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fushic0re · 3 months ago

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❝FROM THE START❞

Toji Fushiguro x MamaGuro!Reader

𝑺𝒀𝑵��𝑷𝑺𝑰𝑺 ╮the five times toji realized he loved you; in which you take in the black sheep of the zenin clan.

𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝑶𝑵𝑳𝒀 ╮familial abuse (this is the zenin clan after all). hardship. trauma. a very wounded toji. pregnancy.

TOJI WAS NOT SURE IF HE EVER HAD A LIFE TO BEGIN WITH.

But if he had to say when he thought it ended, his answer would be at six. Toji’s parents were said to have struck gold. His father was next in line to be the clan head with two strong and healthy sons by his side. His elder brother Jinichi did not possess the Ten Shadows, but he was talented enough to outlive any scrutiny from the family–besides, he was a son and not a daughter. On the eve of the new year, Toji welcomed the Zenin clan compound with his screams. All eyes were now on the newest Zenin, seedlings of possibilities planting themselves in the very soil the little one’s feet touched. Seedlings that would never grow.

On the eve of another new year and Toji’s fifth birthday, one that was meant to be celebrated greatly, there were no signs of cursed energy manifestations. Winter gave way to spring, which then gave way to summer until summer faded into fall, and fall into winter. As the seasons changed, Toji did not. By his sixth birthday, the clan elders officially declared that Toji had zero cursed energy–a Heavenly Pact, they called it. A first in jujutsu history. At six years old, Toji Zenin became the shit stain of the Zenin clan. At twelve, they started throwing him into the disciplinary pit to fight curse after curse with nothing but his bare fists. His parents never blinked an eye. He was sure they were hoping not so secretly that one day, he would never come out.

At 20 years old, he left. Like a thief in the night with nothing but the clothes on his back and a knapsack of food he managed to store away, he left the gates of the Zenin compound. Not a single trace of him was left–not that anyone cared. Time meant nothing to him. For what could have been months or years, Toji lived like a wild animal. He slept on the streets when he was not serving as a bedwarmer for women who were too soft-hearted or too desperate. They fed him, but when the currency his hulking physique and rugged looks provided him ran dry, he ate scraps. He rarely bought food with the money pitiful strangers tossed at him, but one cold day led him to a hole-in-the-wall ramen shop.

It was a small little place that hardly sat ten. The kitchen was cramped, but the aromas it produced were heavenly. With his meager earnings, the lone wolf bought himself a steaming bowl of ramen that he devoured at a speed that he would find embarrassing had he maintained his dignity. No one acknowledged him. For once, he was just another face in the crowd. Toji’s emerald eyes rested on the empty porcelain bowl in front of him, mocking him unforgivably. With a bitter expression, he glared at the bowl. He wondered how far down he had spiraled into the abyss of nothingness that was his life to end up in these circumstances–a simple household item reminding him of everything he was not. Since day one, his bowl had run empty with no one to fill it.

Until you.

Toji’s train of thought is interrupted when one of the owners, an elderly woman with a withered face and silvery wisps for hair, places another bowl of steaming tonkatsu ramen in front of him. His hard eyes meet hers.

“I didn’t order this.” He states gruffly.

Despite his harsh expression and soulless delivery, the elderly woman’s features melt into a warm expression.

“That girl at the end bought it for you.” She says giddily, discreetly pointing a bony finger in the direction of his benefactor. “A real sweetie. She’s a regular.”

He tracks the elderly woman’s finger. His eyes narrow as soon as they land on you. He did not appreciate pity in the slightest. Just as he is about to open his mouth and tell you off, his stomach rumbles. The sound prevails over the clanking of utensils, garnering the mystery woman’s attention. Not expecting to be caught, she gives Toji a sheepish smile before snapping her head back around to bury her nose in her book. Toji finds himself at a crossroads. If he ate the bowl, he owed her. If he did not, he would be wasting the rarity of free food. Once again, his thoughts are interrupted by another elder–the old woman’s husband. His fists knock on the table just as he appears before Toji, and a kind smile is on his face.

“Son, just eat.” He jests before disappearing.

Toji scoffs with a roll of his eyes. Old people could never mind their goddamn business, it seemed. But as he stared at the bowl of ramen for the umpteenth time since it had been placed in front of him, an unfamiliar feeling stirred within him. He gave you an unsuspecting glance from the corner of his eye, taking in every feature from the slope of your nose to the shoes on your feet. His eyes could not remove themselves from the warmth in your eyes. With that, he picked up the soup spoon and took one big gulp of creamy broth. He let the heat of the soup envelop his body the same way your eyes did.

For the first time, his bowl was filled.

THE STORM HAD KNOCKED THE POWER OUT.

You did not know what woke you first–the severe gust of wind that sent branches flying against your window in a repetitive fashion or the bone-chilling drop in temperature the second your heater shut off. You tried your best to ignore it, curling up under your covers as you pathetically warmed yourself with your breath. It was when your shivers escalated into violent shivers in a matter of minutes that you knew something had to be done. Tearing yourself out of the safety of your blanket cocoon, you scurried to your kitchen as quietly as you could in search of emergency candles. Maybe if you lit enough, they could act as some semblance of a fireplace. To your detriment, the clattering of your teeth was enough to wake the slumbering wolf in your humble living room. Your eyes widen the second you hear the familiar creak of the cushion springs, whipping around to face your impromptu roommate.

“S-Sorry. It’s really cold, s-so I thought I could light some–” You frantically gesture to the cabinet of candles you had opened, the cold freezing your brain in its poignant state of desperation. “You know. To help maybe.”

Toji lets out a quiet huff. From where you are standing with one candle lighting the space, you can barely point out the smirk on his face,

“Don’t be sorry. It’s your apartment.” He mutters, his voice gravely from sleep as he rubs his tired eyes.

Thanks to his heightened senses, he could see you perfectly. You were in your usual pajamas, ones that worked against you in this weather. With your bare feet on the cold tile, as you shivered, you looked endearingly pathetic. He scoffs.

“C’mere.”

You shake your head, wrapping your arms around yourself.

“I’m o-okay. You should sleep.”

Toji lets out a deep sigh, sitting upright on your futon.

“Come here.” He repeats, this time more firmly. “You’re freezing, your pajamas are thin as shit, and the power is out until god knows when which means we have no heater.”

You’re going to get sick is what he means to say. I can’t bear the sight of you in any state of suffering.

When you hesitate again, loudly sighs again, patting his lap audibly.

“I won’t be able to sleep with all the fuckin’ teeth chattering, sweetheart. Stop being stubborn.” He grumbles.

And with that, he stands up and strides towards you to grab you with the stealth and agility of a panther. You could not help the squeal that escaped from your mouth the second he effortlessly scooped you up and swooped you right under the covers. He was right. The second Toji curled his brawny body around yours, your shivers began to decrescendo. His heat melted your stiff muscles until you fully surrendered, intertwining your body with his.

“Shit. You’re freezing.”

“Sorry.” You squeak, snuggling closer to him.

“Stop apologizing.” He mutters, flinching ever so slightly as your cold feet brush up against his calf.

The gesture wills you with embarrassment.

“Sorry.” You squeak again.

“Christ, woman. I told you to stop apologizing.”

“....sorry.”

Toji dignifies your antics with a chuff that carries a hardly noticeable laugh. Closing his eyes, he nuzzles his nose against the top of your head, flooding his senses with the smell of your signature shampoo. He is not used to this–affection. Holding someone. Someone holding him. He finds himself having to squeeze your frame impossibly closer to his to convince himself that this experience is real.

“Stop it.” He murmurs against your head, his voice the softest you have ever heard.

Closing your eyes, you rest your head in the crook of his neck. You fit right in there like a missing puzzle piece.

“Okay.” You whisper, conceding to sleep.

“TOJI?”

It is some ungodly hour when he abruptly sits up in bed, his body coated in a layer of cold sweat. His eyes are enlarged as he scans the room, his orbs frantically darting in every which direction. His heart pounds rapidly against his ribs, his bare chest rising and falling at a quick pace. He is numb, unable to feel a single thing as his brain transports him back to that place. That god-forsaken place. Since the two of you began sleeping in the same bed, his night terrors diminished into nightmares until they ceased altogether. For once, just once, Toji thought he could outrun his past. But just like the scars on his body, darkness was ingrained in every fiber of his being. It ran through his bloodstream, pumping into his heart and fueling every move he made. He was stupid to think he could live a life like this with you. People like him simply did not belong in the realm people like you existed in, so good and so pure.

“Hey,” You whisper, rolling onto your side to face him. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Your voice feels like the sun. Not in the way it gets in your face and makes your eyes sting to the point where all you want to do is get away from it. No, he could not run from you. No matter how far he got in his head, he simply could not.

“Go back to sleep, sweetheart. You got work in a few hours.” He rasps.

He pulls you into his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head. Like clockwork, he grounds himself with your touch–skin against skin, your heartbeats creating a rhythmic cadence until ultimately his own slows down and thumps in tandem with yours. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“It’s nothing. Sleep.”

You cannot help but frown. It was hard whenever he got this way. You did not mind, of course, that was not the problem. It was watching him wrestle with himself in his head until he was numb again. It was the vacant look in his eyes. Whenever Toji broke, a part of you did too. If there was a way to physically pour love into him until he was bursting at the seams, you would–anything to never see that lifeless expression again. Sitting up, you reach for his face, cradling his jaw in your palm.

“Don’t say that. It’s not nothing.” You say gently yet sternly. “The things that hurt you aren’t nothing.”

Just like that, Toji feels like that seventeen-year-old kid again who desperately craved approval and a sense of belonging in a system that actively worked against him just because he needed to feel something. You disarm him not in a way that makes him feel scared and defenseless, but in a way that assures him that he is no longer in a state of survival. Unless it is for you, his days of fighting are over. Even then, he was very capable that you could hold your own as a Grade One. Yet still, if he had to bloody his first for anyone, it would be for you.

“I was back there again.” He says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes soften.

“You’re not there anymore.” You assure, running the pad of your thumb across his cheekbone. “You’re here–”

“You don’t get it.” He snaps “I can’t change shit. No matter where I look, I’m back there in that fuckin’ hole.” “You. Are here. With me.” You state firmly, cupping his face with both hands now and forcing him to meet your gaze. “You escaped. And now you get to forge a new path for yourself. It’s not going to be easy. You’re going to have a lot more nights like this, but the difference is you’ll have me. No matter how much you try to push me away because you think I don’t get it just because I grew up in some ‘cushy’ sorcerer family, you can’t push me away. I’m not going anywhere.”

Toji clenches his jaw. A part of him hated when you were like this, blindly believing every conviction that came out of your mouth. It was downright painful. In these moments, he could not bring himself to believe you.

“This is just the way it is.” He mutters defiantly, turning his face away from you as he clenches his fists at his sides.

Your heart feels like a stake has been driven through it when your touch makes him flinch. But now is not the time to lead with her feelings. He needed you. you meant every word she said.

“I am promising you that. My cold, dead body is gonna have to be pried away from you to get me to leave you.” You shakily whisper, trying your best to keep your emotions at bay as his pain causes your body to react viscerally.

He does not answer you, continuing to avoid your gaze. The only sign that he had not gone catatonic was the way his chest began to heave. He was losing it.

“Toji…look at me.”

He remains frozen in place. A tense silence builds between the two of you, threatening to force the two of you apart until you are too far gone to be retrieved. For the first time since you naively welcomed the then-homeless stranger into your home, you felt scared of him. The grave distance is closed when he finally meets your gaze, a wild and terror-filled expression in his eyes–the same one he wore the day you met him.

“You and me. When shit gets tough, we’ll fight through it. If you don’t want to fight, I’ll fight for both of us. No matter what, we’re doing life together.” You breathe, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Toji remains silent, simply staring at you with an unreadable expression. Finally, his hands stop shaking and he unclenches his fists, resting them on your cheeks. The warmth of his palms makes your eyes involuntarily flutter shut.

“You’re gonna get sick of me.”

Your response is a mere shake of the head.

“I’ll get sick of you not wiping down the counter after you brush your teeth or wash your face. Or when you don’t put the dishes away right when I ask you to.” You laugh softly. “But sick of loving you? Never.”

That earns a throaty chuckle from him. Leaning forward, he presses his forehead against yours.

“I’ll give your bossy ass something to complain about.”

Before you can retort, his lips are pressed against yours. This kiss is a far cry from the passionate, sensual, all-consuming kisses you both usually share. No words need to be said this time. His lips imprint unspoken locutions of ardor and besottedness into yours. I love you. I’m sorry I’m a fuck up. I don’t always have the right words to say. Please.

That night, Toji surrenders.

HIS NAME WAS MEGUMI. THEIR BLESSING.

Regardless of his gender, that is what he was to Toji–his saving grace.

The two of you hadn’t exactly planned on having a baby so soon. It was about a year after you and Toji’s small intimate wedding that you found yourself feeling…off. Fatigue was the first symptom to make itself apparent. No matter how early you slept, your body still fought against you whenever you were awake. Then it was the hunger, which amused your newlywed husband. Funnily enough, Toji decided to take up cooking to mitigate your sudden appetite increase. Your condition was obvious from that point on. Nine days before Toji’s birthday and the new year, Megumi was born. Just like his daddy when the two of you were wed, Megumi took your last name–Fushiguro. Just like that, the three of you were a little family. As Toji held his newborn son in his arms, he realized that he had done it. He forged a life of his own from the darkness you pulled him from.

And it’s moments like this in which the first thing he sees is his son’s big green eyes staring up at him in the middle of the night that he realizes how much of a test fatherhood was. He runs a hand over his tired face, rubbing his eyes before he places a finger over his lips as he agilely slides out of bed. He glances over his shoulder to check if you are still asleep before effortlessly scooping Megumi up into his arms and quietly exiting the bedroom.

“What’s the matter?” He murmurs, his sonorous voice raspy from sleep.

Megumi is quiet for a moment, the five year old rubbing his eyes with his small fists. He hangs his head low.

“I keep seeing them.” He says quietly. “Can’t sleep.”

Toji frowns, his large hand smoothing over the back of his son’s head.

Not too long ago, Megumi began to see curses. The two of you were prepared for the dreaded day he would, you could feel your son’s cursed energy develop little by little until it was suddenly surrounding him like a forcefield. Your reaction to the matter was much different than the Zenin clan’s–you were scared, terrified even. Megumi’s cursed energy manifesting meant the possibility of him becoming a jujutsu sorcerer was officially established. With that came the painful realization that you could lose your child at any moment. It was a refreshing experience for Toji to witness; healthy parenting, the love of a mother. He could not even bring himself to be surprised that you were such an amazing mother. After all, you had amazed him in all aspects of life.

“Do you want to go back in there?” Toji asks nudging his head towards Megumi’s room.

The toddler ponders for a moment before shaking his head, his eyes apprehensive. Toji does not question him, simply nodding and making his way to the kitchen. A quiet silence makes itself home between father and son as Toji prepares a warm cup of milk for his mini-me. Once the drink is ready, he gently places Megumi on the counter and hands him the cup.

“Careful.” He says, his eyes swimming with concern as they take in Megumi’s appearance thoughtfully. “Talk to me.”

Megumi takes a cautious sip, testing the temperature of the creamy beverage before drinking it more freely. His lips press together, and a million feelings that he cannot describe run through his head.

“You and mama see them too right? The…curses.” He whispers. “When did you stop being scared of them?”

For a five year old, Megumi was quite insightful. His perception skills were exceptional yet amusing when paired with his childish and innocent wonder. Hearing such a small voice ask questions beyond the scope of a child still gave Toji a whiplash.

Toji lets out a noise that is akin to a laugh and a huff, shaking his head ever so slightly as he does so.

“Who says we’re not?” He answers much to Megumi’s–whose eyes are now wide with shock–surprise.

Toji struggles to find the right words to say. This was usually your thing; he was never one to console with the power of words. No, to this day, he still finds it easier to fight his way through conflict. But then there is Megumi staring up at him with his eyes, fear and trepidation tainting the usual sparkle in his eyes in a way that reminds him of himself when he was this age. His son had everything he wanted for the majority of his life–the very gift that could have saved him a world of hurt–and was still being subject to the ugliness of sorcery.

That is all it takes for Toji, who is now a father and not a fighter.

He washes the violence away with a warm sip of milk from a sippy cup that is so small in his hands that it is borderline ridiculous and uses his once bloodied hands to cradle the small, precious being that carries his heart against his chest. He shields this boy with all his life the way he himself should have been, carrying him to the couch for a cuddle.

“Remember how mama and I showed you how to summon your dogs?” He whispers, wrapping an arm around Megumi as he settles at his side.

Taking his tiny hand, he situates it into the correct signage. Megumi looks up at him for assurance before his Divine Dogs are loyally at his side, their cold snouts nudging him happily. The toddler giggles, wiggling around with the excited canines. Once they have settled down, curling around him protectively as they snooze, Toji smiles down at him and presses a tender kiss to his forehead.

“Whenever you’re scared, your pups are here for you. You understand?” Megumi nods, now content. Toji is silent for a moment, at a loss for words yet again but for a different reason this time. He’s overwhelmed by emotions, ones that he cannot even name. He blinks his eyes, abruptly pulling the toddler on top of him so he could wrap his arms around him tightly.

His child. The one you gave him.

All you have ever done is give, and give, and give until you gave him the greatest gift of all.

“Can’t breathe.” Megumi murmurs against his dad’s chest.

“You’re fine.” Toji whispers, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You’re fine.”

It was fine. Everything was…fine.

Finally.

“WAIT, FUSHIGURO IS YOUR LAST NAME, SENSEI?”

You have to press your lips together to hold back your laughter as Yuuji and Nobara stare at you with shocked and bewildered expressions, Megumi unphased yet exhausted by the antics of his friends. Toji barks out a loud laugh from behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders.

“She makes the money around here. Might as well.”

“I think you’re doing great, Mr. Fushiguro! Feminism!” Yuji cheers exuberantly, turning to Megumi and Nobara for approval only to be met with perturbed expressions.

“Then get a job.” Megumi grumbles.

Toji simply kisses his teeth, removing one hand from your shoulder to ruffle Megumi’s hair. The teen hurls out a string of disciplinary phrases, only amusing his father who smiles smugly in return.

“Your mom doesn’t want me to work. She thinks I’ll cheat on her. So possessive.”

The gasp that immediately leaves your body is dramatic enough to land you a role in a soap opera. Your husband only directs his smug smile to you now, gazing down at you with the familiar playful yet fond expression he has maintained for a decade now. And just like it did exactly a decade ago, it irritates you to no end.

“You’re easily bought. I know that firsthand.” You quip.

“You were eager to buy this hu–”

“Please not this again.” Megumi laments.

Nobara and Yuji stare at Megumi with expectant expressions. If they had tails, they would definitely be wagging expeditiously. Toji claps Megumi on the back unnecessarily hard, making him glare at him for the umpteenth time in an hour.

“Oh come on. You didn’t tell them how your mama and I met?”

“Why would I tell them that?”

The two young sorcerers respond with a clash of loud pleas and declarations of camaraderie, how dare Fushiguro withhold this part of his upbringing for them, haven’t they gone through enough together?

Toji’s hands knead your shoulders. He bows his head, nosing the top of your head. His eyes flutter shut, a satisfied hum rumbling from his chest.

“Let’s just say I loved her from the start.”

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro fluff #toji fushiguro angst #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader

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ohtori-dropout · 5 months ago

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7 & 17 for the rgu ask

7 is answered here and 17 is answered here, but I’ll give you a bonus answer for 17 because I have a lot of post-canon thoughts (ft an AU that may or may not properly see the light of day)

17 - post canon headcanons: I think it takes Anthy a while to find Utena, somewhere between 6 months and a year and a half, to give both of them time to process what happened and what to do next. In the meantime, Utena starts forgetting things about Ohtori Academy (gestures at her trauma responses) and struggles to parse out what actually happened

#revolutionary girl utena #shoujo kakumei utena #rgu #sku #utena tenjou #anthy himemiya #wild animal delivery #utena headcanons #ohtoriposting

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riboism · 1 year ago

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speed

》 pairing: c.s x f!reader, j.wy

》 genre: smut

》 wc: 1k

》 content: drug dealers! woosan, reader is san’s gf and woo may or may not have a crush on her, voyeurism, voyeur! woo, no mentions of drug use or violence, backseat fucking, reverse cowgirl, pussy slapping.

》 a/n: had to take a break after seeing that woosan outlaw trailer and write this…I literally can’t stop thinking about it.

🎧 speed- kali uchis

Tensions were high, and it didn’t help that Wooyoung’s delivery guy was 20 minutes late and counting. The exchange didn’t go as well as he had hoped, and he figured some fried chicken from this new place that opened downtown would offer him some solace. He noted that this was the first and last time he would order from there.

His partner San had his own way of dealing with stress. A very loud and obnoxious way. Being forced to listen to you and San go at it like wild animals while rattling the van from side to side really didn’t help make his hunger pains go away any faster.

“God damn it, can you guys keep it down back there?” He spat, losing his count of the wad of cash in his hands.

Neither of you heard him, not over your loud moans. You were sprawled over San’s lap with your back facing him, his fingers grasping on to your waist tightly as he fucked up into your pussy at a harsh pace. You had started off slow and steady, mindful not to make too much noise so as to not bother your boyfriend’s work associate, but San was always impatient, especially on nights like this, and he found your pace a little too slow for his liking. So he decided to take matters into his own hands- literally. He was holding onto you so tight that you were sure it would leave a mark. And as for you, well you tried your best to be quiet, but it was hard when San used you like his own personal cocksleeve. He rolled his hips up to your cunt, his hard tip reaching deep inside your sweet spot, and you two filled the van with the sounds of your guttered moans and slapping skins.

Growing agitated, Wooyoung slammed his hand on the front dash of the van to grab both your attention. “Hey! Wrap it up already, I got shit to do!” He waved the wads of cash in his hand so that San could see.

“Shut up or it’s my cock down your throat next!” San huffed, his thrusts getting harder and faster. San always respected Wooyoung, but his obedience would disappear the moment he’d stuff his cock inside of you. There was no way of getting him to listen now, and Wooyoung knew that. Annoyed with his distasteful words, and too exhausted to quarrel any longer, Wooyoung slumped back into his seat and started his count all over again.

As he swiped each bill through his fingers, his eyes would occasionally glance up at the rear view mirror where he’d get a quick peek at you two. He always thought you had a pretty face, but your body was something else. He was mesmerized by the sight of your soft breasts bouncing up and down as San worked you open from behind. His gaze lingered down on to your wet cunt. He couldn’t understand how something so small and delicate could take something so big and ugly like San’s cock. Maybe it was weird to think this way, but although Wooyoung was smaller, he thought his cock looked a lot prettier than San’s. Shaking his head, he looked back down at the cash and continued his count.

“Fuck, Sannie, f-feels so good! Gonna cum!” You cried. Your moans grew loud and raspy, and Wooyoung had no choice but to look back up at the rear view mirror. Your sounds alone made his pants tighter but seeing you rub and tug your clit while San continued fucking you made a wet spot form in his boxers. Spreading his legs, Wooyoung couldn’t help but palm over his erection while watching you in the mirror. He thought you were so tight and that you took him so well, and all he wanted to do now was cum at the same time as you.

“Pretty baby gonna cum for me? Yeah? Gonna cum all over my cock?” San grunted into your ear. His hands slid up to your breasts, kneading them as continued thrusting. You were so wet now that Wooyoung could hear your squelches from up front, and god did it almost destroy him. He stuffed his hand into his pants, rubbed his thumb over his slit, and licked his lips as he watched you turn into more of a hot mess over San’s stiff cock. He noticed your eyes getting droopy and your breathing getting shakier.

“Go on baby, cum for me,” Wooyoung whispered to himself. “Be a good girl and cum.”

Right on demand, your thighs squeezed together as a rush of warmth filled up your stomach. Your whole body crunched over as you came until finally your body gave up and you fell back into San’s chest. Your legs opened up again, giving Wooyung a great view of the milky white cum leaking out of your pussy.

“Yes, yes, yes” Wooyoung mumbled as he stroke himself. “Good girl,” he breathed as his hips jolted up. Your leaky cunt was the last push he needed to cum, forcing him to press his eyes shut and use his free hand to cover his mouth to mask his moans. Once he finished, he carefully peeled his eyes back open and hesitantly looked up at the same mirror, relief rushing over him when he realized neither of you noticed.

“Good fucking girl” San praised, striking your sensitive cunt with his hand. You yelped at the impact before giving him a giggly kiss.

Up front, Wooyoung cringed seeing you two kiss. He felt good during his orgasm, but now he was annoyed again. Annoyed with the failed exchange, annoyed with the late delivery person, and annoyed with the fact that he has to sit around in his soiled underwear while listening to you two smooch each other’s faces off. He thought it was more insufferable than hearing you two have sex.

“Offer’s still on the table, you know,” San winked teasingly. Wooyoung saw San looking back at him in the rear view mirror, a smug look plastered over his face as you kissed along his neck. Wooyoung’s face wrung up in a scowl once he remembered the gross comment San made to him earlier.

“Fuck off.”

#wooyoung x reader #wooyoung smut #san x reader #choi san x reader #san smut #choi san smut #ateez smut

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local-hellhound-steals-spaghetti · 2 months ago

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It’s wild how someone posted that Moo Deng post to reddit and someone responded with what basically amounted to:

“It’s fine because they only harass the baby hippo for a small amount of time during the day when they’re feeding them and the guy doing the chasing, poking and slapping has years of experience so it’s fine! :)”

That’s like if you ordered food delivery and instead of them leaving the food at your door, they barge into your house chasing you and smacking you while filming it on his phone before leaving. But it’s fine because they only did it a little bit, filming it for their social media and then leaving you alone!!! Oh yeah and the guy’s very experienced in food delivery, so he knows what he doing obviously!

I’m sorry but that’s the most pathetic excuse for shitty animal handling I’ve ever heard.

Anyway feel free to watch the videos and make up your own mind - I just don’t think any of this is reasonable. From the sheer volume of the crowds and the proximity of the public to the animals, to the keeper’s bullying and harassment of a hippo calf.

And even if it was play, which it isn’t. But let’s entertain the idea that it is… why are you teaching an animal that is going to grow up to be between 400-600lbs to bite and charge at you for fun?

#moo deng #animal welfare #turning off notifications because it’s stressing me out

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lokirulzart · 1 year ago

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WILD WEST AU!!!!

You ever notice that when fools do a western AU, they cheap out on the horses or ignore them entirely??? WELL NOT HERE, FOLKS. ONLY THE HIGHEST QUALITY HORSE CONTENT. BECAUSE I LOVE Y’ALL AND ALSO HORSES.

Frank has a snooty Appaloosa because he’s fancy, but also appaloosas are reliable trail horses, so that means he can go bug collecting without worrying much. His insect collection is the envy of all the rich collectors in the whole county.

Wally ended up with a chestnut Arabian mare, because Wally is too small for a bigger horse and I just think it’s funny. HANG ON THERE, PARDNER!! SHE’S A WILD ONE!!! Luckily, Wally is usually unaware of his own horse acting up, and the mare ends up tiring herself out just because Wally simply doesn’t even notice her… he’s too busy spacing out. But he’s one of the best Bronco Busters around thanks to her!

Hunter/trapper/fur trader Barnaby has himself a lovely Shire mare with a sweet and patient disposition. She has no trouble carrying whatever Barnaby has hunted as well as big ol’ Barnaby himself… but he still feels bad about making her work, so he only ever hunts what he needs to in order to get by.

Julie and her mustang are BOTH wild. Julie had the chance to tame her, but instead she just fed off of her spirited energy and now the two of them just tear around being crazy together, getting into trouble, rolling in the dust… Julie wouldn’t have it any other way.

What better steed for a Pony Express postal worker than a sure footed mule?! Seriously, mules are the mountain goats of the equine world. Eddie’s mule might not be as fast of a sprinter as some horses, but this animal can trek over ANY terrain, ensuring that all of the mail gets delivered on time. They have yet to miss a single delivery.

(Snake oil) Salesman Howdy Pillar has a general store in town as WELL as a covered wagon to travel around, ensuring that everyone gets the best deals on their pork ‘n’ beans, biscuits, tobacco, and tonics. You want it? Howdy’s GOT it… and his team of 3 dapple gray Connemara ponies, and one brown one, will make sure that you can get it… also the tallest character having the smallest horses makes me giggle.

Poppy doesn’t have a rideable horse yet, which is perhaps for the best. She spends a lot of time at Howdy’s general store or riding in his wagon. She is his best customer. But she has recently come by a thoroughbred foal that she is now raising from a bottle. So perhaps one day very soon Poppy will have her own tall and elegant steed to carry her around… let’s just hope he’s not too fast for her.

Sally is a performer at the local saloon by night and helps out with cleaning during the day… she knows NOTHING about horses… but one night, after all the local drunks went home, a poor American Paint got left behind. Nobody came back to claim the animal, so Sally boards him at the local ranch and visits often. She hopes one day to learn how to ride him, but it’s slow going. She is, after all, a singer and actress first.

AND THEN HOME THE SALOON!! YOU DIDN’T THINK I’D FORGET HOME, DID YOU?? He has a small stable in the back and a second floor, where Wally lives! Wally gets to spend all his free time hanging out, meeting up with his friends, and drinking all the apple juice he wants! (Just don’t tell him it’s apple juice, he’ll get confused. He thinks he’s just drinking whiskey like everyone else. It’s easier this way.) Also Home is the only saloon that can kick out belligerent drunk people itself!

Also Bonus OCs, Luna O’Hare the bilingual cartographer (created by @m0stlygh0st) and Simon, my boy, the ranch hand! Luna has an Andalusian that she likes to dress up, braid it’s mane, and stick flowers in it-… as snacks for later. They’re also grazing buddies and Luna can often be found eating the horse feed because it’s so similar to rabbit food. Simon has a gelding Quarter Horse with golden retriever energy and not a single braincell to his name. Poor Simon… but at least his horse loves him.

YEEHAW!!!! 🤠

#welcome home #wally darling #frank frankly #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #Eddie dear #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #sally starlet #welcome home oc #cowboy AU #western AU #wild west AU #horses

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tofics · 3 months ago

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Broken - Chapter 6

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!Reader

Summary: A year has passed since Joel and Ellie have returned to Jackson when he finds you on patrol, half frozen and half burning up. Jackson takes you in and nurses you back to health, welcoming you as the newest member of their community. The more time passes, Joel realizes that you and him have more in common than he likes… Until one day, everything changes and you get a gift that he’ll never get.

Word Count: 3433 words

This chapter is very dark. Reader discretion is advised.

Warnings: violence (knife at throat, choking through knee on chest), clear intentions of killing, blood, clear mention of SA (usage of the r-word), panic attack, throwing up, cursing.

Chapter 6 - Nightmare Knocking On Your Door

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. The knife you're pressing into his throat is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by the sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You barely register his female companion crying out and staggering towards you before she's pulled out of your view. Then someone drops to their knees besides you. "Whoa whoa whoa, hey, why don't we put the knife away?" Tommy's voice is gentle, clearly meant to ease you down, but you only hiss in response, never taking your eyes off your prey.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

One Hour Earlier

Springtime in Jackson is nothing but beautiful.

Joel and you returned to Jackson a week earlier. Although your mission was unfruitful, you still came carrying gifts and trinkets. None of the ranches you hit up had any cows to offer, but a few of them still had quite a bit of resources scattered around to loot from.

Betsy received two relatively in-shape backpacks that you found, filled with all kinds of knick-knacks that can be helpful out in the wild.

The Tipsy Bison got a fresh batch of whiskey, found stashed away in what was presumably a 'man-cave' a long time ago.

The chalk, skipping ropes and board game you found went to the school where they're received with joy and excitement.

The thing you were most excited about though was a stash of Savage Starlight comics that you found in an abandoned library. When Joel told you about Ellie's love for them, there was no question that they'd be coming with you, weight be damned.

Ellie was ecstatic and wrapped you in a bear hug that made you all fuzzy and hurting inside at the same time. Despite the hurt, you hugged her right back.

Everyone else was grateful for their deliveries as well.

You've come to love this little town, there's no doubt about it. This place is as close to the old world as it comes, if someone put a spin on it and cranked up the equality setting. Everyone chips in, everyone gets something out of it. It actually fucking works.

It's always bustling, no matter the season, but now that the colors are changing from white and gray and brown to blue skies and green and specks of color here and there, provided by the odd early flower, it's almost something out of a fairytale. Some days you're convinced Snow White will come around a corner with a bunch of forest animals trailing behind her.

That's not to say life is easy. You're not delusional about the world outside of the town's walls, it's still an apocalyptic shit-show out there, run by raiders and infected. But it's out there and you're in here. In a community that looks out for its members. With a roof over your head, food in your stomach, and a warm bed to sleep in at night. That in itself is already more than you allowed yourself to dream of for the past twenty years.

And yet, somehow, as if you weren't already lucky enough, there's Joel and Ellie.

Ellie with her infectious smile and silly jokes and ruthless honesty that seems way beyond her years and Joel with his... Joelness. The quiet exterior that hides more than you could've ever thought and somehow got lucky enough to become privy to.

Your life is bordering on being too good to be true. That, you're certain of.

And yet you can't help but smile, all the damn time.

It's like not only Jackson is thawing out, but so are you. Something that was buried deep inside of you is slowly resurfacing, breathing more color and life back into you with every day that passes. It's the most wonderful and scariest feeling you've come across yet.

You're on your way to the stalls, admiring Jackson's spring attire when you hear the commotion near the gates. One of the guards is shouting something unintelligible, closely followed by the tell-tale sound of the gates slowly being opened.

This is strange for two reasons. One, it's too early for patrol to return - unless something happened. Two, the guards wouldn't be yelling to open the gates for patrol - unless something happened.

Joel's on patrol this morning.

Apple still in hand, your feet turn the opposite direction from the stalls. You're running by the time you arrive at the small plaza in front of the gates.

Please, please, don't let anything have happened to him.

You're not the only person the guard's shouts attracted. A small crowd has formed in front of the gates, obscuring them from your view. People at the front are muttering, but you can't tell by their tone whether what they're seeing is good or bad.

Please, not Joel. Please.

Your pulse drums in your ears as you push through the rows of bystanders.

Not him. Anyone but him.

He is the first thing you see when you stumble out of the crowd, up on his horse and alive, thank God. Your eyes roam over his body to check for injuries, but you can't find any. Instead, your eyes stop on the hands wrapped around Joel's waist from behind.

What the...?

Your gaze flits over to the second horse that's carrying Jeff. He appears to be healthy too, thankfully, but there is also a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

"Who'd they bring in?," a voice sounds from your right, and it finally clicks.

Oh. They brought new people.

It's crazy how quickly you can go from being the new one to being one of the people in the face of strangers. A multitude of thoughts run through your head in the few seconds it takes for the information to register in your brain, ranging from 'Thank God Joel's okay' to 'I wonder whether they'll fit in', never once considering the fact that you're now on the opposite side of where you were a few months ago when Joel brought you in on that very same horse.

To the left of you, Tommy weaves through the people watching the action unfold and walks up to Joel's horse. They exchange a few words and you see Tommy nodding, first to Joel, then to Jeff.

"I guess that means they get to stay. For now," the woman next to you mutters. "For now?" You raise an eyebrow at her. "What does that mean?" She turns to you with a mocking expression that quickly fades when she realizes that it's you. "Oh. Yeah, guess you wouldn't know. Council's gonna decide whether they're a good fit or not. If not..." She shrugs, the implication of the words unspoken hanging heavy in the air between you.

It's never occurred to you before, but of course a place like Jackson would have a system in place that decides whether or not people are a good fit for them. Just because nothing was ever explicitly brought up to you doesn't mean that you never went through a screening process yourself.

Joel's passenger is revealed to be a very pregnant woman when he slides off his horse with ease. How she was even able to hold on to him with a belly of that size between them is beyond you, but it also answers any question about why Jeff and Joel decided to bring them in.

You watch as Joel and Tommy awkwardly help her come off the horse. "Phew, looks like she's about to pop any minute now," the woman to your side comments, and you couldn't agree more.

She is lucky they found her when they did, you think as the woman puts her hands on her lower back for support, visibly stiff from the ride and the extra weight she is lugging around.

Opposite of the little trio Jeff jumps down from his four-legged companion and extends a hand out to his own passenger. His help is accepted and - thump - the second stranger sets their feet on Jackson's ground. Jeff pets them on the back and smiles, and although you're too far away to properly hear him, you can practically read the words on his lips: Welcome to Jackson.

From the frame of the person, you assume it's a man, likely the second half of DNA that's currently cooking in the woman's belly. He reaches for Jeff's hand and envelopes it in both of his. "Thank you, man, I don't know what we would have done without you."

A sizzling pain shoots through your body and immobilizes you.

You know that voice.

It's haunted you in your dreams for years.

You'd recognize it anywhere.

Jeff and the man move towards the other half of the arrival party and you watch, frozen in place, as the back of the head turns into a side-profile until you're staring into his face.

Him.

The face of the one person you hate most in this world.

The face of the monster that is responsible for your pain. For her pain.

The apple in your hand falls to the ground and lands with a soft thud, but you barely register it. Time seems to stand still as your eyes lock on him, that face you'll never be able to forget.

Bile is working its way up your throat and filling your mouth with the sour and bitter taste of pure, unfiltered hatred. Your vision blurs and refocuses multiple times, his face going in and out of focus as if your brain is doing repeated double-takes, unable to process what you're seeing.

Every single muscle in your body is on fire, screaming a thousand silent cries that are only matched by the high-pitched ringing in your ears, so loud and deafening that no other sound comes through.

I will kill you.

The sentence is so loud and so clear in your mind that it snaps your body back into reality and time resumes.

In front of you, they're being welcomed, hands are shaken and pats on the shoulders are given out. "Wanna bet on when she pops?," you hear from your right but don't waste a single glance.

Your eyes are locked on your target.

You watch in trance - or like a predator stalking their prey? - as the pregnant woman and her accompanying monster are welcomed with open arms into your community, your safe-space until he turns to Joel and shakes his hand.

"No. NO!," you screech and everyone turns towards you, but your legs are already carrying you forward, your hands finding the knife that you keep tucked in your belt on their own accord as you beeline for the source of all your misery.

You see him doing the mental math of placing you. The initial confusion, the recognition that wipes the smile from his face, and finally, the fear that spreads in his eyes.

Good. Fear me, for I will be your death.

Tommy, who is closest to you, tries to step into your path. "Hey, what's goin' o-," is how far he gets before you push him to the side and lunge forward.

He goes down hard, despite his large statue, your knife at his throat.

"YOU." Spit flies from your lips as you scream into the man's face, foaming at your mouth. Your knife is already drawing blood, the blade pressed against the skin so tightly that it's being split open by its sharp edge. It's taking every ounce of strength in you not to slice him open right there and then.

You've waited so long for this moment.

You dreamt of it so many times; so many versions where the outcome is always the same: you, taking his life.

Tommy is still talking to you, urging and soothing words mixing into a slurry background noise. You briefly make out Joel's name being called, but you block it all out, a tight wall coming down in your mind to shut it all out. Nothing and no one will take this from you.

"Not fighting back now, hm?," you pant and lick your lips. Your eyes flit back and forth between his, soaking up the fear in them like dry ground on a rainy day. "What, fight's gone out of you that quick?"

He doesn't reply, he just stares back at you, something unreadable behind the panic in his eyes.

"Fight back, you coward." You press the knife harder into his skin, drawing more blood. He winces but doesn't draw back, nor does he make any attempt to fight you off.

After what he did? After what he put her through?

Here he is, at your mercy, and he won't even attempt to fight back?

It makes you furious.

"I said fight BACK," you roar and shake him, fist buried into his jacket. He thumps back into the ground and his head comes down hard, but his hands remain stoically at his side, not moving an inch besides the fists his fingers have curled into.

Instead, he opens his mouth for the first time.

"I'm sorry." The words come out in a hoarse whisper.

It's so far from what you ever could have imagined him saying in a moment like this that for just a second, you're taken aback.

Then an even deadlier rage overtakes you.

You pull him up by his collar until your nose meets his nose. You stare into his eyes, making sure he truly sees you as you speak your next words.

"You don't get to say that to me," you hiss out between clenched teeth. "Not to me, when you should have said it to her, you fucking piece of shit!"

You slam him back to the ground and add a knee to his chest, pressing him into the dirt. It delights you, the way he's struggling to breathe under your weight. The fear in his eyes slowly grows into panic with every hitched breath he tries to take.

"Give me one good reason why I should let you live," you snarl.

He's panting now, wincing when you add more pressure on the blade at his throat.

"One good reason for why I shouldn't slice you open right here, right now."

The woman he came with screams at your words. It's shrill and piercing and filled with so much fear for him that you can only shoot her a quick look of pure disdain. How could she be worried about the life of a monster?

He holds your gaze and you can see it in his eyes, that slow shift from panic to begging, and you can't help but laugh. "Pah!" You spit onto the ground next to him. "That's what I thought."

You raise your knife to deliver the final cut that will take his life when he suddenly speaks again.

"She's alive," he sputters and heaves for air.

You freeze in your spot, knife hanging mid-air.

"Say that again." Your voice is low, threatening. He eyes the blade, then quickly looks back to you.

"She's alive."

You lick your lips as your eyes feverishly move back and forth between his, trying to detect signs of the lie you're sure you're being told.

"Hey," a low voice says next to you, the first one to get through to you since you've tackled this monster to the ground. "Hey," Joel repeats and you feel a gentle hand on your back, but you don't move, don't look away from the scum in front of you, frozen in action.

"What's going on?" Joel's voice is as gentle as the hand on your back, but you know him well enough by now to hear the concern in his voice, try as he might to conceal it.

He waits for your response, his hand burning on your back like hot iron. A few moments pass as the thoughts race through your brain.

"Why should I believe you?," you finally spit out.

His response is as simple as it is logical. "What do I have to lose?" His voice is raspy from the lack of air in his lungs. "Why should I lie to you, when you would kill me anyway?"

Your breathing is almost as labored as his. Your pulse is drumming in your ears, drowning out your thoughts and making it hard to think. Next to you, Joel says your name.

"Location." It's a clear order from your lips.

"I don't know." The words are barely out of his mouth when you respond with a croaky laugh, ramming him into the ground once more.

"You filthy piece of shit, of course you don't. Because you're lying." You raise your knife again, but then your arm is obstructed, caught mid-way by a strong hand.

"Joel, let go," you hiss but he doesn't budge, just shakes his head. "Not like this. Not here." He cocks his head at the crowd that's gathered around you and you realize everyone's eyes on you for the first time.

No. No, this is all wrong.

"You don't know what he did," you cry out, suddenly desperate to make him understand that you have to do this, that no matter what, you can't let him just walk away, not after what he did to her.

"You'll tell me. He won't get away." Joel's free hand gently wraps around the knife in your hand. "Ain't that right, Tommy?"

Your vision is starting to swim at the bottom as tears are flooding your eyes. Joel's gaze stays locked on yours, his eyes communicating more to you than his words ever could in this moment.

Trust me, they're saying, and despite every instinct in you screaming at you, you feel your hand releasing the knife.

"I got you."

Joel's eyes never leave yours, not when he gives the knife to Tommy, not when he gets up and lifts you with him, not when both his hands wrap around your elbows and lead you away from the scene, from the crowd, from him.

"Tell me what I need to know."

You're behind the town hall, just far enough to be out of sight and earshot of what's happening in front of the gates. Joel's hands are still on you, though whether he's keeping them there to keep you here or to steady you, you're not sure.

He's watching you intently, waiting for you to offer up an explanation, but the words are getting stuck in your throat, too thick and heavy and laced with pain to come out.

A sob breaks through your panicked breaths and you tug on your arms, wishing to be loose so you can pace about, but Joel won't let you.

"Tell me, babygirl. Tell me what I need to know." His voice matches the urgency in his eyes and another shrieky sob escapes you.

"He did that to her," you finally press out, a whispery shriek that cuts through your chest like a hot knife through butter.

"Did what, baby?" Joel coaxes you, his voice soft but serious, concern etched into his eyebrows.

Tears are running down your cheeks as images of the worst moment in your life flicker across your vision, the monster's grin taunting you like a horror mask as he's hunched over her, his hands digging into the flesh on her hips like she's not made of flesh but of dough.

The bile comes up so quickly that all you can do is turn your head to the side before it shoots out of your mouth. You vomit into the bushes, one of Joel's hand rubbing your back while the other holds your hair, soothing sounds coming from his lips that do little to stop your stomach from emptying all its contents into the green foliage.

You let yourself slide to the ground when there's nothing left to vomit up anymore, breaths heavy and sharp in your ravaged throat.

"He raped her, Joel. He raped my babygirl. Right in front of my eyes."

Series Masterlist - Mobile Masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way. I'm always happy to practice my writing! :)

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters!

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No pressure tags, just thought you'd maybe enjoy the update: @shooting-hearts @peekyourinterest @chaandii @karaslqve @jessthebaker

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wimble-warcrime · 8 days ago

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been watching wayy too many bushcraft stuff and wilderness survival competition tv shows, so im inspired first COD fic, but i've read too many not to contribute at this point

-bushcrafter!simon riley who is not normal about anything, lets be real here. he spends 6 months deployed in bumfuck-nowhere roughing it with the boys, only to return his own little piece of land in the middle of civilized bumfuck-nowhere. he bought the property after a night of too many drinks and decided in his drunken stupor that he had no need for people or pagentry. and he was right

-he sells most of his earthly possesions, putting whatever he can't (or won't) sell into a storage container he hauls up to the property. at first, with his military training and field experience, he gets by on the bare bones while he figures his shit out. this isn't some survival expedition with a clear goal--he's going full wildman, living in the woods like this. the only address he has is a p.o. box at the closest town's post office. it's a bit of a pain getting down there, so he goes only when he's visiting the local hardware stores--he becomes a familiar (albeit masked) face with the locals

-his set up is pretty swanky after a good few months in the wilds on leave. he may or may not have (but he'll never admit to it) scrolled on pinterest for a wee while looking at what the bushcraft and survivalist lads were building for some inspiration, but at the ends, he's mighty proud of his little cabin in the woods. each time he comes back from deployment, he adds more to it, eventually expanding it to have a sort of functioning toilet and shower, a little woodstove and a relatively comfortable bed.

-one day after a particularly grueling mission, he decides to see just how far he can take it. he's been hunting for his game and gets a box of the community garden vegetables delivered to his driveway every week, but he wants more of a challenge. so he starts gardening. ever one for a flare of drama, simon starts using the bones of his kills to turn into some half-decent knives and other tools. and as much fun as it is, doing his dooms-day prepping shit (as price has lovingly called it) he won't admit he's lonely

-gets a rescue dog called lucky--lucky only has three legs and one working ear, but the mutt is so darn cute he has to bring the poor beastie home.

-the pretty bird who volunteers at the animal shelter is also cute, and lucky has grown on you. you're weary to part ways with the dog, but the masked man and his terrible flirting are endearing enough to smooth over the comfort. after he leaves, you're naturally curious about just who that man was. you hear around the town that he's a recluse who lives in the mountains like a caveman (he for sure could pull off a loin cloth with those hips of his) and that he gets the local garden delivery box every week

-so you do as any rational human would with that information and sign up to volunteer with the garden center. they let you deliver boxes after a few weeks of consistent effort, and when you're manager hands you the list of addresses, she makes it very clear that on box in particular is to be left at the drive way and that's it. he doesn't like people nosing around

-you save his delivery for last, driving up the 'drive way' to the edge of the woods and no further. like the foolish girl you are, you get out of the car and start hiking into the woods to deliver this man his vegetables. halfway, you find lucky running about, the mutt so excited to see his favourite human he almost vibrates right out of his skin he happily leads you to his new home, where the man you hoped to find is chopping wood out front. shirtless.

-you're content to salivate over this mans physique but lucky is determined to share his excitement with his second favourite human and announces your presence by barking.

-simon is silently thrilled you're here. ever since he met you when he adopted lucky all those weeks ago, he's been working up the courage to go back and befriend you. only problem is, simon is not normal about anything, so he instead starts fancying up his house in the hopes that you might see it one day. he told himself it was a delusion to think you'd just appear without any effort on his part. but luckily for him, you're not normal about anything either.

-you get the grand tour of the place, making a few remarks on the garden out front and the adorable little wood stove in his house ("My grandma had one of these in her house, she used to cook with me on it all the time. my apartment isn't exactly equipped for one, but i've always wanted one anyways"). when you see his bed, you can't help but sit down on it, needing to know if it's a comfy and sturdy as it looks (def not imaging why it would need to be sturdy--you're a big girly, furniture needs to handle all that extra fluff if you're using it) it is exactly as comfy as you thought it would be, lying back against the hand-me-down quilt and closing your eyes

-you make a comment about how many animal pelt are in the bed, praising simon's expert preservation of the furs and off-handedly remarking how you always wanted to learn how to hunt. when you look up at him from his bed, raking your eyes over his giant frame standing there with barely contained lust? well, let's just say he's ruminating on how big the newest addition has to be for a nursery

----

this is just a drabble, but my panties get wet at the idea of a wild, forest-dwelling man sweeping me off my feet and away from civilization to go live with him in his little hut in the woods. im the type of delulu that would HAPPILY be a bare foot and pregnant wifey living with my half feral man who worships me daily and lives to please me

did i maybe ready waayyy too man werewolf romance stories as a tween? why yes, yes i did. it altered my brain chemistry in a way you guys just wouldn't understand, but i cannot be normal about relationships anymore and it's a problem

ANYWAYZZZ hope you enjoyed, cause i know i did ;)

#cod #cod x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty #call of duty x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #wimble writes

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