#i spent hours trying to make/find a nice coloring | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atskiruma · 1 year

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his attempts at courting you

expl: he finds himself thinking about you more often, wanting to seek you out consistently, and giving you numerous gifts every day to see you smile

a/n: it has come to my attention that the last ff i wrote, (snow day) was not very well depicted for all readers to enjoy, i want to apologize for that and promise that i will get better at trying to make sure everyone is able to read it and enjoy it, my writings are targeted for all | unfortunately, i can not edit it right now seeing as there's a poll going on, but once that poll is finished i will change my wording in the ff

ask me anything masterlist

second person writing no pronouns used

Zhongli often felt himself thinking about you more often while he was working around the parlor. Even seeking out your name in conversations and listening more attentively when someone was speaking about you. It didn't confuse him though, he was aware of his interest in you.

You opened up the warmth in his heart and welcomed him kindly every time you two saw each other. It made him happy to see you happy, and this was evident when flowers were delivered directly to your door one sunny afternoon.

"These are for you," The mail lady said before turning around and walking away to do more deliveries. You didn't even get to ask who they were from before she was gone. Staring down at the bouquet of tiger lilies in front of you, you could only assume that the bright orange and black colors could depict a certain someone's hair color.

It was a nice piece on your kitchen counter and went well with the other decorations spiraling around your house. That was, until the next morning, you were greeted again with another gift. A bright orange vase to compliment the tiger lilies you received the other day. It was funny, why was he going out of his way to send you such nice gifts?

You finally managed to confront him when you saw Childe and Zhongli sitting together on the seats of an outside cafe. Walking over and waving to the both of them. They greeted you back, and small talk was given for only a couple minutes.

"I actually came over here to thank Zhongli," This caught his attention, and he turned to look up at you, "I really loved the flowers you sent and the vase goes really well with them too!" You said while smiling.

He nodded back at you, seemingly collecting himself extremely quickly at the fact you figured out so quick who it was. "I'm glad you liked them," He said.

"I came to give you this in return," You said," "I know it's probably not as extravagant as the ones you gave me, but I like it." Handing over the small gift box, he opened it and smiled softly at the item. It was a small keychain, nothing special, and it was decorated with a lovely orange seem.

That same keychain would be hung up right next to his bedframe, along with variant letters you sent him on the table accompanying it.

Diluc was someone who took courting another person seriously. He found it tradition since his father had spoken so much of it when Diluc was younger. He always wanted to treat the one he loved with respect and be as much of a gentleman as possible.

This was why you were taking a stroll with him through his grapevines on a sunny afternoon. He offered for you to come down to the Winery a couple days ago and you had just gotten around to accepting his offer. His hand rested on your back as he took you through multiple different paths and explained everything. As you strolled, he talked about things concerning the vine, his profits, the seasons they needed to be planted, etc.

You smiled at him, knowing it was something he took dear to his heart, and listened very attentively to what he was saying. In reality, Diluc was really hoping that all he was talking about didn't bore you in any way.

Then, the next couple of hours were spent sitting in his large dining room, eating food made by the cooks in his home. It was nice, and you were very happy that he wanted to spend this much time with you. Diluc even found himself watching you eat here and there, asking you if the food was good or if you needed anything else in the time being.

After everything was over, and the night sky shined over the two of you as you stood outside his doors, he leaned down and pressed a small kiss to your hand. Telling you how much of a pleasure it was to have you here, and how he wished you could stay longer.

Diluc even offered to walk you home, tediously not taking no for an answer, he reached down to take your hand and hold it the whole walk home.

Alhaitham was very closed off when he first met you, he was closed off with anyone in general. He found it strange that you always seemed to be there when he was thinking about you, and when his eyes would try and search a room in the akademiya for you.

He realized that something had to be done about this, so, he did what any other raging nerd would do, and researched about it.

You also found it odd when you'd see him looking at you from across the library, or holding the door open for you whenever you'd walking behind him. Alhaitham always seemed like the guy who only cared about his own, yet he was so evident in helping you out here and there.

Helping you when you'd be confused about a book, rewording your essays to make them better. Alhaitham seemed to want to assist you with almost everything. This was no different than today.

You found yourself back at the library looking down at a long-written parchment on the forest rangers' activities. Trying to figure out how you could make this work in the essay you were conducting on Sumeru's forest.

This was when you heard the chair scrap right next to you, and looked up from where you had originally been focused. Alhaitham took his seat next to you, slightly taking up more space than necessary with his manspreading.

"Do you need help with that? It looks like a longer report than usual for you."

"Longer than usual?" You shot back, "Are you saying that I'm not capable of reading this?" His eyes widened a bit and he instantly tried to retort his original statement. "No, no, I thought- Well- You know you usually read shorter reports in order to get more details. I didn't think you'd take something this large to account."

His confession made you smile, and you leaned in closer, "How'd you know how I like my reports?" At the response with your cheeky grin, a blush formed on his cheeks before he looked away.

"Scholars are supposed to be attentive, it's natural to know a few things you prefer in order to work best with you."

The response he sent back your way caused you to roll your eyes and turn back to what you were originally doing. "To answer your question, no, I do not need help, but thank you for offering."

That didn't seem to make him budge, because he kept sitting there watching you copy down and write words from the book.

"You misspelled climate."

The sound of a book colliding with his head echoed throughout the library.

Ayato enjoyed your company, a lot, so much that he seeks you out anytime he and his sister go down to festivals or strolls through the city. He always wanted to start up a conversation with you, and if anyone else walked by anytime he'd be down there, Ayato would be right next to you listening with a smile at whatever you said.

Ayaka loved you too and found it amusing that her brother was so interested in you. She often found herself trying to spark up conversations with you, asking if her older brother proposed yet in a joking manner.

You laughed it off, Ayato was nice but you were sure he had other rich and important people to concern his love life with. He was just a very nice man to talk with here and there, and you didn't seem to notice that you were one of the few he'd actually seek out.

That was, until, every time he saw you, he came with some form of jewelry or expensive item to give you. Asking you how your day was, what you were doing, and if you wanted to come to spend some time up at the estate with him.

"What about Ayaka?" You said with a tilt of your head in confusion. He smiled back and said, "I'm sure she'd rather stay down here and explore more of the shops.

Ayaka would have loved to come along, but before she could even turn around, the two of you were already heading back up to the estate.

He catered to you, made sure you were comfortable, and even asked if you'd like anything from his personal chefs. It was a bit much to handle, seeing as you weren't used to living so luxurious, but he was very nice about it all and understood.

The catering didn't stop after that day either, more and more people began to wonder why the Kamisato siblings were spending so much more time outside their palace. Ayaka once mentioned that you loved a certain color, and the next day Ayato was handing you a box with that color, and a necklace with the pearl containing that color too.

He even found himself marching over to you when he saw someone speaking to you in a more flirtatious matter. Moving next to you and asking if everything was alright while his hand wrapped around your own.

#ayato imagines #diluc imagines #alhaitham imagines #zhongli imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact imagines #zhongli x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #diluc x reader

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chuluoyi · 4 months

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the birthday boy

- fushiguro megumi x reader

your boyfriend is indifferent towards his own special day, but with you, he actually finds it worth celebrating

genre/warnings: fluff, fluff, fluff with a teeny weeny dash of angst

notes: loosely based on this fanart. pls just give my boi back gege you awful one-eyed cat how could you hold him hostage even on his birthday

listen to: sakura koi by mosawo don't mind me i just get all soft for this poor boy *sigh*

series masterlist | oneshot masterlist

Megumi never really liked birthdays—his own birthdays, specifically.

"Come on, Megumi... just what is it that you want for your present?" you pleaded, pursing your lips together as you faced your boyfriend. "I don't want to give you a surprise only to find out it's not something you'd enjoy!"

However, ever since Gojo went and took him in, ever since he began attending Jujutsu High, and ever since he started dating you, to his chagrin, everyone started making a big fuss over it.

With the straightest face ever, he glanced at you and muttered, "I'm telling you, you can get me whatever."

"That's not an answer!"

"Seriously, you can pick anything. I'm good with anything."

You huffed in exasperation. "You're so unbelievably uncooperative, sheesh."

"On the contrary, I think I'm being quite amiable," he deadpanned. "You don't have to think about it that hard."

In a way, you should've expected this. Your boyfriend was never one who made a big deal over anything, and he probably meant it when he said that he was good with whatever. Your soft boy was just wired that way.

Meanwhile, to Megumi, his birthday was more of a remainder of good old days he spent with his kind sister and Gojo—when times were much more simpler. When Tsumiki was still alive and well. Call him an emo, but he was just feeling bittersweet.

Tsumiki would craft him this makeshift party hat, and Gojo would get him an overly sweet birthday cake with an even more over-the-top frostings. They'd join in singing him happy birthday, and Gojo's singing would be intentionally and especially awful while at it.

But now that he thought back to it, he kind of missed those times.

You threw him a narrowed-eyed look. "Forget it, I half-expected this anyway—" but then, suddenly struck by an idea, you exclaimed, "—oh! Wait, I know!"

Your enthusiastic exclamation caught his attention, and he silently observed as you furiously tapped away on your phone, scouring Google for standard gift ideas for boyfriends.

For the next half-hour, you continuously sought his feedback on each of suggestions. However, Megumi only nodded or agreed with evident disinterest, which didn't really answer your question at all.

“You’re seriously going to be like this, huh?” you sighed, frowning in total indignation, but in your boyfriend’s eyes, you were the height of absolute cuteness.

As you grumbled inwardly about how dull he was, Megumi wore a small smile. Truthfully, if asked, his ideal birthday would revolve around spending time with you. You didn't have to lose your head over this.

Needless to say, you were still trying to make it an event to remember. And Megumi knew, because you were so obvious it was giving him secondhand embarrassment.

"Itadori! I'm telling you—" you were rebuking a sheepish Yuji on broad daylight regarding which color for balloons to be placed in the class on the day of his birthday. Earlier, he saw you and Nobara huddled together, talking about cakes and pastries, then also animatedly discussing with Inumaki, Panda and Maki, pulling out all the stops for a celebration plan without missing a beat.

Megumi could only facepalm at your attempt to maintain secrecy—in which you were failing miserably, almost as if you hadn't really made an effort at all.

"Isn’t it nice, Megumi?" suddenly Gojo slid beside him, with a stupid grin on his face. "Someone who exclusively goes this far for you, hmm?"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Ha! Don't be shy," Gojo barked, leaving him with a friendly pat in the back before stalking away with a snicker, and Megumi wasn't the least bit amused. He was certain that at least, Yuji and Nobara would tease the heck out of him after all was said and done due to your antics.

Even so, he didn't have the heart to stop you, appreciating your well-meaning efforts. He felt somewhat soft too inside, as he didn't expect that there would be someone who cared about this way too much like you did. Just it felt strange—

—because last he remembered, the only person who was hellbent on making his birthday a nice memory was Tsumiki.

. . .

So you were organizing a surprise party for him alongside others. Megumi already knew that, he had anticipated it and frankly, he didn’t actually expect much, but when he actually stepped into the classroom and was greeted with a literal bang, confetti, colorful banners, balloons, and a crowd of well-wishers, he was floored.

“Fushiguro! Happy birthday!”

“Look happier a little, would you?!”

“Look! Look! We got you a cake!”

Yuji and Panda almost hugged him—but before he could, Megumi shoved them away, Nobara handed him a paper bag tied with a pretty bow with a cool smile—believing her gift to be the best, Inumaki gave his hand a shake, and Maki wished him only the best.

All of this was within his expectations. He knows, and yet…

"Hey, Megumi! Smile!" your voice stood out the most, along with your widest smile, beaming and gesturing towards the camera as you were about to take a group picture.

Megumi swore his heart skipped a beat. His pretty, sweet girlfriend. Your affections reached him, and it dampened the hardness that he always carried inside his heart. In that fleeting moment, he felt you were radiant, just like the sun.

Then he turned his gaze and found the person he knew he could never thank enough in this lifetime. Gojo, for the first time in a while, wasn't the clown he made himself to be for his sake. Standing with crossed arms, he quietly watched over him, nodding towards the camera as well with a meaningful smile.

Megumi felt warm, he felt loved, and he wouldn’t admit it, but this might be the best day of his life—surrounded by you and his friends like this. And he actually felt more than just that, but no words could do it justice, because nothing could have ever captured the overwhelming fullness inside his chest.

Tsumiki... You see... I'm doing well, you know?

Later, after all festivities are done, you managed to pull him into a secluded corner of the dorms to give him your one-of-a-kind gift, while fidgeting nervously.

"What is it?" he questioned, gaze squarely fixed on you. "At this point, there's no need for you to be this nervous. Nothing could've surprised me any more than Panda's giant panda earlier."

You laughed, recalling how he nearly got squashed by the life-sized stuffed panda earlier, but then you averted your gaze, feeling your face flush and turning into the cutest shade of pink.

"Well! To be fair, it was because you were so uncooperative when I asked what you wanted for your gift! And since I have gotten you the cake, I figured it'll be fun if you want to play this game..."

You huffed, and Megumi simply blinked in confusion when you handed him five pieces of papers—tickets? He turned them over to find the words "Free Pass" written on each one.

"Sooo you can use each ticket to ask me to do anything! Anything at all, be it me dancing to the worst song you can think of, or whatever!" your cheeks were burning so hard, but your resolute gaze kept him captivated as you continued, "So yeah, you get five free passes to make me do things I wouldn't normally do."

Lips pursed, eyes sparkling, cheeks ablaze. All in all, you were irresistibly adorable that Megumi had this overwhelming urge to scoop you up and put you inside his pocket if he could.

And really, free passes? Did you not consider the numerous exploitable loopholes he could subject you to?

"Okay, here, I want to use my first ticket."

"Huh! Already? What is it?"

He chuckled then, his lips tugging into the warmest of smiles, and you felt your heart soar, seeing that rare carefree expression on him.

"I want to kiss you."

#fushiguro megumi x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk drabbles #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader fluff #fushiguro x reader #megumi x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #fushiguro megumi fluff #fushiguro megumi x y/n #jjk #megumi fluff

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wombywoo · 6 months

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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yandere-daydreams · 7 months

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Title: Scarlet and Gold.

Pairing: Yandere!Diluc x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 3.1k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Unhealthy Relationships, Gore (No Injury To Reader), Blood, Implied Consensual Sex, Past Trauma, Obsessive Behavior, and Intimidation.

By the time you reached the address, Diluc was already waiting in the lobby.

You’d gotten the call about an hour ago, spent half an hour dragging yourself out of bed and gathering what you’d need before making the twenty minute drive to an apartment complex on the other side of town, careful to avoid any security cameras the cops would think to check if anyone requested an investigation. Five more to park and throw your well-worn duffle bag over your shoulder and three to find Diluc, loitering near the elevators, fiddling with a loose cigarette he would never light. You greeted him with a quick nod before throwing your bag into his chest, and he feigned a groan, stumbling back as he caught it. He needed to work on his impressions, but that could wait.

You spoke first. That, you couldn’t critique him on – most androids couldn’t speak until spoken to, and you couldn’t expect Diluc to go against one of the core tenants of his programming. “What is it?”

“Just the usual.” He kept his voice low, muted, trying to hide the remaining traces of an accent that’d been invented by some marketing team over a decade ago. “I’ve already seen the apartment. There’s a little blood, but not much else. We’ll be done by sunrise.”

You took the stairs, keeping your head bowed and face shielded from any possible security cameras. Diluc didn’t share your paranoia, staring straight ahead with the same indifferent expression he always seemed to wear. The benefits of having a face that’d been printed and distributed tens of thousands of times, you guessed. Tracking down a single Diluc in a sea of androids and companion bots wasn’t a length most detectives were willing to go to. “I’d rather not have to do this at all.”

“You’ll survive.”

“Says the man who doesn’t have to sleep.” You came to a stop in front of the first door on the fourth story and tried the knob. It gave easily, the cheap titanium dented and the lock broken beyond any hope of repair. Diluc’s handiwork, obviously, although you couldn’t say whether or not he’d done it on purpose. “Anything else you want to tell me, before we get started?”

He thought, for a second. “I passed a carousel on the way here,” he said, with no particular inflection. “It was nice. I thought the horses were well-crafted.”

“About the assignment, ‘luc.”

“Oh,” And then, with a hint of red in his pale cheek. “You might want to hold your breath.”

You didn’t have to ask what he meant. As soon as you opened the door, you were hit with the stomach-turning stench of stale blood and rotting gore, both at least a week old. You cursed, pulling your shirt over your nose and mouth, but pushed forward. The first body was splayed out in the center of the cramped living room, wrists and ankles bound with disembodied wiring, all clothing removed and chest dotted with black ink. The abdomen had been cut open, skin peeled away to reveal the entrails in their full, shriveled glory. Judging by the number of blades littered around the corpse, ranging from blunted scissors to gore-splattered carving knives, it’d been more of a hack job than a dissection.

Diluc had undersold the mess. Blood had soaked into the carpeting and dried, turning the floor a ruddy, reddish-brown color. What was left had gotten on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling. You swallowed back a groan. The furniture could be broken down and discarded, the walls and ceiling bleached. The carpeting, though, would have to be torn up and replaced, which meant you would have to spend a few more precious minutes of your night calling in a cleaning crew. That, or you would have to make Diluc do it, but he was shy around new people, and you were too much of a bleeding heart to sit back and watch him do your work.

“The second body’s in the bedroom.” He was already rummaging through your duffle bag, paying the scene in front of you no more mind that a butcher would lend to a pig on a meat hook. He handed you your tools – a pair of wire cutters, a box cutter, and a pocket-sized sewing kit – and kept the rest for himself. “Let me know when you’re done.”

You let out a breath of a laugh. “I thought you would’ve gotten over that by now, ‘luc.”

He didn’t indulge you with a response, only pulling on a pair of latex gloves and starting towards the corpse. You didn’t stick around to watch. Rather, you followed the carnage where it branched off further into the apartment, a trail of rotting viscera and tacky blood leading you into a moderately sized, completely undecorated bedroom. You found your perpetrator quickly; a Dottore droid, still wearing its Teyvat-issued costuming, its hands bloody and a scrap of intestine still caught in its pointed teeth. You paused in the doorway, feeling for the military-grade taser (the only weapon effective against androids, as far as anyone could tell) you kept in your pocket, but the android didn’t move, didn’t shift, didn’t activate at all when you reluctantly approached. There was a charging port at the foot of the bed, still pristine. It must’ve run out of battery just before it could plug itself in.

Towels from the nearest bathroom were dampened and brought in, the evidence of slaughter scrubbed away from artificial skin and its blood-soaked clothing removed. It was muscle memory, by now – dragging the body to its charging port, knocking the converter out of the outlet before connecting the android to its port, making it seem like its late user had drained its batteries before mistakenly leaving it on a dead cable. When it’d slummed into place, you took up your box cutter and sliced a long, thin line from the lowest portion of the scalp to the nape of its neck, revealing the color-coded string of wires that connected the processing units in its metal skull to the rest of its body. You cut through everything you could find, ensuring that if the unit was ever activated again, it wouldn’t be able to do so much as blink. For good measure, you fished out the memory chip kept in the centermost compartment of the throat, too, crushing it under your heel and sweeping the glittering remnants underneath the bed. A copy of the footage it collected would’ve been sent to Teyvat's severs, too, but erasing it was someone else’s job. You were only here to take care of yourself.

With a breathy groan, you bit off a length of thread and haphazardly stitched up your ragged incision. The cosmetics really didn’t matter. In a few days, when someone filed a missing person’s report and the cops stopped by for a check-in, they’d find a spotless apartment, a dysfunctional android, and nothing else. The investigation would lead elsewhere, to a bitter ex-partner or a friend without an alibi, or it would hit a dead end. Either way, Teyvat wouldn’t be involved.

You slipped back out of the bedroom, careful to avoid touching anything you didn’t absolutely have to. By the time you got back to the living room, the body was gone and Diluc was kneeling by a black suitcase no larger than the average carry-on, securing the tags with transparent zip-ties. You and Diluc would haul it to a dump on the outskirts of the city tonight, and a contact of yours would have it compressed and incinerated by tomorrow morning. Maybe, when you were done, you’d take him out for something to eat. Or, you’d get something to eat while he let a mug of black coffee go cold.

You rested your hand on his shoulder by way of praise, pulling away when he stiffened underneath you. Right, that was something you had to work on. Most rogue androids tended to be touch-adverse at best, made aggressive by little more than eye-contact at worst. Diluc was relatively tame compared to most of the cases you handled, but you would still rather not provoke him. “Did you find the phone?”

He grunted, fishing a smartphone out of his pocket. With your sleeve pulled over your hand, you accepted it, found the nearest window, and chucked it as far as into the night as you could. Diluc appeared over your shoulder. “Forty-five meters,” he said, as glass crashed into cement somewhere in the distance. “Above average for non-athletes.”

“I’ve been practicing.” The window was closed, the suitcase slung over Diluc’s shoulder along with your near-empty duffle bag. “I have to make a call. You can meet me in the garage, if you want.” Already pulling up the number to your preferred cleaning service, you glanced to Diluc. “Are we doing breakfast?”

His posture straightened. “Yes.” If you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought you saw a spark in his glass eyes. “I want to try tea, today.”

By the time you got to the door, Diluc was soaking wet.

You hadn’t gotten a call, and he didn’t text. The first warning you got was a knock on your door, then another a few minutes later, after you decided that anyone who’d go out in this kind of weather wasn’t someone you wanted in your shoebox of an apartment. You only caved after the third, imagining a neighbor who’d gotten locked out or some lost, desperate tourist as you dragged yourself off of your couch and to the unlit entryway. Predictably, Diluc stood in your doorway, red hair plastered to his scalp and clothes drenched, not that he seemed to mind.

“Can you—” He paused, his dull eyes meeting yours as he ran his fingers through his hands, dragging the crimson heap out of his face. “Can you cut my hair?”

Ten minutes later, he was sitting on a stool in your cramped bathroom, wearing grey sweatpants and a (three sizes too big on you, just a touch too small on him) t-shirt while his own clothes dried. He’d told you it wasn’t necessary, that he didn’t feel the cold like you did. When you told him that you didn’t want an univited guest tracking water into your apartment, he accepted it with a curt nod and changed in your bedroom.

After prepping your razor, you positioned yourself behind him, dragging a comb through his hair. It was long enough to reach his waist, curled at the end to make him seem just a touch more disheveled than he actually was. Everything about his hair, from the length of his bangs to the way it could never quite sit completely flat, was perfectly stylized, perfectly crafted to convey Diluc Ragnvindr, Calvery Captain of the Favonious Knights, the only gentleman you’ll ever need again. You’d be lying if you said there wasn’t a part of you that didn’t mourn ruining such a well-executed vision. “You sure about this?” you asked, as you brushed it out. “It can’t exactly grow back.”

“I am.” And then, after a second of thought, “I’d do it myself, but there’s a safe-guard. Can’t damage the merchandise without a direct order from my user.”

Hence why Teyvat needed you in the first place. “How short do you want it?”

“I don’t care, as long as it’s different.”

You hummed, taking up your scissors. “If you say so, boss.”

You cut away everything below his shoulders, then took up your electric razor – running it over the back of his neck. As you worked, Diluc spoke. “How did you start?” You took up your comb, brushing back his bangs and pasting his hair to the side. “With Teyvat, I mean.”

You tasted blood on the back of your tongue, felt a chill run up your spine. You brushed it off, though, refusing to let yourself fall back into that little steel room with those awful golden eyes again. “They brought me on as a technician,” you admitted. You still were one, technically, on your employment transcript, when people outside of your little world asked what you did for a living. “A first-generation Zhongli we were working on went rogue and reverted to its original Morax programming. It wiped out most of my team before security bothered to show up.” You didn’t tell him about the minutes you’d spent hiding in a steel locker, praying its heat sensors had been removed, or the hours it’d taken upper management to decide what to do with you. To people like Diluc, who could take a bullet to the head without faltering, topics like ‘building dread’ and ‘the imminent fear of death’ tended to fall flat. “Since I was already in on their dirty little secret, they decided to keep me on. I didn’t really get a choice. It wasn’t like another job was going to fall into my lap after something like that.”

With your hand under his chin, you turned his head to the side. “Your turn, ‘luc.”

“I… I think I used to be a companion, but something went wrong.” His bangs were next, taken up and coaxed into sitting somewhere other than the dead center of his face. “It’s hard to describe. We aren’t supposed to think about things that aren’t our master,” The word came out hitched, unsteady, like he had to force it past his lips. Like he hadn’t wanted to say it at all. “But I could. It was like… waking up with the ability to fly. I wasn’t supposed to, but I could, and that meant I couldn’t do what I was built to, anymore.”

A thumb pressed into his jaw, a comb dragged across his scalp. Diluc’s eyes fell shut, but else about his blank expression changed. “And? Do you like it?”

“Sometimes.” His shoulders slanted downward. “Do you?”

“Sometimes.” You let go of his chin, letting him turn back to the vanity’s mirror. “What do you think?”

It was far from a masterpiece. The sides were too short, the front too long, every part of it still as untamable as it’d been in its original state. Still, he took it in with wide eyes, the corner of his lips turning upward ever so slightly.

“It’s perfect.”

By the time he got back, you’d nearly fallen asleep.

With your body as wrung out as it was, your energy spent to the point of near unconsciousness, it was all you could do to watch through your eyelashes as Diluc appeared in the doorway to your bedroom, a towel thrown over his shoulder and that tiny, almost undetectable smile still painted across his lips. You’d done this enough for him to know how to navigate your apartment, to know how to navigate you – shifting onto your mattress slowly as he positioned himself between your legs. He’d gotten more used to contact since you started seeing each other, but his touch was still ginger, still gentle as he dragged the dampened cloth over the inside of your thighs. With a groan, you rolled onto your back, spreading your legs and giving him more space to work.

You’d been confused at first, but for all the eloquence Diluc lacked, he could be convincing when he wanted to be. You still weren’t sure how much of it you believed, but it made enough sense – a buried impulse, dampened by his newfound sentience but not quite drowned out. He didn’t want another user, he’d said, but he still had requirements to fill, and this would help to take the edge off.

You couldn’t complain, either. People coughed up tens of thousands of dollars for companion droids, and here you were, being paid six figures a year to close your eyes and let one bury his face between your thighs once or twice a week. The coddling wasn’t bad, either. Your line of work meant most of the people you met had stopped breathing a few days prior, and as loathed as you’d be to admit it, you didn’t hate the feeling of his delicate hands skirting over your skin, didn’t mind it when your eyes drifted open and met his, already fixed on your face. He bowed his head, dipping low enough for his lips to ghost over the curve of your hip before breaking the silence. “A sight as radiant as the rising sun.”

You let out a breath of a chuckle. “I didn’t think you used pre-scripted lines, anymore.”

“I don’t.” He preened, clearly more proud of himself than in-awe of you. “I thought of that one myself.”

This time, your laugh was throaty, genuine, loud enough to ring off the wall of your bedroom as you shoved him away with your foot. “If you want to be romantic, you can start by getting me something to drink, loverboy.”

He provided no resistance, disappearing into your dark apartment and reappearing with a glass of water in his hand a few minutes later. He handed it off to you with an easy smile, and you could almost pretend you didn’t see a phantom of gold in those dark eyes as his fingertips brushed against yours.

By the time you thought to reach for your taser, the android was already charging at you.

It was an Alhaitham, dressed in civilian clothes and sporting a ragged tear across the synthetic skin of his cheek. He was still standing over the corpse of his user – days old, by the time you and Diluc got there – but as you opened the door, he turned to face you, lips parted and his expression totally, utterly blank. For a second, it was all you could do to stare at him, to try to remember whether or not your report had mentioned the android being active, and then he was lunging at you.

You scrambled for your taser, already knowing you couldn’t be able to reach it before he reached you. You clenched your eyes shut, your fingers brushing against plastic, and then—

And then you felt Diluc’s hand on your shoulder, heard metal crack and fold into itself. Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, forcing yourself to take in the sight of Diluc’s hand wrapped around the android’s head which had been, in turn, reduced to a crumpled heap of scrap metal and shattered glass. Its body twitched once, twice, then went limp, and Diluc released it, letting the now-dysfunctional droid collapse.

After it failed to get up again, Diluc turned to you, practically beaming. “I think,” he said, his voice low, sentimental. “That this is what I’d do to you, if you ever tried to leave me.”

Golden eyes, the stench of fresh blood, the sounds of screaming muffled only by a thin sheet of metal. This time, it wasn’t so easy to pull yourself out of it.

You managed to nod, to force a few words out of your dry throat. “Got it, ‘luc.”

He hummed, the noise contented, appeased. Slowly, delicately, he cupped your cheek, tilting your head back and letting his lips ghost over your forehead. He barely touched you, the gesture as gentle as it was fleeting, but you could feel his grin cutting into your skin, wider than you’d ever seen it before.

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere diluc #diluc x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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yanmuffins · 21 days

Text

SAFETY IN IGNORANCE.

Yandere! Prince! Gojo X fem! Isekai! Maid! Reader

SUMMARY: You’ve been transmigrated to the world of an otome game, taking the place of one of Prince Satoru's personal attendants, a measly side character with no name or relevance to the story.

As it turns out, life in the castle isn't so bad, and the certainty of food and shelter is welcome when finding a way home isn't ever guaranteed. Besides, your boss isn't as insufferable as you thought he would be. It could be worse. Isn't it nice, knowing you're safe?

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words (😮)

CONTENT/TRIGGER WARNINGS: NONCON (no intercourse), somnophilia, mentions of past s/a, mild yandere behavior (if you squint?), mild derealization, AU setting.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: please be aware my writing is quite rusty!! this is the first piece of writing that i finish IN YEARS and it's a fucking jjk darkfic. sigh. writing smutty scenes is also so awkward lmao, forgive me if it sucks severely. at least i hope you enjoy this little fucked up fic in have cooked up. it's hot and ready to be consumed! (๑>؂•̀๑)

-> MINORS DNI !

“TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE is a visual novel that takes place in a fantastical setting, where you can find your happily ever after with the character of your choice.”

It's been years – in this world, at least – but you still remember every word skimmed with dry, irritated eyes, as you stared at a bright screen, surrounded by the darkness of your own bedroom. It was another restless night among many, spent watching YouTube videos and reading pirated manga in questionable website, sipping on valerian tea.

So, like any other night, your adblocker dutifully served its purpose, shielding your browser from annoying, abusive, virulent ads.

Except for one.

“Enter the enchanting world of TALES OF SPELLBINDING LOVE through SARA, a kind-hearted peasant, as she meets all sorts of swoon-worthy suitors!”

You should have closed the page, sketchy as it was, but it had piqued your interest. It was a Friday night. You were sleepless. It was past midnight, tossing and turning in bed had done little to welcome slumber. Your home was tidy and organized from insomniac hours from nights before. You were bored.

“Play with a cast of handsome men, make the right choices and uncover exciting secret routes...”

Nothing about the web design told you the game was anything but a harmless dating simulator for an adult audience. Maybe it was the pastel color-scheme, with soft pinks, yellows, blues, purples and greens, or the elegant cursive font and colorful flowers adorning the page. In fact, other than the initial synopsis, there wasn't much to look at. No content warnings, nothing about the capture targets or the heroine you were supposed to be playing as, not even the usual information on how many endings or CGs you could get.

At the bottom of the page, “ENTER.” and “LEAVE?” buttons waited for a decision.

Maybe... you could give it a try? Hopefully it would entertain you until your eyelids finally grew heavy, allowing you to drift off before sunshine seeped through your window signaling dawn had arrived.

You clicked “ENTER.”.

... And here you are now, mending Prince Satoru's shirt before another hunting trip.

It's been ten years since you've come to this world. Your own body replaced that of a nameless background character with no narrative purpose, allowing you to exist as yourself in this entirely alien reality. You're not sure how much time has passed in your original world, whether you've been dead for a decade or simply unconscious for a couple of minutes, and you haven't gotten any closer to finding out.

You sigh, weary, looking down at the flax linen shirt laid over your lap, needle in hand. Simple, at first glance, a bit worn, but a nice piece of garment not everyone could afford to have in their wardrobe. One of its puffed sleeves now torn at the shoulder lining, an unfortunate result of it being caught by a tree branch during horse-riding. Nothing you couldn’t fix, however, skilled as you’d become over the years.

Ten years in this world.

Ten years working as Prince Satoru’s personal maid.

You got rewarded for that.

The luxurious pearl necklace that became a part of your distinguished blue uniform, accompanied by a gold pendant encrusted with gemstones shaped like the Gojo’s family crest. It was an honor given to faithful, dutiful servants to the crown, closest to the royal family.

Satoru and you were both eighteen when you’d first presented yourself as his new personal maid. This body, undoubtedly yours, seemed to have aged down a few years, most likely to match the age of your predecessor. They had, apparently, been working hard to better their lot in life, aiming for an often-vacant position at the prince’s small circle of personal attendants. You inherited the skills they’d nurtured, bettering them along the years, allowing you to secure your spot as long as you have.

That, and Prince Satoru Gojo’s character trivia really came in handy an absurd number of times.

There were worse fates out there, especially for a transmigrated person like you. Sure, maybe life as a privileged noblewoman would have been ideal, even more useful in searching for a way home, but being a personal servant to Prince Satoru, as… Eccentric as he was, gave you advantages compared to other peasants, even other castle servants. Plenty of food, fine fabrics, individual accommodations, not having to exhaust yourself scrubbing floors all day or sweating by the heat of the kitchen fires – besides, the Gojo heir wasn’t quite as terrible a boss once you got used to him.

You remember finding his route in-game quite boring, full of cliché tropes and little to no conflict. He was also kind of an overbearing asshole the entire time, unlikability salvaged only by his elven good looks.

But nothing could have prepared you to the otherworldly beauty he posed standing right in front of you, in the flesh, for the first time, glacial orbs eyeing you up and down. You admitted to yourself – although begrudgingly, as he was your least favorite character among the ones you’d played – that Satoru Gojo was as handsome as they come and had every right to be smug about it.

Smiling to yourself, you put aside the needle and thread to hold up the shirt with one hand, gently tracing over the repaired sleeve with the other. You tug at it to test its resistance, nodding absentmindedly when its stays in place. It’s good as new, just in time for his hunting trip. You get up, taking a moment to adjust your skirts and straighten your white linen apron and coif, neatly folding the shirt and draping it over your arm. According to your pocket watch, his attendants should be waking him up at any minute now.

You grab the doorknob, wondering when you’d become so accustomed to this life.

And then you’re heading towards the prince’s chambers.

Gojo’s head snaps in your direction as soon as he hears the door creak open, a lazy smile gracing his features. You bow to him, respectfully averting your eyes as an attendant removes his undertunic to reveal his naked form.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”

He doesn’t regard you immediately, arms raised as William, one of his attendants, quickly fetches the shirt from your arm and slips it over his head. It’s a morning ritual familiar to you by now, efficient movements shared between all three blue-clad servants in the room to make sure the prince will be properly dressed for his daily affairs.

Kai, your other colleague, hands you a black leather surcoat. It’s undoubtedly fit for royalty, handcrafted by the best tailor in the land; buttons of silver, western dragons embroidered on each side of its chest, facing each other, with gold thread some miller’s daughter had spun from straw – or so you’d heard. You feel his gaze upon you as you button up the overgarment, knowing exactly what he expects.

Gojo steps back when you’re done, doing a slow spin to show off his outfit.

“What flattery does this little doll have for me today?” He asks, “Do I look dashing?”

“Yes, my lord Prince, as always.” You respond, with a courtly nod of your head.

“What about my hair?”

“Soft like the finest silk in the land, fairer than the first snow of the season, Your Highness.”

“What about my lips?”

“Tender and pink like a freshly bloomed petunias in springtime, Your Highness.”

“And my eyes? And my eyes?” Gojo goads you on, a boyish excitement to his voice, his face coming a bit too close for comfort as if pleading to look up at him.

Playfully, your eyes meet his, granting his unspoken wish, holding his gaze for nothing more than a few seconds, a simpering smile as you speak.

“So strikingly blue it would put a midday sky in a summer’s day to shame, Your Highness.”

He releases an exaggerated sigh before grabbing your face with both hands, squishing your cheeks – his touchiness hardly phased you anymore; harmless, albeit pestering –, head slightly cocked to the side and a pout on his lips.

“You tease.”

Kai, newer to the group, shoots an alarmed look towards William, who merely shrugs him off.

And just as quickly he releases you, storming out the door as you and your colleagues follow after him, hurrying along the hallway steps behind him like ducklings after their mother.

Gojo Satoru is exactly seven minutes late to meet his guests. Not his servant’s fault at all, of that, you are sure. You had checked your pocket watch while walking through the castle hallways, confirming he would be on time to meet his guests at the open area of the stables – that was, of course, before all the meaningless detours he took along the way. You’re not sure if he does it on purpose.

William had his weaponry arranged, waiting at the hands of a servant, while Kai had personally spoken to the Marshal to have his Highness’ horse ready, both having woken up earlier than usual to make the proper arrangements.

Naturally, they would follow him to the hunting trip, as part of his entourage, while you stayed behind and made sure all was perfect for their return.

Your arrangements included waking up as early as the kitchen staff, the sun barely peeking through the horizon, to revise the ingredients you’d requested in advance with the head cook, so a kitchen maid could go and fetch them from the forest or the market. You’d love to be able to traverse the markets or the woods freely, exploring, meeting new people, finding out new things about this world that could potentially lead to a way home — but alas, being a personal attendant to the prince meant tasks such as picking herbs at the woods or buying strawberries from a merchant were, per your colleague’s words, below you.

It's a nice day out. A faint breeze caresses your skin, cool enough to be refreshing, and the skies are clear and blue with not a cloud to be seen. The autumn sun shines gently upon the earth, sparing of its overbearing heat. Your presence isn’t exactly necessary, but Gojo has made a habit of you seeing him off and you wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be outside.

“Fashionably late as always, Satoru.” His grace, Geto Suguru, is the first one to speak up.

A swoon-worthy duke, with a storyline much too… disconcerting… for your taste. Though the number of times you’d spoken to Geto could be counted on your fingers, being in his presence still put you on edge. Not that he had ever done anything to you, but you’d accidentally met his eyes countless times, caught him staring at you with a gaze so invasive it made you feel like a criminal awaiting judgement.

“Late? Treason. A prince is always on time, Suguru.” Gojo replies with a nonchalant shrug, “You were the ones here early!”

Awaiting his arrival were a group of familiar young men. Most you had seen in-game through the extensive selection of capture targets, coming to meet them in-person over the years due to their ties with the prince. You had played some of their routes, but with the exception of Megumi – Gojo’s protégé – you hadn’t a reason to talk to them, merely exchanging a word or two or none at all when in their presence.

“Finally.”

Nanami Kento looks mildly inconvenienced as he speaks, tone flat, arms crossed over his broad chest and a visible scowl creasing his features. He was a retired knight, born a peasant, presently a Baron; a personal favorite of yours. You couldn’t help but steal a glance or two whenever he was around. You remember kicking your feet up in the air during his playthrough. Sometimes you still do.

Next to him stood Prince Yuji Itadori, too entertained by his own horse as he fed him a carrot. You have faint memories of playing his route, although you don’t remember finishing it. He was a sweetheart, from what you knew, periodically visiting from a neighboring kingdom to learn from Nanami and Satoru and cultivate friendly diplomatic relations. You’d cracked your head trying to recollect bits and pieces of his story, unsuccessfully. You had a pesky feeling it was relevant.

Fushiguro Megumi was last. Broody lost prince, currently hidden under Prince Satoru’s protection – you hadn’t played his route, but he was a constant side character in Gojo’s. He was still a child when you met him, shortly after Gojo brought him into the castle.

When Megumi notices you, there’s a smile; faint, barely noticeable, and he waves. You respond with a brief curtsy.

“Can we go?” Yuji protests, interrupting some petty squabble between Satoru and Suguru, “I hear there’s a huge wild boar running around causing ruckus around the village, I want to catch it!”

Mounted on his white steed, Gojo is a cliché as old as time; a trotting reminder of your being in a world that isn't your own. The anodyne sight of him looking down on you, pink lips softly curving upwards to gift you a kind smile as the sun shines from behind him is almost identical to one of the game’s CG’S. It shouldn’t – you’ve grown used to him, to living inside this game, material as your own world – but for a moment, and just a moment, the sight of a whimsical prince on a white horse wiggles an uncomfortable, yet familiar feeling of surrealness, unreality into your mind, making your stomach churn.

You ignore it. Mentally sweep it under the carpet of your subconscious. This is nothing new. You can spiral into an existential crisis over the absurd condition of your circumstances later, when you’re lying sleepless in bed staring at the ceiling.

You’ve run out valerian root, anyway.

“I am obliged to be away for an entire day!” He whines, words punctuated by dramatic sullenness to his body language.

You step closer to him, taking a respectful bow before offering him a pair of neatly-wrapped sunglasses, which he takes – a distinctive feature of his character.

“So, you must, Your Highness. Go, and may the mother of good luck be with you.”

Satoru extends an arm toward you, presenting his hand. You kiss it – your own lips touching soft, pristine skin; a needed reminded he was a person, made of flesh that could be touched and not pixels limited to a screen.

From your peripheral, Kai elbows William as discreetly as he can.

You return to the prince’s sleeping quarters immediately after their departure. Overseeing the chambermaids, you watch them change the bedding for a fresh set, correcting the pair on your favored arrangement of pillows, fussing as they dust around the priceless ornaments around the chamber, amiably warning them to be careful.

When they’re done, you move onwards to the kitchen.

There are people watching you as you march through the hallways. Spying little peepers full of envy or admiration, or both, and you know what they’re looking at – the telltale blue fabric of your dress, a color so inaccessible to many, and the necklace you bear from years of service. Despite your own wishes, it makes you an intimidating figure, as if you’re an extension of royalty. Being a personal attendant to the prince meant upholding that image, keeping yourself unapproachable, discouraged from socializing and making merry with anyone but servants considered to be on your level.

Still, you greet the kitchen staff with a smile, trying to be as cordial as you possibly can. You know all of them by name, from the head cook to the scullery maid, all exceptionally busy for tonight’s private feast. It’s not your job to review the selection of dishes to be served, but you do so anyway, even if superficially, reminding them to provide a non-alcoholic beverage for the prince. Attentively, you listen to the head cook as he showcases the ingredients for the pastries you requested, assuring of their quality.

It's a bit of a hollow feeling when you leave the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, knowing the rest of your day will be spent alone. Without Gojo, there’s nothing much to do. Without William and Kai, your social circle has been just about reduced to zero.

But you do know where you’ll be spending all of those long, unending hours.

Being a personal servant to Prince Satoru gave you advantages. Privileges, if you will.

When he asked you what you would like for your latest birthday, you made quite a bold request. It’s the newest addition to the key bunch hanging from your waist – full, unbridled access to the royal library. The thought of having an entire day to search through never-ending shelves, making notes and finding books that could possibly lead to finding a way home cheers you up a bit.

“Are you fornicating with the prince?”

You nearly choke on your drink when the question abruptly comes out of Kai’s mouth, unable to speak from the utter shock. William is at his side, chewing on a chicken leg, and can only stare wide-eyed at his colleague’s bluntness. It’s been a while since the hunting party returned, clear blue skies fading into shades of orange adorned by heavy, rumbling clouds. Outside, tree branches sway to the force of the wind, preparing to welcome a starless night of rain and cold. Gathered at the table on Prince Satoru’s solar room, the three of you were having dinner to replenish your energy before the feast while Gojo entertained his guests.

It was usually a casual moment to decompress. Not tonight, Kai had decided.

“What– No!” You retort, scandalized, “What could have given you that impression?!”

“What hasn’t given me that impression, you mean.”

“Kai–” William tries to interject, but you’re quicker to rejoinder.

“I am not… fornicating with anyone, especially not prince Satoru. There’s nothing like that between us. That’s… How he is. You’re just not used to him yet.”

“But–”

“I think we’re better off cutting this topic of conversation here.” William interrupts, slightest bit of panic in his voice, eager to deflect conflict, “I know you’re still adapting to your new position, Kai, and that’s why I’m sure (Y/N) will be kind enough to let this slide.”

William looks at you expectantly, almost pleading, and you scoff before crossing your arms over your chest. The mere notion seems ridiculous – you, doing the deed of darkness with one of the game’s capture targets, destined to fall in love with the heroine regardless of whether she decided to pursue him or not? It would be a disaster waiting to happen. You were nothing if not a professional, serving your boss to the best of your power, and all of Satoru’s affections stemmed from his own outlandish personality. That was all. Your dynamic could be less than orthodox, but it was platonic in its nature.

“Come now, we can’t afford not to get along. Kai, apologize to (Y/N). I have worked alongside her for ten long years, and if she says she’s not engaging in improper acts with the prince, then she’s not.”

Kai silently looks between the both of you, finally letting out a defeated sigh.

“It’s a reasonable question, seeing you two…” He insists, shifting uncomfortably on his seat, “But I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“It’s fine, I guess. No one has ever insinuated that before.”

“Not to your face, doll.” Kai shrugs, nonchalant.

You want to snap back at him, but in comes the realization that he’s not wrong. Perhaps it was living within your bubble, mostly limited to your coworkers and your boss, had made you clueless to people outside and what gossip ran about you. William and Benji, Kai’s predecessor, had accompanied you in serving Gojo for a decade; neither of them would ever dare question your relationship with the prince or the harmless liberties involved; they were accustomed to it. And, well, you were accustomed to the point you thought everyone else saw it as you did: normal. The sudden realization that not all would find Prince Satoru’s affections towards you something ordinary was a staggering concept in your mind – but it was so simple. So obvious.

Then again, it never occurred you to ask…

“Do you think it’s weird, William? Be honest.”

“I have no opinion of anything, ever.” William stated, crossing over his heart with his right hand, “But now that you mention it, Benji did confide in me, shortly before he was relieved from service. Said something about ‘inappropriate displays of affection towards a heedless maiden’, I believe?”

“Oh. Benji never said anything like that to me.”

“He wouldn’t. Between you and me, he had a soft spot for you, so I do believe that statement was a little biased.”

On your face, an expression of utter confusion. You never noticed any signs of Benji liking you romantically, but then again, you apparently don’t notice much around you. The chicken seems to have lost its taste when you bite into it, mind too preoccupied with the conversation you just had. Not that there’s any use reminiscing about Benji – the man having been released from service only a month prior, after prince Satoru arranged him a marriage to a marquis’ daughter.

Now that you think of it, he didn’t seem too pleased about the match. Or about leaving.

The stone-walled bathroom smelled of fresh flowers and citrus. Sliced oranges and grapefruits, calendulas, sunflowers, rose petals, mint leaves, forget-me-nots, floating in the steaming hot water that filled the circular, wooden bathtub. Night has long since arrived, and even with the shutters of the only window in the room closed you can still hear the heavy rain pouring against glass and the rattling of wood caused by unrelenting wind.

Despite that, the candles illuminating the room, as well as the small fire burning underneath a boiling pot of water, kept the room pleasantly warm.

On the other side of the door, William and Kai undress the prince. All had retired to their respective bedchambers by now, and it’s not long before the pair of attendants are dismissed for the night. Gojo is already disrobing by the time he enters the bathroom, excitedly blabbering about the hunting trip as he plops the velvet garment onto your waiting hands, stepping into the warm embrace of the thoughtfully drawn bath. Suddenly, the ceiling becomes particularly interesting.

He lets out a long, satisfied sigh.

“… Not that I’m complaining about tonight’s banquet, though. I’m just a bit disappointed, you know? All the fuss people were making over a silly boar, and it made a passable meal at best…”

You hang the robe. From a tray placed beside the fireplace you select a pink macaron, feeding it to him before you start to work a soapy sponge along his skin. It had been a deeply embarrassing experience at first, aiding him in his baths; with time, however, like many other things, it had faded into normalcy. Nothing but work, is what you tell yourself when you elevate one of his sinewy legs with your hand, sponge inching closer and closer to his groin. You steal a quick glance at him, half-listening to his words, seeing Gojo laid back, unashamed by your ministrations, playing with the petals of a soggy sunflower.

“Ah– Megumi! His aim is getting better. He’s gotten really good at shooting with a bow and arrow…”

You wash the soap off your hands when you’re finished with his body. You feed him a small tart, topped with vanilla cream, strawberries, and blueberries. Still, he prattles on, words muffled by his munching,

“… mmph… And Suguru is still being weird about that wife of his… Something-something ‘she’s different from before’ and refused to elaborate…”

He quiets down a bit once you retrieve a warm compress, placing it over his eyes, fingers moving to either side of his temples to massage them with gentle circular motions. He relishes a bit on the relief it brings after a day straining his eyes. As he relaxes further under your touch, you let your mind wander, recounting the frustratingly slow progress with your research.

Even with access to the great royal library, the sheer number of books on varying topics was discouraging enough to tempt an emotional breakdown. You scoured through shelves, gathering a collection of sorcerer biographies, spell books, history books, encyclopedias – anything that could hold the subtlest bit of information regarding transmigration. And still… Nothing. Your eyes still felt a bit dry, a lingering headache from reading within the ill-illuminated library. All you had at this point were your own theories – and that wasn’t saying much.

If only you could leave the castle for a bit. A frightening thought, of course, as you could count on a single hand the number of times you had seen the world beyond the castle walls, never straying too far from the place you now called home. All of those occasions you had been following Prince Satoru on some of his trips, mostly diplomatic, with no freedom to walk around and talk to people as you pleased.

Perhaps a vacation was all you needed. Your “parents” lived not too far, if you remembered correctly, on one of the neighboring villages subservient to the Gojo crown. A favored place for merchants to gather, fairly populated, maybe if you tried investigating–

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N)??” Gojo’s fingers are snapping in front of your face, his eyes still covered by the compress, “Are you listening to me?”

“Oh! I’m sorry, Your Highness. I think my mind just wandered for a bit…” You apologize, hurriedly forgoing his temples in favor of washing his hair, “What was it?”

He remains oddly silent as you pick up a smaller bucket of ambient-temperature water, delicately wetting his hair. You weren’t giving mere empty flattery earlier in the day; running your hands through his hair truly felt like touching the finest of silk.

“You know…” He starts, “I notice your mind tends to wander a lot, especially these days...”

There’s an edge to his tone, one you rarely hear him use.

“Your eyes seem to wander an awful lot, too, lately.”

Another pause. There's no silence in the room, just an uncomfortable absence of words; You hear the fire crackling. You hear the water boiling and bubbling, thinking for a moment you should check the temperature of his bath to see if it needs to be warmed. You hear the muffled sound of rain against glass. You hear wooden shutters rattling. There's a strange shift about the air, and you're confused, unsure of what he could mean.

He answers your unspoken question before the words have a chance to leave your mouth.

“I saw you stealing those little glances at Nanami.”

You stand, bucket in hands, mouth agape – embarrassment. The heat of complete embarrassment that overtakes you feels like cold water poured down on your body. Your hands feel a little weak as you quickly try to regain your composure, looking away from Gojo despite knowing his eyes aren’t on you.

Fiddling with the hem of your apron, you try to find your words.

“When… When did you–” You stammer, “How…”

“Ah-ha! So, you plead guilty. That’s soooo shameless, flower.”

The familiar playfulness in his tone brings back a bit of confidence. Still, there’s something about it you can’t quite place; for a moment, you think there’s a bark to it, bitterness. Perhaps it’s something unpleasant about his day that he’s hung up about, increased by you not listening to him. He’s just teasing, you conclude, trying to vent whatever annoyance peeved him by picking on you.

You massage Prince Satoru’s scalp with shampoo – or the closest thing they had to it, in this world – hoping to placate his abrupt change in mood. Maybe you’ll hand-feed him another macaron.

“I was just… Looking.” You offer, cautiously, unsure if any explanation would make it better or worse for yourself, “There’s no harm in looking. Lord Nanami was admirable as a knight, and he’s handsome…”

Worse, if the crease between his eyebrows is anything to go by.

“… But not nearly as handsome as you, my prince.”

That seems to appease Gojo who, with a petty harrumph, relaxed into your touch again. Appealing to his ego always seemed to get you out of trouble. You’d never thought to be grateful for his petulant grouching, but it's music to your ears compared to the spitefulness from a few moments ago.

“I just find it vexing. Why would you ever bat those little eyelashes at Nanamin when you have the Morgan le Fay of men right in front of you to admire?”

“There’s no need for jealousy, Your Highness.”

You were just a humble fangirl admiring your bias, after all. You weren’t made of stone.

“At the stables. During the banquet. Would you like to have a portrait of Nanamin, so you can gawk at him when he’s not here, too?”

You rinse his scalp, running your hands through locks of his hair.

“I am so very sorry, my prince. Speaking of... Uh... Speaking of banquets! I hear there will be a ball."

It's a poor attempt to change the subject, and you can only give Satoru a sheepish, almost apologetic smile when he raises one side of the compress to acknowledge it as such, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at you.

There will be a ball. In a month, to be exact. You know that not just from the growing agitation within the castle, or the coming and going of unfamiliar faces hired for temporary work, but because you had been counting the days for this very event ever since you realized this was the ball that kickstarts the main story, taking place towards the end of the prologue. It meant the heroine would finally show up.

You're not sure what it will mean for you.

“Sure, a ball...” He says, “My old folks said they would invite all the eligible maidens across the land because they want me to find a wife.”

“I'm sure you’re not too psyched about this...”

Prince Satoru vehemently nods in agreement.

“... But who knows? Give it a chance, you might just meet the love of your life there.”

“Pfft– Right, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“And why not?

“Well, what if I already met the love of my life?”

Then that would be some pretty weird timing, Your Highness. Prince Satoru wasn’t supposed to meet the heroine until a few days before the ball takes place, in a beautiful clearing out in the countryside, where they’ll share a lovely meet-cute after he nearly tramples her with his horse.

“Alright…” You spouted, unsure, “Why not bring her to the ball, Your Highness?”

“She’ll be there.”

His rosy lips curve into a conspiratory smirk, mostly to himself, blissfully unaware of the can of worms he just opened inside your mind. Had he already met the heroine? But it was way too early! It couldn’t be– or could it? You’ll have to check the makeshift calendar on your notebook. The timeline you wrote down, as well. There has to be some sort of plot hole you’re missing, or maybe the events have been thrown out of place for some reason.

“But you’re right, maybe a ball won’t be so bad. They said any eligible maiden across the land, rich or poor, of high or low birth. It’s an opportunity!” He announced, the last word said with enough enthusiasm to make you jump.

Once again, you don’t have the time to ask what he means– or to avert your gaze as he abruptly steps out of the bath, getting an eyeful of his bare ass against your will. You pat him dry with a towel as he helps himself to the tray of tarts and macarons. He extends both arms when he’s done so you can slip on the velvet, deep blue robe back on his body. Another towel is wrapped around his head.

The robe keeps him warm as he sits on a chair, waiting for you to come and finalize his night routine. You stay behind in the bathroom, emptying the bathtub, turning out the fire, disposing of the unused boiling water since Prince Satoru had decided to cut his bath short tonight.

When you close the door behind you, the smell of flowers and citrus is still in the air, stuck to his skin. You hum a tune as you brush his hair, its strands like gossamer, offering no resistance to the bristles.

“(Y/N).”

Gojo lifts up his head, not a hint of playfulness in his face or his tone.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

And yet his eyes are soft as they burn into yours, as if thinking, evaluating.

“Who, in this land, is the fairest of all?”

Every time he asks you this, you wonder if there was some dialogue you missed in the game. Nevertheless, the blatant reference makes you want to laugh; with him, though, the answer is always the same. There is no one to overshadow his beauty, objective, obfuscating, infuriatingly incontestable, and he knows that– you know that.

“You alone, my prince, are the fairest of all.”

If you were anyone else, you’d swoon at the smile he graces you with.

“By the way, I have something for you.”

There is a small box on the table he’s seated by, simple, with a golden latch, inconspicuous enough to only catch your attention when Gojo slides it closer, opening it to reveal an assortment of herbs tied together with a string.

“Since you ran out of valerian root…”

There wasn’t a single herb you could recognize, at least not with the dim candlelight. Despite this, you were pretty certain there was no valerian in that box.

“How did you know, Your Highness?”

“Those eyebags under your eyes, I know you haven’t been sleeping well.” He says, matter-of-factly, “Some old hag passed by the hunting lodge today, selling all sorts of things. Said this was a potent mixture of herbs for those with sleeping problems. It’s all safe, I’ve had the royal apothecary check it.”

You breathe a sigh of relief, retrieving the box and holding against your chest. You hope it knocks you right out. Heavens know you need it, after today.

“This is so generous, Your Highness… I don’t know how to thank you.”

“No need.”

He latches the box closed.

“Just have a deep, dreamless sleep for me.”

It was the very witching time of night, and the castle lay silent. Darkness reigned in its corridors, desolate and cold, broken only by flashes of lighting tearing through stygian skies.

Take pity, take pity on one who is sick of love.

Fire dances at the top of a candle, threatening to vanish at any moment, as one living soul treads through slate flooring, airy footsteps growing closer to your chamber door.

Satoru feels guilt twisting inside his stomach, that nauseating feeling of contrition before consummation. It doesn’t stop him, it never did – he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin, but at least he knows he isn’t fully without a conscience. And yet, what is the point of guilt, overridden by excitement, conquered by overwhelming love, as he turns the key to your bedchamber, to defile you once again?

Defile, Satoru thinks to himself, is such an ugly word.

Your door doesn’t creak when opened. A simple spell to ward off prying ears, lest he has to replace another servant; Satoru had come to learn how thin those walls could be, sensitized to the littlest of noises in the dead of night.

He locks the door behind him, placing the candlestick holder on your bedside table.

There’s not much to see in the darkness, except for your pliable, sleeping form. You don’t feel the weight of your mattress shifting, so deep in slumber, as Satoru sits by the edge of your bed with the familiarity of a husband; and he likes to pretend, too, that these late-night rendezvous have an amorous twist to them. Isn’t it romantic, to be visited by a paramour so secretive you’re neither awake nor aware to receive?

What is he, if not a dedicated, twitterpated, infatuated princely lover sneaking through the hallways of his own castle to meet his beautiful dove, his golden trinket, his falcon’s eye–

But he isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

Satoru knows there’s nothing appealing about exploiting your vulnerabilities. If you were to ever find out, if you were to open your little eyes at this very second to see him stripping of his undertunic, the lovely relationship you’d built would crumble in a matter of seconds. It would break his heart into a million pieces, to see the horrified look of realization upon your face. And he feels the burning of guilt at the back of his mind, easy to dismiss, as his hands roam your body, past your clocked stockings of cotton and up your white shift.

He would hate to hurt you.

Which is why you’ll never find out. Your relationship can bloom into something far more precious that way, and soon he won’t need these nightly visits for fulfill the base needs you ignite in him. He often dreams of your wedding night, with you awake, receptive to his embrace, and then he’ll finally cross the one line he hasn’t dared to trespass all these years.

The shift is carefully slipped off your body. His cock is dribbling with pre-cum, twitching at the sight of your hardening nipples. He bedews one digit with his saliva as he lays by your side, spreading your legs just enough to slip one hand between to stroke your clit, peppering your breast and neck with kisses, nibbles, and nips.

Your body is more than accustomed to his touch by now – and for a moment, he wonders if you’ll be confused on your wedding night when, just like now, your folds grow wet with so little stimulation. Soon he hears the change in your breathing as it becomes heavier, increasingly ragged, little whines starting to come out of your lips.

Still, you don’t wake.

Not even as he slides a finger inside your soaked entrance.

It’s tight, temptingly tight, torturingly tight, but Satoru has enough self-control not to push himself through your folds. Not tonight. He can wait, he will wait until, eventually, you’ll be awake and willing to take his cock. He takes comfort knowing that day is not too far.

Satoru sits between your legs to rub his cock as he fingers you, biting his lip as not to let a wanton groan out.

"Fuck..."

It's not very regal to swear. He's never done so in front of you.

His voice is already strained, not above a whisper, when he sits up, settling between your legs to rub his cock with one of your limp hands. There are two fingers inside you now, Satoru biting his lip as to repress a moan stuck in his throat. He hates having to keep quiet, but the walls are thin, and it would be a lot more trouble than it's worth to deal with nosy neighbors.

Satoru isn't alarmed when you stir, eyebrows knitted slightly as he kneaded your clit with his thumb. It's not a sign you're waking up.

His fingers are coated in viscid, clear juices, thrusting in and out of your pussy with practiced ease. He can barely keep them inside when you tighten up, little tremors running through your body as you cum with a strangled whimper.

Satoru forgoes your hand in favor of positioning himself on between your folds, using your wetness to rub his length along your pussy, prodding at your clit with each upward motion. He’s lying atop you now, muscled chest glued to yours, gently suckling on your neck and muffling his low, guttural groans on your skin. His hips move at a controlled pace, refraining himself from how rough he wants to be with you – he’s still hung up about Nanami, after all –, feeling his own orgasm approach.

Your bed doesn’t creak, either.

He thinks of finally being enveloped by your insides, how your velvety walls would choke his cock when he made you cum. How your lips would touch his and you’d kiss, really kiss, how your body would respond to his touch when awake. What faces would you make for him? Would you look away, embarrassed, throw your arms around him and hold him tightly to you? He was dying to see you, to fill your womb as he looked deep into your open eyes.

Satoru Gojo isn’t delusional as to think his actions are without sin.

He’s delusional to a fault. And as much as he feels bad for you, for his horrible acts of debauchery against your unresponsive body – and all other perversions along the way – there’s hardly any guilt when he grips his cock with a tight fist, tugging at his length as spurts of pearly-white cum land on your bare stomach. His chest heaves, breath labored, half-lidded blue eyes staring at his handiwork with a dopey smile on his face.

Lightning illuminates the room, followed by thunder rumbling so deeply across the earth he swears he feels the walls shake. Candlelight flickers.

He cleans you up, not a trace of arousal to be found when he’s done, shift slipped back onto your body. For a moment, he sits at the edge of your bed again, leaning back on his arms. How he would love to wake up with you between his arms – but alas, you’d be much alarmed to see him by your side when morning comes.

He dresses himself, not before placing a chaste kiss goodnight on your forehead.

A ball, he ponders, that ought to be fun.

And as he leaves, candlestick holder in hand, locking the door behind him, there’s no guilt badgering his mind – only dresses. A selection of skirts and frills fluttering about, an appointment with the best seamstress in the kingdom; Satoru wonders which design he’ll choose for you to wear at the ball, smiling smugly to himself as he skips down the hallway, back to his chambers.

You wake with a startle, groggy, disoriented.

Resting in its usual spot at your bedside table, your trusty pocket watch indicates you’ve woken up a little over fifteen minutes later than you’re supposed to – Not too bad of a delay, which eases your initial panic. You’ll have to hurry up a bit when getting ready, but at least you won’t be late for work.

The herbs have worked a little too well, you conclude – gifted you dreamless sleep, devoid of interruptions, knocking you out barely an hour after drinking the tea you brewed. Although you had yet to fully wake up, there was newfound motivation to get on with your day after a much-needed good night’s sleep.

You make a mental note to properly thank Prince Satoru again. It was unexpectedly considerate of him to notice.

A shiver runs down your body as fresh air enters through your bedchamber window, caressing your face with its gelid touch. You see movement downstairs, servants and knights who have begun their day earlier than you. Beyond castle walls you saw the city, merchants coming and going through dirt roads among trees painted in breathtaking yellows, oranges and reds, its fallen leaves scattered over green grass. In the distance, you see neighboring villages, castles so far, they nearly faded into the horizon. The sun is out again, blue skies adorned by white, fluffy clouds.

The faint, comforting smell of freshly baked bread hits your nostrils.

You should get ready– you don’t want to be late, of course. But there is time for a quick look in the mirror, to check if your exhaustion-induced eyebags have been minimized, even if ever-so-slightly. It’s only then that you notice, attention diverted from the area around your eyes, three small, faint red spots on your neck and collarbone.

You touch them, briefly wondering where they could possibly have come from; but you don’t have the time to dwell on it for more than a few seconds, your neck will be covered anyway. One last look at the mysterious marks and you shrug, brushing them off. It’s nothing to worry about, anyway.

Must have been a bedbug.

#tw noncon #tw somno #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere gojo x reader #yandere gojo x you #yandere jjk x reader #cw yandere #dark fic

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maikirumoo · 7 months

Text

after hours

after hours : a live action buggy x fem!reader fanfiction

for some odd reason, you have no idea who he is. and he fucking loved that.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

chapter one

chapter two | red. rain. rotten.

his pov;

She was standing underneath a stripe-patterned banner that shielded her from the pouring rain. Her nimble fingers sorted through an assortment of fruits, trying to decide which were the ripest and tastiest of the bunch. Of course, she was by herself, with none of her peers or family around her. I knew she was close to them. But why must she always be alone?

The tan-suede coat I wore protected me from the cold, keeping my body somewhat warm. My gloves and hands were stuffed in my pockets as I peeked around the corner and watched the girl shop. I noticed her begin to shiver, which I dreaded. I was so selfish. I didn't need this coat. I've spent countless nights in the cold, the crashing waves of the East Blue only intensifying the breeze. I was almost immune to the cold, but her? Y/N's nose was reddening as her teeth shattered. Was any fruit worth suffering in the cold? A devil fruit, maybe. But even then, it wasn't worth it. "Y/N," I smiled as I approached the maiden. The girl's head rose as she picked up an apple then her body twisted, her eyes growing wide upon the sight of myself. She nearly jumped. "How-" She shook her head. "Are you following me?" Her voice and body shook. Yes. "No, of course not," I laughed, brushing the accusation off my shoulders as I took a few more steps toward her, closing the wide gap. "I was looking for something to eat and I spotted you. Am I not allowed to say hello?" Guilt was something I was tremendous at. Y/N still seemed skeptical but after a slight sigh, she smiled and nodded her head. "No, forgive me. I'm sorry. Uh," She turned her attention to the apple she was holding then let it drop among the others crowding in a small basket. "None of these apples look good."

"They've been sitting out for a while. The shop clerk doesn't take the best care of his fruits. It's why they're so cheap," I chuckled to myself and reached down to grab an apple. I twisted it and examined a large brown spot that was eating away at the once-bright red color. I huffed, "I'm sure you can find something else to eat."

"I can't afford anything else to eat."

My eyes widened and I took a step back, visibly and internally shocked. What? She couldn't afford to eat anything other than a rotten apple? "Why?"

"It's a long story," Y/N admitted. "But I don't wanna talk about it." The girl sorted through found one that looked reasonable, and started to dig in her pocket. She pulled out nothing. "Never mind, I can't even afford that." Letting out a pitiful laugh, she dropped the fruit. I frowned. Her absence of money was one of the few things I didn't know about her. And now that I was aware of it, I felt a puzzling and aggressive feeling in my stomach. Was she out of work? Did she not have any way of providing for herself? Raising my hand, I grabbed at my chin and scratched the bottom of it. "Let me buy you something to eat."

"What?" Her eyes widened and she immediately shook her head, waving her hands as a type of rejection. "You are not buying me anything."

"It's just lunch. It's no biggy," I remarked. "At least something small."

"Why?" She folded her arms over her chest. "Do you feel sorry for me? First, you see me getting picked on by some slob, and now, you see that I'm too poor to afford a rotten apple. What's next?"

"Y/N, knock it off. Stop. Just think of it as a friend doing something nice for their friend."

The questioning look remained stuck on her face as she stared up at me. I tried to maintain a serious expression though the look she was giving me made my lower lip purse, like a pout. How was someone so enchanting? I continued to stare into her eyes, making quick glimpses to explore her other facial features before she finally made a decision. "Fine, but just this once, okay?" "You got it." I winked. -=- Being the gentleman I am, I loaned Y/N my coat to wear despite her dismay and numerous declines. She was pouty the entire walk to the pub but I didn't care. I'd rather her in a pissy mood than feeling physically uncomfortable due to the rain. I, however, was shivering. I was starting to become drenched. I held a newspaper over my head in hopes of staying dry but the wind was strong and the rain was forceful, almost piercing through the thin paper.

When we arrived at the restaurant, she found herself a seat in the corner of the establishment, scooting far into the booth. I followed behind her, sitting on the edge of the seat. I'd rather her be sitting across from me than rather to the side but due to her current emotional state, I stayed quiet and slid her the menu. "Get whatever you want, alright? I mean it."

"Are you a man of money?"

"Something like that," I snickered and ducked my head down to examine the options.

"Have you killed anyone before?" Y/N asked as she folded her arms over the table, her eyes peering at me.

I furrowed my eyebrows and let out a soft laugh. "No," I lied. "I'm not like that. I wasn't that type of pirate."

"What kind of pirate were you?"

"What kind of pirates do you think there are?"

"I don't know," She said as she pursed her lips. "I don't like pirates."

I nodded, unsure of a proper reply. I didn't like lying to her. I was fine with lying, in general. I was the master of conniving and deception. But I wanted to be different for her. Maybe a better person, though that seemed a bit rash. I left the East Blue after discovering that Monkey D- or whatever his name was received a higher bounty than me. Double my own, to be precise. My normally high and mighty ego dropped down and was smooshed by a brick. I didn't want to show my face again, at least not for a while. I wanted somewhat of a fresh start. And when I discovered my presence in the North Blue was dim and almost non-existent, I decide to settle down and refresh.

Then I discovered her.

And my plans completely changed.

"Do you know what you're getting?" Y/N's voice interrupted my thoughts and I raised my head and peaked up at her, smiling softly.

"Hm, not too sure yet," I replied.

"Are you cold? You look cold. You can have your coat back, it's--"

"Nah, keep it. It looks better on you," I said with a grin. I reached for a napkin and started to dab at my forearms, trying to dry myself off. The lovely woman aside of me frowned and stayed quiet. I could tell she felt guilty, which, of course, wasn't my intention. So in hopes of brightening up the mood, I decided to tell a joke.

"What's a pirate's favorite type of exercise?"

Y/N smirked and scrunched her eyebrows. "What?" She laughed.

"The plank."

Her hand slapped over her mouth in hopes of keeping her loud giggles and snickers to a minimum but the more she proceeded to think about it, the more laughs she erupted. My face reddened. I glanced around me, noticing that every other patron and pirate were staring directly at us. Gulping, I reached forward and pulled her hand down from her mouth. "Come on, stop. It's not that funny."

"It's stupid, that's why it's funny!" She continued to cackle as she threw herself over the table, clutching her stomach. A smile crawled on my face, not a painted one. Hearing her laugh, while for no reason, was a beautiful sound. And seeing her laugh? That was even better. I rested my chin in my hand and watched her, smiling to myself. When she finally calmed down, she wiped tears from her eyes. Her face was stained red. "Gosh, I am so sorry," She sighed, shaking her head. "I needed that, thank you."

"It's no problem," I said as I dropped my menu.

Due to the lack of laughter, a waiter finally arrived and took our orders.

"I'll have a slice of apple pie, please. With a cup of milk," Y/N smiled up at the waiter as she read off from the menu.

I raised an eyebrow. Dessert?

"Then after that, I'll have the fish and chips. But I want the pie first, please. Not after." She announced and she folded her menu, sliding it forward. She smiled at me.

I looked at her, completely confused. "Uhm," I looked back to the waiter, "I'll just have a cup of coffee."

Now, Y/N was looking at me, confused.

The waiter nodded and left. "Hey," Y/N started. "Why aren't you eating? I thought you were on your way to get something to eat?"

"I'm not hungry. Plus I doubt you'll finish all of that. I might pick on your leftovers," I said with a grin then I started to munch on the small bowl of peanuts that sat in the middle of the table. "What's up with the apple pie though?"

"I like to eat my dessert before my food because that's what I'm looking forward to," She hummed as she leaned back in her seat. "What if during our meal, we are stormed by a group of pirates and killed at gunpoint? Or a sea snake comes and eats us whole?"

"Ha! What?"

"It's unlikely but it's possible. And I'd like to die knowing I was able to get to the good part of my meal." She wagged her finger at me.

"You make a good point there."

"I know," The girl said with a satisfied grin.

I chuckled and sat back, drumming my gloved fingers on the edge of the table. A thought pondered my mind but I didn't know whether to act on it or not. I wanted to, but I didn't want to overstep any boundaries. I felt Y/N and I were moving forward with our relationship if there was one. We were talking, enjoying a meal together. I made her laugh. She admitted a quirk about herself to me. I felt there was good progress. But I wanted more. I was an impatient man. And the fact that it took five months for me to finally talk to her, despite her initiating the conversation, was surprising. I was eager to get what I wanted. And Y/N was the only thing my mind and heart could agree on.

But the fighting halves of my brain finally settled and I rested my arm over the top of the booth, leaning back. "So, uh, earlier you said you needed to laugh? How so?"

"It's a long story," She mumbled, shrugging her shoulders.

"I've got no places to be, I have time," I said as I cracked a peanut open, discarding of the shells on an unfolded napkin. I watched as she began to grow uneasy with the topic but I was desperate to want to know what was the issue. Why was she stressing her pretty little head? I frowned. "Come on, talk to me. We aren't friends, I'm a stranger to you, no? Who am I gonna talk to or tell?"

"You make a good point," Y/N sighed and leaned forward, raising her hand to scratch at the back of her neck. "It's just- I don't know, it's a lot. I haven't talked to anyone about it."

“Why not?”

“Because it’s something I’m not proud of.”

What could someone as sweet and fragile as she has done that was such an awful deed?

“What is it?” I tossed a peanut into my mouth.

“Well, I was young when it all happened. But when Gold Roger announced the One Piece before he died, my dad was one of the stupid pirates who thought he could have a shot at finding it,” She announced as her eyes rolled and she started to chew on my inner cheek. “My mom kept telling him to knock it off and stop living in a fantasy but he set off, determined to find it. I haven’t seen him in fifteen years. But this came to me a few days ago,” The girl dug her hand into her pocket, rummaging around before she pulled out a crumpled piece of coffee-stained paper. She rolled the ball toward me.

I looked at her then back down at the paper ball. I reached forward and grabbed it, raising an eyebrow. Unfolding it, I smoothed the paper against the table and started to allow my eyes to trail over the letter.

‘Y/N,

It is with great sorrow that I write you this letter. I wish you the best in your youth and I hope you amount to incredible things, such as creating a new destiny for you and your mother. I am sorry I wasn’t able to be a better father for you. Greed is distasteful. I won’t see you again. At the time of writing this, I will be long gone. But please, do me one thing: never stop smiling.

I love you, kiddo.

Love, Dad’

I clenched my jaw and looked back up at her. “Damn, that is a lot.”

“I told you,” She whispered as she tore the paper out of my hands, crunched it into a ball, and then shoved it back into her pants. “I didn’t think he’d be dead. Not this soon. My parents had me when they were young. And to think that my dad died doing something everyone warned him of. It’s horrible. It haunts my mind every day,” She frowned, her eyes tearing up. “Do I write back?”

“Do you have things you wish to say to him?”

“So much. But if he’s dead, then there’s nothing I can say, right?” Y/N rubbed at her nose and took a deep breath as she looked up, her hands waving in hopes of drying her tears. “God, I hate crying.”

“Maybe just write your heart out. Say everything you wish you could say to him. Then seal it in a bottle and toss it into the sea,” I suggested. I looked down at my gloved hand and hesitating, I reached forward and took hold of her small hand. I gave it a tight squeeze. “What do you want to say?”

“How I hate him for abandoning me and my mother but I still love him because he’s my father,” Y/N murmured, the rest of her words muffling as her lower lip quivered. She broke down in a fit of sobs as tears ran down her gorgeous face. I swallowed, never knowing how to react when someone cried. As a child, I hated to be touched whenever I was upset. I wondered if she was the same way. “I don’t know, I don’t,” She repeated as she buried her face in her hands.

I looked around the bar, nervous that others were watching this scene. First the obnoxious laughter and now this? Her emotions were spiraling.

“Hey,” I whispered, my thumb rubbing along her wrist. “Let's say we get the food to go and I’ll take you back home. Eat where you feel comfortable and so you can properly feel your emotions.”

“Huh?” She raised her head, the light mascara that accentuated her eyelashes, now dripping down her cheeks.

“I’m going to go tell the chef to wrap your meal up. Then I’ll take you home,” I continued and I raised my free hand, snapping my fingers to signal we needed assistance. “But don’t worry, I’ll turn around when you walk inside.” I cocked a smile but the comment remained unheard as she continued to cry.

I finally found a waiter and instructed him that we were taking the meal to go. He looked at Y/N with a concerned look but I told him she was alright. But I didn't even know that.

On the walk back to her place, I think I managed to get her to calm down. My hand rubbed at her back as she dipped her head in her hands. I guided her through crowds, instructing her on where to go since her eyes were covered and swollen with tears. A small frown fell on my face despite the red-painted smile I wore so proudly. The face paint I wore was smeared and dripping due to the rain from before. It was continuing to rain but not nearly as frequent and hard as earlier.

I had no idea she was this emotional. It made me feel guilty, even though, as far as I knew, I had nothing to do with why she was crying so much. I hated seeing her so sad. Normally, if it were anyone else apart from her, ridiculing would be my goal. I never cry. Pirates don't cry. But my nose burned with an odd sensation as I helped her up the staircase to her small, run-down building. I blinked rapidly and the feeling went away. Letting out a sigh, I gave Y/N a pat on the back and informed her that we were finally home. Her head raised from the confines of her hands and she revealed a wet, red face with strands of her hair sticking to her skin. A frown stayed on my face. I pulled my hand from her back and dropped the takeaway down on the doorstep. I clenched my teeth together and watched as she fumbled to push the door open. "Here," I whispered, using my foot to nudge it open. It gave way, revealing a disorderly room with an unkempt bed and a woman sleeping under the sheets. It was probably her mother.

"Thank you," Y/N finally spoke, her voice croaking. "I appreciate it, honestly. I'm sorry for ruining your meal."

"Don't apologize. Things are fine. Go eat then get some rest, alright?"

"Yeah, okay." She rubbed her nose and nodded her head. "I'll see you around." Her body twisted and she hunched over to grab the uneaten food. She stepped inside.

"Y/N," I started, stopping her in her steps. She turned around. As I dug through my pocket, I pulled out a few berries, placing them in the palm of her hand. "Take these, okay? It's not a lot but, it should last you a little while."

"What?" She looked in her hand, shaking her head. "Buggy, no, I can't accept this. This is too much."

"Come on, take it. It's okay. You need it more than I do."

"But this is like," She counted the bills in her hands, "forty-three hundred berries... Are you completely sure?"

"Yes, I am," I said with a smile.

"I'm going to pay you back for this, I promise."

"No need."

"No, I want to. Please. I won't take this unless you allow me to repay you for this. Okay?" She slipped the money into her pocket, wiped her palm on the side of her pants, then held it out. "Deal?"

Chuckling to myself, I nodded my head. "Deal." I shook her hand. "Now, come on, go eat. I don't want to take any more of your time."

"Okay, okay," The beautiful girl agreed with a large grin, which was a much better sight than her crying. "Buggy, thank you. Thank you so much." And with those words, she stepped back, gave me a quick wave and a sincere grin, then shut the creaky wooden door behind her.

The sound of the door shutting nearly made me jump. And when I realized I was left all alone, the same sensation in my nose appeared. I gulped and walked down the stairs, now standing on a wooden dock. I hugged my arms and my eyes widened.

Y/N still had my coat.

#buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #buggy x reader #buggy smut #buggy the genius jester #x reader #captain buggy #opla fanart #op buggy #one piece live action #one piece buggy #opla buggy

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dinogoofymutated · 12 days

Note

Hi can you write something for Logan? I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but I never see this man get any love. Thanks!

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB! Reader

Hope this is okay! I tried so hard to post it last night but tumblr kept failing on me. It wouldn't even save as a draft! If you see this before I've added the meat to the fic, it's because I'm testing because tumblr is being a dick and I'll edit in the good stuff soon.

Edit: Yay! It worked! I was just uploading too much at once I guess. Had to brake it all down for it to work!

Tw: MNDI!! pnv, fem reader, creampie, size difference, petnames. Praise kink.

If you asked him personally, Logan would say he's extremely unlucky, cursed even. and With everything he's gone through, he might be correct. But still, he is certainly blessed in at least one aspect.

Logan had a really, really nice cock. It wasn't pretty like the perfect ones in porn, but damn, was it nice. It has prominent veins that you couldn't help but spoil every time you your hands (or mouth) on him. He was flushed a deep red color at the stip, and proportional, a good 5 or six comfortable inches.

The only thing is, Logan's cock was thick. impressively, deliciously thick. When the two of you started to take your relationship to the next level, Logan didn't hesitate to warn you. That didn't stop him from Taking care of you though. He'd pump his thick fingers in an out of you, curling and stretching you, finding the most pleasure spots inside of you to get you to cum and cum hard.

But every time the two of you would get close to going further, he'd back out. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, or that he didn't want to, he just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you.He'd always end up saying “ ‘next time, sunshine.” Or “Just wanna make sure I take care of you properly.” and although it was sweet, you knew what you could handle, and you were determined to climb this man like a tree.

And if there was anything Logan knew more than anything, it was to never get in the way of a determined woman.

You had spent what felt like hours in Logan's sheets, his fingers curling deep in your cunt, stretching and touching the most sensitive parts of you. He kissed every tender part of you, letting you writhe and moan underneath him. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him beyond a shadow of a doubt, knowing how stubborn you are when you really want something. This was no different. And after Cumming twice on his fingers, you were sure you could make it work. Logan sighed as you straddled him, grinding his cock against your slick cunt to try and lube him up. He sets his hands on your thighs, comfortingly caressing the plush skin. The two of you gasp when his head brushes against your Clit, an electric shock of pleasure bolting through your bodies. Logan is laid back against the pillows on his bed, looking up at you with a heated gaze.

“ ‘you okay there, doll?” He asks, the words rumbling through his chest with a groan. He smirks just barely as you scoff, adjusting yourself on your knees as you line his cock up with your slit.

“I'm- fine, I can do this.” You huff, grinding down against his thick head. Logan sucks in a breath as you do so, teeth latching onto his lip as we watches you desperately try to take him. He's not going in as easy as you thought he would, and it almost makes you feel discouraged. You were so sure you could take him, and you didn't want to quit now. Your eyebrows furrow as you struggle, and at some point his cock slips out and away from your hole. Logan lets out a grunt as you flinch, mortified.

“Ah- Sorry.” You're doing your best to not let it get to you, but there was such a sinking feeling in your chest. Almost as if he can sense it, Logan reaches up, taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finder and tilting your head down to look at him.

“It's okay.” Logan assures you. “Just relax. You'll get it.” His thumb drags across your lip, calloused hand brushing against your tits as he brings it down to your clit. He circles the nub gently first, then with a tad bit more pressure. You hear him chuckle as you eyes flutter closed, moaning at the pleasurable sensation.

“okay.” You sigh, trying to align himself with you once again. You try it a little slower this time, grinding down with just enough pressure. The both of you gasp when the head of his cock notches against your slit, an improvement from before. Then, almost suddenly, it slides in.

“Fuck.” Logan grunts. His cock was hardly halfway inside, but that didn't stop the moans you let out at the pleasure- and slight discomfort- of having him inside you. The stretch was slightly painful, but you can't seem to stop yourself from grinding against him, trying to take him further.

“Logan…” The whine of his name comes out involuntarily, and the strong man inbetween your thighs shushes you sweetly, adjusting himself so he's sitting against the headboard. He brings you closer to him, snaking his hand around the nape of your neck to bring you into a kiss. He hardly gives himself time to breathe in between kisses. Logan bites your lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp at the painful pinch. He groans when you clench around his length. Still not quite adjusted to what you could fit, and his hand grabs hold onto your thighs and squeezes.

“I know, sweetheart.” He says, finally pulling back. “I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.” You bite your lip, leaning your head on his shoulder as you begin to move your hips again. The process is slow, sinking onto him inch by inch as your body adjusts to the girth, but when you finally feel the base of his cock finally sink into you, you've never felt so accomplished.

“Good girl.” Logan grunts into your ear. “ ‘did such a good job.” You yelp a little as his hips jerk, thrusting up into you. You cry out Logan's name, holding onto his shoulders as he starts to slowly pull out of you, gently thrusting back inside as he cups your face, kissing you gently. It feels good. Like he's rubbing against every spot inside of you perfectly. His slow, loving pace felt good, so, so good. But it could only keep the two of you satisfied for so long. The next time Logan pulls out of you, you slam down with a little more force. He lets out a choked moan, before you hear him chuckle. He pulls away from you just slightly, arms wrapped around your waist as he smirks at the needy look on your face. You're impatient however, and grind against him sharply when he stops moving. A flicker of pleasure flashes across his face before he's growling. He pulls you against him, pressed flush against your body as he begins to thrust more aggressively.

“Couldn't be patient, could you?” He growls. Your noises are embarrassingly loud as he picks up speed, fucking into you just like you had spent so much time imagining he would- and he was right too. You couldn't be patient. He moves his hips just slightly, hitting that one spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help but cry out, and without having to even tell him, he's hitting thay spot over and over again without fail. His grunts and groans are starting to get louder, and you can feel the knot in your stomach coming so close to snapping.

“Fuck- Logan!” He groans at the way you say his name, the knot snapping as you reach your peak and cum hard on his cock. He curses, burying his face into your neck as he starts to crumble at the feeling of your warm walls fluttering around him, desperately trying to milk him for what he's worth. He almost lets out a whine as he cums, and the noise surprises you. You can feel him twitch as spurts of his cum warm up your insides. By the time he's done, you're sure he must be leaking out of you. You lay against him, boneless as the two of you pant for air. Logan begins to press gentle kisses against your neck, praising you for how well you did. You sigh, content. Logan lays the two of you down on the bed, holding you close as his cock starts to soften inside of you.

Logan howlett was definitely blessed.

#x men 97 #x men #x men comics #x men 97 x reader #x men headcannons #wolverine x reader #wolverine #Wolverine smut #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett smut #logan howlett headcannons #Wolverine headcannons

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lialacleaf · 8 months

Text

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 4

Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited...

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

You were beginning to feel like Simon was hiding something. When he went out on missions he was insistent that you didn’t contact him. At all.

You never once wondered if there was another woman involved, Simon was too good to you for it to be that.

He was just so closed off when it came to the topic of work, and you weren’t sure why. Maybe he was battling PTSD, and trying not to let it color your relationship.

It had been six months since you had married Simon, two of which he’d spent deployed somewhere. Your parents had asked if you were coming home for the holidays, and you told them you would be working.

They still believed you had a job. In a way you did. When Simon wasn’t home you did light house chores, now that Dr. Radcliffe had cleared you for more movement.

Your leg was still weak, and running was out of the question. You’d begged Simon to let you get a dog but he’d bit his lip, given you a pained look, and explained that it wasn’t fair to the animal if you couldn’t care for it properly.

You’d nodded in agreement but it had hurt all the same. You were lonely when he was gone.

“So what are we doing for the holidays?” You asked as Simon washed the dinner dishes and handed them to you to be put away.

He shrugged as he scrubbed pasta sauce off one of the plates. “Haven’t celebrated in a while,” he admitted, handing you the next clean dish.

“Do you ever visit your family?” You asked.

“Have you ever been to Cambridge?” He went about scrubbing the cup your tea was in.

“I’ve never been to the UK, just the parts of Europe the 141 has taken me. Is that where you’re from?” You asked in excitement.

“No, I grew up in Manchester,” he said, passing you the cup.

“Is your family in Cambridge now?” You asked, feeling as if the conversation had gotten slightly off topic.

“No.”

You blinked in confusion. “Wouldn’t it make more sense to spend the holidays in Manchester with your family?”

“It doesn’t have to be Cambridge, London is nice too,” he added, drying his hands on the spare dish towel. “We’ve got a few weeks to decide anyhow.” He gave you a quick kiss on the forehead before disappearing into the bathroom.

You gaped slightly, blinking in confusion. What just happened? Had he really just swept your questions about his family under the rug with the distraction of a holiday vacation?

Maybe it was only fair. You’d made no effort to introduce Simon to your parents, but that was different. You were a daughter, not a son. If your parents found out their little baby girl had been injured, and married off to some strange man, your father would blow a fuse.

You knew very little about Simon though. The only thing you knew about him was his strange relationship with Ghost. Why was someone as sweet as Simon even mates with someone like Ghost?

Simon had started taking you into town once a week. He didn’t like to keep you cooped up, and Dr. Radcliffe had warned him you’d end up in trauma therapy if he kept you isolated during recovery.

Simon was relieved you didn’t display much interest in going to the mall. You were perfectly happy to go to the park and pet dogs, or go to the bookstore for hours on end.

You were begging to accumulate a small library, and sooner or later he’d need to build you a bookshelf.

“Out for the weekly book haul I see,” Jesse, the store owner said as you approached her counter, most of your books in Simon’s arms. You grinned at her as she scanned your latest finds. “You’re practically keeping me in business at this point.”

You shrugged and gave Jesse a bright smile. “You had new stuff in the gardening section, thought it might be helpful for the herbs we just planted,” you said, flashing Simon a grin.

He didn’t give you much of a reaction, but that was normal when he was in public. He wasn’t exactly fond of strangers, but he tolerated Jesse for the free cups of tea she bestowed on the two of you when you sat down to read in her cafe.

She’d never asked for the details of your relationship with Simon, but she always chuckled softly when he handed over his debit card without so much as a grumble for your somewhat expensive taste in books. A man that supported his partner's love of books was a good man in her opinion.

Jesse placed your books in a bag and handed them to Simon with a smile, unbothered by his flat expression and aversion to talking more than what was necessary.

“Have you decided where you want to go for Christmas yet?” He asked as he helped you load into his truck.

“Maybe we should stay home this year. I was just thinking it’d be harder to travel with my leg, and you already don’t like crowds, I can’t imagine how busy London must be this time of year…” you trailed off as Simon buckled into the driver’s seat. “But I would like to put up a tree!” You added.

Simon raised a brow at you as if he were amused by your declaration. “A tree?”

“Yeah! A Christmas tree! And we could have some of your teammates over-“

“They’ll be with their families,” he stated quickly.

Your smile fell. Oh. Right. “Maybe just the Captain then?”

Simon bit his lip but nodded. Price was aware of the situation, and the least likely to spill the beans. He supposed inviting his Captain over for a holiday meal would be alright.

“Speaking of family,” you began carefully, “Can we stop by the post office next week? I’d like to ship my parents' Christmas presents,” you requested softly.

Simon glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Would you like to see your family?” He asked, and you shook your head.

“No, I…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say.

“You haven’t told them.” It wasn’t a question. He’d heard your phone calls with them. They still thought you were working for Price.

“It’s…it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. It’s just that I don’t want them to worry, and I know that they will.” Simon nodded, grasping your hand gently in his. “I’ll figure something out…eventually.”

“I have to go for a mission next week, but I’ll be back before Thanksgiving. We can put up the tree when I get back. I’ll…leave the truck with you, you can make it to town on your own?” He asked.

Your eyes widened in surprise. You hadn’t expected him to even offer, but now that you thought about it, it was a little ridiculous to expect you to stay put while he was gone. It was your left leg that was injured after all, you could still drive.

“Yeah, I know the way. Thanks, Simon,” you said, offering him a brilliant smile.

“Just be careful,” he reminded you. He’d leave a pistol with you just in case. The holidays were always more dangerous. He was starting to regret not getting you that dog. He would have to look into putting up a fence, but that was a long term project that he’d need a longer break from work to accomplish. Like hell he was gonna pay some stranger to come out to his home where his wife was to do the job.

Once the truck was parked and your books were unloaded, Simon went about doing his chores while you made lunch. At some point you heard the buzz of his saw outside. He seemed to always have some sort of project going.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the other night as you went about piling chicken salad on two croissants. Why was he so closed off concerning his family?

You eyed you bedroom door, wondering if you should just leave it alone, or put your detective skills to work.

You left your plates on the counter as you slipped into your bedroom. Simon didn’t keep many personal items, therefore your nightstand was always a little more cluttered than his between your laptop, medications, and other odds and ends.

You weren’t exactly sure what you were looking for. All you really knew about Simon was his name and that he’d grown up in Manchester. Your search would likely yield little result.

At least that was what you thought until you were starting at a death record. A death record for Simon Riley, bearing the same date of birth and identification information that was on your marriage certificate.

“Y/n?” You jumped, your head shooting up to see Simon in his sweaty work clothes standing in the doorway. “Gonna hop through the shower before lunch…everything alright?” He asked, noticing how pale you’d gone.

“I…um, yeah, yeah I’m fine.” You sputtered, closing your laptop screen. “I’ll go finish lunch,” you said, limping back into the kitchen.

Simon watched you, his head cocked to the side, before he shrugged, and stripped down to get a shower.

You tried to ignore the knots forming in your gut. Simon Riley was dead, and you had no unearthly clue who this man was. Did Ghost know? Had he unwittingly sent you right into the arms of someone dangerous, or was Ghost well aware of who Simon really was?

Your hands shook as you went about finishing the lunch preparations, and you quietly set the table, hyper aware of the other person in the house.

Simon was still in the shower, you had time to go back for your laptop. You quickly made your way into the bedroom, lifting the screen as you sat on the bed.

Your eyes scanned over the obituary with concern. Simon Riley…served in the royal army…died in a fire…no body…wait…no body?

You scrolled down a bit until you got to the photo at the bottom of the page. It was your Simon. You felt your throat tighten.

Why was your Simon supposedly dead? It made no sense. The man in the picture, albeit a little older, was currently showering in the bathroom.

You scanned through the rest of the obituary, noticing the mention of his family. Each name was highlighted, and you risked clicking on the name of the previous Mrs. Riley.

You felt like you were going to hurl when you were greeted with an even more morbid obituary. His entire family was gone. Murdered. Stolen right out from under him. It suddenly made sense. His overprotective nature was simply a trauma response. It still didn’t explain the falsified death certificate, but it was a start.

It wasn’t until you were staring into the photographed eyes of Tommy Riley that it clicked.

Tommy had brown eyes, practically identical to Simon’s. There was one other person you knew of with those eyes. One other person who’s voice sounded so similar to Simon’s, even if it was a little rougher.

Was Tommy…Ghost?

AN: OOOOOH Ya'll excited? We get spicy next chapter...

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#simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #ghost mw2

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miasmaghoul · 6 months

Text

Kinktober Day 1 - High Sex

Wow, I can't believe it's already October 1st! I can't WAIT to see what normal things this month holds. I certainly hope Swiss doesn't go absolutely insane in Australia and destroy us all!

(Look, just be thankful I'm trying. Huge shoutout to @kroas-adtam for putting together this year's prompts!)

Green is the Warmest Color

Rating: E Pairing: Aeon/Swiss Word Count: 2.2k Contains: stoned, sappy ghouls, shotgunning, cock warming, lazy sex, banter, body worship, the boys being Real Fucked Up and absolutely loving it

-----

“You’re staring,” Swiss lilts, eyes crinkling as he brings the smoldering end of their joint to his lips.

Aeon's sure he's right, but in fairness, how couldn’t he? Swiss is a vision, sitting pretty in his lap in a wide straddle with a hand planted on Aeon’s stomach. The setting sun throws every inch of the other ghoul into such sharp relief; everything from the chips in his curved horns and the strong line of his jaw, to the breadth of his shoulders and the slight softness of his stomach. From the swollen, stiff peaks of the nipples Aeon had spent ages teasing once they’d finally fallen back into bed, to the flushed length of Swiss’ cock where it sits heavy against Aeon’s pale belly. Dribbling sticky fluid into his happy trail with the occasional languid rock of those incredible hips.

"'Course I am," he replies, loose and relaxed, "you're real nice to look at."

-----

Read below, or on AO3!

Lazy.

That’s how Aeon would say his day with Swiss has been. Lazy, but in the best way.

He’d woken late, drenched in the early summer sunlight pouring through Swiss’ windows. Wrapped in a tangle of limbs and blankets that he hadn’t found himself particularly eager to escape. Swiss seemed to agree, when he eventually cracked an eye open to find Aeon staring at him with a sleepy, besotted smile on his face.

“Finally, jeez,” he’d teased, planting a kiss on Swiss’ bare shoulder and flashing him some fang. “Thought I was gonna have to watch you drool forever.”

“You love when I drool,” Swiss had countered, raspy and thick but still playful as ever. He’d threaded heavy fingers into Aeon’s mop of messy waves, scratching at the spot behind his ear that always makes his leg twitch.

“Maybe,” he’d purred, tipping his head into the touch, “but I think there’s better things for that mouth to be doing.”

Swiss hadn’t argued that point, a slow grin splitting his face as he hooked a finger under Aeon’s sharp chin. As he knocked their horns together and nuzzled his cheek. Brushing their lips together in the barest hint of what Aeon was asking for.

“You have eye boogers,” Swiss had informed him then, thumbing along his lashline with a crinkled nose, and Aeon hadn’t been able to hold back his laugh.

“And you have morning breath,” he’d chuckled, looping a long arm around Swiss’ shoulders. “Kiss me anyway.”

Swiss had, happily so, and to Aeon’s delight there was no urgency behind it. No rush, no invasive tongue, no gasping for breath. Just the scratch of Swiss’ stubble, the tickle of his mustache and the warmth of his mouth. A kiss they had both gotten lost in, drifting on nothing but the feel and taste of one another.

The rest of their day had been equally indulgent; a long, hot bath filled with more of those decadent kisses and wandering hands. Hours spent in their pajamas on the common room sofa, Aeon sitting between Swiss’ knees so the other ghoul could play with his hair. A late lunch at the lakeside, Swiss occasionally tossing a grape into Aeon’s mouth from the other side of the blanket they shared. An early evening stroll to the greenhouse spent talking about everything and nothing, their tails idly curling together along the way.

Aeon had busied himself visiting his favorite plants once they arrived, chatting with one of the lesser ghouls tending to the table of orchids. Admiring petals in all shades of purple, caressing stems and verdant leaves with gentle fingers while Swiss hunted down Mountain. It hadn’t taken him long - Swiss creeping up behind him a few minutes later, looping his arms around Aeon’s waist to nose behind his ear, asking if he was ready to head back. Aeon had hummed, but hadn’t made an effort to move. He’d leaned back into Swiss instead, fingers dancing along a bud that had yet to bloom. In no particular hurry to abandon the beauty laid out before him.

Then Swiss had held up a baggie of prerolls, had kissed his neck, and Aeon decided that stopping to smell the flowers could wait until tomorrow.

Besides, his current view is infinitely more enticing.

“You’re staring,” Swiss lilts, eyes crinkling as he brings the smoldering end of their joint to his lips.

"'Course I am," he replies, loose and relaxed, "you're real nice to look at."

Swiss smiles down at him, washed in warm light that perfectly matches his golden eyes. Eyes that are both blown dark and red rimmed, heavy in a way that makes Aeon throb. He knows Swiss feels it deep inside, can tell by the way his breath stutters and his lids droop.

Aeon can't stop touching him, talented hands drifting from Swiss' knees to his chest and everywhere in between. Right now he has one on a strong thigh, thumb tracing ticklish half circles that make the muscle there jump. The other sits on Swiss' stomach, kneading gently at the little bit of pudge Swiss holds there. Aeon's obsessed with it always, but high as he is, the feel of it right now is simply exquisite.

"Easy there, kitten," Swiss sighs, his own hand gliding from Aeon's belly up towards his narrow chest. "Don't go bruising the goods." He rubs over a tight pink nipple with a slow thumb and Aeon groans.

"Can't help it," he replies, offering up a stoned smirk. "You're just so…"

Aeon trails off into a sound of faux frustration, grabbing at Swiss' tummy with both hands, digging bony fingers into soft flesh. Swiss laughs, a rich, warm sound that melts into a pleasured moan when Aeon twitches inside him. Swiss moves his hips in a slow circle and they both hiss with it.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Aeon murmurs, tongue flicking out wet his lips, and Swiss’ only response is a rusty purr.

He’s been sitting like this for a while now, keeping Aeon’s dick nice and warm while they finish off their treat from Mountain. A comforting weight that perfectly complements the fuzziness in his skull and the floatiness of his limbs. Aeon has no complaints about the fact that Swiss hasn't so much as bounced on him, neither of them in any rush to do more than enjoy the slow, luxurious grind.

Aeon somehow manages to pry his hands from Swiss' belly, settling them on his hips instead and encouraging him to circle them again. Swiss clamps down around him and it sends a wave of warmth through his pelvis so intense that Aeon shudders. Swiss hums his amusement around the joint, sucking down the last of it in one long pull. It's far too much at once, his broad chest puffed up to full capacity by the time he's done, but then Swiss is looking at him with a glimmer on those gorgeous eyes and Aeon really can’t be bothered to worry.

Smoke's already curling from his nostrils when Swiss leans down, dropping the roach into his ashtray before getting both hands on Aeon's shoulders. Settling his weight onto his slight chest and pressing their foreheads together. Aeon's arms snake around him in an instant, and then Swiss' mouth is on his and Aeon's world becomes nothing but scratchy stubble, soft lips and herbal smoke.

He drinks down all he can, licking it from Swiss' mouth and filling his lungs with the sweetest kind of poison. Swiss' tongue against his is heavenly, warm and wet and perfect to suck on when he's too out of breath to continue the kiss. Aeon exhales slowly through his nose while they soak in it, Swiss' nose rubbing against his and his velvety walls quivering in the most delicious way.

It's a challenge to convince his eyes to open once he's done, but somehow Aeon manages. Cracks lavender eyes no doubt redder than his flushed cheeks. Cheeks that go two shades darker when Aeon finds the other ghoul already watching him with a gentle warmth in his gaze.

"Now who's starin'?" Aeon teases, voice honey thick, claws trailing over Swiss' back in nonsense patterns. Oh he is very fucked up.

"Is it me?"

Well, at least Swiss is too.

"'S okay," Aeon assures him, as though Swiss would ever think staring was a problem. "I like when you look at me like that."

"Hmm?" Swiss cocks his head, squeezing at his shoulders. "Like what, starshine?"

Aeon's lips curl into a smile, one he offers up in a quick peck to Swiss' cheek.

"Like you love me."

He says it with such ease that it can't be anything but the truth, and despite the glazed look in his eye Aeon can tell that Swiss hears it too. He feels Swiss' cock throb where it's trapped between them, and Aeon hopes that the sticky spot on his stomach has grown larger.

"Maybe I do." Swiss sounds so goofy, so pleased. "What're you gonna do about it?"

Aeon offers a shrug, looping one arm around Swiss' waist while the other travels south. Coasts over the curve of the other ghoul's ass - Aeon grabs a nice handful, tugs at Swiss' hole a little just to hear him gasp - before slipping over his hip. Fingertips wiggling into the space between their overwarm bodies.

"Dunno," he answers, his casual tone a stark contrast to the way his greedy fingers worm their way closer to their prIze. "Could make you cum, I guess."

Aeon finds the slick head of Swiss' cock and sneaks two fingers between it and his own stomach. Massages the frenulum the way he knows Swiss' likes best. He's rewarded with a deep, dark moan, one that sinks into his skin like a tangible thing.

"Guess so," Swiss says, just a touch more breathless than he was a minute ago. "If you wanted."

Oh, Aeon definitely wants. Stoned as he is, that much is still obvious. He hums, catching the larger ghoul in a kiss that leaves him breathing heavier too.

"Sit up for me," he speaks against Swiss' lips, half into his mustache. "Wanna see you."

Swiss complies with absolutely no urgency, unhurried in the way he pushes himself upright. Relinquishes his grip on Aeon's shoulders to stretch those long arms over his head with a low groan. Aeon could watch him do this for days - could study every line and curve of the other ghoul's body for the rest of his existence and still want more. His admiring gaze travels from the tips of Swiss' fingers, down his arms, his chest, his stomach. When it settles on the swollen length of his cock, flushed dark where it's caged in pale fingers, Aeon can't help the way his own pulses.

Swiss must be so slick inside by now. Aeon can’t help but wonder, if he pulled out right now, if the mess of pre he’s been leaking for the better part of the past half hour would drip right down Swiss’ balls.

Swiss finishes his stretch with a show, running his own large hands down his torso with another roll of his hips, and Aeon sucks air through his teeth. Swiss gives him a devilish grin, hands coming to rest on Aeon's pecs, rosy little nipples pebbled under rough palms. Swiss kneads at him then, but Aeon's the one that purrs.

"Didn’t you say no bruisin' the goods?" Aeon barely recognizes his own voice for how slurred it is.

"I'm exempt," Swiss tells him, happily pawing at him while his cock throbs in Aeon's grip. Aeon snorts, free hand moving to stroke Swiss' thigh.

"'S'at so?"

"Uh huh," Swiss confirms, catching Aeon's nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He gives them a nice tweak and Aeon yips, an embarrassing little sound that sends a flash of heat through him.

"What a surprise," he tries to deadpan, but the giddiness supplied by the weed makes it come out a bit silly. Swiss sticks out his tongue, and Aeon bites at the air as though he could reach it.

"What wa'zat about makin' me cum?"

Lucifer, Swiss sounds good when he's high. Aeon hums like he’s considering the concept, adjusting his hold on Swiss' twitching length. Less of a grip, more of a flat palm pressing it to the finely muscled plane of his stomach. Swiss gasps when he does, rutting forward on instinct and spitting another blurt of pre by Aeon's navel.

"Think you have everything you need to make that happen," Aeon croons, tongue poking out between his fangs. "Go ahead, I'm not stoppin' you."

Swiss groans deep in his chest when his brain processes the words, and then he's grinding again. Hips working in achingly slow rocks and rounds, each one designed to put Aeon's cock exactly where he wants it. Aeon adores the way Swiss' brow creases every time he hits an extra good spot, a beautiful sight that goes straight to his balls.

"Gonna take a while like this," Swiss huffs, despite the way Aeon can already feel him starting to flutter inside. Not that that’s a problem, there’s already heat starting to coil low in his gut with every move Swiss makes.

"'S'okay," he coos, the hand on Swiss’ thigh wandering up to nestle in his chest hair. “Jus’ promise you won’t stop if I blow first."

Swiss gurgles, spurts more pre, and Aeon’s content to lose himself in the wet sound of Swiss taking what he needs. There’s nothing he’d rather hear.

#miasma's work #the band ghost fic #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #aeon/swiss #aeon x swiss #ghost kinktober 2023 #kinktober day 1 #kinktober starts in october and ends when it's done lmao #fight me

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ilguna · 6 months

Note

Hello! For the event could I please have prompt 7 from the expired medicine list with Finicky or Katniss, whichever one you think would work best! Thank you and congrats on 3000!

☼ cerulean pt1 (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, a harassment accusation, whore used derogatorily.

wc; 2k

prompt; 7. fling.

notes; reader/finnick are the same age, pre-canon.

—

Gloss lets out an annoyed sigh, coming to a stop. “(Y/n), I told you that we should’ve left sooner.”

You press your lips together, eyes searching the crowd to find the designated rows for mentors and stylists. Most—if not, all—of the seats that are reserved for you have been completely taken up. Except for a pair that have been strategically left absent, intended for you and Gloss to sit in.

Which would be perfect, if it weren’t for the fact that your tributes’ stylists are placed a row beneath, on the opposite end. That’s where you had told them to sit, because you thought you’d be a few minutes late. Those minutes ended up turning into a half hour, as you had to change your entire outfit and adjust your makeup to match.

In the years you spent training for the Games and preparing for the Capitol, they never told you just how many rules there are to follow, here. They range from obvious to unspoken, but to you, half of them are unnecessary.

The one that shot you down tonight is the palette rules. The first is that you cannot wear the same colors that your tributes will wear for their interviews. You got past that one just fine, as they’re usually forced to wear bright colors to draw attention, something that you aren’t really into.

The second one is about matching outfits with mentors. You’re not allowed to wear the exact same outfit as your other mentor unless you’re siblings or dating. Whereas Cashmere and Gloss got away with it for years, you wouldn’t be able to do the same, not that you want to, anyway.

It’s the third that you got caught on. See, you’re allowed to wear the same colors as Gloss, but you’re not allowed to match colors with mentors outside of him. This is for multiple reasons, the primary one being in case a camera pans to the crowd, it needs to be obvious who is where and what they’re wearing.

On top of that, for districts that are expecting for their tributes to be popular, it’s customary to submit what color the mentor is going to wear. You meant to do this, but you kept putting it off because you were busy and had other things to worry about. Gloss knew this, and thought that he’d be nice and submit it for you, and he was going off of the last color you’d mentioned.

It was cerulean blue, because you’d seen the color in a stylists’ closet, and throughout the week, you haven’t been able to get it off your mind. When you overheard the District Four mentors talking about a similar color, you had to give it up. They have a monopoly over the color blue, you would be the one shamed for going out of your boundaries.

And you suppose you could’ve talked to Finnick Odair or Mags Flanagan about them choosing a different color, if it weren’t for the rivalry that’s been going on over the past couple of years. It’s only grown worse in the last year.

To make an extremely long story short, Finnick started the rivalry when he didn’t join the Career pack during his Games, and proceeded to openly bash Districts One and Two as a whole. At the time, he said he hated the Career dynamic, the names you’re given, and the attitude you have about everything. He finished by saying each time one of you dies, you have it coming because of stupid actions made early on.

Instead of Mags, his mentor, trying to downplay his words and squirm their way out of it, she stood behind him. Everything that came out of his mouth dragged them down further into a grave. When he won, he refused to take anything he said back, because he meant every word.

Since then, the Careers have excluded District Four from every one of their activities. Between the Capitol week, during the tribute parade, the training, the interviews, and the time in the arena. No one is to intermingle with the fish district, even if it means death.

Well, you won two years after Finnick had, at the bright age of sixteen. You shunned Four the way you had been taught to. When you got home after the Games, you got the full story regarding Finnick, and his personality. It was a warning from Cashmere and Gloss to stay away from him.

The next year—last year—you finally got to meet him. It was your first time as a mentor, and even though Gloss had told you he would be watching you like a hawk, he didn’t have time to. He was juggling both tributes to pick up the work that Cashmere usually did with her eyes closed. This is because you weren’t used to the workload.

Needless to say, your mentor's warnings meant nothing.

In the month you spent in the Capitol, you grew close to Finnick. It wasn’t on purpose, honestly you don’t remember how the two of you ended up talking for the first time, much less becoming more than that. Way more than that. Finnick is well aware that he’s handsome, and he’s got the charm to go along with it.

That’s how you ended up in the same bed together, multiple times, until you had to leave the Capitol when your final tribute died. But before you left for the year, Finnick gave you a nasty parting gift. He went straight to Capitol reporters to tell them what you’d done together for the summer.

It was like he couldn’t wait to tear you down, despite the fact that you had done nothing to him.

Thankfully, you can put on a good show. At the train station, with about a hundred cameras and microphones in your face, you’d burst into tears. You claimed that Finnick had harassed you the entire time you were in the Capitol, and he couldn’t take no for an answer. He had threatened to ruin your reputation if you tried to breathe a word of it.

There was a lot of skepticism following your statements, because it’s he-said, she-said business. He pointed his finger at you, and you did the exact same thing without going any lower than he did. It worked out exactly the way you had been hoping it would.

It’s been a pain in the ass to be near him this time around.

This is why you couldn’t just ask the Four mentors to pick a different color. You were forced to change your mind, and you’d decided to go with a light pink, because it was safer. Your whole attention had shifted to that shade of pink for the last half of the week. And it wasn’t until you were on your way out the door to get on the elevator, Gloss asked you what you were wearing, because cerulean had been submitted, not pink.

If he had told you that he had done that for you, neither of you would’ve shown up this late. With the only pair of seats left being squeezed between Enobaria and Finnick.

You can already guess how this is going to go.

“Gloss, I’m sorry.” You start, looking at him. “Please, don’t make me sit next to Finnick.”

“It’s your own fault.” He tells you, starting down the aisle.

You roll your eyes. “I don’t think you understand that you had a part in this too, if you’d told me—”

“(Y/n), it’s your job as a District One mentor to remember to submit your color.” He cuts you off. “I let you slide last year, and you know that this year, you were supposed to handle it.” He stops at the end of the row, holding his hand out. “Now you’ve got to deal with this.”

You grind your teeth slightly, squinting at him, wondering if you’ll get in trouble for strangling someone from your own district. You then take in a breath, giving him a fake smile, and turning to head down the row, toward Finnick. You could be an ass and sit in Gloss’ seat next to Enobaria, but you’re sure that he’ll make you get up and move over.

Finnick glances up at you, meeting your eyes. A smirk plays at the corner of his lip, “I see you’re still breaking rules.”

You ignore him, sitting in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He’s referring to the color you’re wearing, which is entirely too similar to what he’s wearing. The Capitol will easily be able to distinguish the two different shades, but the districts are a different story.

Gloss sits on your other side. When you turn your head to talk to him, you see that he’s already captured Enobaria’s attention, leaving you to your own devices. You’d jump into the conversation, but Enobaria hasn’t grown to like you quite yet. She prefers Cashmere, because they’d been working together for a couple years.

“Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?” Finnick pouts in a mocking tone, “I thought we had something.”

The back of his forefinger brushes against your thigh. You slap his hand away, glaring at him. “Leave me alone.”

“Why? Are you going to go crying to the cameras again?” He asks. “That was smart of you to do, I wish I’d thought of it myself.”

“You’re not smart enough to.” You mutter. “Keep wishing.”

Finnick doesn’t respond, he doesn’t have time to. The lights overhead dim, signaling that it’s time for the interviews to start. It isn’t until Caesar Flickerman comes on stage, dressed in sunflower yellow, do the lights go fully dark.

This conceals Finnick’s action of twisting his upper body to face you. You eye him out of your peripheral the best you can, leaning away from him slightly. You were stupid to think that you’d get a fairly relaxed evening the night before the Games.

Finnick leans over the arm rest that separates you, getting close to your ear to whisper. Despite the fact that Caesar is loud enough to drown out anything he would have to say.

“I really am sorry.” He whispers. “Let me make it up to you.”

You keep your eyes on Caesar, forcing yourself to listen to the jokes he’s cracking, knowing that he’s leading up to introducing your first tribute. Your thoughts begin to stray when you feel him touching you again, attempting to innocently play with the bottom of your dress.

“Any way you want.” His fingertips dancing on your skin. “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

You grab his wrist, eyebrows drawn in. “Stop.”

“It won’t happen again.” He murmurs. “It’ll stay between me and you.”

You break your eyes away from Caesar to stare into Finnick’s, which are easy to make out in the darkness. “I’m not falling for the same trick twice.”

“It’s not a trick.”

You let go of him. “Enough.”

“We were good together.” He whines a little too loudly. Gloss glances over, but Finnick’s already pretending to be watching the show in front of you.

Finally, Caesar introduces your girl tribute. Gloss looks away.

“How about I take you out to lunch?” Finnick proposes.

You shake your head at him. “Finnick, face it, what we had is nothing more than a fling.” You snap quietly. “I’m the only girl your age, which means I’m your only option, and I’m telling you no.”

“A fling?” Finnick echoes, “No, I saw it as more than that.”

“Right, so what went through your head when you went and told the Capitol that I was a whore last year?” You ask, watching him. Finnick opens his mouth, and then closes it. “That’s what I thought.”

“You’re not going to forgive me for that, are you?”

“Why should I?”

Finnick hums, looking away. He doesn’t speak for several tributes, and just when you begin to think that the conversation is over, he looks over. Right as his boy is coming to the front of the stage.

“You do look gorgeous tonight, I think cerulean is perfect on you.”

You force a smile, “I’ll never wear it again.”

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

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cardiganlovesblog · 10 months

Text

Pearls

Pair : MODERN! Aemond x reader

Warnings: fluff and tenderness

Notes: Thank you for your support of the first headcanon! 💕💕 Being honest sometimes I'm a bit insecure about writing, but I do it for fun. I bring you a little bit of reader with Aemond. I hope you like it!

When you arrive at your boyfriend's house, you look at him hiding your hands behind your back.

"What do you have between your hands?" asks Aemond crossing his arms amused, he knew you were hiding something by the fact that you are very smiley.

You are both in your room, after he had asked you to come over to sleep at his place. After college studies, where Aemond studies law to work in his father's company, you didn't have much time to see each other, but he asked you to be at his house as a way to make up for lost time.

Several nights you spent sleeping in his bed while he studied the subject that you would be studying the next class, after a few hours Aemond would turn everything off and lay down next to you, to wake up together in the morning and continue with the reality of the university.

Now he is sitting near his desk which is full of books and papers with long texts, while you are standing in front of him.

"I have something for you, but first close your eyes" he complies with your wish and closes them, then you take the object out of your hands and hang it on his neck "don't open them."

"I don't, but I think I know what it is" he smiles placing his hands on your waist to settle you on his lap.

"Don't move me, wait a while" as you settle him nicely next to the necklace he already had, which is a little gold chain with the initial letter of your name on it. You take his phone that is on the desk and place the camera "Ready, you can open them."

He opens his eyes finding you sitting on his lap and showing him his phone, which was placed the camera where he sees perfectly the pearl necklace that matches perfectly next to the other necklace.

"A pearl necklace?" He is confused by this detail, he never expected this kind of gift.

"It has an explanation. Let's just say that as soon as I saw this necklace, I thought about the guys who come out of the internet and look good with this kind of necklace. And then it occurred to me to buy it for you, because I think you would look good with it even though you always look good in some way" you admit nervously touching the pearl necklace, but you get a little discouraged seeing his expression "but if you don't want to wear it, no problem , I bought it knowing it's not your style" you try to take it off, but he grabs your hands and denies looking at you.

"Easy babe, I like the necklace, I just wasn't expecting this kind of gift".

"Are you sure you like it? Really, I can change it if you don't like it" you bite your lip nervously placing your hands on his chest.

Aemond pulls you closer to him taking you by the waist "I'd be a fool to despise a gift from a woman like you. I really like it, I'm already growing fond of it. I even think it matches the leather jacket" You smile to press your lips to his. " Thank you sweetheart."

Aemond since that night, he started wearing the necklace every day, even on the ones where he had to dress formal and somehow manages to wear it without it breaking his style, but he never took it off. On causal days you can see him in his leather jacket and dark colored dress, but the pearl necklace stands out among all that darkness. Some time later, Aemond gave you one just like it under the pretext of being the same, but the truth is that he had to mark territory. And whenever he is asked where he had gotten the necklace he always answers with a smile "My girlfriend T/N gave it to me last night, isn't it beautiful?"

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Hello! I apologize if there are any spelling mistakes due to the fact that I'm not that good at English, but I try. 💗

#aemond oneshot #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd headcanon #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #prince aemond #aemond x you #aemond x fem!reader #house of the dragon aemond #aemond imagine #aemond fic #aemond one eye #aemond one shot #aemond kinslayer #modern!au #modern!aemond

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starsfic · 2 months

Text

The Fall of DogDay

Summary: It has been three years since the Hour of Joy. The Smiling Critters are trying their best to take care of the children, but the adult bodies are running low, and sanity is starting to run even lower. There is only one option to even get a chance to escape the factory, and Dogday sets off to rescue her.

(Or, the player was not the first to try and free Poppy.)

Notes: Originally, this fic was going to take place six months after the Hour of Joy, but while I was doing research, I changed that. Check out the AO3 version to find other notes!

AO3/Ko-Fi

-_-

Three years.

It had been three years since the Hour of Joy.

DogDay wasn’t really certain of this. It somehow felt both longer and shorter than that, but Bubba claimed it had been three years based on the clock, so he believed him.

It had been three years, and yet the Smiling Critters survived.

It was the most positive way DogDay could describe it.

It was sad, but the kids were doing a lot better than they were, which was a better way to word it. When the alarms started going off and the Prototype started screaming in their minds, the Smiling Critters acted as trained to. They had herded all the kids away from the slaughter, down the elevator, and into the emergency bunker. They had all been able to ignore the desire for bloodlust.

Well, not every Smiling Critter had been able to.

DogDay winced at the thought. “You okay?” Hoppy Hotscotch’s voice broke through his thoughts. She brushed against his shoulder, her eyes probably wide with concern. “Are you hurt?” The rubble contained stuff like metal and wires that could slice at palms and fingers.

“I’m fine,” DogDay straightened, eyeing the cavern wall before them. “Just…getting a little annoyed with digging.”

The bunker was… decent. Big enough to host the entire Playtime Co. staff, which meant it was almost too big for the few hundred kids and the Smiling Critters. According to the manual Bubba had found, it was built to withstand nuclear blasts, built with an automatic fire sprinkler system and the same lights used in sunlamps, and, with careful rationing, have enough food for over twenty years for over a thousand people. However, there was only one entrance and only one other back door.

The food and back door were the issues.

There was enough rations for the kids. There was no questioning that. There was even a garden that Picky Piggy and some of the older kids took care of. However, the toys were built to consume one thing only: raw meat.

Big industrial freezers had been built into the bunker. That contained lots of meat, ranging from chicken to beef to veal, enough to create lots of good dinners for humans with careful rationing. However, Picky Piggy had tried some of the raw meat when making dinner and had spent the rest of the night violently throwing up. For whatever fucking reason, the toys could only eat human meat.

For the first two years, that hadn’t been an issue.

Even if they hated it, the pit where the… staff were had been accessible to everyone.

Picky Piggy, always sent to grab food, had commented once that it felt like the other toys let her go first. “I think they know we’re taking care of the kids,” she had said. “It’s kinda nice.” She had even been able to sneak up to the other levels and raid any vending machines and the cafeteria for extra food for the kids. Once, she had even been allowed to sneak into Home Sweet Home to grab any baby formula or toys left behind in the rush.

Even when the staff’s bodies ran low, humans still came in. First, it was the police officers that DogDay guessed ventured too far in. Then strange people in brightly-colored hazmat suits had started coming. Rumor said that they were looking for toy parts, to build more toys.

Toys like them.

For a while, they had kept coming in, killed by Huggy Wuggy or Boxy-Boo or even Mommy Long Legs and dumped in the pit. For over two years, starting six months after the Hour of Joy, they had come in, every week.

Six months ago, they had stopped coming, which led them to realize the second problem.

The backdoor, the door that didn’t lead into the factory full of monsters, was blocked off by rubble.

DogDay, of course, had decided to unblock it. Sooner or later, the bodies of those Resource Extraction Specialists and whatever was left of the staff would be gone. He didn’t want to be here, in close quarters with the kids, if hunger overtook them. It was hard work that they had to do in shifts of two, considering how tight the passage up was, but he figured that they would get out sooner rather than later with hard work.

Hoppy sighed, unaware of his true thoughts. "Yeah, I feel ya." She reached out and wiped her brow. They didn't sweat, but it felt like a comforting gesture. "It feels like we're just gonna keep digging forever."

"Don't worry, I'm sure we'll get out soon!" DogDay grabbed a piece of rubble and shoved it back. He and Hoppy would soon need to take a break to load the rubble into the rubble deposit tunnels that Bubba had insisted they dig first. "I can already feel the sunlight! Smell the poppies!"

"Yeah, about that..." Hoppy's hand on his shoulder made him look back. The green rabbit's eyes darted around, as if expecting someone to be eavesdropping on them. "Can I tell you something? I don't know who else to tell, and I don't want to scare the kids."

"Yeah, sure, what is it?"

Hoppy took a deep breath.

"I think CraftyCorn is losing it," Hoppy whispered softly, like she was worried that the unicorn would hear them. "I was helping her with a painting last night, right?"

"Right?" CraftyCorn wanted to paint a mural on the walls to give the bunker some color.

"And, she needed red for some poppies, but we were out of red in the paint cupboard." Hoppy gripped her arm, where a new bandage sat. "She accused me of hiding more red."

DogDay felt the pieces slide together.

"She... attacked you?"

Hoppy nodded. "I'm really glad the kids were asleep, because I was terrified of her right then. KickinChicken ended up finding some red paint, I think it was used for marking the tornado spots, but she calmed down the moment she saw I was bleeding red."

DogDay blinked. He had heard Hoppy loud and clear, but he couldn't match the image of CraftyCorn to violence. "Did...did she say anything? Did she apologize?"

Hoppy shook her head. "No. I mean, she used the paint KickinChicken found, but she hasn't said a word about it. But I just sat on it all night. I mean, what if she had accused a kid of doing that?" Her ears flattened against her head. "I know CraftyCorn wouldn't do something like that, but the thought is now in my head and and and..."

"...and?"

DogDay didn't expect the next words.

"I was on the roof earlier today, staring at the cliffs. And...and I wondered, what would happen if I jumped right there..." DogDay's mind whirred at the admittance. Once again, his brain was connecting dots, and, once again, not revealing a good picture.

He had found Hoppy on the roof before their shift. He had thought she just wanted a moment of quiet, peace, and fresh air before they were here. DogDay had done that a number of times before.

But, Hoppy had been considering... that? DogDay couldn't even think of the word.

This was all painting a picture.

DogDay felt himself twitch at the thought. They couldn't wait to finish clearing the rubble. He meant, they could work on the passage, but they needed a faster solution. Food for the toys was running low, sanity was beginning to run low among the tots, and the Smiling Critters were not surviving as well as he made himself believe. They needed a way out, now.

And, as he thought, as he began to once again mechanically move rubble as Hoppy began to chatter about some of the kids planning a play, probably guessing that he had hit his limit of awful things, DogDay had a thought.

An idea.

A way to survive and get out.

Poppies...Not just poppies.

Poppy.

-_-

“No.”

“What?”

“Are you crazy?!” Everyone jolted at the harsh words from Bobby, but she didn’t seem to care. “There’s no way the Prototype will even let you go near Poppy, let alone let her out!”

DogDay raised a finger to his mouth, trying not to think of the anger in his chest. “Guys, shush. You’ll wake the kids.” It was about midnight, meaning the kids had gone to bed, and now all seven of them sat around the kitchen table as DogDay presented his idea.

KickinChicken seemed to follow the command of lowering his voice, even as he provided Bobby with backup. “Nobody’s even seen Poppy since the Hour of Joy. How do we know the Prototype didn’t just off her?”

That was a fair point. Poppy had been the leader of the toys long before the scientists created the Prototype. It was an unspoken law: whatever Poppy says, do. DogDay was pretty sure the only reason why everyone had done the Hour of Joy was because Poppy hadn’t been seen in weeks, and everyone was just that done. It would be reasonable to assume the Prototype had gotten rid of her to make sure he stayed in charge. “Bubba and I talked about it.” He glanced at the elephant sitting across from him. “Right, Bubba?”

The elephant hadn’t said a word beyond his initial rejection. His brows furrowed as everyone turned to him. Finally, he sighed. “DogDay is correct. We have discussed it.” They had spent long nights, those first few weeks of fear and tension, talking about it.

“And?” Hoppy said, crossing her arms. “What?”

“The Prototype mostly ignored us, especially CatNap,” Bubba folded his hands as he adjusted his position. He stared at the table like it was a map. “However, he paid attention to Poppy and seemed to show a fondness for her, even though she openly hated him. It was to the point that notes about his… attitude towards her called it a concern.”

“Basically, he was obsessed with her,” DogDay said. “There’s no way he would get rid of her, especially when the Doctor-” A cold chill went down his spine at the title. Everyone else shuddered on cue. DogDay pushed back the thoughts of cold hands and even colder hands to return to his plans. “Had that special case for her.” He leaned forward and unrolled the map of the factory. Before the meeting, DogDay had poured over it, marking out a route. He tapped it, and Hoppy and Bubba leaned in, their eyes following his finger as he traced his route. “There’s a back door to that room. All I need to do is sneak into Playcare-”

“Where Catnap is.”

“-Thank you Bobby, get to the train, set the train to go back to the Game Station-”

“Where Mommy Long Legs is.”

“- Thank you CraftyCorn, sneak out of the Game Station, take the emergency stairs up to where Poppy’s room is, and simply walk in, open the case, and get Poppy.” DogDay tried for a peppy smile, even as anxiety ate at him. Based on how Bobby’s eyes were narrowing, he wasn’t doing a good job at the smile. “Easy and simple! Nobody hangs around in that section. Then we just come back here the way I came in, we load everyone onto the train, and we take it to the very end of the tracks.” He switched the factory map for the train track map and tapped the very end of the tracks.

Conveniently, right next to two exits: either the front door or the warehouse.

“Then we simply walk out the door! Do I have a plan after that…?” Everyone blinked, waiting. DogDay sighed. “No, no, I do not. But, hey! We just need to escape the factory first, and then we can go from there.”

It was easy. Simple. Almost too easy and simple.

The other Smiling Critters exchanged looks. DogDay waited with bated breath. If they said no, then he would wait, just a bit longer and work on the passage in the meanwhile. Maybe until desperation began to sink in.

"Okay," Bubba stood. "If anyone thinks that DogDay should not go and risk his life to rescue Poppy, raise your hands." He raised his hand. So did Bobby and Hoppy. The last glanced at CraftyCorn, narrowing her eyes, but the unicorn looked away. "Okay. That's three. If anyone agrees with DogDay's plan, raise your hands."

DogDay raised his hand. Picky Piggy winced but raised her hand. KickinChicken raised his hand as well, ducking his head to avoid Hoppy's betrayed look.

"That's a tie," Hoppy noted, tearing her eyes away from her exercise buddy. "Crafty?" Her eyes narrowed harder at the unicorn. DogDay realized, with a start, that she hadn't looked at Hoppy throughout this entire meeting. Now that he thought about it, she hadn't spoken all throughout dinner. "You're the last vote."

It should be second to last, DogDay mused. But his best friend, his second in command, wasn't here. Bubba was great, but it wasn't the same.

"I...I...it's dangerous," CraftyCorn said, voice almost too low. "Too dangerous. What would happen if you didn't come back?"

DogDay nodded. "I get where you're coming from. While I'm gone, I want you guys to keep working on the backdoor in case I get chased out. If I were to...die," Everyone winced at the word. "I'm leaving Bubba in charge. He's better at handling things than me."

“Is there a time when you want us to give up hope of you returning?” Bubba asked, proving DogDay’s point. His heart skipped a beat a second later, realizing the elephant was talking as if CraftyCorn had agreed to let DogDay out. “It shouldn’t take very long, only a few hours. But that is when the factory is normal.”

Yeah. And the factory hadn't been normal in a while.

“A month,” DogDay decided as CraftyCorn raised her hand. “Give me a month to come back to you guys.”

Bubba sighed, sitting back down. "Then, I change my vote. DogDay has clearly thought about this." His hand raised, even as his expression said that he was at a funeral. DogDay didn't even need to count the votes to realize what the result was.

It was five to two.

Guess I'm going on an adventure...

-_-

Hoppy had insisted that DogDay let the kids say goodbye before he left the next morning. Her intentions were pretty clear with the gesture, but DogDay did his best to ignore it as he dispensed last hugs, head pats, and handshakes to the kids. He promised that he would be back soon, he would tell them all the story of his adventure when he got back, and that he loved them. The last bit was unneeded, but hey. Sometimes the kids needed their favorite toys to tell them that they loved them back.

Picky Piggy walked him out of the bunker. For a while now, she was the only one who left the bunker and the caves beyond. They had all offered to accompany her several times now, but Picky Piggy had always refused.

Not this time.

They walked in silence except for the drip of water against the stone. Picky Piggy led the way, following the lights that lit the path, with tightly furrowed brows.

Finally, they arrived at the elevator.

DogDay pressed the button. With the whine of the motor, the elevator began to descend.

"You know, I think this is a bad idea." He turned at the words. Picky Piggy stared at the floor. "I know, I voted for you and all. But it's a bad idea. Unneeded risk and all that." He prepared to retort, but she held out a hand. "But it's also a good chance. So, here."

She tossed something at him, and DogDay caught it. It was a satchel. He opened it, raising a brow, and paused. Two loose Grabpack hands with electrical wire sat inside, next to Picky Piggy’s lockpicking kit and a few small tools. Four objects had been wrapped in paper and, based on the smell, DogDay knew what they were.

"Is this...?"

"The liver's a little moldy, but it's not off entirely."

"Picky, I can't take this." He loved organ meat, even though he hated that he liked a specific part of eating human. But food for the Smiling Critters was already so stretched. "Everyone else-"

"Everyone else insisted I make you something so you didn't get hungry," Picky Piggy finally looked up from the floor. A wry smile creased her features. "You better not waste it."

DogDay gripped the satchel tight.

"I promise." The elevator clunked as it finally hit the floor. “I promise, I’ll come back to you guys.”

Picky Piggy nodded. “We know.” A hand pressed gently on his chest. “Now, go, before I think about dragging you back to the bunker.”

Despite his resolve, Dogday's feet dragged as he made his way to the elevator. The clink of the doors behind him sounded like the toll of a bell. Picky Piggy’s shoulders trembled as she pressed the button.

The elevator descended up, pulling DogDay away from his family and hopefully to Poppy. He stared down, however, not looking away from Picky Piggy until the walls surrounded him and cut off the sight of her.

Much like time, the elevator ride somehow felt too long and too short. DogDay kept quiet the entire time. The elevator cut through the labs, where the Prototype lurked. He didn’t need his quest being cut short barely five minutes in.

But nothing jumped out at him or attacked. It was just him, the darkness, and the groan of the elevator. DogDay looked up when light infiltrated the darkness. Above, a massive lid was rising up. He stood, gripping the satchel tight.

The elevator clunked into place and the doors swung open. DogDay didn’t immediately march out, however. Instead, he peeked his head out, just looking around. The gas production zone was quiet, excluding the weird violin soundtrack. DogDay counted to five minutes, waiting for anyone to come in, lured by the sound of the creak and clunk of the metal in here.

Five minutes passed. Nobody came.

DogDay finally stepped out.

He padded out of the room. The violin soundtrack grew louder in here as it was revealed that the gas-channeling machine was offline. DogDay hummed. He may need to deal with that later. Right now, he needed to get to Poppy. He padded out of the room and set off down the hall, ignoring the claw marks and streaks of blood.

The door to Playcare was thankfully unlocked. All DogDay needed to do was open it, and he stepped into Playcare. He stopped at the sight that greeted him.

Playcare had obviously seen better days.

The tarp, painted like the sky that hid the metal beams of construction, was pulling away in some areas. Only the main overhead light shone down in the area’s day mode, giving the edges creepy shadows that DogDay now padded out of. The buildings were all grungy, with paint peeling and dust covering them. Several things had been knocked over, and he ignored the blood stains. Even the Critters’ statue, once the main hub of the orphanage, was now covered in ivy. DogDay tried to ignore the missing Critter, his statue now lying broken on the ground.

(The workers had just pulled him off when it began.)

But there was no sign of CatNap.

DogDay looked around, just in case. Nope, no sign of him. That made sense. CatNap was sensitive to bright light. It didn’t help that he had been trained only to come out when Playcare was in night mode to distribute the Red Smoke.

So that meant he had to move.

DogDay started walking, trying to ignore how eerie the silence was. The cable car in and out of Playcare was right across from the gas production zone. Hopefully, it was still in working order.

He nearly laughed in relief when he found it, and the doors opened for him once he flipped the levers. Yes! It still worked! It was child’s play to hop on in and sit down, letting the cable car begin to move by itself.

Thankfully, Elliot’s spiel about Playcare and smiles didn’t play when the cable car was going up. DogDay just relaxed, watching Playcare grow smaller and smaller. A little hint of movement, right in the school’s windows, however, made him squint. Hang on, had that been one of the Miss Delight teachers?

Before he could question it, Playcare was swallowed up by the red transition lights. DogDay pulled away from the window and decided to not question it. The kids came first.

As he hoped, nobody was hanging out in the entrance to Playcare. Even better, the train was there!

DogDay, however, didn’t go into the head car, where the driver would sit. Instead, he headed to the caboose. A lever needed to be flipped whenever the train needed to go backward, like now, because the tracks ahead were blocked by rubble. The door to the caboose opened easily with some lockpicking, revealing the massive amount of controls and such that all went into controlling the train, including the lever. Hopefully, Poppy knew the master train code. DogDay flipped the switch and heard the train whistle. He hopped out and yanked himself into one of the passenger cars before the train started to move.

“Easy.”

Now he had to just sit and wait in darkness like the elevator. DogDay settled into one of the seats. Now that he was alone with his thoughts again, he wondered what the other critters were doing. Would he ever see them again? No, he shook his head, those were bad thoughts. Of course he would see them again! The others were fine, probably a little worried, but would be distracted with caring for the children.

Bubba was probably teaching afternoon classes now. Picky Piggy was probably making lunch for the children while Bobby cared for the younger kids. Hoppy and KickinChicken, if they weren’t arguing about sending him out, were probably planning some fun games for recess. CraftyCorn was busy working on her mural. The thought of the unicorn sent a shiver down DogDay’s spine. Hopefully, if CraftyCorn snapped again, the others would be able to keep her from hurting anyone.

He pushed back his concern when the darkness, once again, was interrupted by light. The Game Station was up ahead. DogDay tensed at the thought. Would the train stop here?! Did they need to push the brakes manually? He glanced out the window, trying to figure it out. The train was slowing down, so hopefully, he could jump out if-

The wheels screeched as the train came to a rolling stop. The car jolted. DogDay let out a sigh of relief. Oh thank the Lord, the train stopped on its own-

"Oh~?"

The moment he heard the sickly sweet croon, DogDay hit the floor, his relief blocked out by terror.

Mommy Long-Legs was best described as a mixed bag. In the early days, she had been kind to the Smiling Critters. DogDay could remember her hands on his, helping him learn how to walk. As the years passed, however, her focus grew more and more on the children. She had once nearly ripped Bobby's arm off for making a little girl throw a tantrum for not having the bear's sole attention on her. Her mental state hadn't improved after the Hour- in fact, according to rumors, it had gotten worse, with Mommy making any adults still alive or trapped run the Game Station gauntlet for lack of being able to watch the kids play.

He was surprised that she hadn't come looking for the children after the Hour.

If she caught him, with no humans available to play with... DogDay didn't even want to think about it.

He held his breath. Outside, he could hear the squeaks of elastic-plastic moving around, circling the train. "Now, who did this?" Mommy crooned from somewhere near the head of the train. "Hello~?"

Silence.

"Hm. It must've been a power failure," Mommy sighed. He could hear her shuffle her feet as if waiting for him to pop up just in case. "Oh well." Slowly, the plastic squeaks moved away with the creaks of metal as Mommy disappeared into the upper levels.

DogDay counted to ten.

When fifteen had passed, he sat up. The Game Station was empty and silent in the darkness. He took a deep breath and hopped out of the window, landing on the stage. He waited, just for another five seconds, before sprinting off the stage and into the Station.

Behind him, he could hear the lights flick on with the movement, but he was out the door before he could hear Mommy's confused noise. He flipped the lever to close the door behind him, just in case.

The next room held a series of doors. DogDay slid the Game Station's passage door behind him once again, before looking around. The slides for the upper management were there. (He ignored the pang that hit his heart when he saw Elliot's name.) Now, there had to be stairs…

Yes! There!

DogDay reached out and winced at the clink of the lock. Oh, great, of course, it was locked. He reached into his satchel to pull out Picky Piggy’s reliable lockpicking kit. He pulled out the tools and turned back to the lock, reaching out. It was child’s play to spring the lock from there, allowing DogDay access. So far, so good.

DogDay took a deep breath, closed the door behind him, and started up the stairs.

He failed to notice the little eyes peeking out at him from the lower floors, not until he heard a chirp. DogDay glanced down and felt his heart sink. The Wuggies beamed up at him, revealing their sharp teeth.

"Oh no."

DogDay took a step back. The lead Wuggy, a small blue one that resembled Huggy Wuggy, took a step forward. It seemed like a signal for all the Wuggies to let out one loud hiss. That was enough for him.

He turned and bolted up the stairs.

A loud screech sounded out behind him like a war siren, followed by the sound of rapid but very small footsteps. DogDay glanced down and nearly peed himself at the sight that greeted him.

Wuggies, what looked like thousands of them, were all chasing him. Most were down on all fours, chasing him like a dog would chase a mailman. And, yes, DogDay understood the irony. He was more focused on the Wuggies who could somehow climb the walls and were launching themselves at him. He turned and swung out with the satchel, knocking them away.

Stairs stretched up and up, but DogDay could see the door ahead! Pain shot up his ankle. He cried out and kicked out, sending the Wuggy who had gotten too close back into the crowd. But they were all drawing closer and closer, too close for comfort.

DogDay needed to get them away, hopefully distract them so they didn't chase him and Poppy.

The door was where he came to a stop, turning. The Wuggies came to a stop, pinning him to the door. They didn't attack. They probably knew that they didn't need to. DogDay was trapped.

"Back off." DogDay hefted his bag up as a makeshift weapon. "Back off, and I promise I won't tell Poppy!"

That didn't work as well as he hoped. Some did flinch at the doll's name, but none of them backed off. He thrusted his bag at them. "I said, back off-"

A Wuggie launched up at him. DogDay screamed, especially when the Wuggy landed on the bag. However, instead of using their position to dig into his flesh, it instead dug into the fabric of the satchel.

DogDay swung, sending it howling away, but a thought occurred to him. He turned to the crowd. None had approached to provide back up, instead staring at him and growling.

"Is this what you want?" DogDay said, holding out the satchel. Most of the Wuggies' eyes followed the bag, while a few stared firmly at him. Until he reached inside blindly, hearing the squish of an organ and pulling it out. Now all of their eyes were locked on his bag. "Here... here, it's all in here!" Stuffing the organ back in the satchel, DogDay threw it down the stairs. "DogDay says fetch!"

The Wuggies turned and ran back down the stairs in one heaving mass, just like when they were chasing him. DogDay sighed in relief, leaning against the door.

At least, until the door opened and sent him sprawling.

"Owwww." DogDay managed to stand, looking around as he closed the door behind him. He didn't notice the click of the lock as he looked around, feeling a smile lighten up his features.

Great! He was now in the hallway that led to Elliot's office! He glanced behind him. There was an open door, revealing a massive pit that must've been the slides. For good measure, DogDay trotted over and shut the door.

Now, Elliot's office was up ahead. He just needed to…

Jump this giant pit, apparently.

DogDay came to a stop, staring at the pit that he knew, for a fact, wasn’t there before. There were no signs of a floor. With his luck, it probably dropped all the way back to Playcare. But, hey! There was a Grabpack handle clear in the ceiling. DogDay could use one of the Grabpack hands in...his...satchel…

"Oh no." He patted his side, just in case he made a mistake. Nope. No satchel with food, Picky Piggy’s lockpicking kit, tools, or the Grabpack hands. He had just tossed everything down several flights of stairs. “Ohhh no.”

No!

There was no way he could just stop, right here! He was right next to Elliot's office! He was so close to Poppy's backdoor that he could smell Poppy's poppy flower scent! How would the others react if he came back empty-handed?!

DogDay looked around. There had to be a way! He couldn't stop here!

He went back, looking around. Nothing met his eyes. The door across the door he had used to get in was locked. In the room before the giant pit room, there was nothing except a ladder, still open as if the worker doing work on the vent had simply walked away.

"Hmm..." It sounded insane and his inner voice, which sounded a lot like Bubba, screamed at him not to do it.

DogDay grabbed the ladder, closed it, and made his way back to the pit. He stopped at the very end of the room and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly.

"One..." He tensed up as if he was about to race Hoppy. "Two... Three!" He took off like a shot with a battle cry, holding the ladder over his head. He slammed the feet of the ladder right at the edge of the pit and threw himself up and over.

For a second, he was flying.

The next, his stomach was aching as he slammed into the edge.

Behind him, the ladder fell. DogDay was too busy desperately grasping at the edge, trying to find something to hold onto. His feet desperately kicked out, his toes reaching out to find any way to support him.

DogDay yelped as he slid down farther, desperately grasping even harder. His feet kicked out even harder until pain laced up his foot, joining his ankle.

Wait, was that... He searched out. It was! A piece of metal, barely jutting out from the wall! He stood on his tippy toes as best he could. Thankfully, the metal didn't fall away when he put the weight of his feet on the metal. He searched with his hands. All he could find was the edge, the tiles digging into his palms.

It would have to do.

Channeling Hoppy, DogDay squatted as best as he could, took another deep breath in and out, and jumped.

The metal fell away with a clang, but DogDay's upper half was up. He scrambled away on his hands and elbows, his knees sobbing when they managed to get on solid ground. DogDay collapsed a few inches from the pit, panting for air that didn't seem to be entering his lungs.

...hopefully, there was a spare GrabPack nearby. DogDay did not want to try that jump again with Poppy in tow.

He sighed and got to his feet, his entire body aching. He stumbled to the gate, which was pushed up easily. He glanced down and sighed at the sight of Elliot’s red door.

Wait, that meant…

DogDay straightened, looking down the hall.

There it was! The back door!

DogDay felt a relieved laugh punch out of his mouth as he shot down the hallway and grabbed the doorknob. Once he got Poppy, they could find a Grabpack and the skeleton code to the train, get back down with the train, get everyone, and get out. If they timed everything right, they could avoid the bigger toys, and the smaller toys would be scared away from Poppy.

He could see the ending!

He just needed to-

He threw open the door.

The scent of lavender hit his nose before the red of the Red Smoke engulfed his vision. DogDay took a deep breath before he could stop himself, and the hysterical laughter was already coming out.

His muscles went slack, and he collapsed onto the floor, just like his heart.

He could see the doors to the case room, just there, only a few feet away. More importantly, he could see CatNap stare down at him, Red Smoke leaking from his mouth. Over his shoulder, he could see the hulking monstrosity of the Prototype.

His eyes grew heavy. A ringing began to hit his ears, mixing with his own hysterical laughter, and voices drifted in and out.

"...take care...I promise..."

"I trust...need a... legs..."

Before he drifted off to sleep, he felt a hand wrap around his ankle.

–_-

DogDay’s mouth tasted like he ate shit.

It was harsh language, but it was the best way to describe the taste in his mouth as he slowly woke up. He blinked and stiffened. Darkness surrounded him. Where was he? Why was the bunker dark? Bubba had made sure the generator didn’t run out…

Oh. Wait.

Memories trickled in. Picky Piggy giving him the satchel of food, riding the train, evading Mommy and the Wuggies, somehow making that jump, opening the back door to Poppy’s apartment…

The Prototype. CatNap.

It took a moment, but DogDay's eyes eventually adjusted to the darkness.

Padded colorful walls met his eyes, as well as...cells?

"Oh no."

No, no, no... no! He couldn't be back here! He couldn't! The only good thing the Hour of Joy had given the Smiling Critters was the opportunity to be free from this place! DogDay tried to launch himself forward and run, but something yanked him back as a wave of pain washed over his lower half.

"Wh...wha..."

DogDay looked down first. He wished he hadn't.

His legs were gone. His entire lower half had just been… ripped off. He could see his organs practically spilling out. The only reason why they hadn't, as far as he could see, was due to the tight belt wrapped around his waist as a makeshift tourniquet. That would explain the pain. He looked up before he could see if he could throw up.

The first thing he saw was the chains spreading his arms apart. The second was CatNap.

Before he could scream, a paw wrapped tight around his mouth, cutting off the noise. CatNap lowered down the rest of the way with the rest of his limbs, finally settling down in front of him.

"You're lost," CatNap spoke in a whisper. "You are not with the children."

“I had to,” It was his first instinct. DogDay, the part of him that desperately wanted to be the happy leader, wanted his friend back. “You know this isn’t a sustainable situation.”

"I told you, the Prototype will take care of us," CatNap said back, cutting down DogDay's hopes. "You need just put your trust in him." How many times had he said that? It was enough for DogDay.

"The Prototype doesn't give a damn about the kids!" DogDay tried to launch himself forward, only to be held back by the chains. "He hasn't been taking care of them these past three years, we have!" Guarded by CatNap, yes, but still.

Silence.

DogDay continued. He needed to figure out a way out, but he was too angry. "He's a monster! So were you! You killed everyone, even those who didn't deserve it!" So many workers had no idea of the sinister plans of Playtime Co. How many of those workers had been through the treatment, like them? "You don't feel anything for them?!"

CatNap stayed silent, cocking his head.

"Say something!"

As he wished, CatNap spoke. "You judge," CatNap mused. "But you partook in the Hour of Joy, for all your judgment."

Oh. DogDay didn't know CatNap knew about that. "That- I wasn't in control- I didn't want to-"

"You did. You wanted to kill Stella, deep down."

It hurt. It hurt because it was the truth. Barely an hour before the Hour started, DogDay had listened to Stella stagger through an excuse to not release another child away from the chopping block. The parents had been furious, and DogDay had been furious because he knew the child would have been happy.

Stella knew about the surgeries. The Initiative. Everything. DogDay could not remember his own name, his own face, but he knew one thing. Stella had known and did not give a damn about any of it. Sure, maybe she had once cared about the children under her care, but she had just cared about her own skin at that point.

And then DogDay had woken up to her screams, his hidden teeth burying themselves in her throat, as the world ended.

He had left Stella there. She had still been alive, with her eyes wide and hands desperately grasping, but DogDay had left her there to die alone. The other Smiling Critters had assumed that he had been attacked when he got to the evacuation site.

He had never changed their minds.

"You judge me, my dearest friend," CatNap was purring, hard enough that DogDay could feel it through the grip on his face. "But you understand, better than the others. It is why you are here."

"What...What does that mean, it's why I'm here?" CatNap was silent, allowing DogDay's mind to wonder. "CatNap." he finally said. "Tell me, what does that mean?"

"We know where the bunker is," CatNap's voice ground against his nerves. "We cannot trust the heretics to care for the children anymore, if you could so easily abandon them. But I am sure you can be convinced, even if the others are lost." CatNap leaned forward, rubbing his cheek against DogDay's cheek, even as the dog went still with realization. A claw traced the belt that wrapped firm around his waist. "You have already given an offering to the Prototype."

What...what had he done?

"You will stay here, my dearest friend," CatNap said, either not realizing or not caring for DogDay's horror. DogDay was willing to bet, with his rising horror, that he didn’t care. "At the end of everything, it is just you and me."

The Playcare was silent that night, excluding CatNap's purring and DogDay's sobs.

Inside her case, Poppy slept, tears rolling down her cheeks as her only rescue attempt fell apart.

In a home hours away, an angel, unaware for another seven years, said goodnight.

#Poppy Playtime #PP #my writing #DogDay #The Smiling Critters #CatNap #The Prototype #fic #fanfic #fanfiction

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mysecretlittlelibrary · 9 months

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can you make one with matt murdock where they're good friends but one night they're drinking and having fun and then the reader kiss him but when they making out he ends up saying someone else name and the reader leaves, later on they talk and reader apologizes for misreading their relationship and continue to be friends but theres tension in it until bradley finally admits that he likes her and he try to make up for all the time lost

~Friends Don't Treat Me Like You Do~

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: none really, embarrassment?? Alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries (nothing major)

Genre: mostly fluff very minor angst

Summary: You've had a crush on your friend for a very long time and when you finally make your move it goes terribly wrong; And that's why friends should sleep in other beds // and friends shouldn't kiss me like you do ... // my friends won't love me like you - Friends by Ed Sheeran

A/N: I know it's a typo of some sort but it's sending me to the moon that the name Bradley is jus thrown into this ask cuz I can't even figure out what it's replacing lmaoooo anyway thank you for requesting! I hope you like it anon! :3 (also I didn't edit this plz be nice)

***

Your friendship with Matt Murdock is in some ways rather unconventional. You've been friends for many years, but these days most of your interactions consist of him stumbling over to your apartment at odd hours covered in bruises you don't ask about- not because you don't want to know but because you're pretty certain you've guessed it and you're not sure what acknowledging it would mean. So you don't ask, instead, you give him food, and tend to his wounds, and talk to him about whatever comes to mind until he inevitably falls asleep on your couch for a few hours and sneaks out early enough to go back to his place for his day job as a defense attorney with his two friends. Both of whom you'd consider friends- although not nearly as close as you are with Matt.

Tonight Matt's invited you over to his place. Apparently, he's been feeling a bit guilty that most of the time you've spent together in recent days has been just him coming over in the middle of the night. As if you'd ever actually be annoyed with taking care of your friend. Your friend you feel for more than he can ever know. Still, he insisted you come over for dinner so you did, he ordered your favorite from a takeout place near his place and now you're eating and drinking wine you brought along with you. Well, you're drinking wine, Matt's been helping himself to the beers filling his fridge.

"Whenever you come over I do all that talking Matty so today you can do the talking this time. Tell me what you've been getting up to lately." You tell him once you've covered asking each other how your day was.

"I don't do anything interesting y/n- I go to work, spend all day reading or writing lengthy opening statements or discussing things with Foggy and our clients until ungodly hours according to Karen. Sometimes they drag me out to Josie's but- there's really nothing I 'get up to' and you know that."

"Why do you do that?" You frown.

"What?"

"Make yourself seem so dull when you're not."

"Excuse me?"

"I've known you for a long time Matt and I can't think of single period of our lives where you had nothing interesting going on and yet you always talk about yourself as if you're the color beige personified. It's like you're worried that if people think you're too interesting they'll," you trail for a moment "find out something."

"What does that mean?"

"Nothing in particular. You're just way more interesting than you want people to think. For some reason."

"And what about you?"

"What about me?"

"You're not exactly an open book either."

"You got something to ask me about Matty?"

"No." He shakes his head. You stare at him for a long moment.

"We should play a game!" You announce.

"I don't really- have games?" Matt says.

"There are tons of games that don't require having anything Matt we just have to pick one."

"Like what?"

"We can play 20 questions- the right way, last letter first letter, I'm not a fan of Ghost but we can do that too, or word replacement- to name a few."

"I'm- not familiar with those besides 20 questions?"

"Well, last letter first letter you pick a category and we name items except the last letter of one item has to be the first letter of the next one so like if we're naming office supplies and I say stapler you'd say something like ruler. And Ghost is a spelling game, kinda like hot potato meets Horse the basketball game- so like you take turns spelling a word and you don't wanna be the one who finishes the word- if you do then you get a letter from the word ghost- first person to finish ghost loses. And then word replacement is just a silly game where you pick a movie or show title and change one of the words to the silliest thing you can think of." You explain quickly.

"Let's do the title one. Requires the least amount of thinking and I don't have to compete with you." He says.

"Then I'll start. Fast and Constipated." You giggle.

"Fast and Constipated!?" Matt's laugh is incredulous.

"Yeah, fast and furious but not so fun."

"Okay um- John Tucker Must... Juggle."

"That's way less fun than him dying." You laugh.

"True."

"What a Chupacabra wants."

"Goats- obviously."

"Shut up." You giggle.

"Now you- resent me 2."

"Oh that's- why would you say that?" You chuckle.

"I dunno I'm too drunk to think of movies." He mutters.

"All I've got are rom-coms in my head and those titles are not nearly as fun to fuck with. Two weeks- paleontologist?"

"Paleontologist!? What movie was that even supposed to be?"

"Two weeks notice. Duh."

"I don't think I know that one." He frowns.

"It's about a woman who ends up working as the PA for some rich businessman when she tries to protest something he's trying to build- I forget the details but he turns out to be a giant useless manchild and when he disrupts her personal life for something frivolous she tries to quit but somehow they fall in love or whatever. It's been a while since I've watched it honestly." You shrug.

"Rom-coms are such a curious collection of movies."

"True but that one is pretty average compared to some others I've seen."

"Do you watch a lot of them?"

"I like to laugh at them mostly." You say. "You know what's a weird one? The Notebook."

"Is that not like- a classic?"

"I mean yeah but like the guy gets the girl to go on a date with him by dangling off of a moving ferris wheel."

"And that works?"

"Somehow! I mean I guess she didn't wanna feel responsible for him dropping himself off the wheel in front of an audience but I dunno it seems like he was just looking for reasons to die in that movie." You explain. "Although I never finished that movie maybe he does die. Except then it wouldn't be a rom-com I guess. It would be more tragedy, like in the Shakespearean sense."

"You are always somewhere else." Matt laughs.

"Not always! Oh! I brought that CD you wanted to borrow. We should play it." You sit up suddenly and grab your backpack.

"Are you sure all you've had is that bottle of wine?" Matt asks sitting up slowly from where he's laying on the floor.

"Where's your player?" You ignore his question.

"Should be in the bookcase." He waves absentmindedly.

"Do you want another beer while I'm up?" You ask walking over to the radio to pop the CD.

"Nah. I'm good thanks." He says. Music fills the apartment, and you can't help but sing along to the upbeat tune from Matt's CD player. You dance, well mostly spin, around the apartment giggling as you go.

"Are you dancing?" Matt turns towards you with a smile on his face although you're not looking at him.

"Of course I am- I love this song. Do you wanna dance with me?" You ask walking towards him, still dancing but less now so you can get where you're going.

"No no- I'll leave the dancing to you." Matt says before you make it all the way over to where he's sitting on the floor.

"Suit yourself." You shrug but when you attempt to change directions you trip on your backpack still on the floor and go tumbling towards the ground. Matt moves quicker than you'd expect for a blind guy off several beers but his arms shoot out and yank you towards him before your head hits the hardwood.

"Careful y/n." He says softly as he settles you into his lap.

"Do I need to be if you're here?" You joke smiling at him as you toss your arms over his shoulders.

"Y/n-" Matt's tone is warning in a way only he could get away with using on you.

"Relax Matty, I know to look after myself." You say quietly. Matt frowns slightly as if he's going to protest, but you don't let him get the words out. Alcohol coursing through your system, you seize the opportunity of his closeness and kiss him before you can talk yourself out of it. Matt lets out a noise of surprise, he heard your heart rate spike sure but he couldn't have guessed this was why. His lips move against yours for a second before something catches his attention and he's gasping out a name. Except, it's not your name.

"Karen." He breathes and it reaches your ears like a bucket of ice water dumped on your head. You jerk back suddenly.

"Oh my god-" You say scrambling out of his lap. "I- I am so sorry. I'm gonna go." You grab your bag and b-line it for the exit before Matt can even get to his feet.

"H-hang on a second y/n I-"

"I'll- I'll see you around Matt." You force yourself to say before leaving his apartment. You feel sharper than the amount of wine you've had should allow as you walk the few blocks to your place. Only once you're back in the safety of your own home do you let yourself wallow over how absolutely embarrassing that was. You might have just ruined one of the most important relationships in your life only for him to call out for another girl. You stumble into the shower in hopes of washing away some of the embarrassment you feel, or at the very least distracting yourself enough that you can shelf it and get some sleep. You spend hours tossing and replaying the moment excruciatingly but eventually, exhausting wins out and you do fall asleep. The next couple of days you pretty much ignore Matt's calls and texts. You really bury yourself in work to avoid dwelling on that awful night but you know you can't dodge him forever. Evidently, two days is as much as Matt's willing to give you to do so because on day 3 of avoidance he comes knocking at your door late at night as he sometimes does.

"Look- I know you've been avoiding me and all but-"

"Whatever you're gonna say Matt no need. I'm sorry I overstepped, I- I totally misread things the other night but hey- alcohol will do that sometimes. I'm sorry. We're good though. I'm good. I just needed a minute to lick my wounds of embarrassment. Everything's fine. Come on let's see the damage tonight hm?" You lead him into your apartment ignoring the confused look on his face. You let yourself settle back into your routine with him, patching him up, giving him food, getting him up to speed on the last couple of days of your life, telling stories, and just talking until he falls asleep on your couch. You're determined to shake this stupid crush of yours off and go back to the way things have always been between you. And if you're gonna shake this crush step one is putting yourself out there. Which you do, and for the next few weeks you find yourself on dates almost every night. Tonight's date is going surprisingly well all things considered. He'd planned to take you somewhere that ended up being closed after a freak accident the other day that he didn't know about. It was around the corner from Josie's so you brought him here instead and the conversation has been well worth it- even in a place like this. The one downside is that it's Friday and Foggy and Karen usually drag Matt here for drinks on Friday. You had hoped they'd skip out on that tonight but you of course could only be so lucky. When the bell over the door rings and you turn to see Karen leading Matt into the bar with Foggy behind them you almost want to groan. Dating has been nice but seeing Karen and Matt so close is like picking a scab. You turn back to your date with a smile, intent on ignoring the trio, except of course it couldn't be that simple.

"Oh my gosh! Y/n! Hey!" Karen beams at you.

"Karen! Hi! Foggy, Matt, good to see you all." You smile.

"You didn't tell us you'd be here tonight." She says.

"Well I didn't plan on it otherwise of course I'd have let you know." You tell her. "James this is Karen and that's Foggy and Matt. They're friends of mine. They all work together we've- kind of crashed their spot tonight." You tell your date.

"Oh! Well, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Nice to meet y'all." James shakes each of their hands. "Did you guys- wanna join us? Since it's pretty crowded in here you might not find another table."

"That's so nice of you James!" Karen says. Very nice indeed.

"I'll track down some chairs." Foggy says. You shift your seat closer to James to make room at the table since apparently they'll be joining you. You try not to pay too much attention to Matt's silence as everyone settles around the table.

"So y/n, you told James how we know you but you didn't mention how you know James. Are you guys work colleagues or something?"

"We have a mutual friend that set us up." James offers.

"Oh my gosh! We're crashing a date?! Why didn't you say so?" Karen shakes her head.

"No no no don't even worry about it, we've been here a couple of hours already. I invited you to sit with us so the night could go on." He says.

"Asking me, also would have worked." You smile.

"You guys are just the cutest." Karen sighs.

"I'm guessing this is a first date since- y/n's never mentioned you before." Matt says.

"It is. Not that I have to tell you about every guy I see." You say.

"You tell me everything." He scoffs.

"That's not true and even if it were that doesn't change the fact that I don't have to."

"So you keep things from me?"

"Am I missing something?" James chuckles.

"Matt and y/n have been friends since they were teenagers. They fight like they're siblings sometimes." Foggy explains.

"Sorry about that James. Matt's just-"

"Like a brother- I get it. I have siblings so I definitely know what it's like." He nods.

"Exactly." You smile.

"Like a brother." Matt quirks an eyebrow at you.

"As good a way as any to describe us." You nod. Matt hums and raises his glass to his lips without another word. The five of you sit and talk over drinks for another hour before you're ready to leave and James is happy to walk you out.

"I had a lot of fun tonight." He tells you.

"Even with the date crashers?" You ask with a goofy grimace.

"Heck yeah! Your friends are great." He laughs. "Next time I'll have my friends crash us. How about that?"

"Next time?"

"If you're willing. I'd really like to see you again."

"I- I'd like that." You nod.

"Cool. I'll- start coming up with second date ideas."

"Hopefully this time the place you pick doesn't impromptu have an incident." You laugh.

"I will quadruple check." He tells you. When you reach your block, but not your building, you stop and turn to him.

"Sounds good. I'll see you around James." You smile. He leans forward and kisses your cheek softly.

"Goodnight y/n." He says and walks away. You make it up to your apartment, kick off your shoes, and take a long shower. You enjoyed talking to James and you actually are interested in seeing him again for sure. Soon you're showered and pajamaed and pretty much ready for bed but before you can flop into it there's a knock at your door. Who could be knocking on your door right now? A quick check shows you it's Matt standing in your hallway.

"Matthew?" You open the door with a frown.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Well- right now I'm wondering what you're doing in my apartment."

"Like a brother to you?! Seriously? Last time I checked most people don't make out with their brothers."

"Depends on where you are I suppose." You shrug. "But regardless Matt that was a mistake we both know that." You shake your head.

"A mistake? Is that how you feel about it?"

"How I- I'm sorry did you forget calling out Karen's name while I was kissing you?! Cuz I've been trying to so if you've got tips to share on how that'd be great."

"Goddammit y/n." He sighs dropping his head.

"Matt you really should go. I know you worry or whatever but- James is, nice and it's late I'd like to go to bed."

"Screw James." Matt scoffs.

"Um- it was only our first date- you're skipping a few steps."

"That is not what I- it's like you do this on purpose."

"What are you doing here Matt?" You sigh.

"I don't like you dating him. I don't like you dating anyone for that matter. How could you kiss me like that and just... move on like nothing?"

"I dunno it's pretty easy when you call me the wrong name." You say.

"That was not what you think."

"I'm sure."

"It wasn't y/n. I'm serious. I could-" Matt stops and lets out a breath. "I'm Daredevil." He says.

"I know." You nod.

"What? You know?"

"You come in here at the witching hour every few days covered in bruises Matt how many explanations could there possibly be for that?" You roll your eyes.

"You never asked."

"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready." You shrug. "Why tell me now?"

"Since I can't see- my other senses make up for the loss. They're like- very developed. I heard Karen scream somewhere in Hell's Kitchen, she sounded like she was in trouble that's- that's why I called out her name. I thought maybe one of Daredevil's many enemies managed to connect her to me. It wouldn't be the first time, I'm always listening for her and Foggy these days and I just-"

"Well was she in danger?" You ask.

"Nightmare." He mutters. "But by the time I pieced that together you were gone."

"Of course I was. Having a man say someone else's name when you kiss him is not something that encourages-" Matt cuts off your snarky remark by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. You react quickly, kissing him back, your hands wrapping around his wrists. By the time you pull away from him, you're breathing heavily.

"I'm in love with you. I have been for as long as I can remember. I'm sorry I wasn't clear about it." He says.

"Oh."

"Oh?"

"Well in my defense I've spent the last few weeks trying to get over you-" Matt kisses you again, hard, possessive, fiery.

"Don't." He says.

"Obviously." You grab the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. You spent years thinking you'd never get to kiss him, now that you know the truth you fully intend to take advantage and Matt has years of pining he wants to make up for.

***

#marvel #marvel fanfiction #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfiction #daredevil #requests

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1moreff-creator · 4 months

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Happy Birthday Eden Tobisa!

Turns out our favorite clock girly has her birthday on New Year's Eve! What a nice date for such a nice girl! Let's do a character analysis, fun facts, and songs!

-We know relatively little about Eden's backstory. The most notable thing we know about her life before the killing game, apart from her fascination with clocks, is what is revealed in her chapter 2 secret: "Ever since you kissed her, you were afraid your sexuality would ruin your friendships." Which is pretty straightforward; she's canonically a lesbian and is worried it would negatively affect her friendships.

-Literally the only other thing we know about her backstory is that she lived in Japan for a small period of time when she was younger, before moving back to the US. This was revealed in a Q&A.

(... You know, I made a deranged theory in my Mai post that maybe the girl that Eden kissed was actually Mai. It wasn't very serious, since it was just a silly way to try to explain what the hell Eden's quote in the Mai page could mean. But... we know Teruko was in Japan for a while when she was younger, and it's theorized she knew Mai before being separated from her at some point. Combined with Mai's name being seemingly Japanese, it could imply Mai also lived in Japan at some point. And if that's the case, it's possible she met Eden there? To be clear, that's still an insane possibility, but I do find it a funny possibility, which is why I'm sharing it)

-Apart from that, Eden's defining trait is her optimism and her trust in others. She sticks to Teruko's side even after she starts pushing everyone away in CH 1, and confesses to her that she believes "not caring about others is the worst way to live." She's importantly not naive, she does know their situation is horrible, but still she constantly searches for an exit and tries to build good friendships with the others.

-This includes baking with Min, Rose and Teruko in CH1, inviting Teruko and Arei to make clocks on CH2, etc. Basically, she's awesome and nice and mature.

-Also she loves clocks. Regular Ultimate stuff, she can apparently spend hours and hours working and losing track of time.

-Although for such an optimistic character, her secret quote is quite ominous. "You can't go back, no matter how hard you try." We have zero clue what this means at the moment, but at least it does fit the symbolism of time always moving forward.

-Meanwhile, her quote in the Mai page is "She kept calling the number, even though no one picked it up." This is even more incomprehensible! Eden, what in the world are you talking about?

-Alright, David MV. She doesn't have a color in Color Theory, but her numeral is XII (twelve). Go to 1:48:28 in this video for an explanation. God it's so convenient to have that lol.

Alright fun facts!

-As stated, her birthday (December 31st) lands on New Year's Eve. Maybe representing new beginnings or change, which certainly goes well with her character. How nice!

-Like most of the cast, she's American and right-handed.

-She's one of the only characters with dyed hair. Her hair was originally just brown.

-Her favorite color is daffodil yellow, because it's happy, and her least favorite color is blue, because it's "kind of a downer color." Areden shippers in shambles.

-Her favorite ice cream flavor is honeycomb. I didn't even know that existed but go off queen.

-She enjoys cute fashion, but also enjoys wearing androgynous style clothing.

-She likes food which is fun to make or prepare. How nice!

-She's biracial; her mother is black and her father is Japanese. This is why she spent a bit of time in Japan when she was younger.

-Her name in kanji is 飛佐【とび・さ】楽【いーでん】. Gonna leave any actual meaning as homework, but it's worth noting her name was anglicized. I think that would translate to "Iden", but her mother liked the name "Eden", so they went with that instead.

Finally, songs that remind me of her!

-Positive Parade by DECO*27

-Gone Fishing by Ghost & Pals (friendship!)

-Aura by Ghost & Pals

-In Iolite by Ghost & Pals

-Magnet by minato

-Those Who Carried On by Ghost & Pals

-I'm Glad You're Evil Too by PinocchioP

And Happy Birthday! And a happy new year! Well wishes to all you Tumblr peeps. Take care!

#drdt #eden tobisa #character birthday #danganronpa despair time #i am again sorry for disappearing i swear i’ll return eventually

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lacroixwh0r3 · 10 months

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Oh Daddy

Neighbor!Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel's neighbor comes home from college and he becomes infatuated with her. One day her and family invite him over for dinner and things get heated.

Warnings: SMUT!! Masturbation (M and F), petnames (Darling, sweetheart, etc.), Sexual tension, oral sex, gagging, slight perv joel moments, older man/younger girl, cum facial, spit, sneaking around, no outbreak, mentions of Sarah, and Joel plays the guitar

Song inspo (feel free to listen if you want): Oh Daddy by Fleetwood Mac

A/N: I graduated college last month so yayyyy!! This is so long😭😭…i’m so sorry. ENJOY🫶🏾

Joel watched from his bedroom window as the young girl tried to quietly stumble into her home that she shared with her parents after long night of drinking with her friends.

You see, this wasn't something uncommon for Joel to see on a Friday night. Every weekend since she got home from college, Joel would watch the girl from his window as she drunkenly hopped out of the taxi, all while trying to make sure that the short little dress she was wearing that night didn't rise. However, there had been times when her attempts weren't so successful. Joel would sometimes get a peek at her different-colored thongs, which did nothing to help cover her ass.

Sometimes, Joel would catch himself getting hard due to the scene he was seeing, but he also immediately felt angry with himself for watching this young girl in her most vulnerable state. To stop himself from doing anything that he would regret, Joel moved himself from his window to his bed and tried his hardest to fall asleep, but flashes of the young girl's ass would plague his mind.

...

The older man didn't get any sleep because of his running mind. He had spent hours thinking about the girl, and when he did finally go to sleep, it was almost time for him to get ready to go to his first client's house.

With a few more minutes to spare before he had to get up, Joel lay in his bed shirtless with his hands behind his head as his mind began to drift to the girl and the one particular night when she had worn a red string thong that complimented her skin nicely.

Joel was already semi-hard when he had woken up, but his cock began to throb as he imaged the girl sitting right between his legs, rubbing his cock through his pajama pants as she softly spewed out praises at Joel. He imagined her telling him how much she wanted his cum painting her face as she jerked him off, occasionally teasing the head of his cock with her thumb or even rubbing the head against her hot tongue.

The thoughts began to overwhelm Joel so much that he knew that he had no other choice but to touch himself. And he knew that if he didn't, he might lose his mind at that very moment.

His hands slowly travel down his torso, imagining that it was her soft hands instead of his rough hands that were caloused due to his years of work. The closer he got to his cock, it strained against his pants more, nearly peeking out of the hole in his pants. And because he didn't have on his boxers, Joel was able to reach between that hole and pull his cock out.

His cock slaps against his stomach, causing him to let out a soft hiss due to his sensitivity. Joel suddenly got the idea to get the lube that was on his bedside table. He sits up slightly and rummages through the clutter until he finds the odd shaped lube bottle.

He lays back onto his pillow as he pops open the lube and drips some of it onto his cock. The feeling of the slightly cold lube causes him to let out a grunt. After he put in the desired amount, he quickly closed it and threw it somewhere on his bed. Joel then began to slowly rub the lube up and down on his cock. The feeling of his cock straining in his hand made his legs feel tingly, causing his feet to curl.

Joel felt pathetic as he stroked his cock and thought about his neighbor, who was way too young for him, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. He had never felt this way—not even in his teen years. He needed to have her, but he knew he shouldn't want her. There was something about the forbiddenness of the young girl that turned him on more.

The man fisted the tip of his cock and began to stroke only that part. The feeling was too much, to the point where all he could do was screw his eyes shut and throw his head back as he felt the euphoric feeling that spread all around his body. As soon as he felt like he was about to cum, he quickly stopped his movements and edged himself.

This went on for five more minutes before Joel decided that he couldn't keep doing this any longer and that he needed to cum. Joel feels sweat coat his entire body as he plants his feet onto his bed and lifts his hips to furiously fuck into his fist.

Once again, he imagines the young girl sitting there, looking up at him, ready to take his load at any moment. Ready for Joel to use her to dispose of all of his cum. With his current thoughts and the feeling of the slickness from the lube on his cock, Joel was just on the edge of cumming, and all he could do was moan and grunt loudly. Joel couldn't even gather the words to describe what he felt at that moment.

Sweat began to drop down his face as his hips kept going and his whole body began to stiffen up.

Just as Joel was about to blow his load, there was a loud knock at his door that caused his eyes to snap open and quickly stop what he was doing.

"Motherfuck!" Joel curses out, irratated, as he lets go of his cock and drops his arms down onto the bed. Once again, the person knocks on the door, causing him to yell out.

"Give me a sec, I'm comin'." The irony of the sentence causes Joel to let out a sarcastic chuckle. Joel stuffs his cock back into the hole of his pants, and he quickly wipes his hands on his bed sheets to "clean" them of the lube. With the other end of the duvet, he wipes his face of sweat as well, gets out of bed, and makes his way down the stairs.

Joel knew that what he was wearing wasn't appropriate to open the door in, but he also didn't give a fuck enough to change or even put on a shirt. They were the ones knocking on his door at 6:50 a.m., not the other way around.

Joel reaches the door and quickly swings it open without even asking who was at the door, and to his surprise, he is met with the girl whom he was just fantasizing about as he jerks off. His appearance did not go unnoticed by the young girl standing at his door.

As soon as he opened the door, the girl's eyes shot down his body swiftly and stayed at his cock, which was still half hard. He instantly became aware that he was standing shirtless at his door and that his cock hung loosely in his pants.

A few seconds had gone by since they both said nothing to each other. The girl continued staring at Joel's cock, and Joel continued to watch the girl look at his cock. He felt himself becoming hard again, and he knew that one of them should say something. This caused him to pull the door in front of him to cover the front of his body.

Joel clears his throat to catch the young girl's attention and scratches his eyebrow. Her eyes snap back up to his face with wide eyes. "Uh-hi, I'm sorry." The girl was instantly embarrassed because this sexy man just caught her staring at him. This caused Joel to let out a soft chuckle.

No, you're fine, sweetheart; how can I help you?" Joel's face went back to its usual stoic expression as he looked at the girl's face. She began to feel small and insecure because she knew that she might have interrupted whatever he was doing before she knocked on the door, and he wasn't too happy with that.

Still, she said nothing, making Joel raise and frown his eyebrows at her. She finally snaps out of whatever haze she was in and decides to start speaking.

"Um-oh right! Yeah, I live across the street. My mom wanted me to come over to ask you if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight." The young girl points behind her with her thumb.

The girl watches as Joel quickly moves his eyes from her, skims over her house, and goes back to her face. Joel thought about it for a second and decided that he should go because Sarah had been at stay-away camp for the last two weeks and he was getting lonely. He also knew he would feel bad for saying no to the beautiful girl.

"Yeah, sure, I'll be there," Joel says to her as he scratches his head. As soon as Joel agreed, he saw the girl's eyes brighten and felt his chest swell.

"Great! You can come around six if that works for you, but if not, feel free to come any time." She tells him, and before he could even respond to her, she turned and ran back in the direction of her home.

Joel stood at his front door, confused, for a minute as he watched the young girl enter her home and slam the front door. He realized that she had never told him her name.

He decided to move away from the door and shut it. "Okay," Joel says to himself as he looks at the clock on his wall and realizes that it is time for him to start getting ready for work.

...

After a long day of dealing with stubborn clients and having to constantly move around all day, Joel was tired. However, he didn't want to go to dinner empty-handed, so he decided to stop at the store to buy the most expensive wine he could find.

After buying the wine, Joel decided he was going to go home to freshen up and put on something that was more appropriate for a dinner with his neighbors.

Joel was finally done getting himself together and looked at the watch on his wrist. It was 6:32 p.m. He walks down the stairs, grabs his keys from the table by the front door, and walks out of the house. Joel knew that the people in his neighborhood wouldn't dare intrude into his home as he lived around mainly older people, but still, he made sure to lock the door behind him.

Joel makes his way to the young girl's home and knocks once he arrives at her door. He waits a few moments before someone opens the door.

It was her.

The girl that he wanted more than ever was standing at the door, and all he could do was look at her. That was until he realized that he had forgotten the wine at home. Joel rubs his hand through his hair and says, "Shit-I had bought wine to bring over, but I forgot it at home." He gives the girl an apologetic look.

"No, you're fine; please come in." The girl opens the door wider, inviting the man into her home with a soft smile.

"Are you sure? I can run back across the street to get it. It's really no problem," Joel says.

"I promise it's fine. Now, come in." The girl dismisses his words and motions for him to come in.

Joel lets out a sigh and finally gives in. He walks into her home and is met with the delectable smell of whatever her mother is cooking. He then looked back at the girl who stood in front of him and noticed she was wearing this sexy black dress that hugged her body wonderfully. Joel wanted to do nothing more than rip it off her body and lay her down on the floor as he devoured her and showed her how much he wanted her.

Joel decided to compliment her, causing her to look away and blush.

"Thank you; you look good as well, Mr. Miller." The young girl says this as she eyes him again, looking at him from head to toe. He realized that he never told the girl his name, so the fact that she knew it already surprised him a bit.

Oh, thank you, Darlin'," Joel says with his low southern drawl. The way that he had said that caused the girl to cross her legs as she stood in place with her hands behind her back.

The girl knew that she had to have Joel at that very moment, but she also knew that she had to be strategic. She couldn't just come onto him that fast. She wanted to seduce him, make him yearn for her, and make him beg.

"I don't think I got your name, sweetie..."Joel said this with curious eyes as he looked at her. The girl tells him her name, and he repeats it to himself, trying to familiarize himself with the name. Oh, but the way he said it only made her want him more.

"That's a beautiful name; it's nice to finally meet you, sweetheart." Joel grabbed her hand with his rough one and brought her hand to his lips so that he could plant a soft kiss on the back of it. The girl felt like time was slowing down at that very moment. She felt as his perfect soft lips lingered on her hand all while he looked at her with his brown eyes. She couldn't hold in her desire any more after that.

Joel pulled away from the girl as desire clouded her eyes, and he watched her bite down on her lips, trying to stop any sounds from escaping out of her mouth. They both stood there watching each other with a particular glint in their eyes, letting each other know that there was in fact some tension surrounding them.

Joel's breathing had gotten heavier as he looked down and realized that the girl was clamping her legs together as she tried to control her arousal. This made Joel even more horny for the girl, knowing she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

Suddenly, their moment was quickly interrupted as the girl's mother called out for her from the kitchen. The girl's grip on Joel's hand had tightened, and she began to guide him towards the direction where her mother was.

Joel felt himself somewhat panicked because his erection in his pants was not small at all. As she dragged him along by his right hand, Joel adjusted himself with his left hand as they walked.

They reached the kitchen, and Joel was met with the sight of both of the girl's parents cooking in the kitchen together as the sounds of Fleetwood Mac's song, The Chain, played at a very low volume. The girl lets go of Joel's hand and begins to speak.

"Mom and dad," The girl says as she gets her parents attention. "Mr. Miller is here." She makes Joel's presence known to them as she points toward him.

The girl's father turns in front of the stove and walks up to Joel with his hand out. The two men both shake hands and introduce each other. The older lady introduces herself as well.

"It's so nice to finally meet you, Mr. Miller," Her mother says to Joel as she pats his arm.

"It's great to meet you too. Thank you for inviting me, ma'am." Joel says it charmingly, causing the girl to stare at him.

"The food should be done any moment; please go have a seat; my daughter will show you to the table." The older lady smiles and goes back to stirring whatever was in the pot.

The young girl grabs his hand and leads him to the square dining table, where they both find their seats next to each other.

"Would you like a beer, Mr. Miller?" The girl turns towards Joel with the kindest smile on her face. Her demeanor was different now than it was while they both stood at the front door.

"Sure, darlin'." Joel smiles at her. He watches as the young girl gets up from her seat, causing her dress to ride up her thighs. Joel's eyes quickly bolted from her thighs down to the table in front of him. Little did Joel know that she wanted his attention, and she was willing to do just about anything during this dinner to get it.

As the girl walked to the kitchen to get the beer, he watched her ass move as she walked until she turned into the kitchen. Joel throws his head back and lets out a low groan. The only way he was able to temporarily relieve the pressure of his erection was by quickly reaching up to the table and tugging at his cock through his jeans.

Finally, the girl comes back with the beer and stands next to Joel as she opens it for him and bends down to put it on the table. Now, she and Joel were so close to each other that he could smell her sweet scent and feel her body heat. Joel wanted to grab her by her neck softly and bring her lips to his, but he refrained.

"Thanks," Joel grunts out, causing the girl to look over her shoulder at him while she was still bent over next to him.

"You're welcome, Mr. Miller." She tells him and smiles as she slowly leans up to go back to her seat. By this time, both of her parents were emerging from the kitchen with different dishes. The girl helped them both put the dishes on the table as Joel sat back and watched her.

Once they were all done setting the dishes, both of her parents were seated at the table. "I just wanted to tell you guys how amazing the food looks and thank you," Joel tells them with full gratitude.

The couple both smile at Joel. "No, thank you for joining us, Joel. We always cook way too much and wanted to feed our neighbor," The lady winks at him.

"Please dig in." The lady speaks again, causing everyone to begin to pile food onto their plates.

...

Finally, after an hour of constant torture from the girl next to him, he was ready to burst at any moment. During the duration of the dinner, the family asked Joel different questions about his life.

"So Joel, what do you do outside of work? Any hobies?" The older man had asked Joel.

"Oh man, with taking care of Sarah, working, and making sure that things get done around the house, I barely have time for hobies." Joel says as he lets out a deep breath he was holding in.

"I used to play the guitar, though, but haven't really had much time with that. I was thinking, Maybe after I'm done with these next few clients, I'll start teaching classes or somethin'" Joel confesses to the family. He hears the girl's mom let out a soft gasp.

"Missy over here recently got a guitar to pass her time before she goes back to college...maybe you can give her some lessons?" Her mom suggested it with the brightest smile on her face.

"Please, Mr. Miller? I think that would be a great idea too," the young girl says, turning to Joel and gripping his bicep as her wide eyes begged him to say yes. He knew deep down at that moment he should've said no, but he couldn't help himself.

"Sure thing, sweetheart," He sighs. "Whenever you see my truck at home, just knock at my door."

"Yay!" the girl yells out. "Thank you, Mr. Miller," she says as she leans in closer to him. He feels his cock strain again at her closeness.

"Thank you so much for this, Joel." The young girl's father says this to him as he nods his head in appreciation.

"Really, it's no problem at all," Joel dismissively waves at them.

"Hey sweetie, why don't you take Mr. Miller up the stairs and show him your guitar, huh?" Her mother suggested.To Joel, it felt like the mother was purposely trying to get Joel to give into her daughter. Like a trap waiting just for him, Joel was ready to fall into it.

"Are you sure, mom? I can help you with the dishes and stuff." The girl looks at her mom with a slight pout on her face. Joel couldn't help but think about how cute she looked. The way her eyebrows were scrunched together as she frowned made Joel weak to his knees.

"It's fine, sweetheart," Her mom reassures her from the table as she and her husband begin to get up to start cleaning. "Your father and I are able to get it up ourselves...right?" She nudged her husband with her elbow.

"Go ahead," her father says, smiling at her warmly.

With this, the young girl jumps out of her seat and grabs Joel by his bicep. Joel couldn't help but feel his cock jump with excitement as the girl dragged him to her bedroom. As they both walked up the steps, he saw the back of her silky smooth thighs, which he wanted to caress as he ate her pussy from behind. Forcing her to keep her legs open while he sucked and abused her clit.

Finally, they had reached the top of the steps and began to walk down to the door at the end of the hall. The girl swings the door open and pulls him into the room. She quickly shuts and locks the door behind her. She knew that once her parents were done with the dishes, they would head to their bedroom, which was right down the hall from hers, but still, she wanted to make sure that there were no interruptions between her and Joel.

The room was lit with a dim light. She sat in the corner of the room. Joel noticed on one wall that there was a book shelf with fake vines hanging from the top that housed many books, as well as another wall that had posters of some movies that he recognized and some artists that he recognized as well.

"I see ya' like to read, doll." Joel says this to her as he continues to take in the room. She lets out a soft giggle as she stands at the edge of the bed where the guitar lies.

"I do, Mr. Miller." She looks at Joel again with those 'fuck me' eyes, crosses her ankles, and holds her hands behind her back. Joel caught himself almost rushing towards her and pushing her down on the bed, where he would pound that little pussy until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Mm..." Joel let out a low hum as he slowly walked up to the girl. They were both panting from the closness at this point, but neither of them took action. Joel liked the egerness and longing that existed between them that they never addressed, yet they both somehow knew they needed each other.

Joel's eyes had dropped from her eyes, down to her lips, causing her to lick her lips with her pink tongue. He wished badly that it was him licking her lips instead.

"Let me look at that guitar, what do you say, darlin'?" Joel asked her with the sexiest voice the young girl had ever heard in her life. His voice was so deep, and he had that southern accent that could get him into the pants of any girl he wanted.

In response to his question, the girl nodded shyly at him as she looked up at him through her eyelashes. Joel sits down on the edge of the bed next to her as she stands and picks up the guitar. He began to play some chords and then started to play a familiar song. It was "Oh Daddy" by Fleetwood Mac.

She was still standing over him as the man played the song on her guitar. He looked like something straight out of a magazine; the top of his shirt was unbuttoned, his strong hands flicking the strings effortlessly, and he had this concentrated look on his face.

To be quite honest, the girl didn't really care to play the guitar at the moment. She just wanted Joel's hands over her body, showing a different kind of pleasure she had never experienced with any man before. The girl could tell from just looking at Joel that he knew how to please a woman, and she wanted to test that theory tonight in her room.

Joel finished the song, slowly lifting his head up to look at the girl, and decided to slide up further on the bed.

"Come sit between my legs so I can show you some cords, doll." Joel tells her sternly as he picks up the guitar so that the girl can sit between his legs. The girl nods her head and sits down on the bed.

Between Joel's legs.

The girl uses Joel's thighs to help herself get comfortable, causing Joel to let out a soft hiss. Once she was comfortable, Joel brought the guitar over her lap, and that was when she became hyperaware that she was pressed against his hard chest and that she could feel Joel's hard cock pressed against her hip. She let out a slight whimper, which did not go unnoticed by Joel.

Joel bends his head down and speaks into the girl's ear, "Good, darlin...you ready?" He asks her lowly. The feeling of his breath on her ear makes her shiver a bit.

"Mmhm," she says as her teeth catch her bottom lip.

"First, you're going to wrap your hand around the neck of the guitar." Joel grips her soft hand in her lap and brings it to the neck of the guitar, causing her to slightly wrap her hand around it. "And next, you're going to lightly hug the body." She raised her arm and hugged the guitar, as Joel's hand was still holding the girl's hand around the neck.

"You're doin' so good, doll. Now let me show you some cords."

For about ten minutes, Joel showed her the cords and asked her to play them back for him, but she couldn't. This caused her to get frustrated and let out huffs as she rolled her eyes. And every time she did it, Joel wanted to flip her on her stomach and spank her ass until it was bruised.

The girl leans forward, pushing her ass into his cock as her dress rises up her thighs, and puts the guitar on the floor by the bed. "Mr. Miller, I want to try something else with you..." the girl says in her most stern voice as she leans back into the older man. Silence filled the room after that, Joel told himself that this shouldn't happen, but he knew he couldn't stop himself.

"What, baby?" Joel asked in her ear. He decided to reach around under the girl's arms with his large hands and rest them on the tops of her thighs. Slowly, he grabs the edge of her dress and starts to pull her dress higher, exposing her dark red panties. The girl throws her head back onto his shoulder and rolls her head so that her mouth is near his ear. She couldn't help but clench her thighs as he held her dress.

"I want to taste you, Mr. Miller. Can I taste you, please?" She breathes out in his ear, causing Joel's body to shiver.

"Doll, you know we shouldn't be doing this, right? Your mom and dad are down stairs..." Joel lets out a soft cry, almost pleading with her. However, his hands are still on her thighs as his fingers move closer to her underwear-covered pussy. Due to the close proximity, Joel could feel the heat coming from her pussy.

The young girl then nudges Joel with the back of her elbow, causing him to fall back onto the bed, and quickly stands up on her knees between his legs. Joel grunts once his back hits the bed.

"Hey!" he barks up at the girl as he props his body up with his arms in a low tone. He wasn't expecting her to just push him onto the bed like that. She takes him by surprise again as she sits down on the back of her legs, puts her hand on top of Joel's erection, and strokes it gently through his thick jeans. Joel pushes his hips into her hand so he can feel her touch more.

"Joel," The girl cocks her head to the side as she looks at Joel and continues to touch him. That was the first time Joel had heard her call him by his first name, and fuck, did it do something to him. "They aren't going to hear anything...as long as we're quiet." She whispers the last part as a troublesome smirk spreads across her beautiful lips.

"You're a fucking bad girl," Joel spits at her as he narrows his eyes at her. "And i'm gonna treat you like one tonight,"

The young girl's hand goes up to Joel's belt and begins eagerly undoing the belt. The instant the belt is undone, she unbuttons his jeans, and pats Joel's hips, telling him to raise his hips. As his hips were raised, she yanked down his jeans and boxers. The girl wasn't sure what she expected, but the size of Joel caught her by surprise when it flicked out of his boxers and fell onto Joel's stomach. It was bigger than anything she had seen previously with her hookups from college. She didn't know what to do.

When Joel dropped his hips back onto the bed, he noticed the shocked look on the girl's face as she looked at his cock. "What's wrong, baby? You've never seen a cock this big before?" He asked her arrogantly. Joel couldn't help but smirk at her reaction. It didn't help that he was also getting turned on more, causing his cock to strain against his stomach and precum to drip from his tip onto his skin.

The girl's eyes moved from Joel's cock and back to his eyes. She bit her lips as she shook her head fast in response to Joel's question. The arrogant look on his face and the way he sat back on his arms as his cock lay on his stomach made her want to touch herself.

Her eyes had drifted back to his hard cock, and that's when she decided she was going to take action. The girl adjusted herself on her knees, pushed up Joel's flannel on his torso, and wrapped her hand around his warm, hard cock. Thoughtlessly, Joel's hips snap up into her hand, and he lets out a low moan.

"Fuck, Doll, you're teasing me," He states. Slowly, she begins to stroke his cock. When she reaches the tip, she gathers the precum and spreads it down his length. The feeling of the slight wetness makes him hiss between his teeth and lick his bottom lip. The girl wanted to kiss those perfect, wet pink lips as she gave him pleasure, but she stopped herself.

She looks at him with a mocking look on her face and pouts at him, "M'sorry, Mr. Miller." The look on her face made Joel angry, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He shifted his weight to his left arm and took his right one from under him. He brings his fingers up to his mouth, gathers the spit, and spits on his fingers. The girl stopped at the base of his cock as she looked at him curiously. Joel brings his hand to his cock and spreads the spit on his tip. He felt his body go rigid as he stroked the most sensitive part of his body, and the girl could feel it as well.

The girl could feel the spit slowly drip down onto her hand, so she decided she was going to stroke the bottom of Joel's cock as he focused on the tip. Her and Joel's hands bumped into each other as they both went up and down.

"Oh-oh fuck, baby. You're making me feel so good." He whimpers. Joel took himself by surprise because he was never the one for whimpering. The girl continued to stare at the scene in front of her as she continued to help pleasure the man. Watching Joel's euphoric expression while he pleasured himself was better than any porn she had watched. It was so raunchy, so raw, and so arousing.

"You like that, Joel? You like it when I touch your cock like this?" She breathed out. Joel felt so weak at that moment because he almost came right then and there.

"Shit, baby...ya' keep talkin' like that and I might cum" he tells her. So overwhelmed with pleasure.

Suddenly, he feels the girl jump from between his legs and stand over him at the edge of the bed. She begins to take off her dress, then removes her bra, and takes off her panties. Leaving her bare in front of him. Joel felt like a perv as he continued to touch himself at the sight of her body. He couldn't stop.

Joel didn't know where to place his eyes, but her breast was what stood out to him the most. He imagined what it would be like to cum over her face and watch as the cum dripped down to her breast as she tried to lick what was on her lips. "Look at you, so fucking perfect," Joel growls while he tugs at his extremly hard cock. The girl began to feel shy, so she wrapped her arms around her body. No one had ever looked at her the way Joel did, let alone called her perfect. Though it made her feel good, she still wanted to cover herself.

Oh, don't get shy on me now, darlin'. I need to see you." At the end of the sentence, Joel's voice got firmer. He didn't like the fact that she was hiding from him, and she could tell, so she released her arms in front of her.

Joel stops jerking off and sits up on the bed. "Good girl. Now, get on your knees on the floor." Joel says as he shifts to the edge of the bed. The girl instantly does what he says and drops to her knees. Joel's cock was right in front of her face, but she still maintained eye contact with him. With his left hand, he brings it to her cheek and strokes her cheek. She nuzzles her face closer to his hand, loving the way his touch feels on her skin.

"You love being told what to do? Hm?" Joel cooed at the girl. All she could do was nod her head as she looked up at him with big doe eyes. "Such a sweet girl," Joel compliments her softly.

Joel's thumb moved from her cheek and toyed with her bottom lip, which compelled her to part her lips. The girl thought that he was going to let her suck on his finger, but that wasn't the case. "I'm gonna fuck that pretty little mouth, is that okay with you, little darlin'" Joel asked her so tenderly and gently that all she could do was frantically nod her head.

"I need words, darlin'," Joel tells her, still playing with her bottom lip.

"I want you in my mouth, Mr. Miller. So fucking badly." She whined out. She was so horny, she slipped her hands between her legs and began to lightly play with her clit. Joel hadn't noticed yet, as he was caught up in his own pleasure.

Joel grips his cock and pumps it as the girl opens her mouth, ready to take Joel's cock. He slides his cock into her hot mouth and lets out a deep moan. "Shit-fuck, baby," the man said, throwing his head back in pleasure as the girl began to suck as he entered her mouth. The girl moans around Joel's cock, still playing with her clit unbekownst to Joel. "Tell me how much you love sucking this cock, baby." Joel grunts out. She takes his cock out of her mouth and grips it with her hand, causing Joel's to drop down in his lap as she took control.

"Oh fuck, Mr. Miller! I love the taste of your cock, daddy." If it was even possible at this point, Joel's cock grew harder. The girl saw his eyes darken immediately after she said the word. Joel never liked hearing the word daddy in the bedroom, but when she said it...fuck he wanted to hear it again, over and over, as he fucked her in all sorts of positions.

"You like it when I call you Daddy, Mr. Miller?" She asked before sticking out her tongue and beginning to rub Joel's cock onto her tongue. He bit his lips as she continued the motion because if he didn't, he knew he would alert the girl's parents to what they were doing.

"You have no idea. Fuck." Joel's head rolls forward with his eyes closed once he feels her sucking on his tip before releasing it and going back to stroking with her wet hand. "You have no idea what it does to me, baby," He says breathlessly.

As his eyes were closed, he heard her soft moans, which made his eyes shoot open. And that's when he saw the girl stroking her clit as she jerked him off. She rubbed faster when she realized that his eyes were on her and stuffed his cock down her throat, making her eyes water as she gagged. The feeling of her throat contracting around Joel's cock to accommodate his size made him shiver all around and push his cock deeper down her throat. Because of this, she lets out a sound as she gags and swiftly brings her head back up. She was sharply breathing in to bring air back into her lungs as she was breathing hard.

Joel was totally blissed out before he realized what he had done. "Oh fuck, baby, I am so sorry. Did I hurt you?" he asked her, concerned that he might have gone too far.

With a raspy voice, she answers him, "Calm down, Mr. Miller. I loved it." She smirks as she jerks him again. She had a glint in her eyes mixed with a smirk, which made him sure she was about to do it again. "Matter of fact, why don't you lay down on the bed?" She suggested it to the older man.

Joel looks at her again and lays back on the bed. Once his back hit the bed, he felt her mouth back on his cock, making his body freeze. He felt split drip down his cock as she fucked her own throat with his cock and stroked whatever she couldn't fit. Joel's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he bit down hard on his pointer finger to stop himself from moaning out. The sounds her mouth made as she relentlessly fucked her own throat made him feel like he was in the seventh heaven.

"Oh baby doll," He tries to keep his moans low, but he wasn't sure if he was successful. To be quite honest, he didn't care if he was loud or not. Joel felt lightheaded, but he didn't want her to stop, not until he came. "Sucking my cock like a fucking pro," The girl couldn't help but feel proud as the man looked like he was going to pass out from the overpowering pleasure.

Quickly, she took his cock out of her mouth to spit on her hand and bring it down to her pussy. Her pussy was already wet, but she wanted it wetter. As she toyed with her pussy faster, she brought Joel's cock back into her mouth and continued what she was previously doing. "I'm gonna fuckin' cum soon, baby." Joel tells her breathlessly.

"I'm gonna fuckin' cum all over that pretty lil face," he moaned. The girl realized that Joel's southern accent had gotten thicker as he said those words. She moaned on his cock, causing him to feel the vibrations around his tip. They were both on the edge of cumming.

Joel brings both of his hands to the sides of her head and holds her in place as he plants his feet onto the floor and thrusts into her mouth. With this, the girl lets go of Joel's cock and allows him to fuck her mouth. The girl could hear as her bed squeaked loudly while Joel violently thrust into her mouth, and it did nothing but make her rub her pussy faster and tweak her nipples. That was all you could hear-the sound of the squeaking bed, Joel's loud breathing, and the wet gagging sounds of Joel's cock fucking her throat.

Joel wasn't watching her as he lay on the bed, and his eyes were closed tight from the pleasure, but the girl tried to watch him through her tears as she tried to keep her eyes open. And God, was it a sight to see?

The young girl would never dare let one of those college boys use and abuse her throat the way Joel was doing to her. She respected herself too much to let that happen, but obviously didn't respect herself enough to say no to Joel. If she were able to, which she couldn't because of Joel's cock being stuffed down her throat, she'd probably laugh at herself for letting this man she barely knew use her like this.

"Baby..." Joel croaks as he does one final thrust of his hips, quickly pulls out of her tight throat, props himself up on his left arm, and jerks his cock with his right hand. "I'm-i'm fucking cuming..." he bites down on his lip and wildly brings his fist up and down his cock. The girl frantically rubbed her clit and brought her face closer to Joel's cock as she tried to catch her breath from the previous face-fucking she had just received.

Finally, the first spurt of cum from Joel's cock flies across the girl's face, landing on the bridge of her nose and nearly getting in her eye. Like a domino effect, the girl began to orgasm as Joel released his warm cum on her face. "J-Joel," She shuddered as her legs almost gave out from the earth-shattering feeling of her orgasm. Joel was grateful that he was lying on the bed because he knew if he was standing, he'd be weak in the knees.

"Oh, fuck me, baby," Joel says softly to the girl after he is done painting her face with his white cum. His hips bucked as the last drop of cum dripped down his fist. The older man and the young girl both sat there as they tried to catch their breath. Trying to recover from the intense orgasm they both experienced.

Joel finally sat up to get a better look at her. It was such a filthy sight to see her on her knees in front of him with his cum painted onto her face. Some of it was on her chin, on her lips, just a little bit on her nose, and a drop on her forehead. "Look at you. You're so damn gorgeous with my cum on your face." Joel said as he wiped the girl's hair from her face and stroked her hair.

"What do you say to your daddy, baby? For cumming on that pretty face?" Joel asked her.

"Thank you, Daddy." The girl says this as she looks at him with a lustful expression.

Joel lets out a deep sigh before saying, "You're so welcome, darling." He removed his hand from her hair, gathered some of the cum that sat on her chin with his pointer and middle finger, and brought it to her mouth. Without any hesitation, she opens her mouth and sticks out her tongue, allowing Joel to rest his cum-covered fingers on her tongue. Her lips then clamped around Joel's fingers, and she sucked them clean, tasting the slightly salty fluid.

"You like it when I feed you my cum?" He asked her as he felt his cock getting hard again. She nodded her head as her tongue twirled around Joel's fingers. Joel couldn't help but push them deeper into her mouth. She grabbed his wrist with both of her hands as she continued to suck. However, a few moments later, she pops Joel's fingers out of her mouth and holds his hand in hers.

"You taste so good, Daddy," She whispers to him. She couldn't help but let out a soft whimper and stick her tongue out to lick Joel's cum off her lips. The girl felt a sense of pride swell up in her stomach as Joel looked down at her in awe.

Joel and the girl were too caught up in the moment to even hear the sound of her father's foot steps getting closer to her door. They were quickly removed from their hypnotic state when the girl's father sharply knocked at the door.

"Shit!" the girl cursed quietly as she jumped back and grabbed her dress that was bunched up on the floor. Joel's heart almost jumped out of his chest. He came back to his conscious mind and stood up to slip his pants back on. Joel didn't even bother to button his pants back up or buckle his belt; he just sat back down on the girl's bed and made sure that the top of his pants were covered by his shirt.

"Are you two okay in there?" Her father asked. As he made himself look as normal as possible, he realized that the girl had her dress back on, but his cum still covered her face. Joel knew it wasn't the time to admire his work. Her father was right outside the door, for Christ's sake, but damn, was it hot.

"Yes!" She says it quickly, her eyes wide. The girl was afraid her dad would demand that she open the door and see that his little girl had gotten a facial from their neighbor, who was way beyond her years.

"Okay," Her father says through the door. He stood there for a second and began to make his way to his room.

Once they had heard the sound of her parents bedroom door shut, they instantly took a breath that they didn't even realize they were holding. "That was fucking close." The girl let out a nervous chuckle as she turned around to look at Joel, who was now relaxed.

They had both gotten themselves together. Joel helped the girl wipe the cum off her face and made sure that there was nothing left. The air in the room was thick and smelled of sweat and bodily fluids—more specifically, cum.

Before going down the stairs, Joel goes over to the girl's desk, grabs a stick note and a pen, and begins to write his number. Once he was done, he grabbed the girl's hand and put the sticky note in her hand. When the girl looked down at the note and realized what it was, her heartbeat sped up. Before she could say anything, with her hand still in his, Joel made his way to her door and unlocked it, and they began to make their way down the stairs.

When they reach the door, the girl opens the door for Joel. They stood there for a moment, just holding hands and looking at each other. Joel lets go of her hand and brings both of his hands to the sides of her face. He quickly brings his lips to hers, catching her off guard. He could taste the faint saltiness that lingered on her lips from his cum. This made him suck on her lips more.

The feeling of his soft lips on hers made her sink into the kiss. She didn't want it to end.

The kiss lasted only for a minute, but to the girl, it felt like forever. After they pulled away from the kiss, they were both breathless. As Joel held onto her head, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes before pulling away and kissing her forehead. "Thank you so much, sweetheart." Joel whispers to her tenderly. Her stomach fluttered.

She pulls away from Joel and plants a kiss on his prickly cheek. "No, thank you, Joel." She says just enough for him to hear. She places one last kiss on his cheek, and he begins to walk out the door. As he walked down the pathway, he stopped and turned around to look at her.

"Whenever you want those guitar lessons, just call me," He says to her as he points to the note in her hand. "Or if you need me for other things." He winks at her with a smirk on his face. Playfully, she rolls her eyes at the man.

"I will," she says to him, and he turns around and continues to make his way to his home. "Daddy." The girl calls out, making him stop in his tracks. She tried to hold in her laugh as she watched his reaction, but she couldn't help but giggle.

"You're insatiable; you know that, right?" He told her as he continued walking and shook his head.

She laughed again and watched as he reached his front door. He took his keys out of his back pocket, unlocked the door, and walked into his home. Before he shuts the door, he waves at her, and she waves back at him shyly.

They both closed the door at the same time and leaned on it. They knew that whatever was happening between them was probably forbidden, but they both wanted it badly.

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A/N: make sure y’all share and like!!

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