#hope they do other things against that wall too

[captain-hawks]

“do you have any idea what you do to me?”

oliver’s voice is a hushed whisper caught somewhere between his lips and your hair and the pillowcase. 

it’s not meant for your ears. 

it’s nearly drowned out by the steady, muted sound of rain thrumming against the roof, of car tires peeling across slick asphalt out on the street below. 

it should be lost in this liminal space that hovers between dusk and dawn, not reverberating in your eardrums in tune with the sudden, rapid beating of your heart. 

his mouth hovers against bare skin at the nape of your neck, each exhale a warm lick of heat that rustles and stirs your nerve endings with the unconscious ease of fine stalks of wheat swaying in a late summer breeze. 

oliver thinks that you’re asleep, and you probably should be. 

it’s funny—the way you’re curled up in his bed wearing his shirt, legs tangled beneath the sheets, his large hand nestled against the curve of your hip. 

it’s funny, because you didn’t even have sex tonight. 

(and you’ve never found yourself stumbling past the threshold of his bedroom for anything but.)

yet here you are now, quietly wide awake hours after accidentally falling asleep on his couch. he’d excused himself to shower shortly after you arrived, tossing a promising grin over his shoulder before peeling off a sweat-soaked jersey and striding down the hallway. 

that’s usually how it goes—you meet up with oliver at his place when he’s done practice and once you get off of work. then you kiss a little and fuck a lot and it’s easy and it’s simple. for him, at least. 

oliver doesn’t need to know what goes on between your restlessly wavering mind and traitorously sentimental heart, the way warmth and fondness and other heavy things that you’re too scared to name have slipped in between the gaps in your ribcage. 

he doesn’t need to know the complicated knots he’s unknowingly tied your heart strings into, that you couldn’t untangle them even if you tried. 

you didn’t mean to fall asleep on his couch tonight, but you’ve been pulling too many doubles at work on not nearly enough sleep. and oliver purposely chose not to wake you up—not until a loud bang of thunder did the job for him instead. 

and when you sat up with a jolt, eyes widening at the late hour as embarrassed apologies immediately tumbled from your lips—oliver simply glanced up from where he was looking at his phone beside you on the couch, a soft, amused look on his face. 

you were going to leave, because why would he waste any more of his night watching you sleep when he could be fucking someone else? that’s what this arrangement is for, after all. 

but he’d smoothly grabbed your car keys from your hand, silencing the clinking of metal on metal with a closed fist. “it’s raining too hard.”

“i can drive in the rain,” you’d rolled your eyes, exasperated.

“well i’d feel better if you just slept here,” he’d replied, his expression far too serious for your susceptible heart. 

so now you’re in his bed for something that decidedly isn’t sex, blatantly toeing the line of demarcation between what this is and what it’s not. 

it’s dangerous to want him like this. 

to let yourself hope. 

shadows dance on the walls as lightning flashes outside, the shapes indiscernible. 

when you finally work up the courage to turn your head to look back at him, oliver’s fast asleep. 

[leighsartworks216]

What's the Whole World

Sylus x gn!Reader

Wrote this when I was overstimulated and extra emotional from my period iykyk

Title from "What's the Whole World" by Warmer

Warnings: hurt/comfort, established relationship, cuddling, crying, swearing

Word Count: 1,395

Main Masterlist

First Love and Deepspace Masterlist

Second Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

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Your apartment building's hot water isn't working, so you take a freezing cold shower. Your bike doesn't start, so you have to take the bus. You forgot to eat breakfast, so you go to the vending machine, except the snack gets stuck against the glass. You don't get to eat lunch because you get sent on back to back missions. You have to stay late to finish the paperwork for said missions. The food you buy at a late night stall is too expensive and almost too overcooked to eat.

But through all of that, through every little thing the world does to spite you today, one thought kept you sane: Sylus. You don't have work for the next couple days and Sylus moved things around on his schedule to spend all of that time with you. Being able to spend time with him is the one thing holding you together right now.

Imagine your disappointment when you get to his base in the N109 zone, excited to see him after the ungodly public transport you had to take, only to be told by Luke and Kieran that he isn't there. Not only that, they're not sure when he'll be back, after he zipped off to meet up with someone for whatever business venture he's planning on branching off to next. They offer you a ride back to your place, but the thought of going back home, to your freezing water and cramped walls, only makes you feel worse.

So you do the next best thing: you curl up in Sylus's bed, hugging a Grumpy Crow plushie, and try really hard not to cry.

You feel hollow. A void in your chest, opening its maw wide to swallow your hope, optimism and joy, regurgitating loneliness and disappointment in its place. It shouldn't be that big of a deal. Things happen, stuff comes up. Especially when you're the leader of a giant illegal faction, and owner of god knows how many businesses. Just... why didn't he tell you about it?

Tears sting your eyes. You don't want to cry. Not here, not in Sylus's bed. Could anything be more pathetic? You should have just gone home. At least there you could drown yourself in a mountain of ice cream without having to worry about being seen making the trip to and from the kitchen.

The longer you suppress your emotions, the more your brain reminds you of the shit day you've just had.

The cold water meant taking an extremely quick 10 second shower. The bus ride was so cramped you were pressed up against so many other commuters. The only thing you've eaten today wasn't worth the price, leaving a hole in your stomach yet to be satisfied. Your whole body aches, from your arms and shoulders to your back and legs. You're tired, you're upset, and all you were asking for to compensate for all of that bullshit is a hug. Just one hug! A hug this plushie certainly wasn't providing.

You curl around the crow plushie, squeezing it with the remaining strength you have in your arms. You press your face into its soft head, the ruffle around its neck tickling you. You take a deep breath. And you cry. The worst kind of crying: deep heaving gasps for air, ragged sobs that grate at your throat, fat tears that have no end and soak deep into the fabric of the plushie and Sylus's pillow; body shaking, soul crushing, pathetic. You want the bed to open up and swallow you whole. You want Dr. Zayne to go in and remove your heart to spare you the pain. You just want this horrible feeling to go away, by any means possible.

God knows how long you cry for. It feels like hours. Your eyes burn, raw from all the moisture. Your cheeks are sore from the horrible grimace your face pulls with your sobs. The crow is completely soaked where your face is.

The bed shifts, slowly. Hesitantly. You choke up again, because you already know who it is.

A hand touches your arm. You automatically flinch out of its grasp. A bitter part of you wants to make him feel just as bad as you do. Wants to lie here crying while he's forced to watch. But, god, that one touch alone is like the sun after weeks of rain. It's like a splash of bright yellow against the dark, saturated hues that compose your sorry state. And when he doesn't touch you again, it's consumed once more by the darkness.

"What happened?" he asks. His voice is so soft, tinged with protectiveness. If someone hurt you, he'd take care of it. He'd do anything to take this heartache from you. All you would need to do is say the word. What, then, are you supposed to say if he's the one that hurt you?

Another sob wracks your body. You curl in impossibly tighter, as though you could shrink yourself down to the size of a pea to hide from his intense gaze on your back. Your throat hurts from crying so hard.

"Can I touch you?" he asks next, when you don't respond.

Your body and mind want two different things. Your mind wants to hold strong to your newfound loneliness, but your body yearns to crawl to him, to collapse in his arms, to finally, finally get that hug you were waiting for.

It's your body that wins out, in the end, but you refuse to give in completely to its desires. So instead of seeking him out, you just nod and wait for him to come to you.

He does, almost right away. He touches your arm again. When you don't pull away, he closes the space left between you. His chest presses against your back, legs tucked right up to yours. His arms wrap around your body, securely keeping you against him. He presses his face to the back of your neck. Like this, he feels every tremor and shiver of every gasp and sob. Like this, you feel encapsulated in his warmth and comfort. It's almost overwhelming. It almost suffocates you with how amazing it feels to finally be held by him.

He kisses the fine hairs on your neck in a delicate peck, silently telling you how badly he wants to help. "Will you tell me what happened, sweetie?"

You dig your fingers into the Grumpy Crow's plush body. They tremble with emotion. "You weren't h-here," you whimper out. Your voice is awful. "'N y-you didn't say a-anything about it."

"I didn't...?" One of his arms slips away. He digs his phone out of his pocket and taps quickly at the screen, before dropping it to the bed behind him with a sigh. His arm returns to its rightful place around you, squeezing you slightly tighter. "It didn't go through, kitten. I'm sorry."

That text was meant to get to you hours ago. Unfortunately, he must have lost service before it could go through. So for hours, you were left in the dark, literally and metaphorically, with no idea where he was or what he was doing.

He kisses your neck again. "How can I make it up to you? Name anything - it's yours."

Anything? There's only one thing you want. And now that you know his radio silence wasn't intentional, your mind loses the reins holding your body back.

You push the crow plushie away. It rolls sadly across the bed, dark fabric stained darker with tears and fluff rearranged so he's squished into an odd shape. Sylus lets go when you squirm in his hold. You turn around and immediately cling onto him. You hide your face in his neck and he cradles the back of your head to keep you there. His cologne floods your senses, accompanied by his body wash, warming you in a way the lingering scent on his pillow and bedsheets never could.

"Just want you." You grip the back of his shirt in your fists, squeezing him as tightly as you can, just like you'd done to the plushie. Except he's solid, and he squeezes you back just the same. "Please don't go."

"I'm not going anywhere," he promises. "We'll stay here for as long as you want."

"Forever."

"Okay, sweetie." He kisses your head. "We'll stay here forever."

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @sylusfluffymeow @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter @thelittlebutton @pikachuzhc @pomegranatepip @cordidy @an-ever-angry-bi @thejysemongko 

[gyaruhana]

Can u please write wlw smut for my glorious queen se-mi player 380

Se-mi/Player 380 - hatefucking

Synopsis: You and Se-mi can't stand each other so what better way to deal with that issue then fight for dominance?

A/N: i did combine this with another request for hatesex bc they both were wuh luh wuh so.. hope you don't mind!!

Warnings: smut content, choking, degradation, slight fight for dominance, fingering, it's hatesex..

If there was one thing you avoided, it was arguments. You preferred to avoid making enemies because; what was the point? It was far better to make friends than enemies who’d plot your death on the daily. Friends would be there to make you happy and comfort you when you're sad. Enemies would just laugh at you and pull you further down into the depths of sadness. That's why you always opted for only making friends and allies.

The only exception to this little rule was her. Se-mi.

Se-mi had been getting on your nerves from the moment you had both spared a glance at each other. There was something about her that reeked of over-confidence and judgement. The way she would look at you with that smirk on her face as if she thought she was better than you. It pisses you the fuck off and all you wanted to do was punch her face in so she could never smirk or scoff at you again.

Whether it was for good or bad, Se-mi felt the same way. You were always so nice to everyone, even to those who didn't deserve kindness whatsoever. It pissed her off that you'd try to be friends with everyone. Were you naive or just plain stupid? Whatever it was, she didn't like it. You were so happy-go-lucky as if you weren't trapped in this hell hole where people are being killed left and right. She didn't trust you at all because you seemed like the type who'd willingly stab someone in the back sooner or later.

In short, the feeling of hate was mutual between you two and, everytime you were near each other, there was a silent tension of unspoken dislike. Neither of you had actually communicated your dislike through speech, it was all just glares from across the room and the purposeful avoidance of each other.

Today, you unfortunately didn't have the opportunity to avoid each other like you two usually opted to do.

It was the third game and it was called ‘Mingle’. It wasn't a difficult game as long as you weren't one to crack under the pressure of a short time limit. All you had to do was form a group of whatever number was called out and then run into a room with them. The first four rounds went well for you since you were friends with practically everyone here and could always find a group to join.

When the fifth round came, the number two was called and chaos broke out quite quickly as people realized not everyone will be fortunate enough to get a room. As chaos broke out and lights flashed, you found it rather difficult to see who was on their lonesome and needed a pair. Luckily for you, you managed to spot the tall silhouette of someone who was on their own so you ran towards them and grabbed a hold of their wrist, dragging them into one of the last free rooms. You quickly shut it behind you as you let out a relieved sigh - glad you managed to find someone before it was too late.  

When you turned around, you were met with the unimpressed face of Se-mi. You almost let out a groan of annoyance at the sight of her. Maybe you should go back out there and just get shot. At least then she'd die as well and you could rest peacefully knowing she'd never plague anyone with her ugly personality again. 

“I'm not happy to see you either,” she says as she folds her arms across her chest and leans against the wall behind her. You let out a scoff of annoyance as the doors finally locked indicating the timer was up. Considering you'd probably be trapped in this room for a while until they clear out the bodies, maybe now would be a good time to confront her about her behavior.

“What's your problem? You're always such an asshole to me,” you say as you step closer to her. Your words may have been slightly aggressive but you couldn't help it when she was around. She just naturally got on every nerve in your body. In response to your words, she pushes off the wall and uncrosses her arms to step closer to you.

“My problem? You're the one with the problem,” Se-mi spoke as she looked at you with annoyance. The audacity you had to call her a bitch as if you were any better. Seeing you like this made her believe all your kindness really was an act for your own personal gain. That only fueled her hatred for you.

“You're the one who's been glaring at me since day one. You're a total fucking dickhead with your arrogant attitude,” you speak as you point an accusatory finger in her face. You were sick of how she'd act and the way she'd judge everyone silently. She needed a wake up call or something so she'd stop standing on her high horse. After all, she glared at you first. What were you supposed to do? Let her treat you like that? Hell no. You might be all for making friends but that doesn't mean you'll back down when someone chooses to be your enemy.

Then suddenly, out of the blue - her hand wrapped around your throat and she pushed you onto the wall. “I'd watch your mouth when you speak to me,” she says with anger bubbling inside her. Calling her arrogant? Who did you think you were? Someone needed to put you in your place.

You were taken aback by the sudden violence before grabbing her wrist tightly and glaring at her. “Or what? What are you going to do about it? Kill me?” you spoke sarcastically. You didn't fear her at all or the hand around your throat. It's not like she'd kill you. She couldn't have the guts to murder someone. You knew her type. Assholes on the outside, total pussies on the inside. They all just made enemies with people they assumed were weak so they could act tough.

She was quiet for a moment as she thought about your words. She couldn't kill you, no. You wouldn't learn anything that way (and she might get in trouble for that). She'd have to take a different approach if she wanted to make you learn a lesson about your bitchy behavior and, thankfully, she knew just how to make someone learn a lesson. She smirked for a moment before nodding her head.

“I won't kill you, no. I'll teach you a lesson,” she spoke before suddenly pressing her lips to yours. Her hand stayed wrapped around your throat, lightly squeezing to serve as a warning. You didn't expect her to kiss you of all things. It left you frozen in shock. Her kiss wasn't gentle either. It was rough as if its purpose was to silence you. There was nothing loving about it and, strangely enough, you found yourself actually being turned on by it. You didn't have feelings for her, no. You hated her but you were stuck in a place like this with no guarantee of a tomorrow so maybe a little hatefuck wouldn't be a terrible idea.

“Fuck, you're a shitty kisser,” you speak when she pulls away. She lets out a bitter chuckle at your words and shakes her head. “Thought I told you to watch your mouth?” She said as her free hand trailed down to the waistband of your pants. Oh, Se-mi was going to make sure you submit and watch your attitude towards her from now on.  “You think I'll listen to you?” You respond snarkily. 

“Oh, you will,” she says, her hand making it to your underwear as she gently traces the fabric of it. She moves her hand beneath the fabric and gently feels your entrance. “You're wet. You're just a whore, huh?” she spoke with a mocking smirk. She found it amusing that you were turned on by something like this. 

You were about to make a quick comment in response when she quickly slid her index finger into you making you let out a moan. God, you didn't expect her to do that so suddenly. She was full of surprises today. You quickly recovered from the initial shock as you noticed the smug look on her face. It drove you insane. If she thought she was teaching you a lesson like this, you'd have to teach her one too.

“Don't think you're in control,” you speak before grabbing the back of her head and pressing your lips to hers. Se-mi would be lying if she said she wasn't a little taken aback by the sudden kiss. She had assumed you'd fold immediately but apparently you were much more of a challenge. She smirked into the kiss before pulling her finger out slowly and then teasingly thrusting it back in. You let out a muffled moan at the feeling as you bring your free hand to the hem of her shirt. You lift it up slightly before putting your hand underneath and slowly trailing it upwards. 

“Might want to try harder to please me. You do a poor job at fingering a girl,” you speak after breaking from the kiss. She shakes her head with the smirk not leaving her face as she starts to thrust her fingers in and out of you quicker. “Oh really? Your body says otherwise,” she says, her hand tightening around your throat once more to serve as a silent warning. 

“I'm not even close to getting to cum. Can't you do any better?” You say as your hand that had earlier slipped under her shirt pinched her nipple. She tensed for a moment as her breath hitched, making you laugh. “What? That sensitive?” You tease and she sends a glare at you. She could try to dominate you as much as she wants but you weren't one to submit so easily.

She suddenly presses her thumb to your clit and starts to rub it roughly. The sensation makes you lean your head back against the wall as you moan. “Seems like you're the sensitive one,” she says as she watches your reactions carefully. As much as you wouldn't ever admit it, she was actually quite good with her fingers. She knew exactly how to move them and get someone to cum quite quickly. 

“if we weren't stuck here, I'd show you how good I could really fuck you,” you speak with a smirk as you look back at her again. “sure you could,” she responds sarcastically as she continues to thrust her fingers at a quick pace. She could tell you were close now as she felt you clench around her fingers.

“You're close, huh?” she says, clearly mocking you. You laugh breathlessly as you shake your head and look to the side. God, she was still such a cocky bitch. You looked at her before pulling on her hair and glaring at her. “When I cum, I'll make you lick your fingers clean, yeah?” you speak and the smirk on her face seems to grow bigger. Fuck, she really didn't think you'd still be acting so dominant. It was actually turning her on more - getting to fight for dominance like this.

With a few more thrusts of her fingers you came undone with a quiet moan. She slowly pulls her fingers out of you and you don't waste a second to grab her hand and pull it out of your pants. “C’mon, suck,” you say as you bring her hand to her mouth, her fingers wet with your cum. She looks at you for a moment before slowly putting her fingers into her mouth and sucking them clean of your cum. She pulls them out of her mouth after a few seconds and, as if on cue, the door unlocked meaning the guards had finished cleaning.

You both looked at the door before looking at each other again. “If you make it out alive of this place, I'll have to fuck you on my dildo next time,” she speaks as she steps back from you. “Looking forward to it- seeing you embarrass yourself, i mean,” you respond before walking out without another word and leaving her alone in the room. She watched you walk out before scoffing.

“She better make it out alive,”

[the-lazyyy-artist]

i saw you in a dream a two-part Karasu Tabito x Filipina!reader story part one

Synopsis: The Japanese Occupation was far kinder than you expected, especially in his eyes.

Word Count: 19.1k

Content Warning: historical au (based in the Philippines), talks about the Japanese Occupation in the Philippines, glimpses of the events during World War 2, love despite the war, angst

Author's Notes: I tried to be as mild as I could with the information of the war, as well as the reader's situation. Based on my research, some families were exempted from the horrors. I tried to be as clear as possible with the story too, so if you have any notes after reading, please let me know thru the comments, reblogs, asks, or DMs! I would love to discuss things with you guys!

@fishii28 ✨

"We have to do this," your father iterated once more as he paced across the living room in anxiety, "It's for the safety of our family, Y/n, the safety of your sisters and your mother... most especially you. You're our eldest daughter, you have to understand."

"Compliance? For safety? How is that even a good thing, Papa? These Japanese are... massacring the country, our city! The best we can do is fight back!" You reasoned out, your voice raising in frustration. Of all people in the world, you would never expect your father to bend the knee to the colonizers. Sure, his allegiance is to the Americans, who also colonized your country after the Spanish did the same, but he held hope that they would be saved by them. For now, he has to think of the best way for his family to be safe, especially with the news going around about the abuses against women. He couldn't bear to live the rest of his life thinking that the women in his family would be facing the same fate as everyone, so compliance with the Japanese was the best option.

"My dearest, please. I don't want you to be..." he sniffled and lowered his head, then he cried in anguish. "I don't want to endanger all of you. The situation is hard, I understand that, but the best way for us to be safe is to side with them. Despite the crimes they're committing to our country and the people, we need to be safe. Think of yourself, Y/n. Think of your mother and your sisters. They're still so young." He walked towards you and pulled you into a hug, the tightest he had given you. "I love our country. You know that out of everyone. But right now, my love for my family overcomes that."

Two weeks later, a Japanese General, accompanied by his Lieutenant General, entered your home and had a written agreement with them, officially making your family untouchable from the atrocities of the war. You listened to their conversation from your room, peeking through the crack of your door. It was a surprise that the General had some English skills, which you then figured that maybe they had to learn for the invasion. From what you have gathered in their conversation, they have laid out some privileges for the family: you'll sustain your way of life and be exempted from the abuses, forced labor, and serve as entertainment for the soldiers.

That was good enough, you thought.

You then heard a cry from the other room. Your youngest sister's voice can be heard through the walls, and unfortunately, throughout the house. You saw the General and Lieutenant General perk up as soon as her cries spilled out. Your parents' bedroom door flew open, and out went your sister, crying for your father. "Maria!" You exclaimed, bursting out of your room to grab her before she could even reach the living room. You carried her in your arms despite her protests, but your eyes landed on the guests, specifically the Lieutenant General. He was about your age, a little stern at first glance. His blue eyes met yours, full of curiosity and a tinge of annoyance from the disturbance. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you said as you walked away, carrying your crying sister back to your parents' room, closing the door behind you.

A few moments have passed, and you heard the bedroom door open, revealing your father, looking more distraught than he should be. He looked at you with apologetic eyes, and your stomach flipped at the sight. "What did you do, Papa?" you asked, your voice anxious and breaking.

"I'm sorry, my dearest. It had to be done."

Lieutenant General Karasu Tabito became a frequent visitor to your home. The reason? He became interested in you despite your short presence that day, thanks to your good-for-nothing sister. You're forced to face him every day with soft fake smiles that never reached your eyes. You try your best to be kind, at least just for the facade, so your family would be safer. You try your best to entertain his stories, all interesting and questionable. You try to respond accordingly, just as how your mother trained you all these years when the time comes for suitors to arrive at your doorstep.

Karasu was nothing but patient and kind, though sometimes, his eyes gave it away. He would sometimes look like he was analyzing you, the way you move, the way you speak, the way you laugh. Then one day, he said, "You're faking." That caught you a little off-guard. You cleared your throat and shifted in your seat, pulling your skirt down your knees. "I beg your pardon?" you replied.

"I don't like the way you're faking your interactions with me."

Like any other person in this time of war, hearing that would feel like a death sentence, especially with the situation your family was in. You, acting like their sacrificial lamb to this Japanese soldier, and him, a wolf. You smiled at him and shook your head. "I don't think I understand."

"Y/n, I know you feel forced to talk to me almost every day. But I want to let you know that I'm not like anyone out there. I don't agree with what they're doing, and I would..."

"You would?"

"If there wasn't a war, things like taking an interest in knowing you better wouldn't be that hard. Because I want to know you more and take you as my wife," he continued, his eyes full of honesty.

It took a year before you agreed to marry him, which your father was more than enthusiastic about. For him, it meant that your alliance and complacency with the Japanese colonizers were now set in stone and that your family would be forever safe from the horrors you read from underground newspapers that often arrive on your doorstep. You made sure Karasu never found any of it every time he visited your home before the marriage.

Life with him was peaceful, or it seemed to be. You were away from all the noise, and Karasu ensured you would live as a married couple peacefully. Every morning, there was a routine of you two drinking coffee at the dining table, him reading the newspaper, Japanese issued ones, and you humming a tune. It was lovely. Sometimes, he'd hold your hand as he drinks his coffee, and you'd smile at him.

Mornings also included helping him into his uniform every time he's being called to the office, ironing it to perfection. You'd help him button up his shirt, then hand him his hat, sometimes dusting it off before you do. "I'll be back soon," Karasu would say with a smile, and you'd respond, "Take care."

Your afternoons are spent tending the garden and listening to the vinyl records your father gave you as a wedding gift. They were pretty old, and you played them anyway. You'd sway alone in the living room until you grew tired. Then it was time to prepare dinner for you and your husband.

He'd consistently arrive home at 6:00 PM, leaving his boots by the doorway before he walked to you as you worked in the kitchen. He'd give you a chaste kiss on your temple, whispering, "I'm home." You're always glad whenever he comes home because it means things haven't gotten worse yet.

One night after dinner, while you were washing the dishes, humming a tune you heard from one of your records, you heard Karasu rummage through the same shelf of records in your living room. You weren't concerned, no. It's just he never once had an interest in your collection, yet here he was. Then you heard him put on one of the records to the record player you had in your home.

"Y/n," he called out, his feet padded on the wooded floor of your shared home, "dance with me." You looked at him over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Just after this, Karasu."

He sighed as walked nearer to the sink where you were and turned off the faucet. You faced him with a slight disappointment on your features and he just smiled at you. He took a towel hanging from the drawer handles, and then wrapped your hands with it, drying them for you. "The dishes can wait. Please, dance with me." You could only nod and walk back with him to the living room as the scratchy music filled the living room. Karasu placed his hands on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, beginning to sway with him. "We never danced before," he stated in which you hummed in reply. "I think the war hasn't let us, Karasu."

He shushed you softly as he shook his head. "No mentions of war in this home, Y/n. I told you that before, remember?"

"Sorry."

"It's okay. No need to. I want us to live away from it, even if we have to pretend. Keep your mind away from it."

Karasu sighed shakily as he pulled you closer to him, embracing you. You can feel the tension radiating from him, so you rest your hand over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "Karasu, what's wrong?"

"You've been calling me Karasu for the longest time. Maybe it's time for you to call me Tabito," he said, his voice low, ignoring your question. You nodded and spoke his name. It felt new on your tongue, but it sounds much better now that you won't be calling his, and your, last name. Tabito rested his forehead against yours as you two were engulfed by the silence of the night and the hum of your record player.

It wasn't long until that peace slowly faded as Tabito would spend more time away from your home.

He came home with news of a possible battle, one that was inevitable. He told you in great detail what Japan would do to defend the Philippines from the Americans, and it would be bloody. You listened to him intently, holding his shaking hands. Tabito warned you of two outcomes: either they will lose and leave the country, or Japan will continue their reign over the islands. If you were asked right now, you don't know what to feel. If you were still 2 years younger, you'd feel overjoyed about the liberation of your country. However, now that you've come to know Tabito, and eventually, loved him more than you imagined, Japan losing would mean him leaving you behind.

The news of Japan's surrender broke you.

The sight of Tabito running to you and apologizing broke you.

"I know I never told you this in our whole marriage but remember that I love you. I loved every moment with you, and I would trade everything to be with you," he cried as he cupped your wet cheeks. "I love you, I love you, Y/n."

He left the next day along with the other Japanese troops, leaving you in your once-shared home.

It's such a shame, others would say, that your Japanese husband left you without a child. That you were left alone with hopes of him returning to get you. That after 3 years, you ended up lying on your deathbed.

That your last words before you closed your eyes were his name.

A second part of this story will be posted soon, so keep an eye!

[grandline-fics]

Hi, I‘m new to all of this and not entirely sure about whom all you write, but may I ask for the „reunion kiss“ with X Drake and whoever else you want?

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Reunion Kiss

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: X Drake, Benn Beckman

WORDS: 1,332

A/N: Thank you for the request! This is my first time writing for X Drake and Benn Beckman so I hope this is to everyone's writing. I decided to add Benn to this prompt since he's been someone a lot of people have mentioned in the past of wanting to see.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

X DRAKE

It wasn't often that Drake could venture to familiar waters for anything outside of maintaining his pirate facade while also conducting his actual missions as SWORD’s Captain. Between the double life filled with his life being threatened on both sides, rival pirates and motivated Marines, chasing his bounty Drake sometimes felt like he was never at peace and was constantly waiting for the next attack to come. There was one place he could truly breathe easy, and as the island slowly came into view Drake could already feel some of the tension in his body release. It wouldn’t be long now. 

He was strict in his duties and had no hesitations in the life he led, knowing that he was doing the right thing in the long run. Drake wouldn’t lie, it was hard at times by being so far away from you and for so long. He called you when he could and only when he knew no-one was listening but he refused to call you as often as he would have liked. Even with the assurances that the channel was secure he still couldn’t justify it. He didn’t want to risk it, not when all it would take would be one slip up. No, to keep you as safe as possible he had to be strong and only called you in emergencies or once every few weeks in-between getting to see you in person. 

From leaving the ship to walking through the quiet, sleeping village as the sun was slowly beginning to rise behind him Drake’s steps were purposeful and only increased the more your home came into view. A small smile tugged at his lips and he pulled out his own copy of of the key and unlocked the front door, taking a step inside. Drake’s plan had been to be quiet so he didn’t wake you but he froze in place when the door shut behind him and the cold edge of steel was laid against his throat in a clear warning to make no further movements. “You made a mistake coming here pirate…”

“Hello to you too.” Drake greeted smoothly, following the length of the blade until his gaze settled on your face. A small but warm smile began to grow when he took in your playful stare and soft smile. Had you really wanted to attack he wouldn't have made it within a foot of your house. To have let him enter first before surprising him meant you knew for certain he’d be arriving. Lightly he raised his hand to casually push the sword away from his neck so he could turn towards you. “So who blabbed that I was coming?”

“Who do you think?” You asked, lowering your sword to return it to his sheath and let it settle against the wall. Drake could only slowly shake his head in amusement, knowing it was without a doubt Koby that gave you some sort of heads up he’d be coming home. Now no longer distracted by your less than conventional greeting it finally dawned on him that he was home and you were so close but no close enough for his liking. Reaching out Drake’s arms encircled you and pulled you close. Wasting no more time, Drake pressed his lips against yours relishing in the soft and slow response that came instantly. 

Your arms wrapped around the back of Drake’s neck and you deepened the kiss, both of you using this moment to pour out your love for the other in a way that words wouldn’t be able fully convey. You pulled back and lightly cupped Drake’s face, unable to stop the smile now permanently on your face. Until he had to go again you were both going to savour every moment until you had to say goodbye again. 

BECKMAN

If Beckman was excited to be docking at the familiar island in Shanks’ territory, he wasn’t outwardly showing it. Shanks only watched his second-in-command with a knowing smirk as Beck sat at the table on the deck of the Red Force, completely relaxed and doing routine maintenance on his rifle. As always the first mate just went with the flow of Shanks’ whims and decisions whether they were completely planned out or just thought of in a spur of the moment strike of inspiration. His current decision though he would have at least thought Benn would have made some sort of comment about or cast a glance at the waters to check how far away they were. Shanks smirked and sat back in his own seat, knowing he couldn't be laidback or cool, calm, and collected forever. 

“So who’s staying on board tonight?” Hongo asked casually as the island drew closer. The ship’s doctor cast a suspicious glance at Benn who still remained relaxed, leaning by the railing and smoking idly. Everyone on board was all but itching to tease the first mate but he infuriatingly wasn’t giving them anything to go on yet. Benn however failed to see why they were acting like this, every single time they did this and every single time he didn’t change. He shifted his stance and held back his smirk when everyone on board sharpened their gaze on him, only to deflate when he simply blew out a small stream of smoke. Finally Shanks spoke up, knowing no one on board wanted to miss the fun. “We’ll be fine. So let’s all enjoy tonight, yeah?”

The welcome to the island town was as loud and warm as expected being one of Shanks’ oldest islands under his protection. Benn smiled politely to the civilians calling out greetings and walked with Shanks to the crew’s favourite bar in need of a place to unwind and recuperate from the long journey. Benn felt Shanks clap his shoulder, his excitement palpable and he glanced to see the red haired man grinning at him. “Looking forward to it?”

“Looking forward to getting a drink.” Benn answered, his lips twitching in an amused smile when Shanks scowled at him.

“We had drinks on the ship. If that’s all you wanted then you could have stayed there or not bothered stopping on the island in the first place.”

“Well we can go back if you want Captain, you’re in charge.”

“What? No way!” Shanks dismissed dramatically. “Honestly, you’re so ungrateful. Anyone else would be racing to the bar if they knew someone like that was going to be there.”

The doors to the bar swung open and the patrons shouted out a chorus of greetings and cheers at the arrival of the Red Haired Pirates, their drinks raised in the air in a toast to their protectors. Benn’s eyes went straight to the bar and a lazy smirk appeared when you came into view. There you were sitting on a barstool, arm lazily draped behind you to rest on the bar and a drink in hand while meeting his stare evenly. You bit back the urge to laugh as Shanks managed to get to you first, his arm falling over your shoulder as he leant in to kiss your cheek in greeting just to mess with Beckman. 

Swiftly you intercepted his playful advance by letting his lips connect with your mug of beer that he took with no further prompting. At the same time Benn’s arms were on you, pulling you from Shanks’ touch and into his own. One arm wrapped around your waist and the other supported your back as he twisted you into a slight dip. Grinning you accepted his kiss with equal eager intensity, both of you ignoring the whooping and whistles of his crew. Breaking apart you playfully smiled while Benn rolled his eyes at the crew’s antics. “You love them really.”

“No, I tolerate them.” Benn corrected lightly, pressing another kiss against your cheek as he straightened you but kept you securely in his arms. “But I love you a whole lot more to endure their teasing.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @its-a-dam-blue-brick , @thulhu , @appalost

[eetherealgoddesss]

ꨄOur Perfect Alphaꨄ

Oneshot - Dark Content - Yandere - Omegaverse

❦ They were the only ones who could see through your tough act.❦

Omega Males x Alpha Female Reader

❣︎All sub-genders can be any gender. Male omegas do not have vaginas and cannot get pregnant. Not the best I’ve written but I hope you enjoy it anyway.❣︎

Not fully proofread

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

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable.

✩Characters are 18+ as always.

✩Everything/everyone are mine

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Our Perfect Alpha

You are tired.

Exhausted even…

You have always been someone to take care of everything that came your way. No matter the extremities or the harsh situations you have been forced to live through, you have handled every single thing that has happened in your life. It wasn’t easy growing up as the people pleaser. It wasn’t easy growing up with a heart of gold and yet the mineral rusting as you were faced with the reality that you have been unloved from the start.

It wasn’t easy, growing up in a home where you were born from a family line of traumatized and unhealed individuals who had know idea how to truly love you. All your life you have craved love, attention, recognition. You felt that you loved too hard and seemed to be surrounded by the world of humans who lack empathy. You took on the burden of everyone and their pain.

The betrayals, arguments, and pity sessions had you on your knees at times, spiraling and rocking against the wall as you contemplated ending your life. As an alpha, especially growing up with other alpha females, you were always told to suck it up and be independent. Never rely on anyone else and stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. It’s seen as weak to show vulnerability.

You’ve always been more emotional than those around you and it caused a lot of misunderstandings and miscommunications. You could never feel truly connected with your own sub-gender because your wants and societal needs did not intertwine. Sometimes you wish you could be more feminine. You wished you would've been born an omega instead. You also wished that you liked being an alpha or resonated in the same way other alphas do with themselves.

You were too embarrassed to admit that you truly wanted to be taken care of, spoiled even. You wanted someone to save you, as pathetic as it is. Regardless of how you feel, you never showed it. After you matured you repressed your true feelings and took on the role as an alpha female. As much as you felt disconnected, it still worked better than the femininity gurus you found on social media that were only meant for omega women.

You are deep within your teachings and are used to acting in your masculine energy. It’s easier that way, regardless of the disconnection. It’s too late for you to change. The sub-gender you were born with proves that your calling is to be an alpha, so you had no choice but to accept it. That didn’t mean you didn’t struggle in relationships.

You were too masculine for the alpha males and the omega males had you feeling way to masculine. Betas were too emotionally detached. Nobody ever doted on you. You craved to be a bimbo or even just a feminine woman and experience the otherside. Regardless of who you were with, nobody seemed to care enough. Nobody loved hard enough. Nobody saw you as someone to protect. Not even your family.

You gave up. You didn’t deserve it. Who’d want someone like you anyway? You’re already too damaged. You’ve been through too much. You’re too strong. You’re not even strong enough. Your self-pitying thoughts were interrupted by a shadow casting over you.

You freeze in your seat on the ground with your back against the tree, eyes making contact with lustrous sky blue irises. You immediately know that you are in the presence of an omega by the floral aroma of lavender with a fusion of vanilla that would’ve had another alpha who lacked self control on their knees within a second. The soft features of the porcelain skin blended well with the sharp lining of the jaw. His pink bangs fall messily over his face while the rest of his locks fall gracefully past his shoulders.

He stands in front of you, shoes planted on the grass of the empty park. The red hue on his cheeks seem to complete his physical attributes, fitting him perfectly. His glossy eyes gaze at you with an unreadable expression. Your head turns to the figure standing next to the stranger. The savor of citrus and jasmine reaches your nose less subtly than the other omega’s scent. His skin is slightly tanner and remains as clear as the pink haired man. Half of his blonde hair is pulled back, the rest of the healthy strands falling just above his shoulder. What gets you is the intensity of his dark eyes, almost as if there are no pupils present. He also wears an unreadable expression before his lips form into a smile.

“Hey there.” Your hand tightens around your phone, his voice deeper than expected for an omega, even as a male. Your stomach drops as you look at your surroundings. It can be quite a dangerous circumstance to find yourself in the presence of two clearly mated omegas.

Whether alpha, omega, or beta, those who are mated become much more territorial. Murder is even excused at the cost of your mate. There doesn’t even have to be proof, if they feel like you’re a threat to their relationship you can be legally mauled. Mating is a sacred expression where the bite(s) ties you together as each individuals’ life source. You are bound to each other forever.

“Hey.” You reply, your arms lying between the knees to your chest and your stomach. You watch as they glance at each other before gazing back at you.

“You’re our new alpha.” Your eyebrows raise along with your eyelids. You were definitely not down to have a relationship. It doesn’t matter how beautiful they are nor how good they smell. You barely know them, but little did you know, they definitely know everything about you.

They know you down to your most secretive insecurities. They’ve watched you for quite a while now. You caught their eye far too long ago. Somehow you hadn’t ever noticed them, but they lingered. They were always quiet in the background.

Quiet through the loud arguments between you and your family members. Quiet throughout the arguments between you and the partners who disappeared without a trace, unknown to you. Quiet throughout the moments you were lying in the fetal position on your bed, tears falling while the curtains were slightly open.

They were oh so very fucking quiet and even patient throughout your sexual endeavors. All because when they first laid eyes on you, a couple of years ago when you had saved the roofied the pink haired omega from sluggishly being pulled along by a creepy alpha pervert who you exposed and found a way to use the omega’s phone to take him home to his blonde partner, that was it for you.

You were theirs from the start. Because you had rushed off so fast, they weren’t able to get any information about you. They searched social media, the local area, and even the outskirts of the city. They just couldn’t figure out where you were. Not until one fateful night where they caught you sitting in your car with a blunt in one hand and the phone in the other, seeming to have just finished your yelling session and hanging up the phone before taking a long hit of the flower. They took a picture of your tags from your car and it all started from there.

They found out every single thing about you after two years of studying you. Their fascination had no limits, blood wringing from their hands from everyone they felt they had to kill for putting their dirty fucking hands all over their mate’s body. They craved you.

Oh honey, your wants and needs, it was ridiculous how much they wanted to fulfill your aches and pain. To be the ones to take care of you, nurture you, protect their little alpha. To bite into your neck gland and finalize your tie with them for life. They can see the holographic red ribbon wrapped around your bodies now. They know that you’ve never experienced real and raw passion from your pathetic relationships and they will gladly take the honor of giving you a life you never thought you deserved. You didn’t have a choice anymore. They’re done waiting.

“I’m sorry but I’m not anyone’s alpha.” You eyed them with confusion as the blonde man crouched down beside you and wrapped his fingers around your hand.

“Listen, sweetheart. Name’s Archer.” He brings the back of your hand to his nose before scenting you, causing your body to tense. “I’m not a very patient guy so let’s get this outta the way. You’re our new mate.”

While you were distracted, you failed to notice the pink haired male position himself on his knees and crawl towards you, ignoring your peripheral vision of his figure as you focused on the sentence that just came out of Archer’s mouth.

“Wait a minute, I literally have a say in this. You can’t just force me to be your mate. I don’t even kn-!” You felt warm air tickle your ear when you heard the other omega speak in a sultry tone.

“We’re starving. Be a doll and tilt your head for me.” His hand slivers to your chin before snatching your face in the opposite direction, exposing your neck in the process.

“H-hold on!” The grip on your hand tightens painfully before the sharp teeth enter your gland. Your jaw hangs open in a silent scream as your free hand hangs onto the shoulder of Elias, the mischievous male moving his hand to grip the upper part of your neck as he sucks at your life source.

“No fair, Elias. I wanted her neck first.” Archer whined before crawling to the opposite side and releasing your hand. His hand cups your cheek before pushing your face up to force access to the other side of your neck.

You release a pained groan as your eyes shut tightly, a new pair of sharp fangs entering your neck as both parties suck on your energy. You peek at the holographic red ribbon surrounding all of you as it circled and tied against your bodies before disappearing, the bond binding you for life against your will. At some point both men release your neck only to continue feeding from your body as they kiss up your bruised skin, blood meeting their lips as they gain energy from you. Your body weakens against the tree as your eyes almost roll into the back of your head.

“Goddamnit, Alpha. You’re so delicious.” Archer says before his tongue glides up your bloody neck. “M’ gonna take good care of you.” He breathes out desperately between kisses.

Elias pulls back to make eye contact with you, sneering before using his hand to grip your thigh harshly, your body tensing with pain as you cringed. You could feel the disgust and rage radiating from his energy as his piercing eyes bore into you.

“I’m gonna make you regret making us wait so long. You let multiple men touch you. Fucking disgraceful.” He scolds you. Your eyes widen as you try to remove his hand, all the while pushing the blonde man back as well.

“Wh-what the hell are you talking about?” You had no clue what was even happening. You don’t even know who these omeg-… wait.

“Wait, do… do I know you?” You ask them while Archer rubs his arm against his mouth and Elias crosses his arms. Your eyebrows furrow when both men seem to pout and look away.

“Of course you don’t remember us.” Elias hissed.

“Your memory is shit. This is why we have to take care of you.” Archer rolled his eyes. “How have you survived this long without us? You’re hopeless, really.”

“Hold the fuck up! What the hell do you mean by that? Wh-!”

“I’m tired of all this talking. It’s getting late and we should really get you to bed, Alpha.” Elias said as he picked himself up from the ground. Archer follows and looks down at your sitting figure.

Your hands meet the bites on your neck that ache to touch. You eye them, still in disbelief of your current situation. You didn’t really know how to feel. Violated? Confused? There were a lot of emotions running through you at once and you couldn’t really pinpoint one specific feeling.

“She’s not getting up.” Elias states to his omega partner.

“Huh.” Archer responds before placing his hands on his hips. A smile grows on his face, to your dismay.

“Well, if you won’t come willingly, we’ll just take you.”

Before you can respond, a harsh impact causes darkness to engulf your vision.

[divinelyparkjimin]

— craving you [m] | jhs.

◦ summary ↠ getting involved with the mafia means trouble—and their dangerously sexy boss might just be the most tempting trouble of all.

◦ pairing ↠ hoseok x reader

◦ word count ↠ 6.4k

◦ genre ↠ smut, angst, fluff

◦ content warning(s) ↠ mafia au, dom!hoseok, sub!reader, suggestive/explicit content, dirty talk, penetrative sex, ejaculation, f. and m. orgasm, fingering, alcohol consumption, aggressive sex, oral sex, slave kink (?), face-fucking, deep-throating, unprotected sex

a/n: i'm back after ten years lol. hope you guys enjoy!

masterlist

You woke up with a pounding headache, your surroundings unfamiliar. Blinking against the dim light, you took in the room: a simple bed with worn but elegant dark wood, a matching desk, and a vanity. The furniture looked aged but still somehow charming, as though it had once belonged to someone with taste but had been neglected over the years.

The last thing you remembered was being out at a club with your friends. You’d had a bit too much to drink, and everything after that was a blur. Now here you were, in a strange room that felt too odd to belong to someone’s home.

You rubbed your temples, trying to piece things together, when the door creaked open. A boy with a ruffled bowl cut stepped in, his expression unreadable.

“Hoseok is waiting for you,” he said, his voice calm but firm.

Your brows knitted together. “Who?” you asked, sitting up on the bed. “Who are you? Where am I?”

For a moment, he looked just as confused as you felt, his lips parting as though to answer, but then he seemed to think better of it.

“I’m taking you to Hoseok,” he said instead, stepping further into the room. Before you could react, he grabbed your arm.

“Let go!” you barked, pulling against his grip, but he was much stronger than he looked.

“Am I a prisoner?” you snapped, glaring up at him.

“Somewhat,” he replied with a small chuckle, his tone so nonchalant it made your blood boil.

He dragged you out into a hallway, the floor creaking underfoot. The place was massive, the walls lined with intricate carvings and faded wallpaper. The air smelled faintly of wood polish and something musky, almost intoxicating. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their crystals catching the dim light and scattering it across the room like shards of broken glass.

“Where are we?” you demanded, but the boy—who still hadn’t given you his name—remained silent, leading you through the labyrinth of hallways until you entered a large sitting room.

There, lounging casually on a leather couch, was a man with an aura that immediately put you on edge. His sharp features were softened by a devilish smirk, and his eyes sparkled with amusement as he took in the sight of you being dragged in.

“Thanks, Jungkook,” the man said, addressing the boy who had brought you. “Hope she wasn’t too much trouble.”

Jungkook merely nodded, releasing your arm before stepping back.

“What am I doing here?” you demanded, your voice trembling despite your efforts to sound strong.

The man—Hoseok, you presumed—leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. He held a glass of red wine in one hand, swirling it lazily as he studied you.

You’re here because your little friend couldn’t keep their word. It’s that simple.” he said, his tone almost cheerful.

“That doesn’t explain why I’m involved,” you shot back.

He tilted his head, a mocking smile curling at the edges of his lips. “Oh, but it does. You see, they offered you as collateral. And who am I to turn down such a… lovely arrangement?”

You flinched at his words, anger bubbling in your chest. “You’re insane. I’m not some object you can just—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice suddenly cold and commanding. The shift in his tone made you falter. "You’re here now, and you’ll stay until the debt is paid.”

You glared at him, refusing to back down even as your heart raced. “And what if I refuse?”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t really have a choice. But don’t worry—I’m not completely heartless. I take good care of what’s mine.”

He took a step closer, and you instinctively took a step back, bumping into the edge of the bed. “You’ll find it’s not so bad here,” he continued, his tone lightening. “You’ll be working directly under me. My personal attendant, you could say.”

“Attendant?” you repeated incredulously. “Yeah, right.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not that bad. In fact, I can be quite… generous.” He reached for a small box on the bedside table and tossed it to you. “Here, something for you to change into.”

You opened the box, your face flushing when you saw the contents: a skimpy, silk dress with lace trim that barely qualified as clothing.

“You’re joking,” you spat, glaring at him.

“Not at all,” he said, his smirk widening. “Jungkook will show you to the changing room.”

Jungkook escorted you to a room down the hall. Once inside, you reluctantly put on the dress, feeling both humiliated and strangely curious. Why was everything in this place so luxurious, so well-kept? It didn’t match the idea of being a prisoner.

When you emerged, Jungkook was waiting, his face immediately flushing red at the sight of you. He avoided your gaze, clearing his throat awkwardly before leading you back to Hoseok.

You were taken to a room, one that seemed to be Hoseok's. This was soon confirmed as Jungkook gripped the handle of the wooden door, swinging it open. He gave you a nod yet again, as if signaling you to enter. Your feet felt glued to the ground, your nerves unable to actually make a step forward into the mystery of a room.

Once you'd finally taken a peek into the room, you immediately took notice of Hoseok leaned casually against the edge of the bed, his gaze raking over you like a predator sizing up its prey. The dress clung to your figure, its delicate lace and silk leaving little to the imagination. You shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, wishing you could disappear, but his dark, unreadable eyes pinned you in place.

“Well,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth, “you look even better than I expected. Perfect, actually.” The door shut behind you, and your heart pounded harder within you.

You crossed your arms over your chest, glaring at him despite the heat rising to your cheeks. “If you think I’m going to play along with this, you’re delusional,” you snapped.

He smirked, amused by your defiance. "Oh, sweetheart, you can play hard to get all you like. It only makes this more interesting for me."

Your breath hitched as he pushed off the bed and closed the distance between you in a few strides. His presence was overwhelming, the scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a haze. When he stopped just shy of touching you, you felt the heat radiating from him, your pulse quickening despite yourself.

His eyes softened for a brief moment, though his smirk remained. “You know,” he murmured, his tone soft yet dangerous, "I could have given you to one of my men. But I chose you for myself. That should tell you something."

Your lips parted to respond, but the intensity of his gaze stole your words. He tilted his head, waiting, and then leaned in just enough to brush his fingers against your arm. The featherlight touch sent an unwanted shiver through your body, and you hated the way he noticed.

“I chose you because I always get what I want,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “And right now, I want you.” He took your chin between his fingers, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to meet his eyes.

The way he looked at you made your knees weak, and you hated how much your body betrayed you. You wanted to hate him, to push him away, but the magnetic pull between you was undeniable.

"Get over yourself," you managed to say, though your voice lacked conviction.

He laughed, a deep, rich sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You're adorable when you try to act tough," he said, releasing your chin and stepping back. "But we'll see how long that lasts."

He walked to a small cabinet and poured himself another glass of wine, the muscles in his back flexing as he moved. "You look tense," he remarked, turning back to you with a wicked grin. "Would you like me to help you relax?"

Your cheeks burned at the implication, and you turned your head away. "I’d rather die," you muttered.

He stalked back to you, setting the wine glass down on the bedside table. "Don’t tempt me, darling," he whispered, his voice laced with dark humor. "I might take you up on that offer."

Before you could retort, he leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. "But I’d rather hear you beg for something else entirely."

Your breath hitched, and you felt his smirk against your skin. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark and unreadable. "Now, be a good girl and get some rest," he said, his tone suddenly lighter. "You’ll need your energy for tomorrow."

He turned away, heading toward the bathroom, but not before throwing a final, teasing glance over his shoulder. "Unless, of course, you’d like to share my bed tonight. I promise, I don’t bite... unless you ask me to."

The door closed behind him, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts and a pounding heart. You hated how much his presence affected you, how much his teasing had stirred something deep within you.

The room was quiet after Hoseok left, the weight of his words lingering in the air. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the door he had disappeared through. Your pulse still raced, a mix of fear, anger, and something you didn’t want to name swirling inside you.

A soft knock broke the silence. You stiffened, your heart leaping to your throat. The door creaked open, and Jungkook stepped inside, carrying a tray of food. His expression was softer now, a hint of guilt shadowing his face as he set the tray down on the small table near the bed.

“I thought you might be hungry,” he said, his voice low.

You eyed him warily. “What’s this? Poison?”

Jungkook flinched, his lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s not poisoned,” he murmured. “Just eat."

You crossed your arms, still glaring at him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping him?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not that simple,” he said, his tone tinged with frustration. “Hoseok… he’s not as bad as he seems.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not as bad as he seems? He just told me I’m his collateral. What part of that isn’t bad?”

Jungkook hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “I know how it looks, but… he has his reasons. He doesn’t hurt people unless they deserve it. And trust me, the people he deals with usually do.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Yeah, because kidnapping innocent people is so noble.”

He winced again, looking genuinely remorseful. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For what it’s worth, I didn’t agree with this. But once Hoseok makes up his mind…” He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Why are you telling me this?” you asked, softening slightly at his sincerity.

He looked back at you, his dark eyes earnest. “Because you’re not just some pawn to him. If you were, you wouldn’t be here, in his personal quarters. He… he sees something in you.”

You frowned, unsure how to respond. Before you could ask anything else, Jungkook turned toward the door. “Just… try to eat,” he said over his shoulder before leaving you alone again.

You stared at the tray of food for a moment before reluctantly picking up a piece of bread. It smelled fresh, and your stomach growled in betrayal. As you ate, your thoughts churned, trying to make sense of everything.

The door creaked open again, and you looked up to see Hoseok stepping inside, now dressed in silk pajamas that hung loosely on his frame. They were matching to your own, something that you audibly scoffed at. He looked relaxed, his earlier edge dulled by the casual attire.

“Enjoying the food?” he asked, his tone teasing.

You glared at him, though the corners of your mouth twitched. “As much as someone in my situation can.”

He chuckled, closing the door behind him. “Fair enough. But I hope you don’t think I’m completely heartless.” He gestured toward a couch on the far side of the room. “I’ll take that tonight. You can have the bed.” The couch dominated one corner of the room, its size nearly rivaling the bed itself. It was upholstered in deep, rich velvet, the kind that looked invitingly soft to the touch, with intricate stitching along the edges. The cushions were plush and overstuffed, creating a luxurious sprawl that promised comfort beyond reason.

You blinked in surprise. “What? No more threats or innuendos?”

He smirked, crossing his arms. “I’m full of surprises, darling. But even I need to sleep.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “So all that earlier? It was just bluffing?”

His smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by a flash of something that looked like amusement—or perhaps respect. “You’re braver than I gave you credit for,” he admitted, walking toward the couch. “But don’t push your luck.”

You laughed softly, more at the absurdity of the situation than anything else. “Goodnight, then.”

“Goodnight,” he replied, settling onto the couch. Despite his earlier bravado, he didn’t seem the least bit uncomfortable, draping an arm over the backrest as he reclined.

You climbed into the bed, sinking into its softness. As your head hit the pillow, you felt a strange sense of calm, even in the midst of the chaos. Hoseok’s presence, infuriating as it was, didn’t feel as threatening now.

The next day, Hoseok kept you busy. As promised—or threatened—you shadowed him as his personal attendant, though most of the tasks were menial. You were getting a glimpse of the operation he seemed to run: shadowy meetings, coded phone calls, and a surprising amount of charm that he wielded like a weapon.

Late in the afternoon, Hoseok asked Jungkook to bring you something from another room, leaving you alone for a moment. It was then that you felt someone’s gaze on you. A man with sharp eyes and a cruel grin approached, his steps deliberate. He was dressed in black, and his aura screamed trouble.

“Well, well,” the stranger purred, his voice smooth but unsettling. “Hoseok’s latest… acquisition. He always did have good taste.”

You tensed, instinctively stepping back. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Oh, but I think you do,” he said, circling you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’re new here. That makes you vulnerable. And that means... I could help you, for the right price.”

Your stomach turned as he moved closer, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from your face. You slapped it away, glaring. “Don’t touch me.” The man slipped a hand into his pocket, pulling out a pocket knife, to which you flinched at the sight of.

The man’s smile only widened, as though your defiance amused him. “Feisty. I like that.”

Before he could say more, a voice rang out, cold and cutting. “Step away from her. Now.”

You turned to see Hoseok standing a few feet away, his face devoid of its usual playful smirk. His eyes burned with barely contained fury, his posture tense.

The man raised his hands in mock surrender. “Relax, boss. I was just saying hello.”

“Your greetings are unwelcome,” Hoseok snapped, his tone lethal. “Touch her again, and I’ll make sure it’s the last thing you ever do.”

The dealer’s grin faltered for the briefest moment before he backed away. “No harm done,” he said, retreating with an air of false nonchalance.

Once he was gone, Hoseok turned to you, his expression softening slightly. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

You nodded, though your hands were trembling. “Yeah. I… I’m fine.” He stepped closer, his hand hovering near your arm as though debating whether to touch you.

For a moment, you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of genuine concern that sent your heart racing. You muttered a quiet “Thank you,” but he only nodded and turned away, leaving you with an unsettling mix of emotions.

As days turned into weeks, you found yourself increasingly drawn to Hoseok. His care for you, however begrudging it seemed at times, was impossible to ignore. He wasn’t the monster you’d initially pegged him as—he could be cruel, yes, but also fiercely protective and surprisingly thoughtful.

One evening, you had found Hoseok seated at his desk, staring at the reports before him. His fingers run through his hair in frustration. Another failed deal. Another betrayal. The day's losses have piled up, and he’s feeling the weight of it all. Normally, he could compartmentalize—keep his emotions in check, maintain control. But today, seemed like you were seeing an entirely different side of him.

The door creaked open. He didn't even need to look up; he knew who it is. You.

You'd been working with him for a while now—part of his inner circle, trusted, competent, but not someone he’d let too close emotionally. Until recently, things had changed. Maybe it was the way you always knew when something was off with him, when his temper was too short, when the pressure was mounting. Maybe it was the way you didn’t flinch when the violence around him got too real. Or maybe, just maybe, it was because, in your quiet moments together, you saw through the ice and stone he built around himself.

Today, you found him in a rare vulnerable state. His usual composure seemed to be gone—he was leaning back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, looking lost.

"You okay?" you asked softly, standing in the doorway. He didn't respond immediately. The tension in the air was palpable. You were used to the cold, dangerous version of him. But this... this was different.

He finally glanced up at you, his gaze heavy. "No," he muttered, the word hanging in the air between you. "It’s been a long day."

You stepped closer, your presence a silent offer of comfort, a safe place amidst the chaos. The silence stretched, but was not uncomfortable—just heavy. The unspoken understanding between the two of you had always been there, but now, it was almost as if it was pulling you closer.

He stood up abruptly, pushing the chair back, his usual sharp movements somehow slowed, drained. "I don’t need sympathy," he muttered, his voice rough, like he was holding something back. "I just need… something to take the edge off."

For a moment, you don’t move. You could feel the weight of his words. The tension between you both was unbearable—too close, too intimate, a fine line you’d never crossed before. And yet, there was no turning back.

You take a step toward him, standing just within arm's reach. The air between you crackled with tension. Without thinking, you lifted your hand, brushing his jaw lightly, feeling the softness of his skin beneath your fingertips.

Hoseok’s breath hitched, and for a split second, the hardness in his expression softened. He reached up, his fingers brushing against your wrist, guiding your hand down gently until it rested against his chest. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingertips, the tension, the frustration still lingering in his veins. He was holding himself back, but for how much longer?

"Are you sure about this?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. His lips were dangerously close to yours, and you could feel the pull between you.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you closed the distance, your lips brushing his in a soft, tentative kiss. The kind of kiss that said more than words ever could.

Without breaking the kiss, he moved his hands under your thighs, firmly guiding you into his lap. You could feel the weight of his body, the tension in every muscle, and the way his hands tightened around you.

His hands traced over your body with a mixture of reverence and possessiveness, moving to the buttons of your shirt. "You really think you can tease me like that?" His voice was low, laced with a playful challenge. His hands paused for a moment on your waist before undoing the buttons, pulling the fabric open just enough to expose the soft skin beneath.

"You’re not wearing a bra?" he teased, a grin tugging at his lips as he met your gaze. His hands roamed more freely now, his touch confident, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. "You’re full of surprises." He let his fingers skim over the soft skin of your breasts, the touch light but filled with intention. You let out small, soft moans with each graze.

The soft touches soon turned rougher as both of his hands were put to work, one on each of your breasts. He began fondling them, an expression of delight evident on his face.

"Fuck, who knew my little assistant had such beautiful tits?" He praised, his fingers beginning to twist around your nipples. The tingly sensations caused higher-pitched moans to escape your mouth, your hands gripping harder around his toned arms for stability.

You didn’t respond, allowing your breath to catch in your throat as you felt the heat radiating off him. You grinded your body against his, feeling his hard member under you. It tickled you, teasing you before it even got the chance to make an appearance.

He smirked, noticing the effect he had on you. "You really think you can just walk in here, all innocent, and not expect me to notice?" His lips brushed against yours as his hands roamed to your waist, pulling you closer still. "I don’t think you realize just how much trouble you’re in."

You met his teasing gaze with your own challenge, teasing him with a smile. "Maybe I like trouble," you moaned breathily. Your fingers grazed his chest, unbuttoning his shirt slowly, feeling the muscles beneath the fabric.

You tore it off of him, gliding your hands along his chest. Your hands lowered to his belt, tugging on it a bit. Your lips continued to reconnect, hands roaming along one another until Hoseok finally picked you up off of him. The two of you were now standing up, still practically devouring each other's faces. You took turns sucking each other's tongues, your pulse quickening by the second.

His lips brushed against yours once more, and as he deepened the kiss, you felt his hands move to the waistband of your pants, his fingers tentative at first, as if asking for permission. You nodded and not even a second after he grasped the waistband of your pants and pulled you closer, effortlessly tugging them down. The movement was quick, decisive, leaving no room for hesitation.

Your hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with an eager, but controlled urgency. The space between you was shrinking, the intensity of his touch making everything else feel distant. You slid out of your own bottoms, now standing before him in only the barest of clothing.

As the kiss broke, Hoseok’s eyes lingered on you, intense but with a hint of mischief. He gave you a slight smirk, his hands sliding down to your hips as he guided you toward the bed.

With a gentle but firm push, he helped you sit down, the bed soft beneath you. He stood before you for a moment, eyes flicking over your body, his chest rising and falling as he took in the sight of you. Then, with a quiet, almost teasing chuckle, he knelt in front of you.

“You won't be needing these anymore, right?” His gaze directed at your lace panties. His voice was low, a playful edge in his words. His fingers slid to the waistband of the garment pulling them down with a slow, deliberate motion.

You shivered slightly as he discarded them, his gaze never leaving you. He stood again, his movements still confident and purposeful.

"Why don't you help me with this Y/N? You are my personal attendant." His hands cupped over yours, bringing them to the waistband of his boxers.

"Fuck, I'd love to." You said, your voice low and filled with longing, as you leaned closer. Slowly, you pulled them down, your breath catching as you were met with a surprising warmth and firmness.

His length was better than you could've imagined, its tip glossed with pre-cum. You admired it, every vein and crinkle of flesh. Your hand reached out to touch it before Hoseok interrupted you with an eyebrow raised, smirking with that dangerous grin of his.

“Getting eager, aren’t we?” His voice was low, almost a growl as you nodded impatiently. He didn't let you continue as his hands quickly found your hips, giving you a firm pull as he hoisted you up. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, giving you immediate tingles from the direct skin contact.

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the wall, your back against the cool surface, but Hoseok's body was anything but cold. He gaze lowered as he positioned himself to enter you, before looking back up at you to assure your readiness. You nodded, biting your lip seductively in anticipation.

As soon as he got your approval, he roughly thrusted himself into you. You could feel him forcing your tight walls open, folds rubbing against the soft skin of his shaft. Your quiet exhales grew in volume, before forming into full-fletched moans.

Your body naturally moved with the rhythm of his, bouncing on his hard cock to increase the roughness of each thrust.

As the intensity of his movements grew, so did the volume of your moans. Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as your lips met in a fierce, passionate kiss. The sensation of his tongue dancing with yours only added to the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you.

Hoseok's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers digging deep into your skin as he continued to drive into you with unrelenting force. The sound of your bodies colliding echoed through the room, a rhythmic slap of skin on skin that seemed to match the pounding of your heart.

Your back scraped against the wall with each thrust, but you didn't care - the pain was a distant second to the pleasure that was consuming you. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your muscles tensing in anticipation of the release that was to come.

Hoseok's eyes locked onto yours, his gaze burning with an intense desire as he watched you unravel beneath him. His movements became more frantic, his thrusts shorter and more rapid as he chased his own climax. You could feel his cock swelling inside you, the pressure building until it became almost unbearable.

As Hoseok's eyes burned into yours, his voice dropped to a low, husky growl. "You're mine now," he whispered, his words sending shivers down your spine. "You're mine to use, mine to fuck, mine to play with.”

"I always was, wasn't I?" you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but laced with a hint of defiance. You tried to sound brave, but your voice trembled slightly, betraying your true feelings. Hoseok's eyes flashed with excitement, his gaze burning with an intense desire, as he took in your response. He seemed to like the fact that you were standing up to him, even if it was just a little bit.

Hoseok's eyes never left yours as he took a step closer, his body towering over yours. You could feel the heat emanating from him, and your skin prickled with awareness as he reached out and grasped your hips. His hands were like grips, holding you in place, as he pulled you into him. You felt a rush of excitement as your bodies touched, and you knew that you were in for a wild ride.

He spun you around, pinning you onto the bed, his body covering yours as he gazed down at you with an unyielding intensity. His hand slid between your legs, stroking your inner thighs, and you felt a shiver run down your spine as he touched you. His touch was gentle, yet firm, and you couldn't help but moan as he began to explore your body. You felt yourself getting wetter, your body responding almost immediately to his touch.

"How many can you take?" he whispered, his voice low and husky, as he slowly inserted one finger into you. You gasped, your body arching into his touch, and he smiled, his eyes glinting with excitement. "Two?" he asked, his voice dripping with anticipation, as he slid another finger into you. You felt yourself stretching, accommodating his fingers, and you couldn't help but moan as he began to move them in and out of you. His touch was gentle, yet firm, and you felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge.

As he fingered you, his other hand began to rub your pussy, a pair of two fingers applying gentle pressure to your clit. You felt yourself trembling, and you knew you were on the verge of something explosive. His fingers quickened in pace, stroking your inner walls, and you felt a sense of pleasure that you had never experienced before. You were so caught up in the moment, so lost in the sensation of his touch, that you didn't even notice when he added a third finger.

Your body coiled with anticipation in response to the overwhelming feelings of pleasure that were coming over you. His touch was like magic, weaving a spell of pleasure around you, and you knew that you were powerless to resist. You felt yourself trembling, your body shaking with pleasure, as he brought you to the brink of orgasm. And then, just as suddenly as it had started, everything stopped. Hoseok's fingers stilled, his hand ceasing its gentle rubbing, and you were left feeling frustrated and unsatisfied.

Hoseok's fingers slowly slid out of you, and he brought them to his lips, tasting the wetness that coated them. His eyes locked onto yours, a spark of desire igniting within their depths. With a gentle smile, he leaned forward, his mouth descending onto your sex.

His tongue dragged along your folds, tracing a slow path of sensation that left you breathless. As he reached the apex of your thighs, his tongue swirled around your clit, sending shivers coursing through your body. The pressure was building inside you, and you could feel yourself tightening with each passing moment.

The sight of him between your thighs was a lovely one, a position you never expected to find yourself in, despite the growing lustful thoughts you seemed to have for him. He kept his tongue extended, bobbing his head in a gentle rhythm as he licked you.

The sensation was intoxicating – the soft lapping of his tongue against your sensitive flesh sent waves crashing through your body. You felt yourself melting into the touch, your hips rising to meet the

Suddenly, Hoseok's mouth closed around your clit, suctioning onto it with a gentle yet firm pressure. You moaned out loudly as the sensation washed over you – the suction sending sparks flying through your nerves. Hoseok's response was to suck harder, his mouth closing tighter around your clit as he drew on it with increasing intensity.

The sound that escaped your lips was almost primal – a raw expression of pleasure that echoed through the room. Your body arched upwards, pushing against Hoseok's mouth as you sought more contact. The suction grew stronger still, until finally you felt yourself reaching the edge of climax.

As you crested over the peak and began to tumble down the other side, Hoseok slowly released his suction on your clit. His chest rose and fell with ragged breathing as he gazed up at you with eyes that burned with desire.

"Touch me," he whispered urgently. His voice was low and husky, and you knew exactly what he meant. "Didn't forget about pleasing your master, right?" he asked, his tone dripping with expectation and a hint of warning.

"Of course not, master," you replied, trying to sound calm despite the excitement building inside you.

"Good girl." He smiled, a small, satisfied smile. You reached down, your hand wrapping around his cock, and he let out a low growl of pleasure. His eyes seemed to burn with an inner fire as he gazed at you, his pupils dilating with desire. As you held him in your hand, you could feel his cock growing harder and thicker, the veins standing out in stark relief. The skin was smooth and hot to the touch, like silk wrapped around steel.

You smiled to yourself as you began to stroke him, your hand moving up and down the length of his cock in slow, teasing motions. You took your time, savoring the sensation of having him in your hand. Your fingers explored every inch of him, tracing the curves and ridges of his cock. You could feel the pulse beating within him, a rhythmic throbbing that seemed to match the beat of your own heart. As you stroked him, Hoseok's breathing grew heavier, his chest rising and falling with ragged gasps.

After a few moments of stroking him, you leaned forward, your mouth opening to take him in. Your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and he let out a hiss of pleasure as you began to suck him.

His hands tightened around your head, holding you in place as he began to thrust his hips upwards, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate strokes. His breathing grew more ragged, his chest heaving with excitement, and his voice dropped to a low, husky growl. The sensation was almost overwhelming - the taste of him filled your mouth, rich and earthy and utterly masculine.

"Fuck!" he exclaimed, his words torn from his throat as he felt himself getting closer to the edge. "My slut is so good," he panted, his hands gripping your head tighter as he pulled you down further onto his cock. "You're so fucking perfect, you know that?" He thrusted deeper into your mouth, his hips jerking upwards.

You couldn't respond with words, but your expression said it all - you were his, completely and utterly, and you loved every moment of it. Your gaze was filled with a mixture of adoration and submission, your eyes sparkling with a hint of excitement and pleasure.

"You like sucking my cock, don't you?" he growled. "You like feeling me deep in your throat." He thrusted his hips upwards, even harder than before, pushing himself deeper into your mouth. "Take it all," he ordered. "Take every inch of my cock, princess." His words were like fuel on a fire, making you burn hotter with every passing moment.

Each thrust was like a wave crashing over you, basking in the feelings of bliss. Your mouth was stretched wide around him, but you couldn't help feeling a thrill of excitement at the way he was using you. The sensation was almost too much to bear, you couldn't help but crave for more.

Despite the pleasure that was building inside him, Hoseok's patience soon wore thin. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and grabbed your shoulders, pinning you back down onto the bed. His eyes blazed with need as he gazed at you, his face twisted with desire.

"I need you right now." he growled, his voice rough. You felt a sense of power, knowing that you had the ability to make him feel this way, and you reveled in it. In a swift movement, he flipped you onto your back and settled between your legs, his cock nudging against the entrance to your sex. His eyes locked onto yours, burning with an inner fire that seemed to burn brighter with every passing moment.

"You're mine," he whispered urgently as he pushed himself inside you. "Every inch of this body belongs to me." His words were like thunder in the background. Maybe it was wrong, maybe it was shameful, but all you could think about was the need to be used by him, to feel him deep inside you, to let go of everything and just give in to his desire.

Hoseok’s hand began blocking your head from banging against the headboard as he began to fuck you with a ferocity that left you breathless. The room was filled with the sound of your bodies colliding, the slap of skin on skin, and the heavy breathing that accompanied it. It was a primal, animalistic sound, and it only added to the excitement that was building between you. You felt yourself getting lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of his touch.

As you approached the edge, Hoseok's thrusts became faster and harder, his body pounding into yours with all his might. You couldn’t seem to contain the feelings of pleasure that spread throughout your body. And then, in a moment of pure ecstasy, you came, your body exploding into a thousand pieces as Hoseok's cock pulsed inside you.

His hand held your head in place, his fingers tangled in your hair, as he watched you come apart beneath him. Your body vibrated with the aftershocks of your orgasm, as you felt the warm liquid fill you up, his cum spilling into you like a gentle flood. It was a sensation that was both comforting and exhilarating, as if his very essence was merging with yours. You felt his warmth spreading through you, a soothing balm that calmed your trembling muscles and left you feeling languid and relaxed.

As you lay there, embracing the glow of your orgasm, Hoseok's expression softened, his eyes filling with a deep affection. He caressed your face, his fingers tracing the curves of your cheeks and the line of your jaw, his touch gentle and soothing. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, sweet kiss, and you felt your heart melt at the tenderness of the gesture.

For a moment, you two of you simply laid there, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound being the gentle rhythm of your breathing. Then, Hoseok's face broke into a cheeky grin, one that you knew came with nothing but mischief.

“Wanna go again?”

a/n: hi, thank you for reading! let me know guys what you think and feel free to request something new <3

masterlist

[itendtothinkalot]

beomgyu!spiderman au (part 2)

summary: just a few scenarios of how it would be like having beomgyu!spiderman as ur bf

genre: fluff

characters: beomgyu!spiderman x f!reader

words: 3.5

a/n: i wasn't done

warnings: danger! knives! guns!

part 1!

Your boyfriend was Spider-Man. The Spider-Man. The one who kept your little town safe, who swung through the streets like a silent guardian, leaving behind ripples of hope. The one who, despite the weight of a city on his shoulders, always stopped to lend a hand to anyone who needed it.

Just the other day, your grandma couldn’t stop talking about him.

“Oh, what a fine young man,” she said, eyes sparkling as she recounted the story for the third time. “He helped me cross the road and even carried my groceries all the way home!”

You had laughed softly then, a knowing kind of laugh. Because you knew the truth. You knew he wasn’t just helping some random sweet old lady—he had helped her because she was your grandma.

But the thought lingered longer than you expected. There was something deeply personal about knowing that Spider-Man, the hero everyone adored, was yours. That he went out of his way for the people you loved. That even in the midst of saving the world—or at least this small corner of it—he still remembered the little things.

It warmed your heart, but it ached too. How could one person carry so much? The city adored Spider-Man, but they didn’t know him like you did. They didn’t see the bruises he came home with or the weight he carried in the slump of his shoulders when no one was watching. They didn’t hear the way his voice cracked when he confessed how hard it was to keep everyone safe—how much he wished he could do more.

“You’re doing fine,” you murmured against Beomgyu’s neck, your voice low, trying to be supportive.. “You have to stop thinking that you owe the world everything. You don’t, Gyu. You really don’t.” Your arms tightened around him slightly, hoping that this small gesture, this closeness, could carry what words couldn’t.

For a moment, he didn’t respond. His breathing was steady, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way his body held itself too tightly, like a coiled spring. Finally, his voice broke the silence, barely above a whisper.

“I almost got Soobin hurt the other day.”

You froze, pulling back just enough to look at him. “What?”

He wasn’t meeting your eyes. Instead, his gaze was fixed on the wall behind you, as though staring into some memory he couldn’t shake. “Someone was following me. I–I didn’t even know. I don’t know how I didn’t know, but I didn’t—”

“Don’t you have those tingles? Like, when something bad’s about to happen?” Your voice rose slightly, more out of disbelief than anger. “What’s it called again?”

“Spidey senses,” he said quietly, almost like he was embarrassed to admit it.

“Right.”

He nodded, exhaling shakily. “Which is why this freaked me out so much. They followed me. Back to school.”

You felt your stomach drop. “Our school?”

He sighed, his hand coming up to drag down his face. “It was the day of the test. I guess my anxiety just… I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t even realize they’d been trailing me until it was too late. And then…” His voice cracked, and for a moment, you thought he might stop altogether.

“And then what, Gyu?” you pressed, your own heart racing now.

“Soobin,” he said, his voice trembling. “He was there. He was just…waving down to me, you know? Trying to make sure no one else saw me. But they did see him. They saw him.”

Your breath hitched as you imagined the scene. Soobin, his usual warm and carefree self, unknowingly stepping into danger just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“God, Gyu…” You reached for his hand, squeezing it tightly. He finally looked at you then, his dark eyes full of guilt, fear, and something raw you couldn’t quite name.

“I can’t let that happen again,” he said firmly, though his voice wavered. “I can’t let someone I care about get hurt because of me. Because of this.”

You shook your head, your grip on his hand tightening. “No one got hurt. Soobin’s fine. You’re fine. But, Gyu, you can’t keep carrying this on your own. You don’t have to. Please…”

He didn’t respond, but the way his hand clung to yours told you everything. For now, it would have to be enough. But in the back of your mind, you knew this wasn’t over—not for him, not for either of you.

—

Beomgyu, the neighborhood’s ever-friendly superhero, had always been the happy-go-lucky guy at school—the one who cracked jokes even during exams and smiled at everyone in the halls. But lately, everything felt heavier. The shadows felt closer, and the weight of his secret life seemed to press down on him more than ever. No one really noticed the change, not at school, not in the streets where he swung between buildings. But he felt it.

Lost in thought, replaying every close call, every mistake, Beomgyu didn’t even notice the bird heading straight for him until—

“AUUUGH!”

The collision sent him tumbling through the air, momentum completely lost. He flailed helplessly before crashing down five levels and landing, with an undignified thud, in a dumpster.

“Dang,” he groaned, clutching his ribs as he tried to sit up. The stench was an assault on his senses, but at least the garbage had cushioned his fall. Small blessings, right?

He barely had a second to regain his bearings before he froze, realizing he wasn’t alone. Two figures loomed over him, their faces obscured by ski masks. Guns peeked out from behind their backs.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” one of them muttered, staring down at the very superhero who had been tailing them for weeks.

Beomgyu blinked up at them, then sighed. “What a night,” he muttered before pulling on a smirk under his mask. “Well, well, well. What do we have here? Are we heading to some kind of costume party, fellas? I wasn’t invited—kind of hurtful, honestly.”

The guy on the left swore under his breath, visibly rattled as he yanked a gun from behind his back and aimed it at Beomgyu.

“Ooh, wrong move there, buddy.” Beomgyu didn’t even flinch. A second later, a sharp thwip echoed through the alley as his web shooter activated, yanking the gun from the man’s grip and sending it clattering to the ground. In a single, fluid motion, Beomgyu swung up and ensnared the guy in a sticky cocoon of webbing.

“C’mon,” he teased, landing lightly on the ground. “We could’ve gone to the party together. I’ve got a killer mask, and I hear ski masks are making a comeback.”

“He’s fucking with us,” the second guy growled, pulling his gun and advancing.

Beomgyu tilted his head. “I mean, yeah. What’s the point of doing this gig if I can’t have a little fun?”

The second guy lunged, but Beomgyu was faster. Another flick of his wrist sent a web shooting out, pinning the man’s arm to the nearest wall. He struggled, growling like a trapped animal, but it was no use.

“Pro tip,” Beomgyu said, perching casually on a nearby railing. “If you’re going to pull off some shady back-alley operation, maybe avoid the guy who just fell out of the sky. Statistically, probably not your night.”

Both men glared daggers at him, though their predicament made it more comical than intimidating.

“Anyway,” Beomgyu continued, hopping down and dusting himself off, “I’d love to stay and chat, but I have homework to procrastinate on, so…” He shot another web, this time connecting the two robbers together like a makeshift package. “Consider this a group bonding exercise. Teamwork makes the dream work, right?”

As the distant sound of police sirens began to echo through the alley, Beomgyu gave them a mock salute before swinging away, muttering to himself.

“God, I need to start watching out for birds.”

—

Your head rested heavily on the table in your room, the soft glow of your desk lamp doing little to soothe the mounting frustration. The math homework in front of you blurred together into incomprehensible scribbles. You groaned aloud. Where was your genius boyfriend when you needed him? He’d promised to help with at least half of these impossible questions.

A sharp knock on your apartment window jolted you upright, a scream escaping your lips. It wasn’t a small sound either—it was the full-on, “I’m being murdered” kind of scream. To be fair, you lived on the 14th floor, and unexpected visitors weren’t exactly common.

When you turned, your heart still racing, there he was. Red and blue spandex clinging to him like a second skin, mask slightly crooked, and an unapologetic grin plastered beneath it. You sighed, pressing a hand to your chest.

“Geez, Gyu,” you said, walking over to unlock the window. “You need to start giving me some warning. I could’ve died from a heart attack.”

He slipped inside with practiced ease, his suit slightly scuffed but still intact. “Sorry,” he chuckled, stretching his arms above his head. “I’ll work on my window etiquette.”

As he adjusted his gloves, you couldn’t help but smirk. “Y’know…” you began, leaning against your desk and giving him an exaggerated once-over, “I kinda get why girls like this whole superhero thing.”

“Oh?” he teased, pulling off one glove and flexing his fingers. “And why’s that?”

“Well, you can kinda see everything,” you said with a wicked grin, poking at the firm outline of his abs. “Like, literally everything.”

Beomgyu groaned, swatting your hand away. “Great. I gotta talk to Mr. Kang about some suit upgrades. Hopefully, that includes censorship.”

“Even from me?” you teased.

“Especially from you,” he quipped before leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips. His lips lingered for a moment longer than usual, his way of apologizing for being late.

“Sorry,” he said softly, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. “I kinda swung into a bird, fell into a dumpster, and got two guys arrested. You know, just another Tuesday.”

“What?” you asked, wide-eyed and incredulous. “You swung into a bird?”

“It’s a long story,” he laughed, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Anyway, which page are you on?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, a bit sheepishly. “Still the second page.”

Beomgyu raised an eyebrow. “Second? You’ve been at this for hours.”

You shrugged, your cheeks warming. “Math isn’t exactly my strong suit. It’s yours.”

“Alright, alright.” He grinned, pulling out the chair beside you and plopping down with an exaggerated groan. “Let’s see what we’re working with.”

As he adjusted himself to get comfortable, Beomgyu tugged at his mask, lifting it ever so slowly. Your eyes were glued to him, watching as the fabric revealed his face inch by inch. His messy, shaggy hair flopped into his eyes, the slight sheen of sweat only making him look more effortlessly perfect.

You hated to admit it, but every time Beomgyu pulled off that mask, something inside you… shifted. Maybe it was the way his sharp features softened when he smiled at you. Or the way his hair always seemed to look even better messy. Whatever it was, it made your heart do cartwheels.

He caught you staring, of course, his lips quirking into a knowing smile. “What?” he asked, leaning in closer.

“Nothing,” you lied, quickly turning back to your textbook. “Just… hurry up and help me before I fail this assignment.”

“Sure, sure.” Beomgyu chuckled, resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “But you’re staring at me like I’m the homework you’re trying to solve.”

You flushed, shoving him lightly. “Shut up and teach me algebra, Spider-Boy.”

—

It had barely been ten minutes since school started, but the routine was already in full swing. You and Soobin had a well-rehearsed system for dealing with Beomgyu's inevitable late arrivals, thanks to his extracurricular Spider-Man responsibilities.

You called yourselves Team Spider-Man. It wasn’t a title you chose willingly, but you had to admit it had a nice ring to it. Unfortunately, being the newest member came with its fair share of grievances—like finding out Soobin had been in on the secret way before you.

“So, let me get this straight. This idiot knew before me?” you had demanded, months ago, glaring at both of them like they were the absolute bane of your existence.

“Well, I was at home waiting for him, and… my aunt let him in,” Beomgyu had explained with a wince. “I climbed on the ceiling, and he saw me. What was I supposed to do, pretend I wasn’t there?”

Needless to say, you weren’t over it.

Now, as you sat in class with Soobin, the two of you brainstorming yet another excuse for Beomgyu’s tardiness, the absurdity of the situation almost made you laugh. Almost.

“So,” Soobin began, tapping his pencil against his desk, “diarrhoea excuse? We haven’t used that one in a while.”

You shot him a look. “Seriously? He’s my boyfriend now, Soobin. My reputation is kind of on the line here too, you know.”

“Oh, please,” Soobin snorted. “As if anything could tarnish his already perfect reputation.”

You hated to admit it, but he had a point. Beomgyu wasn’t just well-liked—he was practically a school legend. Teachers adored him. Students gravitated toward him. Even the custodian always waved at him with a fond smile. It was infuriating. (You just didn’t want to admit that you had to share him with well, everyone else.)

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed movement outside the classroom window. There he was, crouched behind a tree in his unmistakable red and blue suit, though the white gym shirt thrown on top of it was… new.

Your phone buzzed.

Beomgyu: Friday, send message. You: What? Beomgyu: Don’t send message. Send message. Beomgyu: DAMN IT FRIDAY. Beomgyu: I mean send message—I forgot pants. I have no pants. Send message.

You stared at the screen, barely holding back a laugh.

You: You don’t have an extra pair of pants?

Soobin: Well, this does tie in nicely with the diarrhoea excuse.

You snorted. “You’re unbelievable.”

Beomgyu: Wait, wait, wait! Are you saying the teachers think I’ve had diarrhoea this whole time? Is that why Mrs. Lee asked if I was okay two nights ago at the store?

Soobin: That’s why Mrs. Lee probably bought you a whole bottle of Pedialyte. You: Just stay put. I’ll grab you some pants. Beomgyu: You’re the best. Also, don’t let Soobin talk to the teachers anymore.

You sighed, glancing at Soobin, who was now snickering into his notebook. Sometimes, being part of Team Spider-Man felt more like babysitting a group of overgrown toddlers.

—

The three of you were crammed into the corner booth of the diner you occasionally visited, the one with sticky menus and the best milkshakes in town. The warm hum of conversation and clatter of dishes filled the air, but none of it distracted you from Soobin’s next words.

“Hey,” Soobin started, far too casually, as he leaned back in his seat. “Isn’t that the guy you said was cute?” He gestured—not subtly—toward the waiter, the one you had offhandedly mentioned finding attractive months ago, long before Beomgyu was even a consideration in your love life.

Your heart dropped. “What?” You shot Soobin a warning look, kicking him lightly under the table. “No. Absolutely not.”

“No, you definitely did!” Soobin grinned, ignoring the daggers you were shooting at him. “I remember it clearly because he was carrying that JJK keychain on his–”

“Choi Soobin.” Your voice was low, a deadly whisper, as you glared at him, teeth gritted.

Beomgyu, who had been happily sipping his milkshake until that very moment, set it down with deliberate slowness. His lips twitched, the kind of expression that meant trouble. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “So…” he drawled, voice teasing but edged with curiosity. “The waiter, huh?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “This was before we started dating!” You said defensively, looking up at Beomgyu with wide eyes. “Way before. Ancient history. Irrelevant.”

Beomgyu tilted his head, his expression unreadable. “And where was I during all this?”

“How would I know?!” You threw your hands up.

Soobin, who was clearly having the time of his life, leaned in conspiratorially, voice just low enough to sound like he was helping. “It was the day you were over at Mr. Kang’s office.”

Beomgyu’s brows shot up in mock realization, and you immediately regretted ever confiding in Soobin about anything.

“Mr. Kang’s office, huh?” Beomgyu repeated, turning his gaze back to you. “So while I was working on tech to save the city, you were out here scouting waiters?”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands again, your cheeks burning. “It wasn’t like that!”

Beomgyu smirked, reaching over to flick a fry at Soobin, who was now laughing so hard he nearly fell out of the booth. “Remind me to block this guy’s number,” Beomgyu teased.

“You’re insufferable,” you mumbled, hiding your face behind the menu.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Beomgyu said, leaning closer, his voice dropping low just for you, “I’m cuter.”

You peeked out from behind the menu, your lips twitching despite your best efforts to stay annoyed. “Debatable.”

—

Beomgyu was excited. It had been days—no, weeks—since he’d had time alone with you. Between school and his Spider-Man duties, quality time with you had become rare. Especially since Soobin was usually a third wheel, even on your study dates.

He swung through the city, doing a final sweep before heading to your house. “Well, isn’t Seoul just so safe today, all thanks to me,” he muttered to himself, breaking into a little moonwalk mid-swing.

But he spoke too soon.

A chilling scream echoed in his ears.

A scream too close to home.

A scream from near your apartment.

“BEOM–GYUAAA!”

His blood ran cold.

Without wasting another second, he swung towards the sound, heart pounding in his chest. As he neared, the scene came into view—you, clutching your bag, screaming as you struggled against a thief.

His heart dropped.

He never expected to see you in harm’s way. A wave of guilt and terror swept over him, gnawing at his insides. He felt terrible.

Beomgyu's heart raced as he swung toward the sound of your voice. The scream—your scream—kept echoing in his head, shaking him to his core. He'd handled countless situations like this before, but this was different. This was you.

The thief yanked at your bag, his grip tightening as you refused to let go. Beomgyu could see the fear in your eyes, even from a distance, and his blood boiled. But fear wasn’t an option now. He had to act quickly—and smartly.

Clinging to the side of the building just above the alleyway, Beomgyu scanned the situation. The thief was armed, a glinting knife in his free hand. Too close for comfort. One wrong move and—no, don’t think about that, he told himself.

“Hey, buddy,” Beomgyu called out, voice steady but sharp, “how about you pick on someone your own size?”

The thief froze, glancing around wildly until he spotted Beomgyu perched above him. “What the–”

Before the thief could finish, Beomgyu leapt down, landing behind him. His sudden appearance startled the man enough to loosen his grip on your bag. You took the chance to stumble back, clutching it tightly to your chest.

“Stay back,” Beomgyu said, his voice low and commanding as he positioned himself between you and the thief. “Unless you wanna find out how this web feels up your ass.”

The thief lunged with the knife, but Beomgyu was faster. With a flick of his wrist, a web shot out, sticking the knife to the wall. The thief panicked, trying to run, but Beomgyu had already shot another web, trapping him against a lamppost.

“Okay, now you just hang tight, buddy” Beomgyu said, brushing his hands off dramatically. “Police will be here any minute. And by the way, knives? Seriously?”

With the danger neutralized, Beomgyu turned to you, his voice laced with worry, even through the mask. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

You shook your head, though your hands trembled, and tears pooled in your eyes as the adrenaline coursing through your body began to subside. “I-I’m fine,” you stammered, voice barely above a whisper.

Beomgyu hesitated for a moment, his shoulders visibly relaxing now that he knew you were unharmed. He stepped closer, his gloved hands coming to rest gently on your shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he said softly, his usual playful tone replaced by something tender. He leaned in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours.

You sniffled, a faint smile breaking through the tears as you raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure…you’re gonna kiss me in public, Mr. Spider-Man?”

Beomgyu froze, his masked face tilting in realization. “Oh. Right.” He quickly straightened up, clearing his throat. “You’re safe, citizen! You may now go home!” he announced dramatically, his hands moving to his hips in mock superhero fashion.

“Thank you, Mr. Spider-Man,” you replied, unable to hold back your laughter, though your voice still wavered with lingering emotion.

Beomgyu winked—or at least you thought he did—before muttering under his breath as he turned to leave, “You're not gonna let this go, aren't you?

You shook your head.

-

part 1!

[cjlouwho]

I Like the Taste of Vanilla

Start from the beginning on ao3, or read today's entry below.

Day 4: My Heart is Racing in a Weird Way

Tommy wasn't sure what was happening as Buck led him through the bar. Eyes lingered on them as they passed by each table until they reached a door that read Employees Only.

“Evan, what are we doing?” Tommy asked, scooting in closer to his boyfriend as people passed behind him.

“Hang on, you'll see.”

Buck knocked on the door and waited, glancing back at Tommy with a nervous smile.

“Did you get a job here?” Tommy asked. “Babe, are you hurting for money? I can-”

Buck pulled Tommy to his side and patted his chest. “Tommy, relax. Let's just... just wait.”

After waiting a few more seconds, the door opened just a crack. A man wearing far too much glitter, in Tommy's opinion, peered out. “Password.”

Buck grinned. “Paradise.”

The man eyed them both, then opened the door and let them inside, leading them down a hall.

“No touching unless given permission, although looking is highly recommended,” the man began to recite like he was giving a college tour, “use condoms, clean up your mess. No kink shaming. Sharing is caring.” He opened a door at the end of the hallway and moved to the side to let them through. “Have fun, newbies.”

“Ev- Evan, what are-”

“I do have a couple rules,” Buck interrupted, moving so he was directly in front of Tommy. “I really don't want anyone else touching you, and I don't want them touching me either.”

“Well, thank God for that,” Tommy mumbled, barely audible over the music and the moans. He cleared his throat, speaking a bit louder. “I don't want that either.”

Buck nodded. “Okay... Okay, good. I guess, um, we should f- find a spot then, right?”

“Um, oh, sorry,” Tommy moved as far into Buck's space as he could as a man in head to toe leather walked behind him with another man following him on a leash. “I, Evan, I don't know if there's any space here.”

“Sure there is!” Buck replied with a nervous laugh. “We don't take up that much space. Come on.”

They continued through the room, and Tommy couldn't help but feel far too overdressed in his blue jeans and black henley. He was sweaty, a bit panicky, and- “Is that... is his whole arm in there?” He froze, eyes wide at the sight of it.

Buck leaned in close to Tommy's ear. “No kink shaming,” he muttered.

“I'm not shaming, I'm impressed... and having some sympathy pains,” he added with a grimace. “Damn, he's going hard. I hope that man has good health insurance.”

Buck tugged at his arm, moving them along. “What about back here? Not too crowded. We c-”

He was cut off by the sound of a whip cracking nearby, followed by a yelp and a moan.

“Oh, Evan, my-” Tommy brought a hand up to his chest, flinching as the whip struck down again, “my heart is racing in a weird way.”

Alarmed, Buck held onto Tommy's arm, looking around until he found an exit. Making his way through the maze of bodies, Buck led them out of the building.

Tommy took the opportunity to take in a deep breath, the cool evening air hitting his face. “Sorry,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, “I know you wanted to do... whatever in there, it's just- that's not really for me.”

Buck's eyebrows furrowed. “Tommy, I don't care about any of that stuff. I thought it's what you wanted.”

“Hmm? Evan, why would I want that?”

“The movie!” Buck exclaimed, as though that explained everything.

“The movie? What movie?”

Buck groaned. “The movie we saw a couple weeks ago. They had a scene in the back of a seedy bar where all kinds of kinky shit was happening. You popped a boner in the theater!”

“That's because Cheyenne Jackson did full frontal and I'm human!”

Buck put his hands on his hips. “S- So it didn't have anything to do with the, uh, the chains or the, um, the other stuff?”

“God, no,” Tommy replied with a shake of the head. “I mean, sometimes things can be hot in theory, but it doesn't mean I wanna do it. This, however,” he said, pointing back toward the bar, “scared me more than war.”

Buck laughed, rolling his eyes. “I highly doubt that.”

Tommy held his arms open, waving Buck toward him. Without hesitation, Buck wrapped himself up in Tommy's arms. “Okay, maybe it didn't scare me more than war,” Tommy admitted, pressing a kiss to Buck's temple, “but it did leave me with some phantom pains. Did you see how hard that fist was-”

“I saw, I saw,” Buck interrupted with a shiver. “I know I always say I want to feel you the next day, but I'm not sure I'd want you rearranging my organs like that.”

Tommy laughed, tapping at Buck's side until he leaned back enough for them to look at one another. “You spent the last two weeks researching this place, didn't you?”

“It was the only one with five stars,” Buck whined. “And I wanted to go somewhere that I knew no one would just start touching you, or me.”

“I will say that, in the forty-five seconds we were in there, they were all very respectful,” Tommy admitted. “I just don't think I'm the fuck-you-in-a-room-full-of-people type. I also hated how they were all looking at you like they wanted to eat you.”

“Oh, please!” Buck huffed. “They were looking at you like that, not- not me. I was so close to jabbing some eyes out.”

“I disagree. Not about jabbing eyes, but about where the eyes were focused.”

“Agree to disagree.”

They were silent for a moment. Tommy looked off to the side, lips pursed.

“What is it?” Buck asked.

“Can we just talk about the fact that the place cannot be sanitary? I know they say to clean up after yourself, but God, Evan, there's no way-”

“I know, I know,” Buck soothed, running his hand over Tommy's chest. “I thought about that too.”

Tommy eyed Buck briefly before reaching up and cupping his face, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked, his thumbs stroking Buck's cheek.

“What?”

“Next time you think there's a kink I wanna try out... ask me.”

“You mean you haven't loved my surprises?” Buck joked.

“Oh, they're great,” Tommy answered sarcastically. “I am afraid the next one might actually kill me though.”

With a smile, Buck took hold of Tommy's hands and pulled him away from the wall. “Ready to go home?”

“Hell yeah. Can we get in bed and do none of the things I just witnessed in there?”

Buck cocked his head to the side. “You mean you don't wanna shove your arm so deep inside me you could pull out my heart?”

Tommy shivered. “Evan,” he whined, “I'd almost forgotten about it.”

“Honey, there are some things the mind will never forget,” Buck replied as they reached the truck. “That was absolutely one of them.”

[xerotiny]

Four of Hearts ‪‪❤︎‬ [Teaser]

TEASER ‪‪❤︎ Four of Hearts‬ ‪‬

One night, in the haze of a serious hangover and a heartbreak, you commit to a mistake you should have never made. Now, you’re stuck with the consequences of your actions. You pulled a four of hearts out of the deck of your life; one might say, it was the best of your luck ever.

Four of hearts—the four men made of money, who are solemnly wrapped around your finger. You had never thought your mistake would be a luxury for you.

Warning: smut, masturbation, squirting, etc.

Word Count: 3,046

Back arched. Eyes half-lidded. Ragged breaths making your lungs convulse. Fingers strumming down your glistening wet folds, while the familiar tension coils superficially in the pit of your stomach. You were so close to letting that knot come undone in the passing seconds. Body temperature rises to the rhythmic tension of your fingers prodding at your clit; you were so close to your sweet release, your body almost spasms thinking about the aftermath. You plunge a finger along your slit and trace it down to your cunt before pushing it in, mind determined to get you closer to your edge. A broken whimper parts your lips, your eyes shutting close tightly while the budding pleasure forces you to throw your head back against the cushioned headboard.

The tips of your two fingers jab at your cunt, thrusting in with a tender pace, not wanting to irk your overstimulation any beyond than it already was. You were so sure; this was going to be your breaking point. To have your body attuned to your surroundings was one thing, an attempt full of torment; you grunt when you push your fingers further in, plunging them deep within. Tears stream down the side of your face, trickling past your eyes which were screwed shut at the burning sensation creating a torment in the pit of your stomach. You gasp, fingers strutting against your walls and your cunt clenching with a want.

An ephemeral desire blooms into your chest, tightening every muscle of your body to prepare yourself for the inevitable collapse of your sanity. Hours had passed, whiling and long, torturing your mind in the dark of the room you were trapped in. The mattress under you, soft and comfortable, yet seemingly cold and rock-hard. It was the point in your foreboding daze, when you had realised this was going to fold you and break you apart.

And it would certainly satisfy the man sitting in front of you.

You’re too engrossed in working yourself up, wanting to be done with it in the coming mere seconds; however, you knew the haste of your own would lead to more worse casualties than this one. The pace of your fingers, thrusting deep into your cunt, falters and becomes placid to prolong your release. And the sting of your denied release, spread like a wildfire throughout your body. Gleaming with hope, you crack your eyes open and raise your head to meet the stern gaze of your lover. Your legs give in first, then your body, shuddering and going weak. Meeting his prurient eyes, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wince his name in tongues, incoherent to either of you. At the sight of his stoic and blank expressions, you whine and clasp your legs together, hiding your spasming cunt from him.

“Legs,” he warns, clicking his tongue, “spread them.”

You oblige, spreading your legs apart to expose your pussy back to him. Spread out to him like a buffet, but all he could do was sit in his chair and stare at you, his legs crossed over and spine as straight as a line. Your chest heaves with your thrusts now, listening to gravelly voice had stirred something in you. Other hand fists the sheets on your side, while the one hand busy, starts going knuckles deep in your cunt. You could hear it now, the squelching of your fleshy walls, and your wetness elaborating more on the vile sound of it. Had you increased the pace because you were impatient, or had you only done it to tip yourself off the threshold restraining your release? In your mind, the latter notion spoke out against everything else.

“Yunho—Sir,” you’re about to whimper out his name, but the stone-cold realisation makes you correct yourself. Your tongue grows heavy and your lips tremble, “I can’t do it—I can’t do it anymore.”

Voicing out your truer sentiments was a little terrifying, but the thrill crawling under your skin was pushing you to do and say some things you possibly didn’t have the guts to say to him. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d be talking back to him during one of your punishment sessions. Although, your rationality had been deemed to nothing when you were so enthralled by the pleasure taking over your body. At times like these, your mind was better off with no thoughts.

“You can do it, Birdie,” he calls out, voice gentle and encouraging; however, the following grunt sounds from his chest, “hmmm if not, you should’ve thought of the consequences before playing with your tail.”

You shake your head, closing your eyes again, “I—I am so—I’m so sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t make the cut, does it?” he says calmly, “eight more to go, Birdie. You don’t want to keep me waiting, do you?”

Fluttering your eyes open, you catch a glimpse of his face; everything remained shrouded in the darkness as he propped himself in the chair positioned in front of the bed. The moonlight cascading through the full-length windows adjacent to the bed grazed a part of his lips. And you could clearly make out the smirk on them. He was enjoying this, delighting in your pain. You were intrigued by his body language: stoic, forbearing, austere, and domineering. Yunho’s clothes were crease free, and still neat; his black blazer hung over at the backrest of the chair, while the buttons of white his shirt were undone to expose his milky and pale chest. He showed no interest in taking off his vest, which still hugged his abdomen and defined more of his lean muscle. If there was anything you wanted from him, it was for him to be dressed in his three-piece suits all the time.

Yunho leans back in the chair, eyes never leaving your figure; licking his lower lip, he smiles at you, patiently waiting for you to continue. You could read it in his eyes, the spark of calm and anticipation. But even with what had been unfolding in front of him, Yunho kept his cool—constraining his own urges. Just like you, he was caught in a torment of his own, a dilemma. The strain in his pants was starting to grow too excruciating to bear. Every fibre in his being ruptured to the dwindling shackles around him. Boring inside his mind and body, his control was overpowering his subdued ambitions—just a tiny tug, or a caress, or perhaps a stroke of his hand across his aching cock would alleviate him off the pain. But no, if he gave in to his urge, it would render this punishment almost useless.

“I can’t do—I can’t do ten,” you whimper yet again, your chest burning with neglected passion and ardor; oh, how much of a pity it is that you’re bound to the bed, all free in your will and nonetheless having no freedom to touch or feel the man sitting in front of you.

“You can,” he smiles, a complete contrast to his baritone which seeped of venom. “Birdie, I assume, you were well-aware in your mind of the repercussions that would follow your defiant actions.” A sigh parts his lips and his eyes blank out on any emotion; he traces the tip of his forefinger along his lower lip, murmuring, “was it that we made it too overbearing for you to abide with our facile rules? Ah, I suppose we gauged your capabilities quite erroneously to believe you could please us.”

Tears pool in your eyes and with that his silhouette distorts in your vision; stupid girl, did you really think he’d be moved by your tears? Come what may, you had it coming for defying his five simple rules. Striking out against any of them had harrowing fruits—punishments. With your past lovers, you were made to believe that punishments were as equally fun as the usual sessions. And to your surprise they were. However, fun punishments were a forgotten memoir in your head after benignly meeting four of them. Punishments with them were sent straight from hell. If anything, you had to sign a few non-disclosure agreements stating they won’t be responsible for any casualties in these circumstances.

“Sorry, I’ll be obedient from now on,” you plead, your words coming out broken because the pleasure was starting to roll into your body again. “I promise I will be, but—but please—please, I can’t do this.”

There’s a minute waver of laughter on his face; almost as if to belittle you and your said remark. “We’ve been through this before too, Birdie. And as it happened then, your hollow promises do not make any affirmative impression on me. What’s done has been done. You had enough time to reflect on your behaviour—let alone, the window for apologies has already been pulled shut.”

“Please, Yun—Sir,” you whine.

Your limits have been stretched to the utmost point of endurance; it stayed behind with you, the shame, the fear, the pain, and the hope. Although, a wretched part of you luxuriated in all the shame and despair you felt—the same part of you pushed your yearning for pleasure to the point of return. And you were back in your zone, your senses aflame with a certain hankering; the warmth of your fingers grazes past your folds, your cunt shuddering and spasming as you pick up the pace of what you were supposed to do. Motions, swift. Fingers, prodding against your fluttering walls. And your lips, quivering with every moan you breathed out.

Yunho scoffs, “is my Birdie back to her senses? I see…” he drags his words, spreading his legs apart further to palm his aching cock against the confines of his trousers; his eyes were so full of lust and craving, an insatiable appetite for you and every vulgar sentiment in his head. “Do you understand now, Birdie? You don’t need our cocks to keep you satisfied anymore; a slut like you could even get off on your fingers, won’t you?”

You whimper, closing your eyes shut and fisting the sheets under you; your fingers pick up their rhythm, thrusting in and out to the beat of your heart. Every time your knuckles stretch out your cunt, the tension coils and clamps on your lower stomach, suddenly becoming ten times more intense. In addition to that, Yunho’s words were providing a sensory whiplash to your body. If he continues riling you up with his words and phrases, you aren’t going to last long.

“Isn’t it true, Birdie?” he gushes, prompting you to peek at him through your squinted eyes, “would you even need us, now? Our warmth, our hands, our souls—all this time, we’ve been striving to ensure your experience is anything but rewarding and fulfilling but you,” he pauses, his tongue darting out to touch his upper lip, “but you don’t seek any satisfaction, do you? Your fingers are enough. Birdie doesn’t need us anymore. Birdie can fulfil her own desires by herself. She’s such a grown up…”

Yunho is silenced by his own grunt; all while he had been stroking his hardened shaft through his trousers, and just a second ago, the threat holding his climax had snapped off. It had never happened before, ruining his own pants, without any physical stimulus—surprise etched on his face soon dissipates to a haughty snicker.

“Look at what you’ve done now,” he mutters, closing his eyes while continuing to ride out his high, palming his cock. “I suppose, I am no better than you. But this is a first. Can you see what you do to me, Birdie? You make me go a little insane and my insanity proves my self-control to be so useless.”

You moan upon comprehending the said situation. A silly girl like you should really have to curse yourself for being so darn stupid; if the situation had turned out differently, you’d be there in front of him, on your knees, cleaning him up like the obedient little girl you are. Regardless, when you hear the click of a second passing by, you resume to your ministrations. Pumping your fingers in and out, you’re chasing your high. It won’t be long till you’re whimpering chants of his name, and your body palpates to delight in the release.

“Come on, Birdie,” he coaxed, unbuckling his belt but keeping himself from doing anything further, “show me how much of a slut you are. Don’t hold back on it, I want to see you tremble and shudder till you’re gasping for more. I’m aching to hear my name from your lips, those cute little chants you do. I love them so much—fuck…” he grumbles when he feels himself getting hard again.

There it was, the hot and tight lump of pleasure simmering in your stomach; Yunho’s words may be crude, but his voice, not so much. A man with such dulcet voice speaks of such lewd notions; it was driving you wild, closer to your release. You ram your fingers into your cunt at a pace that you never thought you’d achieve. Yunho’s ears fill with the sound of your walls squelching so deliciously around your fingers. But his favourite sound were your moans, and the deliberate attempt at gushing his name in between them. He knew you wouldn’t last much longer if you continued with that speed, and so he lets you be, dwelling in the silence.

You stay distracted by your thoughts, focused only on your climax and nothing else. The short and precise thrusts of your fingers start jolting your body against the mattress. With every curt push of your fingers inside, your thumb brushes with your clit and stimulates your building knot even more. Gradually, you slow your pace and steady your fingers by nudging them in and out while they’re still buried knuckles-deep in your cunt; your thumb plays with your clit, pressing and pushing, rubbing circles and flicking it.

“Yunho,” a whimper breaks out and it blends into a hushed chant of his name, dribbling with despair and ache.

Tears stream down the sides of your face, wetting the pillows under you. You could see a striking white flash behind your eyelids, spreading and never dimming down. Chest heaves up and down, and your free hand starts cupping one of your tits; you roll your nipple between your thumb and forefinger, adding to the pleasure. In the coming seconds, your body is convulsing, and your cunt is overwhelmed with tremors; your climax washes over you like a bucket of cold water, and you’re left breathing hard to catch yourself slipping beyond it.

Sadly, you were long gone. Lost to the darkness of your overstimulation, you were chasing the satisfaction of your body—which seemed to only coil and tighten in your stomach. The intense pain in your gut burns through to your stomach, urging you to let go. And you do; taking a deep breath, you cease the warmth building in your stomach. A feathery graze in the pit of your stomach suddenly relaxes you; the same warmth you felt before, now trickles down your thighs and quivering cunt.

You had just squirted. The first time you ever did, by yourself. Yunho was beyond amused.

Silence dawns over you two, while your body tunes out the tension and composes to normal. You let the minutes pass as you stare at the ceiling, wide eyed and contemplating. You pull your fingers out of your cunt and bring your hand to the side; both of your hands rest on your sides, fidgeting with the sheet under you. Your body goes limp, and your legs give in; lying on your back, much properly than before, you take a deep breath and prop yourself on your elbows to meet his face. Yunho seems much unfazed, still stern and relaxed to what you had done.

“Did I just…” your thoughts drag to a whisper and Yunho nods, “yes Birdie, you just squirted.”

He clicks his tongue and offers you a smile, though there are no good intentions behind it, “look at you, squirting on your own fingers, all by yourself. Such a pathetic little whore.”

You sniffle and press your lips together, “I—I—I am so sorry.”

“Why are you apologising, Birdie?” he mumbles, softly. “This is a good thing. And probably one of the hottest things you’ve ever done.”

You nod to him, absentmindedly. And that is when you hear a familiar sound; the sound of a car’s engine dying down to serenity. A curtain of bright light flashes on the window adjacent to the bed, only for a mere second before darkness consumes everything again. You were so sure; someone else had come back home. Judging by the whirring of his car, you could tell it was someone you really didn’t want to see. Most precisely, someone you didn’t want to see you caught in this situation. You’re mulling over the same consequences, when Yunho catches up on your dreadful silence and clears his throat.

“Oh Birdie,” his tone seethes with feigned sweetness, “how do you explain this to him?” Pausing for a second, he listens to the footsteps ascending into the floor, “he won’t be pleased by this. Not at all.”

Yunho crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in the chair; the door to the room is pushed open, the force almost making it come out of its hinges. Shrieking creaks of it linger in your ears, and you turn your attention to the person who had just barged in. He was the last person you wanted to see here. Baek Saemi, you’ve really done it today. The said person smirks, leaning on the doorframe.

“Oh, bunny. Did you get yourself in trouble again?” the man shrugs, his smirk growing, “I guess it’s time for me to teach my bunny a little lesson.”

And the darkness in his eyes, reels you back into your past. And back you go, to that one fateful night, six months ago, when you had pulled out a card and found it to be four of hearts.

MASTERLIST | CHAPTER ONE

[shalscumbunny]

hiiiii!!!

can i request yandere Chrollo with someone just as obsessed and possessive as he is???

thank you!!!

Jealous? | Chrollo X GN.Reader

Summary: Chrollo loving how you're obsessed with him

Pairing: Chrollo X GN!Reader

Warnings: Nothing, really.

Author’s note: FRIEND, I apologize if this is not what you wanted, I gave it my all, thanks to the requests I'm experimenting with writing for Chrollo, be patient with me, I hope you like it

Sites: AO3

Chrollo disliked admitting he had favourites within the Gen'ei Ryodan, for he truly didn’t favour one over the other when it came to his comrades. However, things were different with you. It was probably because he liked you, not as a comrade.

Well... ‘liked’ was a rather mild way to describe how he felt about you. He loved you, adored you, was completely obsessed with you, just as you were completely obsessed with him.

He enjoyed pretending not to notice you watching him from the doorway, even though he could hear your irregular breaths and the pounding of your heart, which beat almost as fast as his own.

Honestly, he didn’t even mind seeing his belongings disappear. He had no right to complain about you stealing his things; he had plenty of yours too. In fact, he enjoyed it. He loved imagining what you might be doing with his clothes.

Sometimes he had to stifle a smile when he saw the expressions you made when you watched him conversing with someone else to gather information for your missions. You were, to say the least, a very interesting specimen, a special one... and Chrollo liked special things.

“So... you also happened to want to steal one of the books from here, didn’t you?” Chrollo asked, cornering you against the wall.

“Yes... I like them... is that a problem?” You asked, looking away, blushing. You felt so embarrassed, but... the sensation of Chrollo’s warm, muscular body against yours was thrilling. It was like being in a dream.

“Y/N, then we have a lot in common. Wherever I go, I always find you.” Chrollo was clearly relishing this situation. He loved your nervousness, he loved the blush on your face, and how beautiful you looked being so close.

For your part, Chrollo’s melodic voice was like sweet poison that seeped into your ears and drilled into your mind. You were melting as you felt his hot breath against your ear. You were also intimidated, afraid he would discover that you were obsessed enough with him to follow him and frequent all the places he did.

“So... perhaps we could come here together... more often,” Chrollo suggested, tilting your chin so you would look into his eyes.

“Y-yes…” You replied instantly, unconsciously, excited at the thought of spending time with him.

“The others might like the books from here” Chrollo feigned innocent kindness as he mentioned the other members of the Gen'ei Ryodan

Immediately, your expression filled with annoyance at the thought of him involving others. This was supposed to be an opportunity for you, with him, to be alone... just the two of you.

Before you could protest, his lips hovered over yours, your breaths mingling.

“Does that bother you? Are you that jealous?”

Thanks for reading this shit 🤍

[ryuzakemo128]

Kintsugi: Chapter One: Red Flags, Why can't we see them?

Pairing: John Price x Female reader

Content Warnings: Female reader is the breadwinner, female reader is a sex worker, john price is an asshole to you, simon is there for you as a friend, John's secret affair mentioned, cheating suspicions, female reader has a secret apartment, pregnancy scare, arguement and yelling. Burned out female reader. Smut. Not the good kind sadly. Second warning for asshole john price. You will hate him. You are supposed to hate him.

Masterlist - Chapter List

Summary: “I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.”

I get what you're sayin' I just really don't wanna hear it right now Can you shut up for like once in your life? Listen to me, I took your nice words of advice

“I am tired of being someone else’s last choice instead of someone’s first. It’s always what have you done for me? Instead of how was your day? I can’t take more of this. I knew what I was getting into. But I didn’t agree to any of this.” You remarked into your cassette tape, another diary entry you keep from his prying eyes and another way to keep Price from using your own hurt against you. You don’t know what you did to earn it.

You mentioned your ex-boyfriend off handedly once and he blew up in your face. You waited for hours for him to come back home. You were crying your eyes out when he stormed out the door. It wasn’t like you were mentioning him to make him jealous either. You didn’t know what you did wrong.

He never told you why he was upset with you sometimes. He would always leave after a huge argument saying he needs ‘space’ and that you made things worse when all you wanted to do is to make things better. Nothing ever seemed to work for him at all. Nothing at all. You called Gaz and he would say he didn’t see him. But your hunch that Gaz was covering for him.

About how you think I'm gonna die lucky if I turn thirty-three Ok, so yeah, I smoke like a chimney I'm not skinny and I pull a Britney every other week But cut me some slack, who do you want me to be?

You didn’t want to turn to Simon for advice but john left you without a choice. What wer5e going to do next? He wasn’t content with just small insults at your appearance it seems. It was going to a different level like stepping out of your relationship. The one thing you thought was going well for you.

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

“I don’t know what I did wrong, whenever I ask it’s like I’m talking to a brick wall. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.” You felt awful about talking to your ex. But he knew you better than your current boyfriend it seemed.

You had tried everything to make it work with Price but it felt like you were just going around in circles. You felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. It’s like every move you made was wrong. You decided to give him the space he wanted, hoping that when he returned he would realise what he had and that he didn’t need to treat you this way.

“I don’t think I can do this anymore.” You stated. “I need to find a new place of my own if he’s gonna keep actin like this. I don’t know what he wants from me and he just won’t use his fuckin words to say it either.”

You wonder where you went wrong in your life to get THIS kind of treatment. You never spoke back, never complained nor insulted him or looked elsewhere for comfort outside of your relationship. You pulled out of the apartment slowly enough to make sure he never caught on, last thing you wanted him to do is to catch on to what you were trying to leave him.

You hate the fucking lot You hate the fucking lot

You made rain checks whenever he ‘tried’ to have sex with you. You knew what he was trying to do and you weren’t going to fall for it this time. You didn’t want to feel like you were slowly losing your mind.

You don’t still don’t know what you did wrong to deser5ve John’s cold shoulder as of late. You still tried asking about it. But he always says, “Nothin for you to worry about.” No ‘babe’ or ‘love’ like he used to speak to you.

You slowly started to miss those moments more as the days went on. It made you worry more so you stopped mentioning his hours away from home and you silently continue to seek out a new place to move into.

You didn’t tell Price about the new place you managed to find. You stopped telling him much of anything related to you or your work. You didn’t want another lecture on how you were ‘wasting’ money. Even though you out earned him in your chosen profession. Money remained a sore topic for the two of you.

Staring to move your things into it while he would be deployed. Piece by piece, you didn’t move any of you old furniture it would make things far too ‘obvious’ to him. It would alert him far too quickly.

That’s if he even noticed anything about you anymore. Or if there was anything wrong to begin with. The selfish cunt. No guarantee that he hasn’t noticed either. He wasn’t completely stupid sometimes. Might get suspicious about what you’re planning to do or planning to go. You would have to come up with a convincing enough lie to get him off your back.

Though if he already knows? He may try something drastic enough to keep you there. You just hoped you had enough time to give yourself space between him and the man you used to love. That you used to adore and cherish. Before whatever cause this….monster, this fiend to come out of him.

You showed Simon the new place you bought, it had two bedrooms, the master bedroom had an ensuite attached and a walk-in closet. The kitchen had a stainless-steel dishwasher, and the apartment building had laundry machines on the ground floor. You can always buy new furniture, and any old furniture will be sold when you get comfortable with living somewhere he doesn’t know of.

You didn’t want to hire a private detective on your own boyfriend, but you can’t help but feel suspicious of what he was doing in those long hours far away from you. You pitied anyone who had the misfortune of dealing with him. Even the people inside the same task force as him. The need to control everything won all the time.

You worked in your office like you normally done. Giving him his own branded silent treatment into his face. You weren’t going to give the right to hurt you more than he had done tonight. You were so tired of his shit.

You weren’t perfect far from it too. But whenever he was around you it was clear it was what he wanted from you. You continued to play dumb and you didn’t give him anything he ‘wanted’ from you.

“No. Do it yourself.” You remarked one morning.

John raised his eyebrow, looking at you like you had grown a second head. “What the fuck did you just say to me?” He spat, his words dripping with venom.

“You heard me. Do it yourself. Clearly you don’t need my help. So, go on, do it yourself.” You stated as you walked upstairs to your office to continue your sewing on your dress.

John looked at you, his eyes wide with shock, “Is this what it’s come to? You’re just going to ignore me like that?”

“W-what’s the matter dear? Can’t handle your own portion of your responsibilities? Does he need his mother to write up a chore list?” you taunted from upstairs. “You know one thing a man can do that proves he’s a real man? Admit when he’s fucking wrong. You can’t seem to even do that anyway.”

'Cause I'm too messy and then I'm too fucking clean You told me get a job then you ask where the hell I've been And I'm too perfect 'til I open my big mouth I want to be me, is that not allowed? And I'm too clever and then I'm too fucking dumb You hate it when I cry unless it's that time of the month And I'm too perfect 'til I show you that I'm not A thousand people I could be for you and you hate the fucking lot

As you finished the dress’s skirt velvet inlay for the next video, the amount of work you put into your pornographic content is both immense and taxing at times. As you didn’t want it to look like it was a cheap Halloween cosplay or cheap in general.

The main reason you earned so much is because of the level of care put into your craft. Your fans knew that and appreciated it. It was a stark contrast to the apathy John showed for your well-being. You had a loyal fan base and they were eager to support you. But that didn't matter to him.

Especially when he looked at the content you posted both behind the paywalls and the free teasers. He said it wasn’t real money. But you also pointed out that you sold pottery once a month online. You paid the bills, and you weren’t above reminding who earned more to be able to let him spend his income his own way.

Petty? Sure. But petty with a reason attached.

By the time most of your most expensive work gear is moved to the apartment, you were only living there now and cleaning up to a meticulous degree in total silence. As you cleaned the living room carpet with the deep cleaning machine you bought for the occasion. You were dressed in a pair of shorts and a tank top, showing off the tattoos that danced along your arms and your stomach.

You had dinner in the slow cooker since seven in the morning. You didn’t bother to set the table since it was just you and your thoughts. You weren’t expecting him to come home early tonight. You hoped he’d stay out for as long as possible.

When he finally decided to come back home. You had placed his dinner into separate containers. You were already asleep on the couch. The plush pink eye mask over your eyes, the matching pink silk pyjama set. The chunky, thick blue-grey crocheted blanket you made last year keeping you warm. As the unicorn shaped nightlight provided enough light in case you needed to use the bathroom.

You had a doctor’s appointment coming up sometime in the next month or two. You don’t exactly remember if it was next month or the month after that. A full body check up to make sure things were in working order. You had done one every three months. The job demanded that you were healthy physically and mentally.

You paid for these yourself, despite living inside a country with healthcare. You paid for medical insurance anyway. It was one of those private healthcare insurance things you paid a good chunk of your money for. You decided to go for the best of the best, and with John’s current mood swings? You weren’t going to take any chances with your health.

What if you were pregnant would he finally be excited that it had finally happened? Would he confess to his affair to another man or woman? All of these thoughts spun around your heard like ballerinas. You didn’t quite understand where his hostile started and if it would ever end.

You felt like it was your fault for not being strong enough to put your foot down. To demand what you did wrong. Why did he seem so fine with it if he felt otherwise? What made him feel this way? If he wanted to break-up why did he wait so fucking long?

You always felt like he was rushing things in this relationship. Especially when he found out about your career, your little side hustles which contributed to your cushy amount of money. But you weren’t perfect, you weren’t even close. From far away the illusion of perfection is there. But once you peak through the cracks they’ll see how many imperfections you got.

What were you supposed to be?

What are you supposed to be?

Everything is spinning out of control. Cliché advice doesn’t work when he doesn’t want to fix himself.

You were either too messy or too fucking clean. Either way he hated how you’ve been. You could be keeping the house clean, but he’ll comb through just point out a spot where you have ‘missed’. Like he knew what to do to make you so pissed at him.

Pushing all the buttons built inside you in the right order, the right way to get you annoyed with him., It was like he had some kind of sick satisfaction when you broke down in tears. Not because you were sad or even upset. You just had so much anger built up inside you that you couldn’t contain it all.

“I feel so fucking disgusting that I even still want the guy that way. It’s like he knows that about me.” You confessed to Simon during one of John’s solo operations. He knew he would have freaked if he knew Simon was inside his home while he wasn’t there.

“Its not nearly as weird as you might think, humans are supposed to be complicated. You’re not a simple creature, love. And neither is he.” Simon remarked. He didn’t have to say much to get his point across.

“He wasn’t so closed up before. He used to be so open minded about these kinds of things.” You remembered, talking about how John Price used to be before things went to shit after almost eleven months dating him.

Simon nodded his head, “Looks like you’re going to have to make a decision soon, love. You can’t keep living like this forever, hiding and tiptoeing around him.”

“I have a doctor’s appointment coming up, if he hasn’t spoken up by then, or by the time most of the house is back to how it was when I first moved in. I’m breaking up with the guy.” You remarked.

Simon raised an eyebrow at how you were putting the house back to how it was before you moved into it. The only difference is that you wouldn’t leave things unrepaired or maintained.

“Why bother with the appointment if you’re just going to leave him?” Simon questioned, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

“Full body check up remember? I still get one every three months. Four times a year.” You answered taking a sip of your earl grey with lemon and ginger tea.

The last thing you want is to drag some poor child into this whole mess. You don’t know how he would react to the news of it.

To think months ago you couldn’t wait for it to happen.

Only for your relationship to sour this quickly.

Over the weeks Price was deployed, you got the plumping fixed, the light switch and plug covers replaced by an electrician, the toilet and shower head replaced. You didn’t care if price wouldn’t appreciate the thought going into his house.

This was done selfishly not selflessly. Though your definition of what made someone hopelessly selfish was always different from his. Not that you cared anymore.

You replaced his couches and threw out his old, ruined ones into the large tip you rented one morning. Price barely recognised his own home when he came back home from deployment again.

From the old grey ones to dark crimson red ones, with charcoal grey cushions on them. A new cow’s skin rug on the floor. New light switches and plug covers. Painted the living rooms a deep blue-grey shade that made everything else pop. The kitchen had new cabinets and new appliances. It was a stark difference from what it used to be.

Price walked upstairs to the bathroom to see how you changed that too, the tiles were changed to a beige on the walls with black on the floor. The shower was now a glass cube instead of a shower curtain. The sink was no longer a pedestal sink, but a modern vanity with lights around the mirror. The bathtub was replaced with a walk-in shower that had a bench and rain shower head.

Other changes he took notice of where all his things were in the master bedroom, organised, hung up, ironed, folded, washed and put away. Everything was clean and in its place. The bed was made with freshly washed linens, and you had even gone so far as replace the mattress. It was a new king-sized memory foam one with a fancy cooling system that would be heavenly to sleep on.

As you fucked yourself on his thick cock for behaving so well? His rough hands on your hips. You continued to ride him with your luscious hips. Wide-eyed, rock hard and stunned. Your mind was elsewhere about hoping he didn’t do anything other than put a condom on. You didn’t know if you still wanted to have his children when he was treating you this way.

Your body betrayed your every thought, every moan you made were made from your lips. You felt your pussy tightening around him. He had to be feeling it too, his grip on you tightened and his thrusts became more erratic. Enjoying letting out his most primal nature into you. Feral and unabated. \

Only you knew he wouldn’t provide aftercare when he was done with you and you always had to finish yourself off in the bathroom as he passed out in his bed. You don’t know if you could stand him anymore. You didn’t know whether you could wait any longer.

Tags: @night-girl-301 , @evans-dejong , @persephone-kore-law

If you want to be tagged in the next chapter please let me know!

[mikuluvu]

ANTI TULPAR AU ANYA X F!READER I BEGGGGG

Where the reader is an electrician but she's super quiet and shy and Anya like bullying her, (if you don't know what the AU is I highly recommend looking it up it's a fun au)

A/n: I searched it up. So, Basically its like Anya... But Jimmy- lmao, It's like an inverse personality of Anya :) Instead of Anya being cute and all, this AU made anya rude and stuff. I hope I got it wrong brooo 🥹

ANTI TULPAR ANYA AU X FEM!READER

Warnings: Bullying(VerbalAbuse) and Anya cursing... Did I go too far-

You knelt in front of an open wall panel, your fingers working precisely to repair the fried circuits to avoid getting injured. Beads of sweat dotted your forehead, and your oversized hoodie was now covered with grease and dust... Great!. You amumbled to herself, trying to drown out the growing anxiety gnawing at your chest.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you're still at it?"

The voice came from behind you, sharp and cutting. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Anya. Her boots tapped loudly on the metal floor as she approached, her tone already irritated.

"Curly and the others can't even fucking see a thing" Anya leaned against the counter, crossing her arms as she glared down at you. "Do you even know what the hell you’re doing, or are you just dumb enough to not know what to do with it?"

You winced but kept your focus on the wires. "I-I’m almost done," you stammered, your voice barely audible. "The circuits were heavily damaged, and I—"

"Spare me that bullshit," Anya snapped, cutting her off. "You’ve been around with that panel for hours. Meanwhile, I’m out here checking up on the Captain without fucking lights."

You hands shook slightly, but you didn’t look up. "I’m doing my best," you murmured.

"Your best?" Anya barked out a bitter laugh. "Your best is why the medbay was a fucking disaster last week. Remember that? Or are you too busy pretending to be useful to even care?"

"I didn’t mean for that to happen," you whispered, your face flushing.

"Didn’t mean to?" Anya took a step closer, her shadow looming over you. "Well, guess what? Intent doesn’t mean shit when people could die because you’re too slow. You’re a liability, and everyone fucking knows it."

You clenched your jaw, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. You twisted the last wire into place and secured the panel, your fingers trembling as the lights above flickered and steadied.

"Finally," Anya muttered, rolling her eyes. "Took you long enough. Next time, maybe don’t fuck around while the rest of us are actually doing important shit."

She turned on her heel and stormed out, her boots echoing down the corridor. You stayed crouched in front of the panel, your shoulders slumped. The lights hummed steadily above you, but the sting of Anya’s words lingered, heavy and unrelenting.

A/n: Sage . .. pls tell me I did this right- was anya supposed to be a mechanic- IDK . But why do you want to request this shit- nvm.

THANK YOU FOR READING! REBLOG W/COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED <3 MY KO-FI

[novalityy]

No going back, Part three.

⋆·˚ ༘*🔭 In which a call is way more concerning than it seemed.⋆·˚ *🔭

Warnings *ੈ✩‧₊˚ - Blood, fighting, arguments, framing, crying, torture, taskforce 141 being mean, angst, death (only couple minutes)

Hi babies! How y'all doing, I've been loving the comments, love y'all enjoy this part, imma upload the fourth part today too <3 just give me some time.

“Fuck, they’re coding! Get the stretcher ready and start CPR, quick!” one of the medics shouted, their voice urgent.

The room seemed to pause as the words registered, a heavy silence settling over everyone except the medics, who moved swiftly.

The sound of monitors and equipment being adjusted filled the space, but for the others, time felt like it had slowed.

Gaz stood frozen at first, his eyes wide with shock, before his hands came up to cover his face. He paced a short line back and forth, muttering under his breath. His voice cracked when he finally spoke, almost a whisper. “They can’t... they can’t go like this.”

Soap’s breathing quickened, his hands trembling as he clasped them behind his neck. He didn’t say anything, but the way his gaze stayed locked on you spoke volumes. His lips moved silently, as if he were trying to pray, but no words came out.

Price leaned against the wall, one hand pressed to his forehead. His jaw tightened as he watched the medics work, proving to be the calmest yet empathetic of the bunch. His fingers flexed restlessly at his sides, but he stayed out of the way, for once unsure of what to do and not wanting to get into the way.

Ghost stood apart from the group, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just watched. His mask gave nothing away, but his shoulders were tense, his posture rigid, it was clear he was panicking too.

Laswell was silent, standing closest to you. Her face was pale, her lips pressed into a thin line. You were more than a soldier to her, and the realization that you might not make it hit her hard.

Her fingers twitched at her sides, torn between the urge to stay put and help or lash out at the four men who had let this happen.

None of them had wanted this. Not like this.

They hadn’t meant for things to go so far that the medics were fighting to restart your heart.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

The stretcher arrived with a sharp clatter of wheels, and the medics wasted no time.

The lead medic—a doctor, by the sound of his firm, commanding voice—stepped up, snapping orders.

“On my count! On three, we stop CPR, haul them up, and you jump on top to continue. Got it?”

“Clear!” shouted the medic performing CPR, his hands never leaving your chest as he kept a steady rhythm.

“Three, two, one—move!”

In one seamless motion, the medic stepped back, and three others hoisted you onto the stretcher. The fourth was already moving, climbing onto the stretcher with practiced ease, resuming chest compressions without missing a beat.

“Quick! To the infirmary!” the lead medic barked, urgency sharp in his tone.

The stretcher surged forward, wheels screeching against the floor as the medics pushed with everything they had. The room blurred around them, every second feeling like a battle. The team moved as one, their focus unshakable, their movements synchronized like clockwork.

Laswell stood frozen, watching the chaos unfold. For the first time in what felt like hours, something other than anger or dread flickered in her expression. She saw the medics for what they were—a lifeline, a glimmer of hope in the middle of this nightmare.

In that fleeting moment, she thought to herself: These are the real heroes. The real treasure of America.

Her eyes followed the stretcher until it disappeared down the hallway, the sound of hurried footsteps and shouted commands fading into the distance.

Left behind in the room, the others stood silent, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily over them.

None of them spoke.

What could they possibly say?

For now, all they could do was wait—and hope.

Laswell turned to face them, her expression dark and unforgiving.

“You all are in a fuck ton of trouble,” she growled, her voice low and venomous. “And I’ll make damn sure you pay for it.”

Angry didn’t even begin to describe her. Rage burned hot and sharp in her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she thought about adding more blood to the already crimson-streaked room. But she stopped herself.

You needed her more than she needed vengeance.

Without another word, she turned her back on them and sprinted after the medics.

You were her priority now.

They weren’t worth a second more of her attention.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

The waiting that followed was nothing short of hell.

Ten long, agonizing hours with no news.

No confirmation if you were dead, alive, or stuck in surgery.

The sterile hallway outside the infirmary felt suffocating, the silence stretching unbearably.

None of them moved, not an inch. It wasn’t loyalty that kept them rooted—it was guilt. Heavy, crushing guilt.

They knew they’d crossed a line they could never uncross.

They could kiss the old you goodbye: your laugh, your kindness, your annoying little quirks.

All the things that made you you.

Even if you survived, they doubted you’d ever be the same.

When the door finally pushed open, the sound snapped all of them to attention.

A doctor in surgery scrubs emerged, her expression sharp and cold. Her eyes flicked over the group, lingering on Laswell before settling on Price.

“In my twenty years of working with you at the same base, Price,” she began, her voice cutting through the tense air like a blade, “I have never been more angry and disappointed in you.”

Her words hit like a gut punch. Price stiffened, his lips pressed into a tight line, but he said nothing. None of them did.

The doctor’s glare swept across the group before nodding to Laswell.

“They’re alive,” she said, her tone clipped. “But critical. No visitors—except Laswell.”

“Bu—” Soap started, only to be cut off.

“No arguments!”

The doctor’s voice was sharp as steel, and Laswell joined her, matching her intensity.

“You think they want to see any of you when they wake up?” Laswell snapped, her eyes narrowing as they swept over each of them. She was done with their excuses, their justifications.

She was done with them.

Turning back to the doctor, she softened just slightly.

“Are they awake?”

The doctor shook her head, sighing as she adjusted her glasses.

“No. They lost a lot of blood—externally and internally. That’s why their heart stopped. You were in the nick of time, Kate. If you’d been ten minutes later, they’d be dead.”

The words hit like a hammer, and Laswell froze.

The others went completely still, even Ghost, whose ever-composed demeanor cracked at the edges.

Laswell clenched her fists, trembling with suppressed rage, but she held it back.

You were her priority now.

Revenge could wait.

The doctor continued, her tone professional but grim.

“We stitched them up—deep slashes, some broken ribs, and other injuries I won’t bore you with now, you can read the full report later. They’re unconscious. We decided to place them in a medically induced coma to give them a better chance of healing.”

Laswell nodded tightly, absorbing every word.

“You can come with me if you want to see them,” the doctor added. “But don’t expect them to wake up anytime soon. They’ll be out for at least four days.”

Laswell took a breath, steadying herself.

“Take me to them,” she said, her voice firm.

The doctor turned, leading the way down the hall.

Laswell didn’t look back at the others.

They weren’t her concern.

Not now.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

"Oh my god, why is everything hurting?" you groaned, your voice weak and barely audible.

Every word felt like an effort, like it was being dragged through the haze of pain clouding your mind.

Laswell shot up from her chair, the life returning to her face like someone had flipped a switch.

Relief flooded her features as she grabbed your hand, her fingers wrapping firmly around yours in an attempt to warm your icy skin.

"You're awake," she said softly, her voice trembling just enough to betray the weight she’d been carrying.

Your eyelids fluttered open, the sterile brightness of the room making you wince. Blinking away the disorientation, your gaze landed on Laswell’s face. You sighed shakily—at least it was her.

Relief flickered briefly in your chest before it was crushed under the weight of memory.

Then it hit you.

A hitch in your breath.

The beeping of the heart monitor quickened, matching the frantic pace of your panic.

You remembered them. What they did to you.

How it felt.

"Kate!" you gasped, your voice cracking as your trembling hands reached out for her.

"They—they did this to me!"

The words stumbled out in a broken rush, your body trembling as you clung to her like a lifeline.

You needed her steady presence, her strength, her assurance that you weren’t alone in this.

"Yes, baby. I know."

Laswell’s voice was low and soothing, her hands immediately adjusting to support you.

She shifted closer, carefully wrapping an arm around you without pressing against your injuries.

“But you need to breathe for me, okay? Deep breaths. In… and out.”

Her voice guided you, calm and unwavering despite the storm inside her.

You followed her instructions, your breaths uneven at first but gradually steadying as the heart monitor's frantic rhythm began to slow. Her hand stroked your back gently, grounding you with every touch.

When she was sure you were calm, Laswell pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. Her expression was firm, but her gaze was full of a tenderness meant only for you.

“They will pay,” she said, her voice low but resolute.

"I promise you that. They’ll never get away with this."

You hiccupped, nodding slowly. Tears blurred your vision, but her words gave you a fragile sense of safety. She was here.

She had your back.

Laswell’s grip on your hand tightened slightly as she studied your face.

"Do you want to transfer?" she asked, her voice soft but serious.

Your eyes widened in surprise.

The thought hadn’t even crossed your mind, but now that she’d said it, you felt the weight of the question settle heavily on you.

The idea of leaving—starting fresh somewhere far away from the memories of what happened—was tempting.

But it also meant leaving behind everything else you’d built here.

You blinked up at her, searching her eyes for answers. Laswell stayed quiet, letting you take your time, her gaze steady and reassuring.

She would support you no matter what choice you made. Of that, you were certain.

＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚

HELP, I DONT LIKE IT SHOULD I JUST DELETE IT CHAT???

Tag list＊•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚ -> @gaiagurl05 @msjaeger @notsochillnerd @cocklivers @sensiblesomething @kaoyamamegami @ryanisasleep @wqlverines @riameriash @perfect-insomniac

[storiesbyrhi]

Part One: A building gets torched

Eddie Munson x Reader Series Masterlist 1710 Words

If the people we love are stolen from us, the way to have them live on is to never stop loving them. Buildings burn, people die, but real love is forever.

Warnings: canon typical violence, references to sexual assault, swearing, drug and alcohol use, sexual references, child neglect, death/grief, references to organised crime

Note: A majority of the characters from The Crow have been replaced with Stranger Things counterparts. However, a few remain in their original form (e.g. Gideon, Grange). Some major characters have been written out, as they don’t work within the context of this story (e.g. Myca – who is one of my favourite characters). I have taken material, including direct quotes, from the film and comics/graphic novel.

After Sunset, October 30, 1994

Jim Hopper stood next to the broken window. He’d been there before. He recalled how he felt when he first saw that window. How its grand scale and clean glasswork made the rest of the ratty apartment seem worth it. The window framed the city in a way that made it seem almost beautiful. Almost.

That had been a couple months before Devil’s Night. There had been whispers that the building was going to be sold off. Hopper hoped it was true. Maybe a new developer would demolish the place. He didn’t want to think about how many ghosts haunted those walls. Between the overdoses and the organised crime related violence, a lot of trips to the morgue began there.

Unfortunately, the buyer was not the up and up real estate type. Hopper heard it was more of the top of the bad guy hierarchy type. Martin Brenner owned half the city and not by any legal or ethical means. In the police files, intel on him was filed under the codename Top Dollar, like even the cops were too scared to put their name to anything that could be used against him.

 When Hopper caught wind of that, he’d paid the apartment a visit – paid you a visit.

“You gotta cool it with this stuff,” he’d warned, gesturing to where you’d been working on a new petition for everyone to sign.

“You’ve never told me to cool it before. Never shown up at my home before,”

“Before when you were feeding the homeless? Helping little old ladies cross the road? This is different. Come on, kid. Don’t play dumb.”

You sighed, but it sounded more like a huff. It hadn’t been feeding the homeless. You’d fundraised to keep the local community kitchen from shutting its doors. And, there had never been little old ladies. Maybe little old raccoons and opossums you’d built little wooden houses for…

Hopper shifted on the spot. “Look… I know you’re tryin’ to the right thing… I know you don’t want to have to move-”

“It’s not about moving. It’s about-”

“The principle, I know,” Hopper interrupted you right back. “I know. But the guy who’s eyeing the place, you don’t wanna mess around with him.”

Even then, you knew Hopper was right. You knew what you were doing was potentially dangerous. Brenner’s name had been mentioned to you before Hopper came knocking. But you were stubborn.

“How’s he even doing this? It can’t be legal. Probably paid off Kline, right?”

Hopper cringed at the name Kline. Larry Kline was the elected official who should have been fighting for the city. Instead, he was lining his pockets with Brenner-shaped coins.

“Eddie know you’re doing this?” Hopper changed tactics. There were three giveaways that Eddie was probably on tour. The first was how quiet the apartment was. The second was the lack of guitars on the wall hooks. The third was that Gabriel, a fluffy white cat, was asleep on the couch. Gabriel only sought the company of others when Eddie wasn’t an option, even though he was technically a birthday present for you.

You bit down on your tongue. “I don’t keep secrets from Eddie,”

“Right, but… Might you have conveniently forgotten to mention who wants to buy the building? Who you’re starting a fight with?”

The conversation had ended with a vague promise that you’d maybe consider ‘cooling it.’ Hopper had left that night uneasy. He never got around to tracking a phone number for Eddie out on the road. Knowing Eddie, which he only kind of did anyway, he’d never tell you to stop doing anything. That man worshipped the ground you walked on.

Hopper stood at the broken window and held a cigarette between his teeth. He looked down to the street below, Eddie’s body being covered with a crime scene sheet while onlookers scrambled to see the carnage.

Behind him, crime scene techs and cops buzzed about the apartment. He turned to survey the scene. The photos on the wall told a story of love. His brain tried to reconcile how you looked in them, compared to how you looked lying on the apartment floor covered in blood. The paramedics were still working on stabilising you, you clinging to life by your fingernails.

Hopper gave the okay to move you while he picked up a thick piece of card off the floor. A wedding invitation for the following day – a sunset event.

“Who the fuck gets married on Halloween anyhow?” one of the cops asked, staring at the mannequin keeping your wedding dress company.

Hopper didn’t answer. He listened to their commentary.

“What’s the count so far?” a rookie questioned.

“143 fires so far… They’re slacking off from last year,”

“Three hours to go; maybe they’re just slow starters.”

Hopper followed the paramedics as they took you downstairs and out to the ambulance. Another detective was there. Detective being a very generous title, as most of the work Phil Callahan was capable of was not of the sleuthing variety.

“This the victim?” he asked.

 “No, it’s Amelia Earhart. We found her, Detective, and you missed it,” Hopper deadpanned.

Before Callahan could come up with something witty to say, Hopper was back at your side. A girl on a skateboard had appeared, pulling at your sleeve.

“Stand back, kid,” he said.

It was Max’s voice that dragged you somewhere close to Earth. “Where’s Eddie?” you croaked.

“Ah… Don’t worry about him,” Hopper told you.

“Tell him to take care of Max.”

Paramedics had you loaded up, closing the back of the ambulance. Hopper stood next to Max for a moment before putting a hand on her shoulder.

“You Max?”

“Yeah,”

“Okay, look… Your sister… She’s gonna be okay,”

“She’s not my sister. She just takes care of me… She’s my friend. Her and Eddie… You lied to her about Eddie.” Max sounded more sad than accusatory.

“I had to,”

“And you’re lying to me about her. She’s gonna die, isn’t she?”

Hopper could deal with a lot of things. A grief-stricken teenage girl was not one of them. He clasped both of her shoulders and held her, looking around the scene with a growing understanding that the misery had only just begun.  

One Year Later After Sunset, October 29, 1995

Max visited the cemetery often. She’d walk along the rows, taking one flower from each bouquet she passed. By the time she was standing in front of the matching graves, she had an offering. One white rose for Eddie, the rest for you.

Losing you and Eddie was bad, but the months since had been worse. Her mother had all but resigned from that role, spending more and more time wherever Neil and Billy Hargrove went. Max hardly saw Susan anymore. The Hargroves, and the people like them, were terrifying.

Max sat down facing the headstones. “I found another one,” she said. “It says that people used to believe that when someone dies, a crow carries their soul to the land of the dead.”

In the weeks after that Halloween, Max obsessed over the science of death. She wanted to know how you and Eddie had felt. What would happen to your bodies, buried under all that dirt? Then, once she knew everything there was to know, she moved on to folklore. What stories had been told about dying? What existed beyond the veil?

“The thing though, is that if the person dies unfairly, if something so bad happens, then that is carried with the soul. The sadness. And the soul can’t rest.”

Max had contemplated magic. She saw a Ouija board put out by the trash cans outside her apartment building and seriously considered taking it inside. Her research had slowly veered into the direction of revenge-driven resurrection, for which many cultures had legends and fables of.

“Sometimes the crow can bring that soul back, to put the wrong things right.”  She paused, looking down and pushing the dirt around with a stick. Max shrugged to herself. “I know it’s a fairytale… But it would be nice…”

Thunder rumbled above Max. After gathering her things, she began to walk away. A crow swooped down, landing on Eddie’s headstone. She was sure it was the same one that always hung around the cemetery; she’d named him The Night Watchman.

“Keep an eye on them for me,” she told him, dropping her skateboard and riding off into the drizzling rain.

It was fear first. Terror. Darkness.

He tried to draw a breath in but it didn’t provide any relief. Something told him to get up. Get out. A voice. A voice in his head. Get up. Get out. But get up and get out of what? He thrashed but all his limbs hit solid wall.

Punching, punching, punching. When he finally broke through the coffin’s lid, his knuckles were raw and bleeding. He dug, splitting nails and swallowing dirt. He reached the surface, pulling himself from his grave.

His body couldn’t decide between curling up or being splayed out on his back. It couldn’t decide between screaming or sobbing. He was twitchy and achy. His knuckles had scabbed and scarred. He’d healed but the healing hurt.

At first, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who he was.

A crow landed on an overhead branch. It called to the man, a deep and piercing caw. It was there to guide him. It was there to bear witness. It was there to share the burden of the second life of Eddie Munson.

Eddie knew to follow the crow. He knew the crow would take him to where he wanted to go. It would take him to you.

He stumbled, pulling himself through the cemetery and out into the city. Nobody noticed him weaving through alleyways and stalking shadows. He pulled at his burial clothes, hands running over the bullet hole scars on his body.

Eddie’s bare feet walked through filthy puddles and over crumbling asphalt. He only stopped when the crow landed on a dumpster, squawking.  Something dark was sitting on top of the trash. Old worker’s boots, too small for Eddie, but he put them on anyway. He stomped onwards.

End Note:

Thank you to the love of my life @jo-harrington for brainstorming and editing help, and for general support and hype girl shit.

The process of writing this series has been a bit of an isolated one, compared to past work. So, I don't know how it will be received. I am more unsure about it than I have been about my other stuff too. Any feedback would be immensely appreciated.

Happy New Year, xo Rhi

Fic Taglist (open): @mrsjellymunson @princesssunderworld @qweencrimson @b-irock @writinginthetwilight @bornslippys @ali-r3n @lexr86

All Eddie Taglist (open):solomons-finest-rum @ruinedbythehobbit @sweetpeapod @thorfemmes  @corrodedhawkins @grungegrrrl @lilzabob  @averagemisfit03 @ches-86 @ilovecupcakesandtea @onehotgreasymechanic @hazydespair @mel-the-fangirl @eddies-hid3out @siren-lungs @aheadfullofsteverogers @hiscrimsonangel @dashingdeb16 @cultish-corner @em0220

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like there was no tomorrow." Daryl Dixon

—Chapter 4.

Chapter Summary: While you three are with the claimers, you read the letter left by Ellie & Mark as tensions rise between Daryl and Len, leading to his death. But there, Daryl, unconsciously but happy to do so, reveals to the leader of that group that he loves "his daughter".

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

A/N: Hey! Not gonna lie, I loved writting this chapter♥ I think I found it cute the way Daryl says he loves "his daughter". And spoiler alert: maybe he confesses to April that he loves you too hehe. Hope you all like this. Thank you! (Sorry if there are any grammatical errors)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

The day is quiet, but nothing feels safe next to the claimers. They keep order between them but they aren’t trustworthy, so the knot in your stomach is still squeezing painfully ever since you all are with them: and even though Daryl introduced you two as his wife and daughter, you keep April practically glued to you. But you wanted to get away from them until you no longer feel that twist in your belly, but staying calm and following their way is the safest thing for you all. However, they’re dangerous, sadistic, and their lack of awareness could have you all killed at any minute if they feel threatened.

And Daryl is a threat, especially to Len after they almost fought over that rabbit.

The warehouse next to the train tracks is free of walkers, an empty place to rest. While they claim the cars inside the store, you find a plastic chair with armrests, with a big and a small cushion on it, and although it's not idyllic for April, it's better than sleeping on the cold floor or sitting on the chair. Daryl is following their game too, even if inside his frustration keeps growing, silently and deathly. He was impulsive most of the time, but he also knows how to act according to that situation, so he tosses his black plastic bag to the floor next to his crossbow, ready to sleep on the cold cement as he leans against the wall, looking around, making sure it is safe for you and April.

“We jus’ have to keep playin’ their game a little more.” He says, in a low voice. “We don’t want any more enemies for now.”

You nod even if you don’t like them, at all.

“I know.”

You put the cushions on the floor, putting your backpack that is somewhat heavy (with the weight of canned food and some weapons you took from your house that night) next to the chair, just in the exact moment a hand takes the armrest of it.

You look up and meet Len’s smile. Among the people in his group, he’s the worst.

“Claimed.” He says, in a mocking voice.

“Leave it.” Daryl straightens, taking on a stance so menacing in April's eyes that she hides behind him. “She saw it first. S’hers.”

But Len ignores him, looking at you with a crooked smile.

“You didn’t claim it, doll face. So s’mine.”

Within the second he tries to take the chair, your body acts against your good judgment, your temper raising, so you pull the knife out of the sheath tied around your thigh, sinking it into his skin without cutting it, because that rule is stupid and you’re getting tired of it.

“That rule is bullshit, just like you.” You face him, because the first one to look away loses.

Daryl holds his own knife as well, his other hand on top on April’s head, hoping that with that small display of affection, she would feel that he’s there with her.

“Hey. Stop.” Joe gets in the middle of the two of you, taking Len’s arm so that he would take his hand away without cutting himself. “Leave her alone, Len. Ya know women are slow to learn rules.”

“Ya should learn from your husband, doll.” Len chuckles, staring at you like you're weak, ignoring that you're close to making a mess by considering shooting him in the face. “He’s startin’ to understand how things work with us.”

Joe and Len walk away, but it is Daryl who has enough of them.

“Hey!” He moves around you with the knife in hand. “Don’t ya dare talk to her like that.”

Len stands before him, both with their patience almost to the limit.

“Like what, friend?”

“I ain’t yer damn friend.” Daryl gets closer to him. “Talk to her like that again and I will cut yer fuckin’ throat.”

“Boys, enough…” Again, Joe steps between them and pushes Len slightly out of the way before looking at Daryl. “Why don’t ya take your wife and your kid for a walk before it gets dark? Get some air. I don’t want problems between us.”

Daryl shifts his gaze towards you: but maybe a few minutes outside is best than be there with them.

Our dearest child:

As Ellie writes this letter, I realize that I'd very much like to pour out all my feelings for you in person and not in words on paper, but I will try to keep it brief. I now know why God never blessed our home with a child, honey, and it was because HE was saving that special place for you and for Sami. I was mad at God for so many years, asking him why he tied me to this bed, but now I see that it all has a purpose, because in another life, my body would have taken me far away from here with Ellie, and then, I would have never met you. It all makes sense now, and I know that HE made me wait here for you. So I thank him, and I thank you for showing up in our lives when all seemed lost.

You protected us, two strangers who just spent their time at the end of the world existing in silence, too scared to end it all. And I’m so sorry, my darling, I'm sorry we're leaving you with this last memory of us, but we want to tell you that your love gave us the strength to carry on for a little while longer, and it gave us the courage to decide that it was time for us to go.

Now, I'd like to tell you that we love you with all our hearts, you and our little Sami. We know she would be fine by your side. I have never met a person as strong as you, so resilient, so brave. And I know that you’re scared, but I always saw in your pretty eyes that you would be able to continue despite that. So right now, even with the pain, I ask you to keep going, keep fighting, because you deserve to see the sun rise one more day. You have Sam and Aeris, but I hope that you find someone else, maybe someone special like that man you met before.

Try to find happiness, okay? And love today as if there was no tomorrow. Ellie and I will be watching over you from the place where we’re going now, and I hope it will be a nice place.

With love, Mark & Ellie.

“I like your long hair.”

It's still a warm afternoon, free of any danger as you all take in the fresh air, breathing freely before the shadows of the night try to catch you three. You are a little ahead of Daryl and April, inside your own world while finish reading, Aeris on your shoulder after you sent her away to protect her, and Daryl has to look down to meet April’s gaze as she continues to play at keeping her balance on one side of the train tracks.

“Dun tell (Y/N) this, monkey, but I let it grow ‘cause she had a thing for men with long hair.”

April laughs, so sweet than it makes Daryl smiles.

“Did you love her?”

He nods softly when she looks up, shy to confess the truth to a little girl.

“I still do. I always will.”

April stops, her eyes fixed on Daryl as she watches him curiously.

“And why don’t you tell her?”

Daryl has to look ahead for a second, feeling so close yet so far from a simple touch of yours. You just have to turn around and there he would be, and he'll be looking at you as he always did. But every now and then, he feels like it's too late for that, so Daryl looks back at April.

“S’complicated, monkey.”

April frowns, confused, cocking her head slightly to the side.

“What's so complicated? Just tell her you love her. I love you, just like that.”

Daryl frowns, too, giving her an amused expression.

"I know how to say it, s’jus’... I'm scared to hear what she's goin’ to say next."

Right there, April smiles.

“Do you want me to ask her?”

He snorts, because that idea seemed absurd to him, although deep down, Daryl is dying to know the answer to those words.

“I ain’t askin’ a 5-year-old girl to be a matchmaker. I'm a grown ass man, okay? I know damn well how to do it maself.”

April narrows her eyes at him, not believing his words, but in her little mind, she decides not to push the issue.

“How did you know what love is, Daryl?”

Surprised, Daryl scratches the back of his neck, trying to find the right words a kid would understand. For a moment, he focusses on your tied hair, your profile and your exposed neck, your empty hand that he desperately wants to hold. He wants to feel your lips on his again, your hands in his long hair, your eyes on his as a reminder that you’re there with him after having dreamed of you every day and night. But that was the physical part, because if Daryl started talking about the person you were, days would fall short.

“Well… Jus’ to give ya an example I'd say there was one time when (Y/N) and I got into an argument, nothin’ serious although I wasn’t ready to apologize, didn’t know how honestly, but ma assh– ma brother told me that I should do it quickly ‘cause I was the one who messed it up, so I called her and she didn’t answer, so I texted her sayin’ that I wanted to see her to apologize and she texted me back a while later." Daryl tries not to smile too much as he keeps looking at April, but the memory is so light and amused that it pulls the corners of his lips up. "Wanna know what she said, monkey?"

And April, too wrapped up in the story, nods with a smile.

“I’m still pretty mad at ya, but I jus’ wanted to tell ya that I love ya, but I dun wanna talk to ya, but I hope ya have a good day.” Daryl snorts to try to mask his own happiness. “Guess love was in that text, it was in the way she heard me sayin’ I was sorry, it was in the way she always looked at me, as if I was really goin’ to be the only man in her life.”

“And you were?”

Suddenly, Daryl feels a pressure on his chest, as if lead had fallen on it.

“Dun know.” He says softly, trying to move from that conversation as you approach again.

April shakes her head at him, calling him baby in her head, but in the next second, her pretty eyes shine as a new question comes to her mind when you stop in front of them.

"And what did you two used to do when you were together? Did you like dancing?"

Her little face lights up, so adorable that you can't help but smile.

"You think this old man dances?" April frowns in confusion at your words, but when Daryl gives you an annoyed look, you return it. "Sorry, that's an insult considering my grandpa used to dance with us when my brother and I were kids."

April wants to ask about your brother and your grandpa, about your life before all that, but her little mind is focused on the now, and the way you call Daryl out, or teases him shamelessly.

"I don't understand your relationship."

You let out a chuckle.

"The bully type flirtin', monkey, that's her thing." With a slight nod, Daryl points at you, but his eyes are on April's. "That's her way of tellin' ya she's still crazy 'bout me."

His words make you snort, but they make April giggle, too.

"You two are funny." April smiles for a few seconds, but as soon as joy comes, a feeling of panic invades her small body and takes over her as she speaks with a soft voice. "I can stay with you guys, right? Please, don't leave me alone."

A wave of sadness covers her, so April shifts her eyes from you two as she begins to walk along the thin rail again, just to avoid your expressions in case they aren’t what she hopes to see. But feeling sad about her, Daryl walks towards her for April to take his hand, wanting to keep her safe and sound, at least one day at the time.

It’s getting late, so you all start walking back.

"Wanna hear a story before bed, monkey? Ya might wanna hear how the chupacabras takes away the children who are annoyin'."

"That's not true!" April frowns angrily, scared. “Right, (Y/N)?”

You control the urge to hit Daryl as you glance at April.

"Of course not, sweetie. His older brother told him that story to see if Daryl would wet his pants like a baby." You keep a flat expression, even when you lock eyes with Daryl and see a frown on his face. "Oops. I forgot you told me not to tell anyone."

As you walk with your eyes forward, he calls himself a sucker; he knows it well because Daryl enjoys the way you tease him. Nah. Hatin' me is her love language, he had told Rick alone after he met you at the prison: guess it is true.

On the early morning as Daryl is still on his back on the floor, using his bag as a pillow, you're sitting down too beside him with April in between your legs, noticing how he flips the pages of a book with a bored expression. You knew he didn’t enjoy reading like you did, although while the claimers are still walking around the place, you can’t concentrate completely on the words in your own book either as you try to read to April.

“What? No pictures?” Daryl complains, closing the book to leave it on his body. “Borin’.”

“A book is never boring. You are the boring one.” You take the book from his chest, but you two stand up when Len’s voice catches your attention as he walks closer, dangerously.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. Christ.” Len approaches Daryl, extending his hand toward him. “Give it here.”

Daryl remains calm through his own frustration.

“Ya step back.”

“My half was in the bag. Now it’s gone. Now ain’t nobody around here interested in no half of a damn cottontail except you...” Len points around at his companions as they have a bored expression, unlike Joe, who comes in ready to fix the situation in case it gets out of hand, which is about to. “Ain’t that right?”

“Ya’re the only one still thinkin’ ‘bout that crap.” Daryl holds Len's gaze, but Daryl is beginning to feel in danger, and his only response to danger was to attack before being attacked.

“Empty your bag.” Len tries to take the bag from the floor, but Daryl takes it away from him.

“I said step back!”

Their voices and the tension are rising, and even though there's no more room, April presses herself further against your leg. You know that situation is more dangerous than having fought over the chair, but fighting for the rabbit is only a small part of the big problem, because Len is annoyed that Daryl didn’t submit to the rules of the group. So Joe, who is between them, takes the bag from Daryl’s hand.

“Did you take his rabbit, Daryl?” He asks without emptying the content yet, as if he's giving him a chance. “Just tell me the truth.”

“I didn’t take nothin’.”

Len’s gaze moves from Daryl and stops at you.

“Or did ya take it, doll face?” His voice is mocking you again, watching you with that lewd look, but it's more disgusting when he looks at April. “Maybe ya didn’t learn the lesson either, baby girl.”

“Dun talk to her, ya piece of shit.” Daryl’s jaw tightened as he moves to block you and April from Len’s sight. “Dun even look at ‘em.”

But Len has no common sense, that instinct that stops you from imminent danger, feeling safe in the company of his group, so he approaches Daryl, face to face to laugh at him.

"Ya made a very pretty baby, as pretty as your wife's ass."

A second, it takes you a second to grab Daryl's wrist to stop him when he’s about to grab Len's neck, so hard with a force that went beyond the physical to break it with his bare hands.

“You’re just jealous, Len.” You say calmly, trying not to chuckle to much not to make things worse. “Because even in this world, any woman would look at you twice. I mean, have you looked at yourself these days?”

He narrows his eyes at you, hating you even more than he hates Daryl.

“Well, that’s enough. What have we got here?” Joe holds the bag upside down and shakes it. “Come on.” Two shirts that belonged to Mark and a few small things fall, so Joe shakes the bag again and the top of that gray rabbit hits the floor. Daryl didn’t steal it but you swallow the knot in your throat: that’s all what Len needs to start a huge problem. “Well, look at that.”

Len stares at Daryl, saying nothing, but feeling like the damn king of the world.

“Ya put that there, didn’t ya?” Daryl confronts Len. “When we were out!”

You silently give thanks for having carried your backpack with you.

“You lied.” Len smiles, his eyes still on Daryl.

“Didn’t ya?!” Daryl pushes him, so strong that his body rocks for a second.

“Ya lied. Ya stole.” Len puts a finger on Daryl’s chest to emphasize his words as he looks at Joe. “We gonna teach this fool a what, Joe? Uh?”

Joe is confused as he looks back at Len, getting in the middle to make them take a step back.

“Now Daryl says he didn’t take your half of the rabbit. So we have a little conundrum here.” Joe looks at Daryl, alternating glances between the two. “Or he’s lyin’ just like his wife, which is an actionable offense. Or…” Joe chuckles, turning to Len again. “Or you didn’t plant it on him like some pussy, punk-ass, cheating, coward cop, did you? ‘cause while that wouldn’t be specifically breaking the rules, it’d be disappointing.”

Len looks into Joe’s eyes.

“It would.” He nods and walks over to Joe’s face to mark every word. “I didn’t.”

“Good. Well…”

Joe pats his arm and turns to Daryl, just for a second as he makes a fist, turning half of his body back to gain some strength before hitting Len’s face, so hard that he falls to the ground, wailing in pain. The surprise makes you turn around to kneel in front of April, holding her small body in your arms as she seeks refuge in you, her eyes closed tightly, her hands covering her ears.

As a reflection, Daryl moves in front of you two when the other claimers gather around Len to start kicking him, all over his body without mercy.

“Teach him a lesson, gents. He’s a lying sack of shit and I’m sick of it. Teach him all the way.” Another kick hits Len’s stomach as Joe turns toward Daryl. “I saw him do it.”

Daryl looks at him, confused.

“Why didn’t ya try to stop him?”

“He wanted to play like that out and I left him. You told the truth, he lied. You understand the rules, he doesn’t.” As Joe kneels down to take the half of the rabbit that once belonged to Len, the claimers are still kicking him, so Joe throws it at Daryl. “Looks like you get the head, too.”

He walks away like that is nothing, and it is sickening to hear how they don’t stop for a second as Daryl puts his things back in his bag, placing the strap of his crossbow around his body.

“Let’s get out of here, peach.” Daryl comes over to you, and with one look he tells you to take your things so he can take your place. You pull April out of your body, slowly and lovingly as Daryl kneels in front of her, pushing those rebel strands of hair out of her face to look into her eyes, into that sweet gaze that have seen the atrocities of that world. “It’ll be over soon, monkey. How ‘bout I tell ya now that story of the chupacabras, uh?”

April tries to chuckle, but the sound of another kick makes her face contort in pain and fear, hiding it in Daryl's chest as he lifts her up with one hand.

As you all leave that place, leaving Len’s body behind, the outside looks like a better place even with the danger around, and Daryl recounts all the times he heard his parents argue, the hate-hate relationship between them–the yelling, the hitting, the insults, the pain in his body and mind.

However, he thinks, for a second as he sees you walking with April ahead in the open field now, like a quick thought that comes and goes only to cause trouble, that at some point, he can build a home with you for April, but fearing, if that dream ever came true, that he could turn into that bad father he had. Daryl knows that his fears, the rational and the irrational ones could take out the worst of him, and he hated himself for thinking that someday, he could become his father's shadow. That was his deepest fear when he was with you.

But God–even April’s hair is just like his: the color, how slightly wavy it is, and how rebellious it becomes as from time to time, Daryl has to push some strands of hair out of her little face, just like you did with his. And he is starting to love doing that.

"Have ya been married for a while now, Daryl? Cause I don’t see a ring." Joe hands him a stainless steel flask of liquor. “Your wife looks friendly but also looks like someone who will kick your ass if ya bother her too much.”

“Yeah.” Daryl says softly, but he clears his throat next as he tries to come up with a good story. “We're not officially married but I always considered (Y/N) ma wife. I knew from the start she was gonna be the only one who would put up with all ma shit, and ‘cause of that I tried to be a better man for her and our daughter. We were together for a long while ‘fore all this, and then we had April. She was... a surprise but I love ma monkey, although she ain't very happy of me saying that.”

Joe chuckles, ignoring that tickling feeling in Daryl's chest at the thought of a love for April.

"Let me ask ya something. If ya had known at that time everythin’ that was going to happen to the world, would ya still have had your daughter?"

Daryl has to contemplate his life with April, a life that, although not real, now falls on his chest, squeezing it, as if April had really been part of his life in the old world. But it's impossible to answer, because now Daryl does think more calmly about the possibility of having had a baby with you in the past. However, would it have been fair for that baby to live in that world?

“Shit, I really dun know, man. I love ma kid, she's here now and s’up to me to keep her safe, but I dun know if puttin’ her through all this is fair.”

Joe nods.

"So ya always enjoyed changing diapers and gettin'g' up in the middle of the night?"

Daryl chuckles.

“Fuck, no, not all the time. I've never gotten up that early ‘fore April, but I had to man up cause she's ma kid too. A boy would probably have peed in ma face, so I guess that's a relief.”

Joe laughs, freely this time as they reach you two and his group, looking at the sign on the side of the train track: Sanctuary for all, community for all those who arrive. Below is a map showing the way to a place called Terminus.

“Ya seen this before?” Daryl asks Joe.

“Oh, yeah. I’ll tell you what it is. It’s a lie. Ain’t no sanctuary for all. Ain’t gonna welcome people like you and me with open arms.”

You and Daryl share a look before continuing on, you taking the lead again with April still holding your hand. For you two, the most reasonable thing to do is to continue looking for Daryl’s people, hoping Sam is with them, but the other most reasonable thing to do is to find a safe place for April.

“So is that’s where we’re headed?”

Joe chuckles at Daryl.

“So now you’re asking?”

“That’s right. I need to find a safe place for ma kid.”

The man in front of Daryl spots a tomato plant at the side of the road.

“Claimed.” Daryl says, and following the rules, the man steps aside and he and Joe keep walking as Daryl bends down to pick the plant up, looking at an empty chocolate wrapper, anchored in the middle of the rails.

Maybe April isn't really his daughter, but Daryl can't help but see himself reflected in her eyes, in those eyes full of fear at the idea of ​​being left behind, again. It's not fair, he knows it well, so Daryl will do what every father should do for his children, what his father didn't do for him: take care of her as every child deserved to be taken care of.

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