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od4saku · 11 months ago

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Gojo Satoru wakes with a start.

His skin is hot with emotion but the air in the bedroom is cold. Wind whistles high and sharp outside the window: a song of storm. It's wintertime in Tokyo. He thinks it may snow soon.

He's sitting up in bed, at some odd hour of the morning. And it's not unusual for him to be unable to sleep, or even to be plagued by nightmares like the one that'd just awoken him, not in the slightest— but it's different kind of restlessness that plagues him tonight. A kind that he fears not even your company can cure.

You lay so peacefully in bed, occupying the space beside him. One hand is slid beneath your pillow, and the other is reached out. Like you're trying to touch him. Hold him. His heaving chest and harsh, hollow breathing have not roused you. The blanket is not over you, rather it rests at your hips; Satoru wonders if you are cold. With gentle, quiet hands, he slides it up from your waist to cover more of you.

Satoru has mastered the art of silence. It's something that comes hand in hand with solitude, and he is all-too-familiar with solitude. Raised to be his own god, he has never not been alone. A shrine is a lonely place at night. He sits for a moment. Stares. Your chest rises and falls like ripples on a lake. The clock on the bedside table next to you reads 2:23 AM; he will not be sleeping again tonight, Satoru decides. He's quiet as he stands, shifting to the door of the bedroom— he's about to open the door when your voice cuts through the cool stillness of the air.

"S'toru?" A yawn. "Why are you up?"

He freezes. He's usually more careful. You usually don't wake up.

He has a quiet tendency of sorts, to pull away into himself. To hold it all back. There are people who love him; there are people he loves. But on nights, these lonesome nights, it all fades into the back recesses of his mind. This same tendency tells him to ignore you, or dismiss you back to your own dreaming. He wants to push you away. He wants to tell you to go back to sleep. His eyes squeeze shut, and his fingertips ghost the cold metal of the doorknob. His nightmare comes back to him in pieces. A faceless girl; the bullet that pierces her skull. Her white headband turning red. His best friend— the hole where his heart used to be. Your body gutted, like a dead animal on the side of the road, and the powerless man who'd done it coming for him next. This dream isn't so much fictive as it is macabre pieces of his past, stuck together like tracks burned into a CD that plays on loop in his mind whenever he shuts his eyes.

It's a subtle ache. It's an emptiness that lingers, persists. It's one he knows. Satoru is familiar with his own pain. He's never been able to shake it. It's a piece of him, the other half of his heart. He is stained blue. If he turns around to face you, he will not be able to leave. He will not be able to spare you of his own pain. He'll burden you with all that he feels, all that he is, more than he already has. If he walks out the bedroom door now, he knows he'll be okay— he always is. That's what he's always done. He's always walked out. He's always faced it all alone.

"Satoru?" You call for him again, voice raspy with sleep, and his resolve crumbles.

He's always faced it alone— but he doesn't have to. He believes it when he looks at you, head propped up with a hand, sleepy gaze fixed on him. Your eyes widen when you catch the look in his eyes. He's sure they betray how he feels. He always had a hard time lying to you.

You've known Satoru since high school. Everything he's been through, you've been through with him. You'd nearly died by his side, at Toji's hands, all those years ago. You'd stood by him when Suguru left. You'd given him space when he needed it, and gifted him with your company when he'd wanted it again. His love for you is something soft like fresh snow. Renewing, beautiful, and chilling, right down to the bone. He knows you love him, too. He sees it in you constantly. He recalls a memory from only a few months back; you'd gone out on a 'girl's night' with your friends and returned wasted, hardly able to stand, heels in Shoko's hands as she dropped you off to his apartment with an amused smile.

"Where are we, Ieiri? T's not my apartment," he had heard you slur as he opened the door. It was late. He'd predicted this outcome, and he smiled when he saw you clinging to Shoko's arm. Your nails were sure to leave indents.

"You need your babysitter tonight," she replied, gesturing to where Satoru stood in the doorframe. With a slight delay, your eyes widened when you saw him and you let go of Shoko, surging forward into your boyfriend's arms.

"'Toru! I didn't know you'd be here!" You were hardly intelligible, as you began to press scores of kisses to his face. They were open-mouthed and heavy, leaving lipstick stains on his cheek, jaw, chin, nose. Every time he would try to get a word in, you'd plant a clumsy kiss to his lips, silencing him and sending him into bouts of laughter. Shoko waved him off, and he'd helped you inside, where you promptly passed out in your dress. But not before telling him about how much you'd missed him. He'd slipped your dress off with gentle hands and helped you into warmer, more comfortable clothes, and carried you to bed.

That blatant show of affection, the way your love spilt through the cracks of your porcelain mask— he knows you care for him, too. He thinks about that night now and feels it again. The ghost of your lips and hands and warm, soft kisses. The bubbling laughter that escapes your throat, the slew of “I love you’s” that you don’t even try to contain. He believes in your love for him. He believes in it more than anything. So when you tilt your head with worry and ask him, "is everything okay?" Satoru lets himself shatter, then fall apart in front of you without thinking twice. He's always faced his pain alone— he doesn't have to. You love him. You are willing to hold it all for him.

He chokes in a harsh, strangled breath, and you’re up on your feet before he can inhale again.

“Hey,” you whisper as you place a hand on his shoulder, and your voice is so soft, so sweet, so real, he can’t help how he slumps into your body. You welcome the added weight, rearranging your hands so that one falls to his neck and hair and the other is draped around his waist. “It’s okay. What’s wrong? It’s okay. I’m here.”

He can’t speak. Doesn’t trust himself to. Satoru settles for letting breathing into the crook of your neck as you rub his shoulders comfortingly, whispering sweet words he can’t quite understand into his scalp. He feels the ache dripping off his bones with every circle your fingers trace across the small of his back. He feels the rot dissolve. He tightens his hold on you. He loves you. He will let you hold him.

A sudden fear grips him. The insecurities of his dream come rushing back at full tilt. His hands squeeze the skin you’ve offered, so tight that it might bruise, and he looks into your eyes. They shine with something unsaid. He refuses to listen his grip, to let you go— if he does he fears that you won’t come back.

It’s a common theme in his life, for those he loves to banish, just like that. The minute he allows himself to care, they’re gone. And what of this love, like no other he’s felt? If he releases you, if he leaves, you’ll be gone, too. He can’t have that. Can’t handle it. The thought of your absence is more than he can bare, so he lets his head fall to your shoulder again, maximizing the contact between you and him. If you feel him on you, if you feel his touch, his love, you can’t leave. You won’t. He won’t let you.

Satoru’s truth is that he is selfish, disgustingly so. His hands hold and don’t let go— they grip, grasping onto whatever they can— loose fabric, fingers, trailing up to the nail, roots of hair, a forearm— he can’t let go. He won’t. Like a little boy holding onto a toy, tightly, so tight. White-knuckles and glossy eyes, he holds on. Oh, he’s selfish. He’s selfish with the way he clings to a memory long past, meant to be forgotten. But Satoru holds all the same, like a lifeline, like a priest holds a bible. A religious devotion, a saint’s zeal.

He holds onto you for what feels like ages but must only have been the better half of an hour before you ease him back onto the bed, so he’s lying curled into your lap. He won’t let you move, let you stop touching him. He fears you might disappear. But you don’t move, either.

You remain still beneath him, present with your touch. You’re still murmuring things too quiet for him to hear over the sound of his heartbeat in his throat, but your tone is soft and soothing. Like cool water being poured over a hot open wound. Like a salve. You don’t leave, not when his heavy breathing turns to shallow gasps, not when his shallow gasps turn to the quiet sounds of sleep. When he wakes, Satoru will find you asleep in the safe position he’d remembered you in when he’d drifted off.

His love is selfish. His mind is a mess, mayhem. He is greedy and cruel and tortured, and you will stay through it all, he realizes that morning, as he watches your chest rise and fall from your lap. For all of Satoru’s burdens, and all his doubts, for all the pain that weighs him down and sinks him like an anchor to the bottom of his own brain, you will stay. You will stay, you will stay, you have stayed. The familiarity of you is chilling in the most comforting way. It’s nostalgia. The emptiness still lingers, but it lessens. The dull ache still makes its home in his chest, but there’s something new, now. Something he thinks may have always been there, but he’s been too blinded to realize it until now. There’s you, too.

(Outside the window, snow falls silently. Satoru will have no bad dreams when night falls.)

“There were all my secrets, spread out on the table. Like someone had taken my insides and scooped them out for everyone to see. Look, here are her stupid hopes! Look, here’s her dumb soft heart!”

Carol Rifka Brunt / Tell the Wolves I’m Home

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #reader insert

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holdmytesseract · 1 year ago

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Another Daryl request bc why not aka I love your Daryl fics so so much 🤍

- a steamy enemies to lovers !! Yn leads a neighboring community (to Alexandria) and they meet regularly to wrangle over the boundaries of the hunting grounds. There always has been heavy sexual tension and one day the things “escalate” ;) …

Crossing Lines

Daryl Dixon x fem!Reader

Summary: When Daryl gets caught on forbidden ground once again, you show mercy - like you did so often. But this time you offer him a quite... Special deal. A deal he can't reject?

Warnings: the usual TWD stuff, walkers, weapons, this is quite a bit steamy, very suggestive smut...

Takes place in season 6!

Word Count: 3,1k

a/n: I absolutely love this request and the story my brain came up with! I'd even go so far and say it's one of my favourites! 😄 Thanks for this, my wonderful friend! I hope you and everybody else likes it! ❤

Sidenote: It has nothing to do with the Wolves. I just liked the name.

Tagging: @km-ffluv @stitchintimefan @sweetpeapod @loz-3 @peaches1958 @fictive-sl0th @lou12346789 @fuseburner @hotgirlsshareaccounts @in-this-minute

Daryl Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

"Hey, Daryl! What are you up to?" Glenn asked his friend; shouting down from one of the guard towers in Alexandria. "'M goin' out," the archer answered; stopping in front of the wooden construction to look up at the Korean. Glenn smiled. "I can see that - but what are you up to?" Daryl shrugged his shoulders. "Huntin'. We're out of 'possum." Glenn couldn't suppress the small giggle, which left his lips. "Yeah, right. Be careful out there. The sun's going down soon." "Nah, got a least two hours 'fore sunset." Even though Glenn knew the redneck for quite a long time already, he was still sometimes surprised and impressed by his skills.

"Alright. See you." Daryl nodded and wanted to walk past the tower, when Glenn stopped him again. "You know the rules," he shouted after him. The archer gave his friend another nod and a low grunt, before he made his way to the big doors; leaving his home behind himself.

Roaming the woods and wide meadows around Alexandria; the archer was on search for something alive to eat. He followed a few trails, which only led to nothing, or a dead cadaver; already feasted on by a walker. Daryl didn't find himself having a lot of luck this evening - at least in the Alexandrian hunting grounds...

Stepping on 'forbidden' land, Daryl's senses were sharpened. Not just because he was looking out for some animal to hunt... Because of the walkers. Sure, you always had to look out for them - but the problem was that he couldn't kill them. Not here. They'd know. You'd know.

The archer sneaked as quiet as possible through the woods; always scanning his surroundings - and yet he couldn't prevent it from happening. A single crack of a twig a few meters away from him announced his doom - and before he could even blink, he was surrounded. About ten men; bow and arrow raised at him and all dressed in the signature clothing he was so very familiar with. Boots, black cargo pants, linen shirts or hoodies. Some of them had fur mantles draped over their shoulders. Others wore a hood. But everyone had a bandana covering most of their faces. Damnit, thought Daryl.

"Drop the weapon!" One of the men yelled. Daryl did what he was told; knowing that he had lost the game already anyways. So, he dropped his crossbow.

The archer's eyes scanned the group then; looking out for you - their leader. But you found him first.

"Crossing borders again, Dixon?" Your voice urged to his ears, causing him to swiftly turn around. You stood behind him; dressed like the men around him. Black cargo pants, beige linen shirt and a fur mantle; bandana loosely hanging around your neck. The only difference was, that you somehow looked more... gracefully. It seemed like the clothing fitted you so much better. Or was it just the way Daryl saw it?

The left corner of your mouth twitched upwards; smiling halfway at the archer. Your bow lazily draped over your shoulder; one hand securing it.

"I asked you a question."

Once again managed your voice to grab his attention; snapping out of his thoughts. He subtly cleared his throat and lifted his gaze to meet your stunning Y/E/C eyes, before he shrugged his shoulders. "I ain't seein' any borders, nor yer name scarified in any of the trees."

It had been the wrong answer. Daryl knew as soon as a man stepped out of the circle behind you; marching with big steps towards you and him. The man had his bow secured on his back and drew a gun instead. He walked past you and aimed the weapon at Daryl; ready to pull the trigger - but you stopped him. Much to Daryl's surprise.

"Leave it, Isaiah." You addressed your right-hand-man. Isaiah gave the archer a death glare, but listened to his leader, of course, and withdrew the gun, engaged the safety and placed it back in its place on his weapons belt. He even took a few steps back. Nevertheless, rested Isaiah's hand on the gun; ready to defend you. If necessary. "It's alright. Mr. Dixon just likes breaking rules. Nothing new, is it?" It wasn't by far the first time that they found the archer within their hunting grounds. Daryl quite liked to... expand his hunting trips. Of course, they didn't catch him every time, but often enough to know.

Daryl just grunted and scoffed. "Rules ain't existing in this world anymore." You lifted an eyebrow, before you started to shake your head. "Ahh this is such a shame," you stated; beginning to circle the archer like a hunter its prey. "Truly. How many more times do we need to explain to you how the shots get called around here, until you finally understand it, huh?" Daryl answered nothing, just clenched his jaw.

"Look, Daryl..." You clearly put the emphasis on his name. "Our communities live in peace together. We agreed to respect one another and when the opportunity occurs, even trade things. But nothing more. We are not crossing your paths and you are not crossing our paths - which includes the hunting grounds as well. You can ask Rick if you don't believe me..." You shrugged your shoulders and continued to circle him. "We have absolutely no problem - but..." You stepped closer; invading his private space and whispered lowly into his ear: "If you keep breaking the rules, we might have a problem."

At your words ran a shiver down Daryl's spine. The problem was, that he couldn't tell if it was out of respect - or arousal. And it scared the very tough man quite a bit.

He could see from the corner of his eyes, how you stepped away again and turned to your men. "Let's call it a day." Everyone withdrew their weapons from Daryl and started to move.

Then you gave Isaiah and Yosh a nod. They knew exactly what to do. Walking towards Daryl, they pushed the archer forwards; into the direction in which the other men were heading. Daryl turned and gave them both a death glare; ready to jump at them and fight - but he knew better than that. He wasn't stupid. He knew when he had lost a game. And this one was already lost a long time ago.

You walked past him; following the group. "You're coming with us. Be our guest." The archer grunted. "What if I don't wanna?" You turned to face the man, while walking backwards. He's very sassy today, you thought. "You're not refusing the offer of a lady, will you? Come on. I have something to discuss with you."

And so, Daryl followed you - wordless and without a fight. He knew that he wouldn't stand a chance. Not against you anyway - and he was clearly outnumbered.

About fifteen minutes later and walking constantly through the thicket of the forest, you, Daryl and the rest of the group reached the community. It was hidden within the trees, on a large clearing. High, thick walls made out of wood marked the outline; strengthened by thick metal tiling. Some would say it looked a bit like the Hilltop, but there was clearly something special about it. Daryl's eyes widened as he saw it. He's never been at their 'camp'. Only met them outside and in the woods. The walls were surrounded by a wide, deep pit. A deep pit which reached around the whole camp - as it seemed. The entrance was only reachable through a drawbridge. Like a castle, taken straight out of the Middle Ages. The archer shook his head. That was surreal. Impossible.

Before he could think more about it, he received another shove, causing him to stumble on the drawbridge. Together with everyone else, he walked through the big doors and behind the safety of the huge walls - and pit. You walked beside him and gave him a smug smile; as he looked around, stunned.

"Welcome to the Wolf's Pit, Daryl."

The archer's eyes widened in astonishment as he took in the scenery in front of him. The place bustled with people. Women, men, children. Small, wooden houses soaring everywhere. Most of them were finished; some of them not. Daryl was also able to make out the small fields with vegetables and crops all around the place. It was stunning. Fascinating. But then he also felt the eyes of several people on himself. Some of them gave him confused gazes; some of them sceptical and threatening gazes. Nonetheless, it was clear to the archer, that they were all asking themselves the same question... Who was he and why was he here?

One wrong move and Daryl would have a big problem - and he knew.

You noticed this as well, of course, and how 'alarmed' Daryl was. So, you stopped, causing the archer to stop, too. You then nodded towards your wooden hut. "Come on. Let's talk, shall we?" While Daryl followed you wordlessly, the other men - including Isaiah and Yosh split up to go their own ways from here.

Your little hut was definitely the most 'majestic' one. Sure, you were their leader. The moment Daryl entered your home, he was utterly impressed. It wasn't super big, but very detailed and beautifully furnished - if you could call it that. The most of it was clearly self-made, not scavenged. The fireplace, table, chairs and several other things. A lot of furs and pillows decorated the house, making it appear very cosy. And again, was this one question ghosting through Daryl's head…

"How were a few people able to build somethin' huge like tha'?" He finally asked; still looking around in awe. You put down your weapons and fur mantle; smiling, before you turned to face him. "That is a valid question, Dixon. To answer it honestly, we didn't even build that much of it." You began to explain, while you made a fire in the fireplace. "When we found this place here, it was more or less a site. Diggers, trucks and other construction vehicles were standing around. Clearly, they wanted to build something big here. The pit was over halfway dug out already. Two wooden huts were still standing; about to be demolished. Just like the wooden fence. Whatever it was they started here, it was never finished. So, we took the opportunity, scavenged the things we needed and build this." You finished; gesturing around. "Quite impressive, right?" Daryl nodded. It was true.

Silence spread within the hut, as Daryl's blue-grey eyes followed your every move. You picked up a few branches and twigs from a basket and threw them into the crackling fire. Before his gaze would stick on you, he averted his eyes again; clearing his throat. "Why 'm I here? Whaddaya want from me?" You turned to face him once again; smiling. "Oh, you know exactly why you are here, Daryl." Again, you rolled his name off your tongue so easily, as if you'd known each other for years. "But I'll explain it to you again." You took a step closer; dusting off your hands. "Admittedly, I don't like you straying around in our territory. We both know that this could end bad for you - which would be a shame, because you are special. You are not like the others, Mr. Dixon. I noticed that the first time we met, and I like it." Your smile even widened, "Therefore, I have an offer to make. One you are freely allowed to decline..." before you gave him a once over. "Or accept."

Daryl looked at you quite a bit confused. "An offer?" You nodded. "An offer." He looked at you for a moment intensely; trying to figure you out. "Aight. Spit it out."

You wettened your lips; holding his gaze. "Go now; never come back and sneak around our hunting grounds. Keep on breaking the rules and risk the bridges we build to burn down or..." "Or?" You bit your lip; starting to smile cheekily. "Or stay; spent the night with me and you'll be allowed to go hunt wherever you like."

For a moment, the archer thought he misheard you/your words. All his facial features literally derailed; blinking. He definitely needed a moment to process this and to regain composure.

"That's extortion, woman." Daryl then scoffed; crossing his arms over his chest and visibly trying to play it cool. You were quite unimpressed from his reaction and shook your head. "It's not. It's an offer - like I said. I'm not forcing you to do anything." "Why would ya offer me somethin' like that?" You bit your lip once more and started to circle him like you did when you and your group caught him. "That's simple. I saw the way you were looking at me. Whenever we met each other. Do you really think I didn't notice, Dixon? You are very bad at hiding your physical attraction towards me."

Your words were like a blow into the gut for the archer. He swallowed - hard; was speechless. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" You teased him; giggling. "It's because you know that I'm right, isn't it?"

That was the moment Daryl lost it. He couldn't prevent the heat forming in his cheeks; a blush creeping on his face. You smiled and stopped right in front of him. Slowly, you lifted your hand and drew a seductive line from his shoulder to his pec with your pointer finger; whispering: "Gotcha."

An undeniable shiver ran down Daryl's spine at your words; your touch leaving a burning, sizzling sensation behind.

You took a step back, but kept your hand in place; fingers started to toy with the lapels of his angel-winged vest. "So, what do you say?"

Daryl swallowed; needed once again a moment to get his brain to work properly again and especially to play it cool. What if this was a trap? He couldn't just cave and give in like that, could he?

"It ain't a fair deal, is it? One night in exchange for free passageway? Seems very suspicious ta me." "Who says it's only one night?" You asked with a smirk and looked up to meet his eyes, before you pressed your palm flat against his chest and started to back him up against the nearby wall. "What if our paths cross more often from then on, because we want them to cross? It's a win-win."

You weren't a predictable person. Daryl had figured that out very quickly - but he saw the move you were about to make coming. So, he decided to took you by surprise and join the game. Before you were able to pin him to the wooden wall, he placed one hand over the one which rested on his chest, quickly grabbed your wrist and spun you around - slamming your back against the wall. Now you were the one trapped, not him.

"Why would ya risk it?" Daryl asked in a hushed, raspy voice, while he towered above you; leaving you no chance to escape. Not that you wanted to escape. No, you quite enjoyed the turn of things. It caused the sexual tension to grow even more. So thick, it was cuttable with a knife.

"Huh? Why? You ain't have a reason to trust me." You giggled and leaned closer to him. Not that you were very close already. "I don't have to trust you, Dixon." Your lips almost touched his as you spoke. He could feel your warm breath on the skin of his face. "I just need to give you what you want," you added, whispering. "So, tell me..." You moved a hand to his leather belt, which was slung around his hips and held his old, tattered jeans in place and hooked your fingers through the loops. "What is it that you want?" Then you tugged, causing the completely stunned archer to stumble forwards; hips clashing against yours.

It took Daryl everything, to not let the thundering moan leave his lips, which had built up in his throat. He gritted his teeth; jaw clenching. It was that moment, in which he realised that he couldn't suppress his attraction towards you any longer. Not after that. He got lost in his own primal need - and gave in. His clouded mind urging him on to make a rather bold move. So, he did. Acting fast, he sneaked his hands down to the back of your thighs and lifted you up; causing a small yelp to escape your mouth. He didn't beat about the bush and crossed the small hut to throw you on the fluffy, cosy bed. He had made his decision - and you knew it.

Giggling like a schoolgirl, you looked up at him, "Thought so." and crooked your finger; making a come-hither motion. "C'mon, big boy. Claim what belongs to you then." And he did.

Daryl stayed the whole night – like you said. And let's say it that way… The night was thoroughly spent.

When the first sun rays of the new day poured through your makeshift windows, a firm knock sounded through the hut and woke you up. You knew exactly who it was. Stretching your limbs, you stood up and tiptoed completely across the hut, in order to grab your dressing gown. "Come in!" You whisper-shouted; not to wake the sleeping man in your bed. The wooden door swung open and revealed your right-hand-man, Isaiah.

"Good morning," he said; closing the door behind himself. You gave him a smile; tying the knot of your robe. "It is, indeed, a very good morning." You had no shame when it came down to him. Neither secrets. Isaiah was like the big brother you never had and best friend in one. You loved him dearly and were grateful for everything he had done for you.

Isaiah's eyes wandered over your body, before they travelled to the bed. "Ah, I see." He stated; seeing the archer's barely covered body. Daryl was still sleeping tightly; laying on his belly with both hands buried underneath the soft pillow, in order to support his head.

Isaiah grinned like a Cheshire cat. "Sleeping with the enemy?" You shook your head; smiling. "He's not the enemy, Ice. He's an ally - just like the Alexandrians..." Your eyes roamed across Daryl's bare, broad back. Some scratches of your fingernails were still visible; memories immediately taking you back to the last night. "...and the man I'd like to keep in my bed." Isaiah chuckled. "I assume you had a very pleasurable night then?" "Then best of my life."

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