that exhibit the "sad clown" trope (and other similar ones) might be used as inspiration for your character. You can read more examples here that I wasn't able to include in this post. Hope this helps with your writing!

[sugusat]

Saturo Gojo x Reader

Post-Apocalyptic Survival: In a world overrun by curses, you team up with Gojo to survive. His cocky attitude keeps you somewhat entertained, but his rare moments of vulnerability make you wonder what else he has hidden under that blindfold.

Slight enemies to lovers, gojos a goof and lowkey down bad but reader is angsty af from saving everyone. Pesismistic reader, eventual smut. Oral, grinding? Gojo calls reader Peach!

Part 2!

The long abandoned buildings creaked and swayed as rats scuttled across the ground in the afternoon sun. You and Gojo had been walking for hours now, hell bent on making your way back to camp where you and a group of survivors had been banding together to try and defeat the dominating curses once and for all.

You had both gotten lost on a run for supplies, overwhelmed by high-level curses that had attacked.

The camp would be wondering where you both were now, and you weren’t liking the look of that nasty gash on Saturos ribs that he had received in turn for defending you. With Gojo still weak from the fight, you didn't like the idea of being out here vulnerable any longer than you needed to be.

He was such an idiot sometimes.

"Come onnn Peach, we've been walking for hours. Can we pur-leasE take a break." Gojo sighed as he dragged his feet across the mudded road.

"For the last time, no! We need to get into the woods whilst we have the daylight, the curses will be coming out to play soon and I do not want another run-in. Besides, I'm estimating the camp is only around 1 hour from here." You sighed as you continued walking, ignoring the ache in your feet and trying to not become too paranoid as the dark woods came into view.

This was good, you would be more covered on this part and have more areas to hide. You would get home shortly and then could have some well-needed space from Gojo.

All these thoughts ran through your head as you sent Gojo silent daggers through the back of his head.

"Ya know I can feel you glaring at me from here, it wouldn't kill you to say thank you. You know.. for saving your life and all."

You snorted at this, "What you did was foolish, you are the strongest one here and yet you came on this stupid supply run and nearly died stopping curses I could have handled." You muttered the last part as you knew you couldn't have handled those curses alone, but you weren't ready to admit that yet.

Since the curses had taken over 5 years ago, the world had fallen into disarray. With limited communications and more people dying every day, the fight was hard. But this didn't seem to have stopped Gojo's infernal positivity, no he seemed entirely unaffected by the years and it was infuriating.

"Yeah sure Peach, you could have handled that all by yourself, forgive me for making an error in judgement. Next time, you handle the big bad demons all by yourself. " His words seemed more agitated now and his movements had become sluggish with every step.

You moved to stand in front of him, and he staggered as if he hadn't noticed you had even gotten ahead of him. "You're burning up, I think that curses blade was poisoned. Fuck." You sighed as he began to sway.

"Hmhm Peach I'm fine, lets just rest awhile yeah?" Gojo mumbled as he leaned his forehead further into your hand.

"No, we need to keep moving, come on.. Just loop your arm around mine and tell me something, k-keep talking to me," You insisted hesitantly as you began to pull Gojo a bit quicker through the muddy forest. Using what little reversed technique you knew to try and heal him. If you made it back, you needed to remember to thank Shoko for showing you a few tricks.

"I think that's the first time you've ever asked me to speak, rather than shouting at me to shut the hell up. Are you sure you're not the one with the fever Peach?" Gojo smirked as his steps began to match your pace but his weight noticeably leaned into you.

You laughed at this, just satisfied he was still walking and talking. The camp wasn't far, you could do this. Sure - It was only the strongest.. close to passing out in your arms.. Gods, what would the camp think if you got him killed? Then where would you all be, and a small part of yourself couldn't deny how awful it would be to not have his annoying optimism around all the time.

"I thought we were supposed to be talking Peach, " Gojo breathlessly said as he floppily turned his head to yours, his eyes hidden beneath the fabric on his head. "We are! We're all fine. Everything will be fine." You spoke more to yourself than him.

"Heh, I know it will be Peach" Gojo said as he began to walk with a bit more strength, "because I've got you. You really think any of us would be still here without ya saving us all the time Peach?" Gojo said as a lazy smile graced his face.

This was strange, Gojo and you tormented each other but you were sure over the last five years he had never acknowledged your leadership in the camp or how you tirelessly worked towards keeping everyone alive and stopping the curses once and for all.

You were silent in this, unsure what to say. "Why do you call me Peach?" You asked, wanting to steer the topic away from his strange vulnerability at the minute.

"Heh, I've always called you Peach. Do I need a reason?." Gojo laughed as he staggered slightly across a small fallen branch on the ground. You steadied him with your arm and pulled him closer, the camp wasn't far now.

"C-come on, just a bit longer Saturo.." Gojo seemed to wake at this, "What did you call me?" He asked in a hazy confusion, "Your name silly, we're nearly there." "Ye-yeah, right. Nearly there," Gojo muttered as you continued to walk, Gojo leaning into you still.

"I call you Peach because when we first met, before all of this, you were so shy and awkward. You would go pink as a peach whenever we spoke, but now.. you're so different.."

"Bad different?" You snorted as you glanced up at the tall white-haired boy.

"N-no, never. You keep us all alive, heh- I've never known someone so stubborn to fight for this world.." You held your breath, the only sound of both footsteps in the quiet woods to fill the air. Gojo sighed, the poison clearly fighting back against the healing energy.

"I guess it's just nice to hold on to something that could have been ya-know? Everything is changing every day and it can feel so scary, but if I can still call you Peach and maybe tease a lil, then I guess it's not too bad right?"

You glanced down at the ground, processing Saturos small confession. You always thought he was an arrogant fool, too powerful to understand what it was like to fear death every day. Too busy laughing and making jokes to understand the gravity of what you were all doing here, fighting back. But maybe you had been the one to judge too quickly, maybe this was just how Gojo coped with everything. Just how you leading the camp and fixing everyone, helped you feel a bit more in control.

"Come on, we're here. Shoko is going to pull that poison out of you and you'll be back to your usual teasing self." You said with an eye roll, dismissing the curious conversation.

"Hmhm..home sweet home.." Gojo muttered as he almost fell into the protective wall that kept the camp safe.

--------------------------------------------------------------

After dropping a babbling Gojo into the arms of Nanami and Shoko, you quickly made your way to the small 2 room quarters you had been provided many years ago. The camp consisted of a series of shacks and some larger buildings for a food hall, medical and defence, it wasn't much but it was home.

Now resting on the tiny beaten table in what could be called the living room, you tried to get comfortable as you poured over war strategies in books and any possible weapons for defeating curses.

A knock sounded at the old wooden door. Your head whipped around at the sudden sound, and the door began to creak open. Immediate panic ran through you as you moved for the cursed-infused dagger resting on the table and stood to attack. But as quickly as you were standing, the door opened fully and a mop of white hair bobbed into the room, ducking down, clearly too tall for the shack's rickety door.

"Woah-woah, I come in peace alright, jesus, and I thought we liked each other now,”

Gojo laughed as he held his hands in the air and looked you up and down. His mask now abandoned and his captivating six eyes staring into your soul. You calmed your breathing, glaring at his back as you placed the knife on the table and Gojo slowly shut the door behind him.

"You ass! Can see you're back to your usual self now," You snarled, angry at yourself for reacting. Reading about war strategies and demons for two hours in silence would make any girl jumpy.

"So this is how you spend your nights.." Gojo smirked as he took in the worn shack filled with aged volumes and archives containing vital information about the war you were fighting, usually swapped between you and Nanami. Weapons scattered the floors and more clutter accumulated over the years. Small drawings littered the door of a long broken fridge, which caught Gojo's eye as he walked over to observe.

"Make yourself at home.." You muttered as Gojos eyes skimmed the collection of sketches from another life, along with some children's drawings. "Wow, you really are talented, seriously if art museums still existed this would be a home run." Gojo laughed as he picked up a splotchy painted drawing, clearly done by one of the small children you helped train and not yourself.

You snatched the drawing from his hand and placed it on the counter, "What do you want Saturo..?" You were so tired after being nearly eaten by curses, saving Gojo and pouring over those beaten books. You weren't in the mood for his teasing.

"Hey it's been a long day but um, I guess I just wanted to say thanks alright? I guess you saved both of our asses today and I appreciated it."

Gojo said awkwardly as he rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, his muscles flexing through the tight t-shirt he now wore. You could see the lining of where the bandage ran around his ribs.

You were clearly sleep deprived if you were admiring Gojos muscles, you shook your head. Clearing the fog.

"Uh, yeah it's fine I guess. I mean you hah-you saved us first, and it wasn't much." You mumbled, feeling an awkwardness from the vulnerability again. You weren't used to this.

"I guess the Peach name still counts.." Gojo smirked as he stared at you and your slightly flushed cheeks.

"Ass" you muttered as you turned to sit at the table. As you sat down, Gojo started to follow but instead of sitting down on the other remaining chair, he knelt in front of you.

"Look I mean it, thank you. And I'm sorry if you don't think I take things seriously Peach, because I do, trust me. But sometimes it's nice to remind you that life can still be fun ya know?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed but Gojo placed a large hand on your thigh and pulled your body back to face his kneeling form. "You don't always have to be the strong one Peach. You deserve joy as well, you know... ”

And you didn't know what to do with those words, it was as if five years of pressure and fighting came crashing down on you all at once. You felt the breath be sucked out of your lungs at someone seeing you, and you were so tired. So tired of running, of fighting, of making the decisions. But you weren't ready to face that just yet, and you hadn't realised you had knelt forward, your face now so close to Gojo's who silently watched you.

Tears threatened to spill in your eyes but you couldn't deal with it, couldn't stand it. So you did the only thing you could, you kissed Saturo. His initial shock reflecting through the kiss, his lips unmoving against yours and it was as if time had slowed down.

And oh god, this was a mistake. What were you doing? Why were you kissing him, but then he was moving the hand on your thigh to grab at your hip and ghosting his other across your jaw. Parting your legs to lean in further on his knees he pulled the chair closer and kissed you back with a force you had never expected. He groaned into the kiss, which surprised you even further and surprised you how much you liked that noise from his lips, and how you would do anything to hear it again.

As his tongue pushed past your lips you let out a small moan and allowed him to pull you closer as he deepened the kiss. Lips crashing together, his tongue moved around your mouth desperate to taste more of you. The hand on your jaw now snaked into your hair as small mewls fell from your lips between breaths.

"Fuck Peach, you're something else.." Your arm moved around to his thick white hair as you pulled slightly and that delicious noise crept up from his throat again.

Gojo broke the kiss to stand but quickly pulled you up from the chair and began to scatter kisses all across your neck. Sucking lightly and nipping wherever he felt was right. His hands now stroking your hips, wanting to make this moment last forever. You let out small moans of pleasure at the feel until you needed more, "Hmhm Touru please.."

"Fuck Peach, say-ah-say that again," Gojo murmured into your neck as he roughly pulled your hips against his.

"Tou-hm-ru" you muttered as you began to pull at his arms, his hair, his neck. Anything, you needed to feel more. You needed more of him.

"Peach, let me make you feel good yeh? I can do that, let it be about you okay, Peach." Gojo whispered as he continued placing kisses across your shoulders. He said it so gently it made you feel sick, this was such a strange day but the contact felt so good and you just wanted to forget. To be that girl again from 5 years ago who had a secret crush on the Saturo Gojo and not the girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

You pulled him to the room other room where a small bed was situated in the middle and nothing more. He nipped at your neck as he lightly pushed you down and then caged you in on top. Dipping back to your lips, tongues tangling against each other as you arched into him. Quiet moans fell from your lips at the light friction, your pussy growing wetter by the minute with each grind.

"Heh, so responsive Peach." Gojo breathlessly laughed as he nipped at your lip. "Can I make you feel good Princess, can I do that for you?"

"Hmhm, yes please," You muttered as your hips grinded into Gojos again. "Uh s-shit, I've wanted you for so long Peach" Gojo muttered as his hips thrust down in response, his cock now painfully hard in his dark pants.

Gojo grabbed your chin and moved your restless head to meet his eyes, "Tell me you want this Peach, tell me you want this and I'll make you forget everything for tonight" "Hm fuck, please Touru, need you," not allowing yourself to process his previous words.

Gojo didn't hesitate after that, scared you may take those precious pleas back. He continued to kiss down your body, pulling your vest over your head along with your sports bra. Suddenly you were brought back to reality and very aware Satou Gojo was on top of you staring at your full breasts as if they were the last Mochi on the planet. Feeling exposed, you made to reach for the blanket but he held back your arm with his own, locking you in as his head went down, his lips suckling at your nipple and then grazing his teeth across the puckered bud as moans filled the room. Pushing against his arm at the newfound sensations. His head bobbed up, those bright blue eyes staring into yours.

"Still with me Peach?" He asked with a smirk as you nodded, eyes rolling into your head as he dipped down to the other breast.

"Hmhm Turo, please-hm-need you, please" You muttered, impatient at the lack of friction. Gojo began to leave wet sloppy kisses down your navel as he slowly pulled your pants away from your legs.

Your wetness clearly visible in the light grey panties you wore, you arched up again, the cold air providing a frustrating relief. "Shit Peach, you're soaked. This all for me? I can't wait to taste you." You blushed at this and rolled your eyes, irritated at Gojos teasing but desperately needing him to make this ache go away.

"Don't make me beg Gojo" you said with little demand as Gojo began to place wet kisses down your thighs. Your breath hitched in anticipation. Getting so close to where you needed him and then pulling back to start again on the other side teasingly.

"Uh uh Peach, I don't know. If you're calling me Gojo, we clearly don't know each other very well. Should we really do this.."

Your thighs shook with anticipation and your wet pussy helplessly bucked at nothing as Gojos large hands grazed the soaked panties.

"Turo, I need you so bad. Make me feel good, make me forget, puh-leaseee" you whined, mocking his begging from earlier in the day, still breathless.

"That felt a little sarcastic but I don't think I can deny her any longer, " And just as you were about to ask who her exactly was, Gojo dived in. At first, pushing your panties to the side but then impatiently pulling them off and lifting your lower half into the air as his tongue met your folds. You moaned aggressively, sure the whole camp would hear you but you didn't care. Fuck he had a magic tongue.

And then his long fingers entered you, first just one and then another desperately curling to a spot inside that you could never reach with your own. You panted as he nudged your legs farther apart and groaned into your pussy as you clenched around him. "Fuck peach, you taste out of this world, why have you been hiding this from me?"

"Hmhm" Was all you could say as Gojo continued to ravage you and your high began to grow. You needed the release, needed him. Your hands found their way into his hair as you pulled, needing something to ground you as you felt you were about to levitate off the bed.

Gojo moaned as you pulled on his hair, his fingers now curling again and again into your pussy. Hitting that spot you desperately needed as he continued to make out with your folds, tongue flicking at your clit, and fuck it was too much.

"Toru, I'm going to-I ccan't, shit" You mewled as his hand grabbed your own to soothe you, and then it was happening. You were so close, so close to falling. You needed to cum, you needed it so badly you couldn't see, hear or feel anything else.

"Shit Peach, cum for me yeah? Cum Peach, cum, cum" and so you did, with a final curl of his fingers, you let go and came crashing down. Every muscle in your body spasmed as Gojo continued to suck on the juices leaving your body. You think you screamed but you couldn't remember, couldn't make sense.

"Fuck Turo, what the fuck." You cried as your body came down from the insane high. It had been too goddamn long.

Gojo looked as dishevelled as you felt as he emerged from your thighs, wiping his mouth across his arm and then sucking his fingers dry.

"God damn Peach, that was something else."

You mewled back, still struggling to catch your breath as you stared at the ceiling.

You glanced down to Gojo and you wanted more of him, you needed it. But you were so tired, your eyes blinking slowly as you made grabby hands to pull him back up. He was visibly hard and you wanted to return the favour but your limbs felt like jelly, still feeling fuzzy from the previous high. Exhaustion taking over you.

Gojo quietly groaned when you began to palm at his visible erection but he quickly grabbed your wrist to gently move your hand away. He instead pulled your body into his chest and adjusted the blanket onto both of you as he brushed the top of your head with his lips.

"Sleep Peach, you did so well," He whispered into your hair as your eyes finally fell shut, officially exhausted.

--------------------

Part 2?

I really enjoyed writing this so please lmk if you liked it, this is like my second smut so pls be kind !!

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (04)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 04 - Player 001

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

After the voting, the guards began distributing lunchboxes. You reached the front of the queue and took one from a pink-clad guard. Stepping out of the line, you noticed player 390 behind you, and the two of you headed toward a quiet corner between the bunk beds on the right side of the hall.

Player 456 was already sitting there, his eyes fixed on the floor. His meal and drink sat untouched beside him. You sighed softly at his distant demeanor.

“You two are friends, right?” you asked player 390, slowing your steps.

“Huh? Me and Gi-hun?” player 390 glanced at player 456. “Oh, yeah. His mother liked me.”

You nodded, assuming they had been friends for a long time. You asked, “Has he always been this distant and quiet?”

“Not at all,” player 390 said, shaking his head. “He was actually really cheerful. Also very loud. He used to laugh at stuff no one else thought was funny. And you know what always set him off?”

Curiosity piqued, you asked, “What?”

Player 390 grinned. “Losing at betting on horses.”

“You two used to bet on horses?”

“Well, we did,” he said with a shrug. “But three years ago, he disappeared. I couldn’t reach him, and his mom was worried sick. She was already physically sick, too. She passed away not long after he vanished.”

“Three years ago? He said he played these games at that time.”

“Yeah, now that you mention it,” player 390 replied. “He should’ve contacted me after winning. I really thought he was dead.”

You lowered your voice. “Well, in a way, he does seem dead yet alive right now.”

Player 390 turned to you with a small smile. “Anyway, I haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m Jung-bae, and that is Gi-hun.”

You smiled back, giving your name in return. By then, the two of you had reached Gi-hun’s spot and sat down on either side of him.

You began unboxing your lunchbox while Jung-bae turned to his long-time friend. “Look at this lunch. It’s just like my mom used to make. What’s in yours?”

Gi-hun didn’t respond. His silence hung heavy, but Jung-bae pressed on.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Jung-bae scooped a spoonful of rice with some fried egg and held it out toward him. “Look, you’ve got to eat. You know what they say, ‘Eat up, even on your deathbed.’ Just do your thinking while you eat, or afterwards. Here.”

Still, Gi-hun ignored him. Jung-bae sighed and pulled the spoon back.

“Forget it then,” he muttered before taking the bite himself. With his mouth full, he added, “This might be for the best. I don’t know about you, but that 20 million wouldn’t even cover my interest. If we play just one more game…”

“Jung-bae,” Gi-hun finally spoke, his tone heavy. He stared solemnly at his friend. “Last time I was here, someone said the exact same thing. And in the end, that person died here.”

Jung-bae chewed quietly, his earlier enthusiasm fading. You watched the two of them, a quiet curiosity growing. What kind of experience had he gone through here? Had he lost friends? The thought that everyone he once knew in these games had died was haunting. But why is he back?

“Help us then, sir.”

The voice drew your attention. You, Jung-bae, and Gi-hun turned to see player 001 approaching your corner. Behind him were player 100 and a few others. Their presence immediately shifted the atmosphere.

“You said you’ve played these games,” commented player 001.

Gi-hun stared at him briefly before lowering his head, as if retreating into himself. You thought he might ignore them altogether until player 001 spoke again.

“I pressed the O button because of you.”

Gi-hun looked up at him, surprised. Player 001 continued, “Honestly, I was scared. I wanted to quit and leave. But you made me think maybe I could play just one more game.”

“Me too,” another player behind him chimed in.

“Same here,” added another.

You glanced at Gi-hun and murmured, “Looks like it’s a bad idea revealing you’re a previous winner.”

Gi-hun turned to you, exhaling through his nose. “I thought it would make everyone understand… that everyone here is doomed to die as long as we stay here.”

You nodded slightly, your gaze shifting back to player 001, who was already looking at you. Feeling a bit awkward, you quickly averted your gaze and pretended not to notice.

“Sir,” player 001 said, leaning closer to Gi-hun. “You know which game’s next, don’t you?”

Several players leaned in, their curiosity evident. Even you couldn’t help but wonder. Jung-bae put down his lunchbox and turned to his friend. “You’re a previous winner, so you should know. What are we playing next?”

Gi-hun avoided eye contact, his voice low as he finally answered. “The second game was Dalgona.”

The bed beside you creaked as someone shifted on it. You glanced over to see player 388 leaning toward your corner. “Dalgona? The sugar candy with a shape you can carve out?”

“That’s right,” Gi-hun replied. “We had to choose one of four shapes and carve it out.”

“Four shapes? Which was the easiest one?” Jung-bae asked quickly.

“Triangle.”

“Which was the hardest one?” Jung-bae pressed further.

“Umbrella.”

“Umbrella?” player 001 scoffed. “Some people chose umbrella? Those unlucky bastards must have bitten the dust.”

At his words, Gi-hun stared at him silently, his expression unreadable. There was something in his gaze that felt like judgment, maybe even offense. You noticed it but chose not to dwell on it, focusing instead on your lunch.

“So that means we should all just pick triangle,” player 388 suggested. “Everyone could probably pass with that.”

“Hush now!” player 100 stepped forward, positioning himself beside player 001. “If all 365 of us survive, the prize money won’t go up at all. Then we’ll have risked our lives again for nothing.”

“That’s true,” a few players behind him agreed, nodding.

Player 100 continued, “Listen. We should probably keep this information to ourselves. What do you say?”

Player 001 stayed quiet, while others eagerly nodded their agreement. But before the discussion could settle, Gi-hun spoke up, his tone firm. “We can’t do that. I’m telling you this to save everyone’s lives.”

“And we don’t even know if the next game will really be Dalgona,” you added, scooping another spoonful of rice.

Gi-hun nodded. “That’s right. If it’s confirmed that the next game is Dalgona, I’m going to tell everyone what I know.”

Player 100 scoffed, rolling his eyes before turning and walking away. The group of players who had followed him quickly trailed behind, leaving the corner quieter and less tense. You exhaled softly, relieved to have the space back.

Player 001, however, remained. He shifted his gaze to you, Jung-bae and Gi-hun.

“So, which shape did you pick?” Jung-bae asked with a curious raise of an eyebrow.

Gi-hun looked at him deadpan, offering no response.

You chuckled softly at the exchange, drawing their attention. Their curious stares settled on you, but you feigned innocence, focusing on your lunch as if you hadn’t been following the conversation.

Still, the words slipped out.

“So, did you choose umbrella?” you asked, your tone playful.

Gi-hun turned his gaze toward you, his expression flat and unimpressed. For a moment, you thought he might actually answer, but then he looked away, ignoring the question entirely. His silence was pointed, as if he’d chosen to pretend he hadn’t heard you at all.

You and Jung-bae exchanged knowing glances, both of you stifling a grin. It wasn’t until player 001 spoke that you realized he had been watching the entire interaction.

“May I ask you something?”

All three of you – you, Gi-hun, and Jung-bae – turned your attention to him. Player 001 moved closer, sitting down on the stairs beside your group. He directed his question straight at Gi-hun.

“Why did you come back to this place?” he asked. “You said you won and made it out. Then you must have received 45.6 billion. Did you spend it all?”

Jung-bae’s eyes widened as realization seemed to hit him. He asked Gi-hun incredulously, “Did you bet on horses again?”

You side-eyed the pair, amused by Jung-bae’s immediate assumption.

Gi-hun shook his head solemnly. “That money doesn’t belong to me. It’s blood money for the people who died here. The same goes for the money up there.”

You couldn’t help but silently agree. Survival guilt had clearly taken a toll on him, and you imagined the weight of it must have been crushing.

“You don’t have to think of it that way,” player 001 said, his voice calm. Gi-hun looked at him in mild astonishment. Player 001 continued, “It’s not like you killed those people, and saving that money won’t bring them back to life.”

Gi-hun leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His tone turned sharp as he replied, “If you had pressed the X, everyone here would’ve changed their mind by tomorrow. All of us would’ve made it out alive.”

Player 001 held his gaze, his expression unyielding. “That’s right. I was the last to press the O button. But there were 186 more people who wanted to stay.”

“And there were also 185 people who wanted to leave,” Gi-hun countered.

You and Jung-bae exchanged glances, sensing that neither man was willing to back down. Their differing perspectives created a palpable tension.

Player 001 broke the silence. “Let’s say I pressed X and we all got a chance to vote again tomorrow. Would everyone have been happy? Do you think a majority of O players would change their mind and thank me?”

Gi-hun’s brow furrowed deeper, his glower showing he was searching for another argument.

Before things could escalate further, Jung-bae intervened. “Enough, you two,” he said. “There’s no point in placing blame now. You know the saying. A widow understands a widower best. Let’s just focus on the game tomorrow, okay?”

He gestured toward Gi-hun and said, “He has won all these games before. If we stick together, we’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“But we can’t always rely on him,” you interjected. “He doesn’t need more pressure from everyone expecting too much from him.”

Gi-hun and player 001 both turned to you, their gazes quiet but intent.

Jung-bae nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right, but he has the experience. Any advice he has will help.”

“He’s right,” another voice chimed in. The four of you turned to see player 388, who had been eavesdropping from his bed. He hopped down and stood close. “We have to stick together. I’ll be with you all the way.”

Jung-bae frowned in skepticism. “Who are you?”

The man came to a stop in front of you all and gave a quick bow. “I’m Dae-ho. Kang Dae-ho.”

Dae-ho extended his hand to Jung-bae, a clear offer for a handshake. Jung-bae didn’t take it, instead replying dryly, “Oh, Dae-ho. Have we met?”

Dae-ho’s expression faltered briefly before he glanced at player 001, who kept his head low, and then at Gi-hun, who looked at him with indifference. Finally, his gaze landed on you. Seeing no skepticism in your expression, he extended his hand toward you.

You blinked in surprise but took his hand. He clasped yours in both of his, nodding gratefully as you introduced yourself. You could feel the others watching the interaction closely. After a moment, he let go of your hand, looking slightly more at ease.

“Earlier during the game, Mr. 456 here was like,” Dae-ho began, pausing to mimic Gi-hun’s urgent warning style from the first game. “Freeze! And I became his fan.”

You grinned at his enthusiasm while Gi-hun turned his gaze away, clearly embarrassed. Undeterred, Dae-ho continued eagerly, “I’d like to get to know you all better. Please give me a chance!”

Jung-bae stood suddenly as Dae-ho mimicked Gi-hun again. “Freeze! That was so cool!”

You chuckled softly, but the sound caught Gi-hun’s attention. He glanced at you with a look that felt half-judgmental before shifting his gaze elsewhere.

“Hang on,” Jung-bae said abruptly, grabbing Dae-ho’s sleeve and pulling it upward to reveal an ROKMC tattoo. Dae-ho looked at him, confused, as Jung-bae asked, “You were in the Marines?”

“Yes, why?”

“Class number?” Jung-bae countered, his tone sharp.

Dae-ho gave him a once-over before letting out a wheeze of amusement.

“Oh, you’re laughing?” Jung-bae challenged, unzipping his jacket and pulling up his sleeve. He revealed the same ROKMC tattoo on his forearm.

Dae-ho’s amusement vanished. He stepped back, clearly caught off guard, as Jung-bae stood tall, even combing his hair back dramatically with his fingers.

Suddenly, Dae-ho snapped into a salute, raising his voice. “Victory at all costs! I was in Class 1140, sir!”

Jung-bae saluted back, his grin wide. “At ease! ‘Dae-ho.’ I knew there was something about you.”

The sudden burst of military camaraderie caught you off guard. Are they really going all military here? Their loud banter is starting to draw attention to your corner.

“Do Marines get tattoos like that?” you asked to no one in particular, genuinely curious.

Player 001, who had been observing quietly, spoke up. “It’s not officially required. But for many in the ROKMC, getting the tattoo is a tradition.”

You nodded your head in understanding. “Oh.”

Dae-ho, still stiff in his stance, screamed, “Yes, sir!”

Jung-bae laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Class 746 here. Let’s make a good team.”

“I won’t let you down, sir!” Dae-ho barked back, standing straighter.

Jung-bae guffawed, patting him on the shoulder again, earning another resounding “yes, sir!” from Dae-ho. The exchange repeated a few more times, each louder than the last. You couldn’t help but laugh softly at the spectacle, while Gi-hun watched them with an expression that screamed secondhand embarrassment.

You turned away from the comedic display of Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who seemed more like overenthusiastic military recruits than grown men, and began cleaning up your lunchbox. As you took a sip from your water bottle, you noticed player 001 shifting slightly in his seat nearby.

Lowering the bottle, you glanced over and asked casually, “Have you eaten already?”

Player 001 looked at you for a moment before a warm smile crossed his face. “Yes, I have.”

You nodded, returning his smile. “Good. The food they prepared for us was worth it. It’s a waste not to eat it.”

Turning toward Gi-hun, you pointedly glanced at his untouched lunchbox. “You need to eat, sir. It’s better to mull things over with a full stomach.”

Gi-hun hesitated, meeting your gaze briefly before nodding. He opened his lunchbox without a word and began to eat.

After a brief pause, you leaned slightly closer to player 001, lowering your voice. “By the way, do you know where the ladies’ restroom is?”

Player 001 gestured toward the door on the right side of the main double doors. “That one there. The other door is for the men.”

“Oh, thanks. Wouldn’t want to get lost and get shot by the guards.”

Player 001’s smile widened. “I’m sure the guards would bring you back here if you are lost.”

You chuckled softly. “That’s comforting to know.”

The exchange put you slightly more at ease, but player 001’s expression soon turned contemplative. “If you don’t mind me asking… why did you come here?”

Your smile faltered for a moment, and you caught Gi-hun turning his head just slightly, clearly eavesdropping. Straightening your posture, you replied with a practiced smile, “I needed the money.”

Player 001 nodded slowly, his gaze steady. “That’s all of us. But if I may say… I’m surprised. A lady like you shouldn’t have to bear the burden of crippling debt.”

You looked away, lowering your gaze to the floor. The practiced calm you had maintained slipped, replaced by a somber expression as his words hit a nerve.

Noticing your change in demeanor, player 001 spoke gently. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

You shook your head and managed a faint smile.

“It’s fine,” you replied softly. Your gaze stayed on the floor as you added, “The debts are my parents’, actually.”

Player 001 stared at you, his smile fading into something more solemn. Gi-hun, who had been eavesdropping, remained silent, his expression unreadable.

“You motherfucker!”

The shout shattered the quiet, pulling your attention to the other side of the dormitory. A commotion had broken out. MG Coin (player 333) was brawling on the floor with Thanos and his friend (player 124).

With player 124’s help, Thanos delivered a hard punch to player 333. Even as player 333 lay injured on the floor, they didn’t stop. Kicks rained down on him mercilessly while gasps of horror rippled through the watching crowd.

“I lost all that money because of you, fucker,” Thanos snarled, punctuating his words with another vicious kick. “Be grateful and fucking eat what you’re given!”

Despite the violence, no one moved. Players stayed rooted in place, their expressions a mix of fear and disgust. Jung-bae and Dae-ho, sleeves still rolled up with their tattoos visible, simply watched, making no move to intervene.

You sighed in frustration. “Good thing I finished eating. Still, ganging up on him is just unfair.”

Before you could consider stepping in, player 001 stood up. He walked past Jung-bae and Dae-ho with measured steps, heading straight toward the chaos. You rose from your seat instinctively, a mix of concern and suspense building. Gi-hun stood as well, his eyes narrowing as he watched the scene unfold.

“Boys, what are you doing in the middle of mealtime?” player 001’s voice carried as he approached Thanos and player 124. “No fights during mealtime. There are elders present. Mind your manners.”

Thanos and player 124 paused, letting go of player 333. They turned toward player 001, whose calm demeanor seemed to unnerve them. “And two against one? Aren’t you embarrassed?”

Thanos sneered and stepped closer, his posture challenging. “You’re lecturing me when you ended up in this shithole too? Uncle, stop running your mouth and take care of your own damn kids.”

The dormitory fell silent as everyone watched. Player 001 silently asked, “What did you say?”

Thanos leaned in, his tone mocking. “I said save the lecture for your own damn kid—”

Player 001’s hand shot out, gripping Thanos by the neck. The hold wasn’t a full choke, but his thumb pressed into a precise spot that made Thanos stiffen immediately. The calculated grip made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing. And it looked painful.

Thanos’ hands clawed at player 001’s arm, but the older man’s hold didn’t waver. His bravado crumbled under the pressure of the unyielding grip.

Player 124 advanced toward them. “You son of a—”

Before he could finish, player 001 swiftly kicked his shin. Player 124 let out a brief scream, immediately grasping his leg in pain. Without missing a beat, player 001 delivered another kick, sending him sprawling to the floor, clutching his injured shin. The speed of it all left several players gasping in shock.

Player 001 released Thanos’ neck, standing still in the same spot, his posture calm and steady. It was a stark contrast to Thanos and his friend who were already heaving in pain, struggling to recover.

Just as you thought it was over, Thanos stubbornly got up and advanced toward player 001 again. Raising his arm for a punch, he barely got the chance before player 001 landed a precise blow to his chest in the blink of an eye. Thanos doubled over, clutching his chest in visible pain.

“Wait,” Thanos choked out, holding up a hand in surrender.

Player 001, unfazed, grabbed Thanos’ outstretched hand and twisted it. With a calculated move, he brought Thanos down to the floor and delivered two sharp kicks to his chest, sending him sprawling.

Before Thanos could fully process what was happening, player 001 stood over him, gripping his neck once again. His free hand rose, forming a fist poised to strike. The dormitory’s atmosphere turned chillingly tense as everyone held their breath.

“I’m sorry,” Thanos choked out, his voice barely audible.

Player 001’s face remained emotionless, cold and detached. His grip tightened momentarily, making Thanos gasp for air. His purple hair seemed to match the growing discoloration of his face as the players around them watched in stunned silence.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, player 001 let him go. Calmly, he stood up as if nothing had happened. A smattering of applause broke out, quickly growing into full-on clapping and cheers.

“You’re the man!”

“Nice!”

You joined in, clapping in genuine awe of his combat prowess. He had taken down two bullies without breaking a sweat. What is he, really? He must be an expert at something combat-related.

Player 001 looked surprised by the positive reaction. With a small, appreciative nod and a faint smile, he smoothed his hair, clearly a bit embarrassed and shy by the attention.

As he walked back toward your corner, where you and the others were still clapping, Jung-bae leaned over. “What is he?”

“Is he an ex-Marine too?” Dae-ho asked.

You smirked and pointedly remarked, “If he is, you two might want to roll your sleeves down. He actually stopped the bullies, not the tattoos.”

Jung-bae and Dae-ho exchanged sheepish glances before simultaneously fixing their sleeves. They continued clapping enthusiastically for player 001, pretending they hadn’t been called out.

Player 001 returned to your corner, his calm demeanor intact despite the tension moments ago. You, Jung-bae, and Dae-ho couldn’t help but look at him with a mix of amazement and curiosity.

“Sir, that was incredible,” Jung-bae said, his voice tinged with admiration. “Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Dae-ho chimed in, “Seriously, the way you took them down without even breaking a sweat. Are you some kind of martial artist or what?”

Player 001 gave a wide smile. “Let’s just say I’ve picked up a thing or two along the way.”

Jung-bae exchanged a look with Dae-ho, both nodding as if they had just decided player 001 was the coolest person they’d ever met.

“Man of mystery,” Dae-ho muttered appreciatively.

You leaned forward slightly, your gentle tone more concerned. “But you’re not hurt at all, right? You seemed upset.”

Player 001 turned to you and his smile softened. “Not at all. I left and came back the same.”

His composed response only added to the awe emanating from Jung-bae and Dae-ho, who continued to marvel at him. The brief chaos from earlier now felt like a distant memory.

You couldn’t help but grin as you turned to player 001. “You know, I just told them to roll their sleeves down because you were the one who stopped the bullies, not those tattoos.”

Player 001 let out a steady laugh, the sound warm and disarming. Jung-bae and Dae-ho immediately looked embarrassed, glancing at each other before quickly shifting their attention elsewhere.

“Hey, the tattoos still count for something,” Jung-bae muttered, rolling his sleeve back up halfway just to save face.

“Sure they do,” you replied, still smiling as Dae-ho tried to look nonchalant.

The four of you sat back down at the corner. Gi-hun, who had stayed quiet throughout the commotion, gave player 001 a subtle nod of acknowledgment. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a truce of sorts after their earlier disagreement.

Dae-ho, ever the chatterbox, broke the quiet. “So, Mr. 001, you’ve got to teach us some of those moves. What was that neck grip thing? Looked like something out of a spy movie.”

Player 001 gave a faint smile, shaking his head. “It’s just a simple technique. Nothing fancy.”

“Nothing fancy?” Jung-bae scoffed. “You had that guy gasping for air and looking like he was about to cry. If that’s simple, I’d hate to see complicated.”

“I want to learn how to do that too,” you added. “It would be useful to protect myself out there.”

Player 001 replied with a widening smile. “Sure, I could teach you. We just have to focus on winning the next game and leave this place for good. I’ll teach once we’re out of here.”

“Sir, don’t forget about me though,” said Dae-ho. “I want to learn that too.”

Jung-bae chimed in, “Me too.”

Player 001 nodded, “Got it. I’ll teach you three, then.”

The conversation drifted into lighter topics, with Dae-ho recounting an overly dramatic story from his military days that had Jung-bae laughing and shaking his head. Gi-hun stayed mostly quiet, his focus shifting between the group and the room at large.

NEXT : Chapter 05

PREV : Chapter 03

Story Masterlist

I would love to know what you think so feel free to comment as long as you could!

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[trevorsgodmother]

𝓘 𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓵𝓵 𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓱𝓮𝓻…(C.S 🌧)-pt. 2

ALL PARTS Warnings: Angst, CRYING, denial, heavy descriptions, mentions of accident, yelling POV: Third person/first person(Chris) Summary: Y/N's been gone for so long...but Chris still isn't used to it

It feels like he’s been laying here, with her, for years. Chris looks down at his girlfriend, smiling. But the sight of her eyes filling up wipes the look off his face. His heart clenches as he hugs her tighter, hoping his warmth will sooth her. 

“Babe…what’s wrong?” He asks, concern filling his features. She locks eyes with him, and sobs, burying her face into his chest.  “Chris…stop doing this. Please. STOP” He flinches at her hurt and accusatory tone. Anxiety fills his stomach as he tries to make sense of her words. Stop doing what? 

“What’re you talkin-” “Stop dreaming about me. Please.” His face crumples, and tears begin to sting his eyes too.  “I can’t-” “Why?” She chokes out, gripping his shirt like a lifeline, more to help ground him than her. “I just-” Chris’ breathing picks up, his eyes overflowing. He doesn’t want to wake up and lose her again…

“I don’t want you to go...”

"You need to Chris. For you. For me. Go find a new girlfriend or something" Her voice breaks even suggesting this. He didn’t want to. He never wanted to move on. It would feel like he was being unfaithful, since they hadn’t broken up before she died. It had been a freak accident on the highway, one he felt guilt for every day of his life. Chris tries to convince himself that it's only his subconscious trying to help him. But it's her face, her voice, her smell, her... everything, and he feels awful for doing something he can't control.

A smile forms on her wet face as she lifts a hand to brush away his tears. “I only want you, not anyone else.” He’s almost pleading. For her to come back, into his arms, both their happy places. “I’m not there though Chris…” she whispers softly. His body shakes with silent sobs, holding her tighter as if it’ll change everything and this time, he’ll wake up with her still there.

“I don’t want to go on- I miss you so much-” “Do you want me to stop coming at night?” Her words make him freeze. He’s clinging onto her like a scared child, almost to a point of desperation.

“No- no, please don’t. Don’t leave me-”

(Chris' POV)

I jolt awake, head pounding as I feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up to see Matt and Nick, the prior being the owner of the hand, the latter with tears in his eyes. “Chris… are you ok? You were crying so loud” His words make me wince, guilt hitting me right in the stomach. My body couldn’t tell the difference between my dreams and reality anymore, so the emotions I felt in my nightmares sometimes came out in my sleep.

I cover my face with my hands, letting out silent sobs. I couldn’t bear to see my brothers so upset. Because of me. I shake my head, the dream still so clear in my mind. A part of me just wanted to sleep forever, to escape this world just so I could see her again. “I’m sorry- I just- I just miss her” I let Matt hug me, feeling like a broken record because of these increasingly realistic night terrors. “We need to stop these dreams…” I instantly recoil at my brother’s mumble. I shake my head harder than before. It felt like everyone was suddenly telling me to stop. “No, I don’t want to.” My words are firm, but my voice wavers. Matt’s expression softens.

“Chris, they’re destroying you. Besides, you know it’s not actually…her, right?” Nick’s in the background, wiping his eyes. I nod slowly, my eyes filling up again. It’s like I had an infinite supply of tears, I always had enough to cry. The dreams had become a way for me to cope, and the thought of the emptiness I would feel if I didn’t have them made me sick.

(Third person) “I know, but- But I still want to see her, even if it isn’t really her. I don’t care…” Matt’s patience reaches its limit. Yes, he felt horrible for his brother, yes, he would never know what he felt, yes he was suffering, but-

“Chris” He snaps. He’s tired of it. Anytime they’d come up with a solution, it’s like the youngest triplet would shoot it down just for the sake of it. Which of course wasn’t the case. Chris flinches at his tone, suddenly quietening down and fiddling with his blanket. Matt’s gaze softens and his shoulders droop at the sight. Nick is standing there, shocked that his brother just yelled at their younger one. “We’ll be right back” Nick murmurs angrily, grabbing Matt’s arm and dragging him outside. Chris only hears half the berating and cursing Nick directs towards his older brother. He just lays back down, not wanting to hear anymore fighting, and tries to go back to sleep.

But he can’t. After countless minutes of tossing and turning, his brothers having left to go back upstairs, he sits up and grabs his phone. This was another definitely unhealthy coping mechanism, but he doesn’t care anymore. He tries to veer off his usual path of clicking into the photo’s app, ping-ponging through different socials that had been long abandoned. He grows frustrated of the no-longer entertaining doom-scrolling, and gives in. As the pictures load, he navigates onto the home screen and clicks on her album.

(Chris' POV)

She’s grinning in all of them, some alone, others with me and friends. I scroll through each picture, my face softening at the familiar face and smile I’d loved for years. I spend a little more time studying pictures of us two, grabbing on each other, laughing, kissing, enjoying being with each other. It was hard to accept the fact that she was no longer here, that the life in the pictures had been taken away from her and was slowly being drained from me. I pause on some pictures she sent me a week before the accident. She’s posing in some of her new clothes, looking proud of her purchases. So vibrant and energetic, a light overshadowing everything else in the room. A fresh wave of grief washes over me as I swallow a sob. She looked so happy…

I try swiping more, but to my horror, I can’t. That’s it. A beautiful life on her own, a 3-year friendship with all three of us, then a 2 year relationship with me, all narrowed down to just a few hundred photos. The finality of it all hits me hard, the full realisation that I’d never take another picture of her, get daily outfit pics, make more memories. She was gone and this was all I had left. The last pieces of her, and it would never be enough. It hits too hard.

I don’t realise that I’ve started crying again until Nick runs back in, my mattress dipping under the weight as he hugs me to his chest. I melt into the hug, cries increasing in volume now that I was being comforted. I grip onto him tightly, as if letting go would mean he disappeared too. I know I don’t show it enough, but they’re the only things grounding me now. My sobs slowly begin to subside, though a few still escape here and there as I try to catch my breath. I grip onto Nick just a little more, needing contact. After a moment, I manage to speak with a rough and broken voice. “I- I’m sorry.” Nick hated hearing me apologise.

“Shhh, don’t say sorry, we’re not mad.” “Are you sure?” I ask quietly, looking up with tired, teary eyes. “Yes. We can’t be. And we never will. None of this is your fault, ok?” I just nod, my lips trembling slightly as I try to swallow down another sob. Deep down, I know what happened isn’t my fault, it was just a horrible misfortune. But I can’t help the guilt that eats away at me, for surviving when she didn’t, for going on with life when hers was cut short in an instant. I look back down, the weight of it all making my head feel fuzzy and heavy.  

Nick interrupts what was about to be another downwards spiral. “Me and Matt talked…and we want you to sleep in one of our rooms again. Not every night, and only if you want. It doesn’t matter who’s. Or we could sleep in yours? Do you want to do that?” I’m a little quiet for a moment. The thought of sleeping in the same room as someone else, for the first time in 3 months, was a little daunting. But it would be comforting and help me feel less alone at nighttime. My voice cracks, and Nick’s face lights up in shock and slight excitement as I speak.

“Yea…I think I’d like that.”

A/N: Extra long bc I felt bad for leaving this for two weeks. I already have the last sentence of the last part planned heehee Taglist: @hearts4werka @stvrnzcherries @m00nl1ghts1vt @spaghetti835928383 @pvssychicken @moonlightsturns @snowysosturn

Don't steal MWAAAHHHHH Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws <3 -Ropitipop 👁👅👁

[concretejunglefm]

i need part 3 of thot girl hours where folio or noah makes the first move pleaseeee 🫠

Well call this part 3 to thot girl hours because this idea has been in my head ever since you asked for this anon and it's only fair I share it for our Noah and Folio girlies.

Part 1 & Part 2

Smut below the cut 🔞 Minors DNI.

It's an off day on tour and while everyone else has gone out to do their own thing, you've chosen to remain on the tour bus for some much needed alone time, something you've been needing after the last few shows have sent your stress levels through the roof. Between Matt giving you more responsibility and the guys just overall being a little weird around you, you've needed some time alone. Time alone you had planned to use to indulge in your favorite snack of choice, which just happens to have been tucked up on the highest shelf in the little kitchenette area. A trick played by Noah no doubt.

With a stretch against the small countertop you strain in your attempt to reach the box before a voice from the back of the bus startles you.

"Need a hand there?"

It's Noah and the sudden racing of your heart in your chest comes to a halt before a wave of embarrassment creeps through through you at the realization that you're still wearing your signature Winnie the Pooh pajamas.

"I didn't realize that anyone else was here." You turn and lean your back against the counter as you look across to him walking out from the back where the bunks were all tucked away.

"I didn't feel like going out. Figure I'd hide away in my bunk and catch up on some anime."

"Funny, that was my plan until I found I couldn't reach my favorite snack." There's a playful bite in your tone and a small grin tugs at the corner of your lips as he nears you.

You cross your arms over your chest as you feel his eyes on you, almost as if they're taking in the full sight of you in your pj's.

Instead of moving around you or allowing you to move out the way, Noah steps in front of you, crowding your space and blocking you against the counter. Usually any closeness between you wouldn't phase you, but you find yourself losing your breath as his body comes within less than an inch of your own and you catch the way his t-shirt rides up enough to expose his tattooed stomach.

You shift your hand and find your fingers unintentionally grazing against the exposed skin just with his movement close to you. He doesn't acknowledge it and you don't say anything as your fingers come increasingly close to the waistband of his shorts.

Suddenly you're overcome with the idea of pulling them down and seeing just how far that tattoo of his leads down, or forgetting that entirely and sinking your hand down into his shorts purely to wrap it around his shaft. You'd witnessed pictures of his bulge on numerous occasions during your late night thot hours, where sexting between you all became a little adventurous, with the guys never exposing more than what clothes covered when it came to the waist down.

It takes you a moment to come back from your own perverse thoughts, looking up at Noah with an almost distant gaze. "Huh?" You ask him to repeat himself and he just chuckles, setting down the box he'd pulled down for you on the counter beside you.

"I said they're cute." He extends his long tattooed fingers towards your top, his fingers hooking onto the neck of it with a gentle tug away from your chest.

"Aren't they just?" Folio's voice rings out towards the front of the bus and when you look in that direction, you see him climbing up the stairs as he enters.

A heat spreads across your cheeks and you drop your head, moving to slip past Noah before coming to find yourself bumping straight into Folio.

When you look up to meet his gaze, there's a hunger in his eyes which makes your thighs press together as a sudden ache forms in your core.

It's not as if you hadn't fantasized about them all on multiple occasions, even having more than one during said fantasies, but suddenly it felt all too real, especially when Noah comes closer behind you and you can feel his fingers in your hair, brushing through the strands before dipping forward and meeting the back of your neck with a ghost of a kiss.

The sensation sends a shiver throughout you, the only sound to slip past your lips being a whimper as Folio moves closer, his own hands now bracing your hips to steady you, as though aware the touch of Noah's lips on the back of your neck has sent your knees weak.

"I've been telling the guys that I've dying to fuck you in your little college-girl pajamas since you first showed them to us." Folio confesses and you don't even find yourself protesting the idea, instead your eyes flutter open and you look at him once more before reaching a hand up and around onto the back of his neck, pulling him down and into a heated kiss.

At that same moment Noah's mouth is firmly on the back of your neck, kissing, sucking and even biting as if determined to mark you. The idea sends a thrill straight between your thighs, knowing he's already marking you as his, as theirs and your mouth opens with a moan, feeding into Folio's who follows your lead, his tongue quickly snaking out and into your open mouth.

When you break away from the kiss it's because you feel another hand on you, one you can easily deduce as being Noah's and sinking down the front of your pajama shorts. A soft whine leaves you as your thighs spread open and you feel the soft stroke of Noah's fingers against your pussy, dipping between your folds with a deep throaty growl against the shell of your ear when he's met with your wetness.

"Fuck, Folio you should feel how fucking wet she is for us."

Noah boasts as your head falls back against his shoulder and you let out another soft whine, feeling your knees almost buckle the minute he begins circling your clit.

"Is this all for us, sweetheart?" He whispers to you, pressing soft kisses along your jawline and you're thankful that Folio has a grip on your hips because you don't think that you'd be able to support yourself, especially not when you feel Noah's finger slide down and press deeply into your cunt.

As he curls it you let out a deep needy moan, your walls tightening around even just his finger, needing more as he angles to stroke the spot behind your clit. "Is this what you were thinking about when you were touching yourself in that video? Were you thinking about all of us?"

You don't even go to question about the video or how they know about it when you were sure you'd deleted it in time. Your head is so hazy, your body already overwhelmed with pleasure that you just moan and nod. "Yes! Yes Noah. This is exactly what I thought about."

You can feel the smirk on his face as his lips ghost along your neck and soon the feeling of his fingers slips away as your shorts are tugged down, exposing you completely to Folio who's lowered himself to his knees in front of you.

"And no panties? It's almost like you were begging to be fucked in these." Maybe Folio is right because there is a part of you which has thought about it after you’d purposely sent them a photo of you wearing them.

With Noah's one arm snaked around your waist to hold you firmly against his chest, Folio raises one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing him easier access between your thighs as he brings his mouth up against your glistening cunt. You don't miss the distinct sound he makes, a throaty groan of satisfaction when met with the taste of you, his tongue stroking against your clit with a fervent before turning softer and more attentive under Noah's command.

"Open your eyes and look down, sweetheart." Noah instructs you and when you do, you see his tattooed fingers curled into Folio's hair, keeping his bandmate's mouth firmly pressed against your cunt. You whimper as another moan follows and with Noah's other hand splayed against your stomach he begins to gently encourage you to grind against the movement of Folio's tongue and his overall mouth. "Go on, sweetheart. This is just for you."

"Please...please..." You start to beg as you buck your hips, pushing down against Folio's face and mouth while his tongue circles your clit, his mouth eagerly working to bring forth the climax you feel forming with the knot in your stomach.

You don't know what you're begging for but you keep doing so as Noah continues his stream of dirty talk against your ear, his voice only edging you further along until you feel yourself coming undone, trembling against him with the first wave, then another, of your climax.

Even then Folio doesn't stop and Noah doesn't pull him away, he holds him there as he peers down over your shoulder, instructing him. "Don't miss a single drop of cum from her pretty pussy now. You've practically been begging for this."

You don't know which sends you dizzy first, his words or the way Folio's tongue swirls and dips into you, a man possessed with only one thought on his mind; to taste you. It sends another shiver through you and when you tremble again, Noah's grip tightens as he whispers against your ear. "I've got you sweetheart, shh, I've got you."

And he does, right up until Folio is finished and satisfied with his clean up. Right until the tables turn and lead you using your fuzzy pajama shorts on them in return, wrapping them around your fist and taking turns to fuck their aching cocks into them until they're both shooting thick ropes of cum all over Winnie the Pooh.