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salaciousdoll · 11 months

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･˳ . ⋆ 1-900-PaintJob ･˳ . ⋆

In which Toji has the hots for you while he paints your walls

· · · ♡ Featuring Painter! Toji Fushiguro x Chubby!Fem!reader with guest appearances of Gojo,Geto,Nanami,Choso,and Hiromi · · ♡

୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Warnings: Smut, pussy eating, sloppy pussy eating at that, spit, voyeurism( FaceTime call on projector), cowgirl riding, heavy and long dick Toji, admiring Toji( at you), body worship( heavy, praise kink, degradation kink, dirty talking, fingering, body painting with fingers during sex, do not try this with a stranger in real life( wrap up sweeties), fucking on first time meeting( I know, I know, but you’re neighbors), reader mind is fucked while you’re getting fucked, mention of brain d*** but not literally, dickmatized and pussy drunk, hints at chubby reader, black reader but not explicit, pet names( princess, baby doll, doll, baby, etc.), small age gap, if I miss something let me know

୨⍣୧ ⁺⁎˚ ⋆━━ Word count: 4.6k

18+, Minors do not interact

Ps: I’m gonna post this one last time, hopefully it ends up in the tags without the label warning. Anyways happy birthday to me!!!

Sitting on the white window seal with a large triple case- equal lit window in front of you casting a beautiful abstract of the neighbors house and apartments in your neighborhood.

You were watching your neighbor from across the street pulling out weeds from the dirt of nature. He was eye candy for sure, that’s why you always pretended to write in your diary whenever he comes out of his house. Sometimes he would be talking with his other buff/ fit friends while pulling out weeds or planting for his girlfriend. She was a ray of sunshine but a devil in disguise or so you heard. You haven’t seen her ever since you met her for the first time when you moved in. You two didn’t plan on hanging out or getting to know one another after your encounter with one another. Too busy, on her side. Your side was because you could feel the negative energy oozing off her and made no room for her in your life. Him and his other friends/ girl-friends were a different story.

One of them was someone you had your eagle eye on from the first time you saw him. Ever since you saw his white, skin tight shirt clinging to his body with a pair of black joggers and comfortable shoes; you knew you had to get him inside of your house. Luckily weeks later, when you were watering your plants you saw him come out the house a few doors down from you to walk across the street to Satoru’s house. You wanted him to laugh in your ear the way he was laughing at Suguru and Satoru’s jokes and playful bantering whilst sharing a few beers with him.

Once you were done with watering your grass and plants you turned your water off and took your empty bucket to go back in the house when you heard your name being yelled as you walked onto your porch. You turned around to see Satoru waving at you with a big smile on his plush, pink lips, “ Hi hi, {reader}, see you’re watering your plants, gotta keep them fresh for me to steal huh? Your flowers are mighty beautiful..”

You rolled your eyes and waved at him, “ Hell no, not for you so don’t even try it, anyways hello everyone, I’m going back in the house so see you gentlemen later.” Geto smiled and waved at you while Nanami smiled a little at hearing your voice. He always looked at you whenever you came out the house, he thought he was the only one who stared at you until he saw Toji Fushiguro eyeing you nonstop, even while you watered the plants.

“ That’s { reader}, she just moved here 5 weeks ago, so be nice to her alright.”, Geto says with a tight lipped smile. Choso took a sip of his beer and cleared his throat, “ How do you know when she moved in? I must say it's very Creepy considering you don’t even live over here at all.” Geto rolled his eyes and pointed to Gojo, “ because of him, dumbass. After all, he’s her neighbor, although, I’m surprised Toji hasn’t made a move even after only staying a few door dow-” Geto eyebrows furrowed and he was gonna ask where Toji left to when he got his answer when he felt his head being turned by Gojo to your house. He opened his mouth once he noticed Toji standing at your door having a conversation with you. Closing his mouth, he chuckled prior to saying, “ Nevermind then. He beat us all, huh?”

You, on the other hand, heard your doorbell ring and told the person on the other side to hold on. Once you answered you were so surprised to see your girl crush in front of you, smirking as well, “ Hello, pretty, my name is Toji Fushiguro. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Hope we get to be well acquainted with one another.” He took your hand and kissed your knuckles making your legs almost give up on you especially with the calm but sexy look in his pretty green eyes.

You didn’t even want to take your hand away as you introduced yourself back to him, ending with “ I hope we get well acquainted as well, sir.” He tsk, shaking his head sequentially, “ No, what did I say my name was?” You raised your eyebrows at the dominance oozing from his voice but answered him anyway, “ Toji, Toji Fushiguro, why? What happened? Do you have a low memory or something?” He chuckled as he still held your hand in his, mild sweat was all you felt on your hand as you looked at him with a tilted head in wonder of what he was chuckling at. “ No, no, doll. Don’t have low memory just making sure you know it so you can learn to not call me sir, makes me feel older than I already am.”

You couldn’t help but to giggle at his words because normally you would tell a man to fuck off already, he’s an exception. For now. Instead you stared at his shirt, noticing a little yellow stain that looked like paint. Automatically getting a scandalous idea inside your pretty brain, “ Say do you paint, Mister Toji?” Completely change the direction of the conversation because you don't need to be reminded that you are attracted to the older male even if you’re in your early 20s right now. The way you tilted your head to the side after you asked the question made his dick jump because he was one step closer to having you against the wall of your house. He smiled at you, “ Yes, here and there, for the cash or what not. why do you ask, little one?”

You mentally rolled your eyes at his last two words because you were in no shape or form little but you’ll proceed, “Good. How much does it cost to paint my living room in two days? Or you don't do house calls?” His eyes widened a little prior to him answering you without thinking, “ oh yeah I take house calls for a price but for you… On the house, take this as a housewarming gift from me to you. Besides honey, I’m not working on a boss time because I make my own time, therefore you’re on. In two days, I will see you soon, my favorite doll.” You smiled as he walked backwards off the porch while hanging onto your banister to help guide him down the stairs in case he doesn’t make a fool of himself in front of his doll. You.

You, however, waved at him and the others, “ Great, I’ll get the paint and other supplies, all you need to do is show up, mister Toji.” You walked back into the house with a smirk on your pretty face, you got him.

Now you were still sitting on your window seal, still looking at the now empty porch of Satoru Gojo’s house when the doorbell rang. You looked at your phone for the time and smiled— right on time. You fixed yourself up a little before answering the door with a small smile on your face, “ Welcome, Toji. Come on in.” Toji had in a tight white v neck shirt that showed some of his chest that made your mouth watery. As he walked past you he greeted you with a smirk and nod of his head. You stared at his back and ass as he walked in front of you taking in the way he wore his blue Jean painting overalls, thankfully just in his lower body, with black boots, he looked so perfect for this job and you almost believed he dressed like this on purpose.

You wore too into your head when you heard a throat being cleared startling you a little since it was silent at first, “ Don’t get too distracted, doll. I need to know how you want me to paint and where to start, don’t I?” He was teasing you and he loved the little fidgeting you were doing right now to his teasing. You gathered yourself and pointed to the side of you as you walked further into your spacious living room with only a covered couch and ladder inside of it.

He sat his extra tools down and looked at color paint you brought with his hands on his hips, the hips you so badly wanted to wrap your legs around as he dug inside of your pu-, “ Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to stop spacing out if you want time to be at least half way done, alright.” You nodded your head and put on your serious face, “ I apologize for my unprofessionalism, after all this is still business. Anyways, I really want this side to be a plain { c/y/c}, while behind the couch have the marble color thingy going on.” You pointed to the walls as you explained. When you lifted your hand, your shirt showed a little of your tummy, he so badly wanted to hold in his hands as he sucked on your pussy, and your thighs from the skort you wore gave him the adrenaline he hadn’t felt in a long time while painting for someone.

“ What ‘ marble color thingy’ you are referring to? I need a little example, doll.”, he said while crossing his arms over his chest making his muscles flex like he wanted to pop out the shirt. Is this his hoe shirt or something? You almost wanted to laugh at your mind for asking that question but thought against it because it’ll make you look crazy. You tried hard to think of an example and tapped your feet making him laugh at your frustration and stumbling over words “ um, you know, marble counters.” Or his favorite “ You know, um…” you didn’t even finish the sentence seeing as another laugh of his cut you off, “ I know what it is, princess, just messing with you.”

You rolled your eyes and began to help him by taking the top off the paint and setting your brush along with the long stick that attached to the roller brush down, “ There you go, if you need me I’ll be sitting on the window seal listening to my headphones. If you don’t mind me being in here with you of course.” He shrugged and asked you a question, “ You think you could turn on some music for me, don’t wanna listen to the sound of paint hitting the walls all day, hurt my ears, you wouldn’t want anything to happen to my ears now would ya’?” You thought about it and shook your head no before getting up to bring down your radio.

Once you finally brought down your little hello kitty radio seconds later, he smiled at the speaker prior to shaking his head and grabbing it from your hands, “ I’ll make jokes about this radio later, but right now I need you to sit your pretty ass down and enjoy yourself or you could watch me paint, doesn’t matter to me.” You almost tripped from him talking to you like that but gladly caught yourself— looking to see if he caught you and luckily he didn’t. He’s too busy pouring the paint in the paint tray.

Hours later, he seems to be getting slower and you knew he needed a break as you now witnessed him with respiration dropping down his body, shirt clinging to his skin as the product of sweating a lot. You turned on the AC and fan but he’s still sweating which means he’s working too hard. You got distracted by his back muscles moving back and forth as he painted on top of the ladder now. Your playlist was getting lost in your ear as you analyzed his build even more. He had a back tattoo from what you could see and you honestly wanted to see it. Just in luck, he turned to you catching you off guard, “ can you hear me? If so, nod your head.” You nodded your head because you could only hear him because your music was low and high.

Wiping his forehead with his arm, “ Good, do you mind if I take my shirt off, I’m still hot and can’t take it anymore.” You paused and looked at him with your lips pursed out. Your head nodded slightly disagreeing with your thoughts. You watched as he dropped the paintbrush on the tray afore taking his shirt off so slowly, basically stripping for you. You eyed his 6 or maybe 8 pack you couldn’t count because you were trailing your eyes to his man-boobs and almost clench your thighs at how big they were.

You were only snapped out of your day dream when you heard his deep groan, which only caused your eyes to widen at hearing what you heard. Maybe it was a floozy until you heard him talking, “ You keep looking at me like that there’s no telling where this paint will land when I’m fucking you against this very wall.” You turned away just to look right back at him with low eyes, “ yeah, um, I’ll go get that strawberry lemonade for you, hold on.” He chuckled because he didn’t know if it was because you thought he was thirsty or because he was thirsty for something else. Someone else really: you.

You walked to the kitchen as he climbed off the ladder. He watched you walk away and that ate at your conscious— while you were too busy thinking about how you looked from the back, he was moving the ladder to the side before laying down a big paper. He was gonna get you anyway it goes.

You grabbed the glass cups out of your white cabinet, putting ice in it followed by strawberry lemonade out of your pitcher. You grabbed lemon and cut them up just to play a slice on the side of the glasses. You weren’t even thinking straight right now because all you wanted is his dick down your throat. And you kept thinking about the ways you were gonna do it on your way back. You needed some dick right now in your life anyways, he’s the perfect man to get some from. You were gonna slut and trick him out because after this. Your new sugar daddy if you say.

You brought the cold glasses in and saw him sitting on the window seal with his legs cocked open, he looked so relaxed and you didn’t want to interrupt him but damn if you do, damn if you don’t. His shirt was still off and sweat glands were rolling down his chest and abs. His nipples were a mixture of pink and light brown and you were so in love with the way they looked that you couldn’t stop staring which made him smirk, “ Come on, pretty. You’re leaving my throat dry right now.” You snapped your eyes to his eyes and smiled a little prior to giving him his juice. When you did he smoothly pulled your wrist and made you stumble in between his legs, panicking about wasting the drinks.

You placed your lemonade down and gave him a stern look, well tried. It was just you trying to look mad and it failed because all he was thinking about was how pretty and hot you looked and that you did even through thick and thin. “ What is your problem, T?”

Toji took a big gulp of his drink afore placing it down and wrapping his arms around your hips, “ T? I like it, is that the nickname you chose to moan for me, hmm? Yeah, you make sure you moan it loud and clear, yeah?” You were so turned on right now that you made a hint that you wanted a kiss by looking at his lips, he chuckled and leaned up to kiss you on the lips. The kiss is slow and sensual. Your lips collided against each other in a heated makeout session. You didn’t even realize him reaching to dip his fingers in the paint beside him. He strategically used the fingers he’s not going to finger you with to dip inside the paint.

The paint was something that just came to mind right now, so he brought his actions to life when the paint trailed on your arm as you deepened the kiss with one arm around his shoulder. Sitting down on top of him, you felt his thick bulge right on the outline of your pussy as soon as you sat down too. Fuck he was huge and fucking thick. You couldn’t wait to fuck him and you made it known when you dipped your own fingers in paint— trailing your finger on his chest and then nipples making his body shudder from the coldness of the paint on his nipples.

You broke the heated kiss and smiled down at him with both hands on your chest. “ You’re mine after this, you know. So think real hard before you take the next step, baby doll. Wouldn’t want you to jump onto death row blindly.” You chuckled, “ I want to fuck, you’re the perfect slut of a man to fuck right now.” His eyes widened as he watched you take off your shirt revealing a pretty bra he so badly wanted to inhale. He was so obsessed with you that he’d wanna sniff any undergarment you had right now and you knew that, so you slowly teased him by taking the bra off slowly. Toji has been obsessed with you since he got the chance to see you move in, you didn’t notice him but he noticed you.

Toji’s mouth watered when your tits dropped from your bra, they were so pretty, the size of them adding on to his new fascination. Toji kissed you again, he kissed all the way down to your chest, “ These are fucking beautiful, want them wrapped around my cock but I’ll save that for later.” You whimpered at his dirty words as his hand without the paint tapped your thighs telling you to take off your pj bottoms and you did just that when you got off him.

Toji reached his hands to the hand of your panties— slipping his, free of paint, fingers inside of your panties rubbing your pussy as you hovered over him. It was a little difficult for him so he ripped your panties with his other hand leaving you completely bare for him. He finally got full access to your beautiful pussy and he almost gulped up spit just to spit it back on your pussy, claiming it for the men that’s watching on the other side of the FaceTime call he sat up while you were in the kitchen. He hid his phone well but what he didn’t know is that you knew you were being recorded and didn’t care at the moment especially when he’s literally eye level with your pussy.

He rubbed getting little whimpers from you as you gripped his shoulder in want and need, “ Please… T, I can’t anymore, fuck me, finger me, idc, I just need something inside of me.” Your voice was so pretty moaning out for him like this. You were already driving him mad and he loved it. You were wiggling around until he held onto your love handles/hips. He spit on your pussy with a loud sound of the spitting before licking all over your pussy with his spit. You gripped his hair with one hand whilst his tongue was flicking in circles around your puffy clit. You granted him access with one hand opening your pussy to his liking so he could see and lick everything.

He looked up at you with hazy, green eyes— still licking your pussy while you placed one leg beside him on the window seal, “ your fucking pussy, fuck~” he couldn’t even get his words out because he was too busy trying to devour your entire pussy in his mouth, which was literally impossible for anyone. You tasted so so delicious to him and he wasn’t about to let any of them on the phone fuck you. You were a moaning mess when you were close to your edge and you could tell he was enjoying himself because of the spit coasting your inner thighs, labia, and clit.

His spit was dripping and his face was dripping with your juices combined with his spit, “ Shit~ to-ji, I’m cumin, I can’t hold on.” And you couldn’t physically and figuratively because your legs were starting to shake. Toji didn’t care though because he was too busy shaking his head back and forth creating more motion in your clitoris, “ Aaah fuck, m’cummin, pl-please I’m cummin.” You gripped his shoulders so hard that you could practically crush them and yet he still wouldn’t care. He was gonna wear you out today before going back to painting.

You threw your head back when his groans and moans hit your pussy creating vibrations, “ Cum fwrh mew” you couldn’t exactly make out his words because his tongue was move in a wiggle motion on the inside of your pussy, so his words were impediment to understand but once he felt you clench onto his tongue— letting go onto his face. Your body shook as you came and he wasted no time catching every last drop of cum.

He sucked on your clit one last time making you stumble onto his lap, hovering a little whilst your legs were shaking like a leaf on a windy day. He looked at you licking his lips all the while taking off his shoes and overalls along with his undergarment— leaving him in black socks only, “ Sit on it.” Your eyes widened when he suddenly pulled you down not caring how much of your weight you got on him, he could handle it. Meanwhile, none of them can do it like he can. He always chased after girls your size, why? He just likes women like you. You could say he was a chubby chaser but his dick doesn’t discriminate against any bodies, petite, skinny, thick, no ass, ass, no titties, titties, he doesn’t care. He just has a record with women like you.

You took his hard dick into your hand, stroking him up and down, “ How badly do you want this Toji?” He looked at you with a smile on his face illuminating his beautiful features, “ I could show you and say it, I wanted this ever since I saw you hop out that little uhaul truck and I was sitting on my porch playing with my kids.” Your eyes widened and you smiled, “ How is little Megumi and tsukii doing?”

He chuckled before whispering a faint fuck because you were still stroking him, meanwhile you were unaware of what you were doing because of the conversation, “ kinda hard to talk about them when you stroking my dick like that?” You nervously laughed, “ oh right, I apologize that actually is wrong, I just wanna know how badly you wanted me and we got off track, now that I know, let me show you how bad I want you.” He was surprised at your words but more surprised at the feeling of his tip being swallowed by your wet pussy, “ Fu-uh-ck!!, you haven’t even taken me full, yet you have me groaning like a bitch.” You let out a faint giggle which turned into a moan as you slowly and carefully took him inside of you. As you slid down his cock, he stretched you out causing you to tightly squeeze your eyes from the pain. Your pussy was clenching him like she never wanted to let him go and that cussed him to hiss, “ Loosen up f’me, princess.”

You took a deep breath prior to slamming down on his dick when you got half of him inside. Both of you moaned very loudly as Gojo, Choso, Geto, Nanami, and now Hiromi's eyes widened when they viewed the projector his phone was connected to, luckily Gojo was a smart and strategic pervert. “ she did it, she actually took all of him inside of her.”

Meanwhile, Toji gripped your ass and curled up into you as you bounced up and down on his cock creating vibrations and movement with your body and his balls in one. “ Shit! T, please continue to fuck me like this, mmph.” He reached one hand to dip his fingers in the paint, just to put it over your chest, tummy, and getting more to trace your rolls. “ You’re so- so fucking, ahh… pretty taking my dick inside of you right now. You’re my little, Nghh~. You have me fumbling my words, sweetheart.” He gropped your tits with paint on his fingers and your ass with his other set of fingers— still fucking into you like a maniac. For an older guy, he’s got a lot of strength and stamina.

“ You’re my little masterpiece of art, fuck~ you keep clenching me I’m gonna.”, He moaned as he was now leaning back against the blinds on your window, denting them a bit, but you didn’t care. You were too brain dead out of words to even say anything. Your brain was nothing but fuzzy bubbles floating around, “ T’? It’s… it’s too much. Nnhh.” He noticed your spaced out look as you peered down at him and rubbed your clit with his thumb to get you back to him, “ Hold on a little bit longer baby, don’t space out on me yet, we’re gonna cum together.”

You nodded your head with a vicious lip bite as you moved your hips back and forth tired from bouncing up and down on his dick. Your juices were all over his cock, even dripping down his balls and inner thighs. That’s how much you enjoyed his dick inside of you. You never felt like this. You lost focus on the world and it’s just him now and you beat believe his ass feels the same because he forgot about them watching because all he was thinking about was you.

Your body started to shake as he began rolling his hips, “ Toji! I feel it, m’gonna squirt. Uhhh!” You squirted all over yourself and his pelvis. He stopped a bit to let you squirt before getting the idea to move inside of you again causing you to squirt more on his pelvis and lower stomach. You weren’t doing anything but shouting out little pleas and repeating over and over again how you have to cum.

Toji lifted you up with your legs on his arms, fucking into you like a pirate who haven’t had pussy or found any gold yet, “ Fuck, fuck, that’s it baby. Cum for me, cum all over your dick baby.” His words and the snapping of his dick moving in and out of you had you cummin’ in no time. You were about to scream loud but he placed a kiss in your lips silencing yours and his scream with a muffle to replace it. Your bodies was shaking against each other as sweat engulfed both of your bodies like you two were in a steam room.

This was the sex you missed and needed, but nobody did it like him. Toji was still rolling his hips while slowly walking back to the window seal that was a bench if you ask yourself. His butt hit the cold surface causing him to hiss especially when your pussy walls were shaping around his dick, “ Your pussy is shaping and getting used to my cock now, doll. Hope you’re ready because we’re taking this upstairs, they’ll have to hear from a distance.” He huffed and smirked down at you, kissing your forehead, chubby cheeks, and lips fore’ taking you upstairs bridle style, still having some strength in him even after cumming inside of your sweet pussy. You were gonna have to take the pill later, he wouldn’t mind giving you a baby because it was already set that he’s gonna make you his and his woman only.

From that point on, you got fucked any and everywhere in your bedroom. Your holes were being filled to the brim by him and you loved every second of it.

Tagging: @shunsuist @simpingfor-wakasa @happygoluckyalexis @mastermindenoshimaalicia @thehanging-gardens @bontens-angel and anymore who wants to be tagged

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octoberautumnbox · 3 months

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Discordant Waltz: Friday

Oh Sieun ICE Oh Rosi (Former IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri) & Male Reader

Categories/warnings: smut, anal, uniform, clothed sex, rough anal, uhh anal, loud sex, fuck buddy, fwb, ANAL

Word count: 1.9k

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: Based very loosely on Friday by IU actually, but like in a really really perverted way. Also based on Hang On by Jo Yuri babygurl lol. I hope the emotions I want to portray come across well lmao

Your phone buzzed as you set it at 0% volume. The sparkly bits of the curb shone the orange sunlight into your eyes. Worried about Sieun, you resolved to be a bit early for your regular Friday "date" with her, but the loud angry voices and clanging sounds coming from within her house gave you the impression that she was… busy. At this rate, the six-pack of beer you brought for the two of you would be warm before you even see her.

You leaned back onto the side of her house, waiting for the noises to stop, fiddling with your phone, picking at the gravel beneath your shoes. It was a good spot, the one you’re sitting at, just out of view from the front door in case anyone leaves. You’re not here to intrude, just worried about your… friend. Yeah, just a friend.

Friends look out for each other, after all. They’re supposed to offer support in the times and ways their friends need them to. That’s all you’re doing, just offering support to your friend. Your friend who invites you over to her house to fuck on a weekly basis. Your friend who recently came her brains out in a school restroom with you. Your friend whose visuals while sucking your cock are burned into your mind and easily accessible whenever you need a quick release.

A voice rings loud from near their front door. You try to hide yourself more, but with such an open space, there’s not much to do. You’re sure you hear Sieun yelling, followed by a loud slam of a door and trudging steps leading away from the house.

You place your phone in your backpack and, once the coast is clear, you walk up quietly, respectfully, to the poor front door. Before your knuckles come into contact with the wood, the door swings open to reveal your friend, teary-eyed and distraught.

“Look, I– I’m fine,” she says between sobs and ragged breaths. She keeps her eyes shut and covered with her hands as she tries her best not to ruin her makeup. “There’s no reason to…”

You cut her off then and there; whatever’s bothering her can wait. The door shuts and she suddenly finds her back is shoved up against the wall and your hands on her shoulders. Your sudden attack catches her off guard, but your friend is more than willing to let your tongue into her mouth like she always does. She moans a little moan as you lick her tongue back, and she places her hands on each of your cheeks to keep you in place.

Pull away and give her some breathing room. Notice her unsteady breathing, her tears running down her cheeks. “I brought beer,” you mention casually as if you didn’t just take her breath away, “might be warm by now. Let’s drink it after.”

“I-” is all she can say before you come in for another torrid kiss. Despite a bit more hesitance from her, she welcomes your tongue back in her mouth and tries to match your energy. Run your hands down the sides of her uniform and reach the hem of her skirt. Without breaking the kiss, you open your eyes and find hers closed, with a tear forming and falling down her cheek. She must be really upset.

Thinking she must really need this, you choose not to waste any more time and grab your friend's ass through her panties under her skirt. She lets out an “ah~” when she feels you kneading the flesh of her butt and melts back into your kiss deeply. You pick her up by her behind, and her legs wrap around your waist as she gets lifted up off the ground.

You’ve done this a million times by now; you know the way from the front door to her bedroom like the back of your hand. You know it so well that it was no issue at all to carry her there without breaking the kiss. Throw her onto the mattress, forcing her bedframe to groan and creak like you’ve heard countless nights before. She looks at you expectantly, maybe a bit scared, definitely like she forgot about what was on her mind earlier. Now you’ve got her.

Your shirt leaves your body and you join her in bed, taking your royal place beside her. She captures your lips with hers again, but surprisingly just after a few seconds she pulls you down to her neck.

Thinking nothing of the new "interests" she now has, you attack her neck, gently biting and licking at her skin and causing her to groan at the feeling of you ravaging previously untouched territory. You enjoy how she feels against your lips and the sweet smell of her long hair that you’ve never been allowed to sniff before.

She brings your hand over to her thighs, and you graciously start squeezing them and feeling her soft and smooth skin. You found it weird she hasn't asked for your dick yet, but you gather she's still shaken from her earlier fight with whoever that was. Give her time to settle, but also give her the love she needs.

Feeling her thighs warming up, you inch your hand closer to her waiting core. Her legs part and allow access, and you find a large wet spot right over her sex. Pull aside the thin fabric and trace circles around her nub, bite and pull at the skin of her neck. She grows wetter by the second, and moans spill out of her mouth faster than you can rub her off.

"No marks, please…" she whimpers, obviously flustered but not yet fully needy: just a bit more.

You respond with another kiss and an attempt to insert two fingers into her leaking pussy, but she pushes your hand away.

“In my ass…” She whispers quietly to you, as if ashamed of wanting it. Your friend shifts to lie on her side and face away from you, presenting you with her pink, virgin asshole.

Never minding her choices for today, you reach for a condom and the unopened bottle of lube in her nightstand. You strip yourself of your pants and put the rubber on by yourself. You slather lube first on your erect cock, and put some on your fingers before sliding one of them into your friend's butt.

"Oh oppa, that's good…" she moans as you invade deeper and deeper into her ass. You try finding her good spots inside her tight asshole, but resolve to just get it over with and fuck her as quick as you can. Forget about how she isn’t as chatty as she typically is, forget how oppa is a nickname you’ve never heard from her before. Just forget, and make sure she remembers this, you, instead.

Steady her with a hand on her hip, grip the side of her uniform, line up your rock-hard cock with her waiting hole. Fighting back your lust for the gorgeous woman in bed with you, you give her a taste by inserting your head slowly into her. She sucks in air between her teeth and hisses her pleasure quietly.

"Mmm…" she tries to contain a loud moan you're sure she wouldn't have been able to hold back if you fucked her as hard as you usually do. Go easy, she needs to relax today.

You push your cock deeper and deeper into her despite her weak protests. She tries fighting, whispering "not too deep, please," and taking your hand from her hip to grip it hard between hers. You find it increasingly difficult to keep from plowing her as hard as you can, and the way her tight asshole stretches to take you isn't doing you any favors.

A sense of confusion creeps into your mind: you know she takes rougher than this from you all the time, but she seems to genuinely be hurting now. On the other hand, if she's hurting then she would just say your safe word and get herself some breathing room. You soldier on (you know how sick she is in the head), but take extra care not to hurt your friend too bad.

Soon after, your continued thrusts start earning her sweet moans instead. She acclimates to your cock rubbing against the insides of her ass and even starts meeting your thrusts into her. Feel her plump ass on your pelvis, admire how your friend’s skin is smooth against yours. Pull her close, never mind the wrinkles that form on the formerly clean-pressed white blazer she has on.

There’s no reason to muffle her this time, she can be as loud as she likes. She can bite and kick and scream for all you care, all you need is her to feel as good as she always does on Friday nights.

“I-I’m close…” Relish in how pliant, how willing, how submissive she is for you. How she takes you so obediently despite her pain like she knows you own her. Her eagerness and the way her insides squeeze your cock so lovingly drive you crazy. As much as you want this night to last forever, you know it’s about to end.

Fuck her faster. Make sure she feels every vein on your cock, make her yours as her throat sores with her groans.

Pound her harder. She’s pulling at her bedsheets, voice quaking, straining to keep her sanity. Her asshole clenches around you, trying to keep you all for herself.

With a final deep thrust, your orgasm hits you like a bolt of lightning. Bury your thick cock as deep as humanly possible into the woman of your dreams. Your dick twitches and sends waves of pleasure up her spine as her voice strains for higher and higher notes to match her ecstasy.

At the same time, she's forced over the edge of her sanity and falls into a purgatory of mind-numbing pleasure. She lets out stream after stream of her cum onto the sheets and mattress. Her bite marks imprint on the pillow case, as does whatever ruined makeup she was wearing.

You both come down from your highs, and you spend a minute, at most two, cuddling her. Finally, expending your energy to peek at whether she's still alert and aware, you get up and lean on your elbow only to find her eyes lazily half-shut, her breathing deep and slow, and her tongue out and resting on the pillow too.

Remind yourself: this is your friend. This isn't the woman of your dreams; it can't be. Why would you even think otherwise? What else could there be between the two of you? Nothing at all, just friends.

You make sure she's comfortable in bed, drape a blanket over her, and leave her bedroom. On your way out, you place the six-pack of beer into the fridge.

The walk back home is quiet and somber, like a shower of rain hanging in the sky that’s too stubborn to fall. Must be the post-nut clarity, but you start to wonder: why was Sieun so submissive this time? Why was she letting you kiss her neck, fuck her ass? And what the hell was that uniform?

You vaguely notice your phone vibrate at the bottom of your backpack. You reach in and fish it out, absent-mindedly unlocking it and reading your notifications.

Twenty-seven missed calls.

~~~

| Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 (coming soon) |

a/n: and there you have it! if im being totally honest this was really awkward to write but i hope the anal part earns me a little bit of exp for the next time i write it. btw the emotions i wanted to portray were awkward and weird and conflicted lol. as always feedback is always welcome and i look forward your asks and dms all the time :))))

#girl group smut #kpop smut #izone smut #jo yuri smut

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geombyu · 10 months

Text

GOJO SEES YOU WEARING HIS SHIRT !

Pairing. student!gojo x student!gn!reader

Genre. fluff, friends to hinted lovers perhaps

Word count. 0.6k | Warnings. swearing, the reader is smaller than gojo (the shirt is big on them)

A/N. i see a lot of these and like 7/10 times theyre smut LMAOAO so i wanted to write a fluff ver! i also did Not think id be writing for jjk but 😭 ig we are + not rlly proofread sorry :(

Today was Gojo's day off, and what better way to start it than waking up at four pm?

He was a busy guy - despite only being in high school - he's already taken on many jobs, it was only right he could get sixteen hours of sleep.

When he arrived at your shared dorm at twelve in the morning, you were already asleep, so when he got out of his room and laid his eyes on you wearing his t-shirt, he couldn't help but gasp.

"Oh, hey Satoru." You spoke, sparing him a quick glance before going back to cooking. His mouth was still wide open; he couldn't respond—he tried, but he couldn't. No sound could leave him. Who knew all it took for the strongest to be left speechless was the sight of you in his shirt?

You look back at him, seeing how his jaw was still on the floor, you realize it was probably because of what you were wearing right now.

"Oh! This? Sorry," you chuckle, "none of my clothes have been washed yet—call me gross, whatever—so I decided to steal from your wardrobe. Hope you don't mind." You stuck your tongue out before placing the eggs on a plate.

You moved to put the plate on the dining table, giving him a better view of you in his shirt. It fit him so perfectly, so seeing it so big on you absolutely made his heart melt.

There was a light tint of pink on your friend's cheeks now; you were so cute he felt like he was going to pass out.

"Are you okay with just eggs? There's more stuff but I wanna save them for next time—oh, actually, you might not be here tomorrow…" You mumbled the last part, choosing to ignore how he still hasn't responded to any of your sentences.

Gojo tried to get a word out, but all he could manage was a strange, strangled noise, which you respond to with a confused hum. No matter how much he tried, he couldn't organize any of his thoughts. He was screaming over and over in his head, but there was a thought slightly bigger than the rest (the rest which consisted of AAAA's, OH MY GOD's, and WHAT THE FUCK's)—that thought was: "holy fuck you're so adorable," which was also exactly what he just blurted out.

Now it was your turn to be flustered, "I—what?"

Gojo's eyes widen before he covers his face with his hands, his face now fully red. "Ignore what I just said," his voice was muffled, but you could still hear what he said.

You never thought you'd see the Gojo Satoru blushing so deeply with his face in his hands, but here he is. You laugh, "can you repeat that?" You were teasing him, I mean, it's not every day that this happens, but any more teasing and his heart might actually blow up.

"Y/n, shut up—oh my God—I hate you!"

"I thought you said I was adorable? Or do you hate cute things?"

He yells into the palms of his hands.

Although you're being bold right now, him calling you adorable caused your brain to shut down for a good millisecond. Gojo complimented you all the time, but somehow, this felt different.

You walk to where he's standing right now, hands still covering his pretty face. You put your hand on his, and the feeling of your warm and soft hands comfort him.

He could tell you wanted to pull his hands away, and while he didn't want that, he was so weak to your touch.

He had no other option but to give in, so he did. You put his left hand away first, then the right. With his hand still in yours, you softly spoke, "if that's the case, then you must really hate yourself."

Oh, he was so in love with you.

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stevebabey · 1 year

Text

not if it’s you.

word count: 7k summary: After the events at Starcourt Mall, you have a hard time convincing Steve that he’s allowed to be not okay. You want to take care of him. And if you harbour some more-than-friends feelings at the same time? Well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. [angst + hurt/comfort + friends to lovers]

You’re bone-deep tired.

The red and blue lights of the ambulance feel branded onto the inside of your eyelids, there even when your tired eyes slide shut. The cool metal on the ambulance door soothes your forehead and for a moment, head tilted against it, you could honestly just sleep even with all the noise.

It’s been a hell of a night.

You blink. You need to keep yourself awake, you’re not home yet. Gazing blankly across the crowded parking lot, reporters and townspeople milling between the yellow police tape, you can feel your brain begin to try to grapple with all the events of the night.

It’s like some warped horror flick of memories, parts of the film blacked out that you can’t quite recall. The elevator, the Russians, and some god-awful melted monster of people — even in your mind the image makes you shudder.

The longer you think about it, the more it feels like the stress is fusing with your bones, attaching itself to every cell in your body. It makes you shake, a forceful twitch of your head to put all the thoughts to rest.

Process it later. Make sure you can stay stitched together physically tonight. You must look a tad loony from the outside, twitching and shaking, but considering your night it’s more than warranted.

The gash on your arm is the worst of your injuries. A jagged stretch of torn skin that was gifted by one of the Russian soldiers who had hoped it would loosen your tongue. And when that didn’t work, the pliers nearly had — you would’ve told them anything when they took them out and lined it up with one of your fingernails.

But Steve then had done something stupid — kicked to get a guard’s attention since his yelling obviously hadn’t made a difference, let one of them lean down real close, and then headbutted him with all his might.

Relief had shocked your system, some broken cry as you slumped over when the pliers moved away. Fingers saved, if only briefly.

It had all turned to dread when they had lugged him out of his chair, preparing for round two of questioning. You had felt it then, a twisted gurgle of emotion lurched up your throat — violent enough it might have made you sick if you had managed to open your mouth. You hadn’t. There was a chance you would’ve said something worse, some jumble of feelings that wouldn’t have helped.

So, you had bit your tongue. Tasted blood and pretended that closing your eyes meant you couldn’t hear Steve pleading in the room over.

He hasn’t said much since the two of you had been sat in the back of the ambulance, gloved hands of the paramedics roaming over skin to find and treat injuries. There’s just one guy left now, still hovering around Steve with a flashlight and treating him with much less care than you’d like.

Steve looks as tired as you feel and when he can’t focus enough to look ahead, the paramedic prods his cheek unkindly. Steve winces.

“Hey,” you snip, cutting into the interaction. “Are you done? Can we go home?”

The paramedic turns the flashlight on you, blinding you for a moment. It confirms your asshole hypothesis of his character and you cringe at the brightness. It’s gone in the next moment, finally clicked off. He observes you both for another moment before an annoyed drawl comes out.

“Yeah, scram. But first you,” He jabs a finger at Steve who blinks but doesn’t react. “Lots of rest. No big brain work, no alcohol, and don’t run any marathons or anything.”

Steve nods, then grimaces at the pain the movement causes. You can’t help the wrinkle in your brow as you watch - you startle a bit when the paramedic turns his pointed finger on you.

“And you. His pupils are still dilated so keep an eye for seizure symptoms. Wake him every couple of hours and get a CT scan tomorrow.”

Some part of you is perturbed that he’s put you in charge of taking care of Steve. Another part gleans and blushes because you’d accepted the task the moment he’d asked, without question.

“Tomorrow?” You ask hotly, at the same time Steve says, “I’ll be fine on my own.”

The paramedic shakes his head, tsking as if you’re bothersome school-children not patients, and steps back with his hands raised. “Figure it out, I don’t care. I’ve got a dozen other people to check over.”

He winds around the door of the ambulance and leaves the both of you alone. A cool wind skirts through the parking lot, ruffling your hair. A sigh wrestles out your chest, a pathetic attempt to alleviate the tightness in your chest.

You don’t think you’ve ever hated the colours blue and red more than right now. The blazing colours atop police cars that flood the parking lot, the colours of Steve’s Scoops uniform, the colour of blood seeping into your pale blue shirt.

If you squint, you can see your own car parked alongside Steve’s in the distance — it feels like a lifetime ago when you had driven in and parked up. Your keys are lost down, down below you, taken in the interrogation. You stand to shake off that train of thought.

You turn back and offer your hand out to Steve. After all the blows he’s taken tonight, you desperately want to offer him kindness. Offer him a touch that doesn’t hurt, doesn’t make him flinch or wince. Steve stares at your hand for a long moment, eyes contemplating — and then puts his in yours.

He lets you pull him to his feet.

One of the police cruisers takes you to Loch Nora, Steve and you tucked away in the backseat. His hand is still in yours, barely holding it in his tiredness; when the car rounds a corner though, you can feel his fingers clench tighter so your hand doesn’t slip away.

They detach eventually when the wheels roll up on the curb outside Steve’s house, late in the night. Like the rest of the sleeping houses, the lights are all off. There are no cars in the driveway. The loneliness of it yawns out down the drive, like visible smoke plumes that escape every window.

Steve somehow looks tenser at seeing it; he still forces himself out of the car, bloody sneakers scraping against the gravel. You follow. It aches to move too much, even just shuffling out of the car feels like moving a mountain. The door clips closed quietly behind you. You hear the engine fade back down the road.

Steve is still stuck in place — you have a feeling he’s not looking at the house at all but stuck in thought, looking through the timber and paint and seeing all the horrors of the night. You step up beside him and gingerly reattach your hands.

It seems to surprise him, jumping ever so slightly at the touch and turning to look at you. “I didn’t...”

I didn’t think you’d stay. The sentence dies in his throat, a little embarrassed by how relieved he is that you’ve stayed with him - so much it shows in the quiver in his voice. Steve doesn’t finish it because then you’ll hear the other part of the sentence, even without him saying it. No one stays.

“C’mon,” you urge him to walk with you, beginning to drift up the driveway.

There’s no rush, you’ll wait as long as he needs to before moving, but it’s colder out tonight. Maybe it just feels that way with all your tiredness, the frostiness nipping at your skin. All your energy is focused on staying on your feet, on helping Steve. There’s none left to keep you warm.

He ambles after you like walking is an afterthought and following you is the priority. His sneakers drag, soft scraping noises with every step. You can feel his gaze burning into the back of your head, his fingers squeezing as if he’s checking you’re really still here with him.

The front door is unlocked and it’s only when it snicks shut behind you, do you wonder if you’ve overstepped. It’s awkward, but only a bit. You’ve been in Steve’s house before — though, who hadn’t with all his parties in sophomore year?

But not quite like this. Not just the two of you, and never holding his hand.

The events that had transpired last fall in Hawkins had thrown Steve into your life, along with a dizzying revelation of new dimensions and an unsettling truth about monsters that came right out of your nightmares.

Though, maybe it made more sense to say you were thrown into Steve’s life. You had always known of him - he couldn’t say the same about you.

Like the hoards, freshmen you had not been immune to the boyishly good looks and charismatic nature of Steve Harrington. Once upon a time, before someone called him King Steve and it stuck, there had been a crush.

But like red wine on white linen, with time — and plenty of distance — it had faded.

Not even the adventure that bound you two together, the tunnels that snaked beneath Hawkins and your shaky hands lugging him into the car, had been enough to reignite old affections. Not his insistence on you leaving the tunnels first, not even the way he clutched you when you all made it out. Not unscathed, but alive.

Pitifully, it had been his shoddy attempts at flirting in his ridiculous sailor uniform to kick-start your heart back up.

You had sighed, chin in hand, and leaned into the foolish feelings — because going crazy over a boy felt the most normal thing you could do. And after demodogs and slithering vines kept creeping from the past into your slumbers, normal was all you wanted.

But Steve needed you as a friend, more so considering his fallout with Tommy H and Carol had become permanent. He flirted with customers, every girl you’d recognised from your year, but never you.

It felt a good enough reason to bite your tongue. Keep him close, but never as close as you’d like.

But now you’ve done it again — been pulled along on another adventure that’s brimming with terrors that will take years to forget.

Everything feels worse this time round, a decay that ebbs away your hope. It’s somehow harder to heal from wounds that come from evil, but not the supernatural. It’s all the heavier when the boy who holds your heart made himself a punching bag so you didn’t get hurt.

The warmth of his hand, squeezing for only a moment, brings you back to the present. To now, still standing in the entryway to Steve’s house. You blink, coming back to yourself, and turn back to him. There’s a crinkle between his brow, and worry washed across his features.

“Are you okay?” He asks it tentatively like he’s afraid to spook you. It sends a rush to your system, a pleasant throb in your chest. You can’t deny you like knowing he worries. That he cares.

“Yeah,” you croak out, nodding as you speak. “Do you— I mean, you don’t mind me staying, do you?”

Suddenly, the potential embarrassment of inviting yourself in, even with the good intentions of taking care of Steve, is overwhelming. The next words tumble out without thought.

“I just, I don’t want to be alone right now.” It’s a bit hurried, tinged with nervousness. You stammer. “And I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

Something like pure affection blooms in Steve’s chest at your words, the heat of it stealing his breath and pain for just a moment. It’s a different sort of ache in between his ribs, something white-hot and pure.

He hadn’t been able to voice his relief when you’d gotten out of the car and stayed with him — and it fails him now at your admittance.

You don’t want to be alone. You don’t want him to be alone.

Steve doesn’t think he’s deserving of your good will, nor the kindness in every touch. He can’t help how he consumes it greedily, drinks in the touches like he knows it’ll be taken from him soon enough. His eyes stay fixed on you.

There’s something so alluring about your silhouette, the golden street light let in through slits in the door. It halos you, soft amber that softens every curve. You’re enchanting, even when bloodied.

Steve’s not sure his heart has felt like this before — so molten hot, valves working overtime, ribbons of affection tied tight across his chest. He’s sure they’ll leave scorch marks, testimonies to his bleeding heart that pulses with each beat for you, for you, for you.

Because you’re still here and something in his trodden on heart perks up before he remembers to crush it. It’s not that Steve has never thought of you as more — god, the mere thought of you as more to him.

More than a friend, more than this, it’s enough to make his head spin. To make his hands shake and return a nervousness to his system he hasn’t felt since sophomore year when he first laid eyes on Nancy Wheeler.

But you’re not Nancy. In the best way, that makes all the difference,

You were some breath of fresh air, bursting into his life in all the middle of his estranged drawn out break-up with Nancy — brash in all the right ways, kind when he needed, and far too soft to be tangled up in any of this mess.

You’re still too soft for it now, and it shows in the jagged cut torn into the fabric of your skin — it doesn’t matter how it happened, Steve still feels like it’s his fault. It’ll scar, red puckered skin that twists down the expanse of your shoulder. A living reminder of the night burned into you to carry forever.

It hurts Steve maybe more than he’s warranted to. You’re both just friends.

But when Steve thinks of how he’s accidentally pulled you too close, put you first in the heart, it aches evermore.

He’s not sure when you went from barely a friend to this — you’re a crush, an Achilles heel, the unattainable from the moment he met you, the moment he knew you. Steve feels like he’s been building himself towards you, pushing his growth to aim for anywhere near enough for you. You’ve been too good for him from the start.

It doesn’t stop him from loving you.

Steve realises after a moment that he hasn’t said anything when your fingers start to slip from his. His grip tightens to keep your hand in his.

“No, I— Stay. I...” It’s a struggle to say it, too many years of suppressing any urge to ask for comfort. “I don’t want to be alone, either. Or for you to be. Stay.”

Your lips, chapped and still with a hint of blood, twitch into somewhat a smile. “Okay.”

This time it’s Steve who drags you along, both slowly moving up the stairs. Each step threatens to reopen the scabs that have only just begun to form. It’s like some micro-dose of torture, Steve thinks, hearing your winces behind him.

The fluorescence of the bathroom lights is bright enough to make your eyes fly shut. Steve’s braver, taking only a moment to pause. He ignores how the lights dance, a sickening comparison to his experience with the drugs that had barely left his system. Though it’s the last thing he wants, Steve drops your hand to begin his search.

When your eyes blink open, prepared to face the lights, you’re a bit perplexed to see Steve hunting through the linen cupboard. He produces a towel, white and fluffy.

You cringe internally at the thought of sullying the pale colour with blood but it’s but a blip in tonight’s problems. Besides, the Harrington’s could certainly afford to replace it.

“Here.” Steve murmurs. You both seem to have agreed to keep softly spoken for the night.

He presses the cotton into your hands as he walks, ready to shoulder out and take care of himself. There was an en-suite in his own room — and sure, it would hurt like hell rinsing his wounds but he’d done it last year. Blasted the heat so he was wincing at the burn atop his skin and not the ache underneath it.

“Steve?” You question, turning and halting his feet. He pauses, confused by the questioning expression on your face. He gestures to the shower, hiding how the movement makes his ribs sting painfully.

“You can shower here and- and the guest room’s all made up.” The words trip a bit on the way out, weakness beginning to weigh on his voice.

Somehow being back home crumbles his walls sooner than he’d like. Tonight has been heavy, a burden that lies thick on his shoulders and creeps down, taking root in his muscles.

But Steve will do what he had done last year; take the punches, burn them off in the heat of the shower — hot enough that he can’t feel any tears — and then deal with it.

“No, s’not that.” You shake your head, a strand of hair coming loose. “I... What about you?”

What about all the blood? The bruises and cuts? You’d seen the scars littered on the skin of his face from Billy, cuts that had healed wrong and left marred skin. Wounds left uncared for, only healed with time.

The question only begs more confusion from Steve. He gestures to somewhere behind him as he says, “There’s another shower, don’t worry.”

He pulls a smile to ease you. It wobbles at the ends of his mouth. Something claws into your heart, a profound heartache at the thought it doesn’t even occur to Steve to take care of himself.

“Steve,” you begin, beginning to get a sense of the wall you’re encountering.

Steve Harrington has some very thick defenses and not without good reason; they’ve got him through some treacherous times. Even now, he uses it like a crutch, a seal to hide away horrid memories. Ignored in favour of temporary strength.

You don’t need his display of strength — you’re not one of the kids that needs to be shielded from the reality that even Steve has a breaking point — certainly not when his state is far worse than your own.

But you have a feeling he doesn’t know how to switch it off. Steve doesn’t seem to understand what you mean when you say you don’t want him to be alone.

“Steve, you’re not okay.”

“I’m- I’ve done this before, alright?” He insists, eyes darting between yours, features turning stonier. You can see his defensiveness begin to curl his shoulders in. “I’m alright, I promise.”

“Are you?” You say, not unkind. “Tonight was— Steve, you were tortured.”

The effect of your words is instantaneous. Steve’s face falters, his icy expression dissolving with a shudder he can’t stop. You watch it warp him painfully, jaw clenching and eyes misty; he blinks furiously to clear them. You continue.

“You can’t just- just bounce back from that. Nobody can.” You shake your head as if it proves your point. “It doesn’t matter if you’ve done this before, this— this is a lot for anyone, even—”

“Well then, why are you still here, huh!” His words interrupt your own, tone angrier than you’re expecting. “If this is so much!”

His chest rises and falls quickly, brows draw together like it hurts to breathe so harshly. The words don’t sting, but his tone does. You reel in your hurt and focus past his anger, focus on what it really is.

A final line of defense. A ploy to make you upset or angry, to make you emotional enough to storm out and leave him to lick his wounds alone. Another way to ignore it, compartmentalize what happened instead of facing it head on.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to make him deal with it so soon. But you care, too much to pretend to ignore his pain.

“Steve.”

“Don’t.” It wobbles, voice weak. His anger has already drained away in a moment.

“You’re not alright,” you insist, voice barely above a whisper. “C’mere.”

You don’t give him a choice, your free hand reaching out to snag his own, which hangs loose at his side.

Steve stumbles forward as you tug him back into the bathroom. Without his anger, he’s pliant and goes without protest. Your gentle fingers on his chest nudge him in the direction of the sink, the cool porcelain pressing through the back of his soiled Scoops top.

“Can you do something for me? Can you...” You bite your already bloody lip, nervousness sketched across your features.

How can you say this without giving too much away? It feels too intimate, like flying too close to the sun, well within the realm of potentially hurting your own feelings. You’ll do it for him gladly.

“Can you just...let me take care of you?”

It hurts like a sucker punch to the gut. Like a breath has been forced out of his chest, because when was the last time someone has asked him that?

Silence stains the air.

“It won’t be pretty.” He croaks finally, still giving you an easy out. Still prepared to spare you the ugliness of his emotions.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” You respond, lips twitching. You bare your heart and half hope he sees it — sees it and knows he’s loved when you say, “Not if it’s you.”

Another beat of quiet.

“Okay.” Steve breathes, so faintly you barely hear it. Then as if you’ll rescind the offer any moment, he nods fervently.

Your smile is genuine, maybe the first in hours and something in you relaxes. He won’t fight you on this. He may have taken the beating earlier for you but, at the very least, you can do your best to patch him back up — let your hidden feelings translate into a gentleness he so very deserves.

It takes only a quick rummage beneath the sink to find a first-aid kit. It feels wildly underprepared; an afterthought purchase once upon a time that was only ever intended for scraped knees. It hasn’t ever been opened. The tear of the zipper is the only noise in the bathroom, bouncing off the tiles.

As expected, there’s not much in it. It contains a box of plasters in multiple sizes, one roll of gauze, a bottle of antiseptic, and a mixture of other pills and eye drops.

Some loose safety pins rattle around in the bottom as you take inventory. It’s not stellar and you’re no doctor, but it’ll do. It has to do.

When you finally look up, wondering where to begin on his injuries, Steve is regarding you with a look you can’t quite name.

If you were sure of yourself, you might call it awe.

You tell yourself it’s because you’re here, helping him, and it can be awfully easy to mix up feelings when you’re getting stitched up. You don’t let your hopes rise, not even for a moment.

Steve’s blood sings, ears rushing with the sound of it when you step closer. You’re so damn close. Steve can’t ignore the scent that carries with you, his brain involuntarily committing each detail of you that he can get to memory - lest he never gets you this close again.

You want to take care of him; Steve thinks this might be a dream.

Nimble fingers work to gather some cotton with antiseptic and then you’re holding it up, posed, and ready to mend.

“Can you sit up on the counter?” You ask, all sweetness. Steve obliges easily, despite the protests from his sore body that cries out as he shifts up. You smile, then warn, “This might sting.”

It’s overwhelming as you step closer, between his legs, and take the cotton to his face with a gentleness Steve hasn’t felt in years. His eyes close instinctively.

It does sting. The wince leaks out through his clenched teeth, soothed instantly by your soft apologies that pour out like honey.

For a moment, it’s easier this way; with his eyes closed, Steve can pretend this is usual. That when he gets roughed around, there’s someone to tend and clean his wounds — instead of just himself and the harsh rinse of the hot shower.

He tries and fails not to think of last year, his poor attempts to patch himself up. Hands too shaky, touch too rough.

The memory bites. The injuries of tonight somehow feel worse. A tinge of bile taints his mouth and Steve swallows it back down, concentrating on you.

You’re not quite humming but soothing noises, low and soft, come from your throat. Steve’s not even sure you know you’re doing it. His hands clench emptily as his side — the split knuckles make them hurt and when you’re this close, the itch to hold you is near unbearable.

It doesn’t take long for the first cotton pad to turn a violent shade of pink. Steve’s face looks a tad clearer than before but uncovering old blood means finding new wounds.

Your stomach burns pitifully as you take them all in. There are too many to count, a thousand different hues — broken blood vessels that run in all directions, little labyrinths under his skin.

Why does it hurt so much? Even with your bound shoulder that still sends out pain with every motion, it all dulls away when you look at Steve. Lashes fluttering, eyes still closed, marred with wounds you’re begging to ease. You know it hurts so much because you care.

Love is pain, you suppose, with only a twinge of bitterness. It’s swallowed instantly, consumed and disintegrated by the fact you get this. The boy you love, between both palms, trusting you to take care of him.

A year ago, you’d met only the steely exterior he’d put up — and thought it had simply been remnants of King Steve. Maybe Steve Harrington was as much of an asshole as half the town said.

He was all bite, glowers, and clipped answers. With time though, he’d softened like snow melting in the sun; all the parts of him trickling into your life until he was cemented by your side.

He hadn’t even let you patch him up after the scrap with Billy that had taken him out. You hadn’t felt you could ask.

But this time...your throat grows a bit thicker at the trust that binds the pair of you. Affection rushes your system and forces a sharp inhale from your lungs. You step back.

The space makes it easier to breathe. Dials down the chances of pressing your lips against his skin — if only to give him a mark born of love. Hands searching through the first-aid kit again, you produce some painkillers and locate an arnica pill.

You give yourself one more moment; inhale and withhold the tidal wave of devotion that begs to spill from within you.

“Take these, please.” You say quietly, uncurling one of his fists to press the pills into. He swallows them dry.

You prep more cotton and begin again with the gentle touches, coaxing off dried blood. This time, Steve’s eyes stay open. He watches you, an unreadable emotion in his eyes.

You work away the blood from a cut above his eyebrow and when it’s clean, your thumb follows. You caress along the broken skin as if you could meld it back together with pure will.

Steve’s chest grows tight. Something about you being here, taking care of him makes the night’s memories all too present. Nausea sways in his gut. It’s impossible to shove them to the back, to press them down, when it feels like each cut is being reopened. Cleansed with a douse of love.

You’re altering the history of each wound but to do so, he has to recall how each of them was carved into his skin. It hurts. Why are you still here?

Steve’s head pulls back unexpectedly, eyes shuttering closed in a scrunched expression. You startle a bit.

“Shit, I’m sorry — too harsh?”

He makes a strained noise, effectively gutting you with it. If you weren’t so close — an inch further and you could press your forehead to his — you wouldn’t hear it. Hear the tiny whisper that scratches out the word, “Why?”

“What?” You whisper. You don’t understand.

“Why...Why are you...?” He’s clearly struggling to find the words he wants. His hand reaches up, fingers brushing the bridge of his nose before he drops it again. His chin quivers. It stops your heart for a moment to realise he’s crying.

“I don’t— I don’t understand.” Steve grinds the words out, voice thick. A tear splatters, seeping into the blue of his uniform. He won’t look at you, eyes trained on the loose thread on his shorts.

“Steve?” you murmur, wary and heavy with concern. This is— you don’t know what this is.

“I don’t understand.” He repeats, shaking his head slightly. He seems to choke on the next words. “You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody...”

He trails off, some whimper of sorts forcing its way out his throat. You’re stuck, absorbing each of his words and putting together the pattern that Steve can’t seem to voice. I don’t understand. You’re still here. Why are you...? Everybody... Everybody leaves.

Oh.

Rich King Steve who’s got it all. The house, the car, and any girl he fancies, all of them fawning for a look from him at one of his legendary parties.

His lack of parental supervision had been lusted over in high school, furious whispers of envy over the fact he could get away with parties every weekend. That booze went missing and he never seemed to catch any shit for it. It occurs to you now that nobody was around to notice.

The absence in his life is vast and suddenly blindingly obvious — a chasm in his chest that is bleeding all his secrets to you.

Steve Harrington is lonely.

When you surge forward, injuries be damned, and your arms loop around his neck, there’s a moment of stillness. You can feel the tension in his muscles, hear his ragged inhale, and then— he sags into you, finally, finally letting himself lean on someone else.

His arms wind around your middle in a desperate motion, tugging you closer and the fabric of your shirt clenches between his fingers. His face buries in your neck and hot wet tears soak the collar of your shirt. You can hear his raspy noises, soft cries as he clings to you like a lifeline.

“Why did this happen to me?”

It fucking hurts to hear. You don’t know how to tell him there’s no why — that there is no reason that can justify why he’s gone through this much suffering. Just the bitter fact that, sometimes, bad things happen to good people.

“Steve,” you feel like you’re saying his name an awful lot tonight. You say it because you can’t begin to think of how to answer his heartbreaking question. “I—“

“I-I used to think,” The words are muffled into your neck. His grip on you is nearly tight enough to hurt but you don’t dare relent any space. His voice is barely above a whisper, just loud enough to hear. “That- that it was like karma, yanno?”

“Steve, no,” you whisper, horrified. If he hears you, he doesn’t show.

“B-Because that first time,” He’s stuck on some belittling ramble about himself, continuing between his sniffs. “I definitely deserved it. But then I grew and I changed.”

Something twists painfully in your stomach.

“And then last year, it made sense, yeah? Billy, he was— a real piece of work.” He sniffs again, his voice a little harder at the mention of the deceased.

The tension falls away at the next sentence, voice wobbling through the thickness in his throat. “And I used to be like that, so—“

You pull back instantly, hands shifting back from around his neck. It effectively halts him, and whatever he was saying dies in his throat. Your hands move to cradle his jaw and, as lightly as you can with his injuries, you tug him from his hiding place and stare him in the face.

Steve’s eyes look bigger and browner full of tears. His nose is red, just the tip, and runs messily at the onslaught of tears. Pink splotches bloom underneath his cheeks, patchy and warm, his face etched in complete misery.

It wrecks you to see. More so to think he’s been shouldering all this alone since ‘83.

“People don’t deserve suffering, Steve.” You state it strongly enough that he can’t refute the truth, punctuating with your thumbs on either cheek, pressing light touches.

“You don’t deserve suffering. You never did.” Your voice quivers a bit, some shred of your heart shriveling pathetically at the fact you even need to tell him this. Your hands shake ever-so-slightly. A hot tear streaks down your cheek.

Steve crumbles. You don’t resist when he drops his head down, only move back in— offering a place to hide away again. You let him stay hidden away, a sanctuary in your arms, safe when he’s buried in the curve of your neck.

“And- and just ‘cause,” you say, sniffling a bit now. He holds his breath, a sharp inhale that quietens his whimpering crying. “Just ‘cause no one has stayed before doesn’t mean you don’t deserve this, Steve.”

His fingers press harsher into your back and your feet stumble a bit, pulled off balance. Adjusting your arms, you pull him tighter yet, hoping that the closeness will make all your sentiments seep in. Your shoulder aches terribly; you don’t dare move away.

“You know that, right?” You whisper, unable to stop your fingers from grazing the nape of his neck softly. “You deserve to be taken care of.”

A soft kiss to the side of his head, barely noticeable between his shakes, but it eases the strain on your heart. Time wanes and melts beneath the glow of the bathroom lights, an unending amount of tears that you suspect reach back further than just the memories of tonight.

You stay like this, holding him close. You give him all the time he needs, sweet nothings mumbled until he feels strong enough to face you— to face the world.

Eventually, Steve’s breathing slows, crying turning to trembling gasps. When he finally does retreat, you curse internally because of course, only Steve Harrington can still look devastatingly beautiful after crying.

Tears cling to his lashes, sparkling reflections. He wipes his nose on the back of his hand.

Silence ebbs. Steve gathers himself, another sniff, and wipes his nose before he lifts his head. You can see in his face the moment he’s about to apologise; the word sorry is about to come tripping out his mouth. You beat him to it.

“I’m sorry to inspire more tears,” Your voice, still quiet, aims for a comforting jest. “But I’m not quite done cleaning you up.”

You twist the cotton between your fingers to show him. Steve blinks, eyes focusing on your hand, perhaps surprised you’re still taking care of him. He forgets about his needless apologies.

“Though, your tears did a lot of the work.” You say cheekily, a smile teasing at the edges of your lips. It makes him huff a laugh. Steve could nearly cry again; you’re so nice. He thinks about the last time cried, thinks about Tommy’s sneer, his scoffed words that told him toughen up, King Steve.

He lets you wipe them away, clear his face and patch it up as best you can. Any tension from before, the mental barb-wire defenses he had still held up to keep you out, has ebbed away. It’s softer now, easier between you two.

Trust flows from Steve in the form of his allowance, letting you fuss. It flows from you in the form of your touch, which still dances too close for just friends. You let your fingers dot the kisses across his face since you can’t.

“You’re good at this,” Steve murmurs, breaking the silence. He allows himself the privilege of your touch, his fingers burning where they graze your sides.

Patching people up? Injuries from last year made sure you got decent practice on yourself. You’re decent, you’ll admit.

Maybe he means taking care of him. You’re proving to be very good at that.

You want to. Somewhere rooted in feelings that sway closer to love, genuine love, is the urge to be the one who does it. The shoulder to cry on, the one who carries his woes when it gets too much — and you want him to do the same for you. Achingly, you want to take care of him; and him, you.

The thought burns so viciously through your chest, you sink your teeth into your bottom lip a bit meanly. It stings.

You don’t notice it, trying to rein in your drifting heart that sings to be closer to him, but Steve does. His fingers twitch; he wants to rescue it, pull it from your harsh grip with his thumb.

He does.

You stop moving.

His thumb is calloused, a bit rough against the supple plumpness of your bottom lip. The blood beneath it tingles, gloriously hot at the attention. Either all the air in the room has been sucked out or you’ve stopped breathing.

You’d hazard a guess it’s the second, given the stillness your body has taken on. Muscles locked, eyes frozen on his face — the only part of you that moves is your heart, thundering pumps going far too fast.

Steve’s gaze stays on his thumb on your lip. You’re desperate to find out what to call the emotion swimming in his eyes.

“Steve?” you say his name yet again, lips moving against his thumb. He blinks like a frog, one eye after the other, and drags his gaze up to your eyes.

His hand shifts, brushing across your mouth to hold the side of your jaw, cupping it sweetly. The cotton falls from your grip as Steve urges you closer with a gentle tug.

Then his eyes are back on your lips and even though it feels like slicing your own heart open to do it, you speak before he can kiss you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, eyes crushing closed.

You want to terribly. The want for his kiss warbles from deep within you, a yawning ache. But it might just finish you off if it’s all heat of the moment — a kiss that is just some twisted thank-you because Steve isn’t used to being taken care of.

You clear your throat, swallowing heavily. “Not— not if it’s just for tonight. Not just because I stayed, please.”

There’s a pause. His shaky exhale breezes across your face. It’s possible your ears might be ringing as if straining to hear the sound of Steve’s heart— dying for a clue to what he’s feeling. You’re not brave enough to open your eyes and read it in his face.

His thumb scrapes across your bottom lip again and then— then, he kisses you, impossibly tender.

The tiny gasp that escapes you is consumed instantly, swallowed up by Steve’s kiss. He kisses gentle, touch so soft that it has you searching for more the moment you’ve got a taste of it.

You barely get a moment to lean into it, to kiss him back before Steve breaks it. He hovers close, close enough that you could steal another taste of his lips if you wanted. You want to— the ferocity of your eagerness sends a shiver along your spine. He speaks before you seize the opportunity.

“I want to.” He says, voice a bit raspy and the words inspire enough bravery to look at him, eyes creasing open. “I- I’ve wanted to for a while.”

You nearly sink in your relief, knees trembling for a moment as your hand comes up to enclose the wrist of the hand that holds your face. Thumb sweeping short strokes, you clutch the tan skin and lean into his caress.

“You mean it?” You whisper, far too excited. Your heart may as well be on your sleeve, cards once played close to your chest now splayed on the table. Your tone reveals all, spilling with hope, even as you ask whether it means the same to him as it does to you.

Yes. The word seems stuck in his throat, suddenly too thick to speak. Because it’s only three letters and that can’t possibly cover what Steve means when he says I’ve wanted to for a while.

That you’d somehow snuck into his life and intertwined among all of his heartstrings, like spun gold mixing until the whole organ felt terribly tangled in a way he’d never want to change.

Nancy had given him the thump of his head.

But you? You were the thump on his heart. Not a push for change, nor for growth — but permission to grant himself a second chance in love.

“I mean it.” He says, emotion coating each word. “Yes, god, I really mean it.”

And you let him tell you over and over again with his mouth pressed to yours, searing kisses that make your head dizzy and pulse speed.

Steve knows he’s not alright — not physically or mentally after what he’s faced tonight, not with the vice grip on his chest that had clung tightly and all the ugly parts of him had all slithered out for you to see.

He also knows that he will be alright, sometime in the far future.

When wounds have healed, when scars are beginning to fade, and the nightmares start being every couple of nights, instead of every night, then he’ll be nearly okay. It’ll take time, lots of it.

But when your gentle hands coax him to bed and you slip beneath the covers beside him, leaving a warm quick kiss upon his shoulder — Steve thinks that, maybe, that future isn’t nearly as far away as it seems.

Your hand finds his under the sheets, twisting your fingers together to act like an anchor in the inkiness of the night.

There are no nightmares that night.

—

tags below! @hawkinsindiana @harringtonbf @spideystevie look technically there’s no tags this is just all da bitches i’m always talking to <3

#if anyone talks to me about tenses i'll come out SWINGING #not even grammarly could help me w that <3 #hopefully HOPEFULLY this is considered in character steve #in any case i spent a wee while puzzling interactions & reactions so at least u know i tried !#its hard to pick a relationship dynamic that would work for him being surprised ur here??? while also getting a lil confession in there #i think its cute #maybeeeee lemme know what u think? hehe #anyways steve HONEY u deserve to have someone kiss all the wounds #and let u sob in their arms and yanno i VOLUNTEER #GIVE HIM TO ME AND ILL TREAT HIM RIGHT!!!#babygirl cries in this... heartbreaking but had to happen #ruby writes #ruby writes steve #steve harrington #steve #harrington #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve fic #steve harrington imagine #steve imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fic #wahoo #i cannot help but post fics the moment they are finished #idc if its like thursday for all u fuckers #come get ur hurt/comfort nowwww

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pinkyqil · 11 days

Text

Annoying // salma paralluelo x r

Summary : just salma begin the cutest and most annoying tall shit to her short but not that short gf.

Warning : small cursing

A/n : this is meant to be a fic that I'm was currently working on,also decided to practice writing long fic so enjoy this. taking requests has I've been busy writing other chaps for hidden secrets and my brain and mind need a break so for a while I'll be taking requests and writing, this fic gave me the opportunity to jump on the annoying gf prompt going on with woso writer's and slama just gives that vibe tbh hope you enjoy reading it and feel free to request 🫶🏿

___________________________________________

If you could describe salma with three words it would be, tall kind-hearted sunshine. But sometimes she could be the most aggravating piece of shit you've ever encountered.

You both meet around your vacation too Barcelona mid 2022 where your friends had invited you out for barca meet and greet for their female player's. that when you meet her.

You'd known spainsh people are very affectionate but the moment your eye's meet hers.

It felt like you've been hypnotized or what they called it love at first sight.

It must have been fate caused she also felt the same has her eye fell on you.

You and your friend made your way to salma stand where the fans got to interact with player's.

And let's just say salma was one flirt of a player she had you blushing left and right with her pick up lines at the she had sign your jersey and left her phone number for you on a piece of paper typically rom com shit.

also where your moment had come to an end after that eventful day.

You tossed and turn try to decide if you should actually message her or not until your friend had slap some sense into you.

"You know that is a life time opportunity when have you ever meet a snacklious football player that was attractive giving you their number if I were you I would sprint right now and message her ass plus wouldn't hurt a goat until you try"

"None" you mumbled.

"See so hurry your ass up and message her". She told you with a hug grin on her face before you had smack her with the pillow that was right next to you making you both burst out laughing.

The rest was history after you finally had the courage to message salma.

Now you both have been dating for nine months now. Where she had first made the move by asking you out on a date.

after dedicating one of her goals to you at a barca game and asking you out in the back room's. Where she got teased endless by her teammates for her cheesy way of asking you out with the help of her little sister vicky.

Today you both would be celebrating your 10th anniversary as you both never really re called celebrating your month anniversary together due to busy schedule that always clashed together.

And on this particular day salma decide it would be lovely to annoy you like she never did.

It all started this morning when you woke up to an empty bed. Nothing your tall girlfriend had probably gotten up early for her morning run without waking you up.

meaning she was up to no good if she hadn't woke you up when she did. Not wanting your day to start helplessly you quickly got out of bed and showered and picking out you and salma's beach outfits for the day.

Getting out of bed with short notice meant that you had to make your daily smoothie since you weren't a big coffee fan.

but like some other day salma decided too place your favorite smoothie bottle somewhere far knowing well that you couldn't reach high places without her help.

You tried getting a chair to help you reach your bottle but it felt like you shruk times two your actual height.

and couldn't get it. pissing you off as you like using specific type of mugs depending on what your having.

Finally giving up using a different cup when all of a sudden you felt a cold hand smack your ass. making you yell dropping your smoothie that now found it self on the floor.

"Salma Paralluelo If You Don't Explain Yourself Right This Moment And Clean This Mess Up You Can Definitely Find Yourself Dead To Me".

You said turning to face your your girlfriend Who's face had drop after hearing you yell at her and at the sound of the bottle falling.

"I'm very sorry baby pleasee don't ignore me I just got up early to get you these". You rolled your eye's at her but once you saw the bouquet of flowers she had gotten you couldn't be mad at her any longer especially with the expression she had on.

Forgetting about what happened this morning with salma has you both made your way to the beach. setting up your little picnic activities along with some paint and brushes that salma got you.

You both found yourselves in the moment the spainsh music playing in the background your's and salma hand intertwine has you paint and in general just seeking in the moment right before you both.

Until salma grabbed a bottle of paint squeezing it on her hand before applying it towards your face. You thought that your girlfriend childish act would stop by the end of the day but it was totally giving the opposite.

Instead of yelling at her you decide to chase with paint also on your hands.

While salma could be fast she was also very clumsy making you get to her quicker has she fell on the sand laughing until she could trun red.

Once you caught her off guard and grab her face applying the paint on too it. She instally grabbed your face pulling you into a deep kiss with her hands resting on your face.

After your make out session you'd join salma in the sea,where she would grab you by your waist making you both splash in the water enjoying your day together.

Salma might be annoying but she was the only one for you has you're the only one for her.

Your tall lil shit that was meant for your heart only.

Yn/salmaparalluelo

Anniversary dump love you my tall other half no matter how annoying you're 💕 liked by salmaparalluelo, alexiaputellas, vickylopez, lucybronze,ona batlle and 20,40 other's

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Vickylopez la salma de mi gente favorita es muy molesta muy cierto

《 replied to vickylopez you both are very annoying not just salma

《 replied to vickylopez vicky shut up

Ona batlle thought I was the favorite 😪

《 replied to onabatlle your are oni 😚

《Replied to you Salma paralluelo no she's not 😒

Lucy bronze where's my invite 🤔

《 replied to lucybronze you simply didn't get one.

A/n: hope y'all like this pices feel free to request any player just have enough info about them and a suggestion you want and thank you for reading

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bigfatbimbo · 13 days

Note

I am haunted by visions of Vox with a capable assistant who doms him after hours. The role reversal of guy thinking he can fuck his secretary but she turns the tables and fucks him has me sweating

I got inspired by a turn of phrase that would might have been popular a little bit before Vox’s time “his girl, Friday”

Basically a “girl Friday” was a term used for a woman in the office who acted as a jack of all trades and was good at doing a bunch of different jobs. This person was usually very capable and the office’s go-to-girl for anything and everything

So I keep imagining Vox with this hyper-competent assistant. He hires her and after becoming familiar with the company, she manages to handle things before he even asks her to do them. He decides to try and rattle her a bit with impossible tasks to knock her down a peg, but she takes that as a challenge and somehow completes them with a smarmy “will that be all,sir”

Game on. He keeps challenging her and asking for crazier shit just to prove that she can be shaken. She doesn’t even flinch, it’s a little intimidating and bruises his ego

Eventually he’s working late (which means she’s working late because somehow their work ethics are equally insane) and he starts being all snide and pissy and she just puts him in his place, insulting his behavior and his temper and physically backs him into his desk before telling him that he needs to be taught proper manners

And from then on, by day she’s Vox’s right hand who never leaves his side. But by night she bends her boss over his desk or presses him into his office chair, making him whimper and moan as she teaches him a lesson and berates him

So yeah, boss tries to dominate assistant but she effortlessly reverses their roles and makes him cry “Yes, ma’am!”

People think he’s tapping his assistant but whenever comments are made they share a look and Vox just thinks “they can’t ever know that I call you Mommy”

So the other day, I posted about wanting to do a human Vox au but lacking ideas, and one of the comments was involving an assistant x boss type deal. I don’t know if this ask is unrelated or directly caused by that post, but it gives me lots of ideas for a more specific au involving human Vox.

Anyways, since it wasn’t specified, i’ll keep the alive or dead details pretty vague. When I tell you this idea has been rotting in my brain all day, I fucking mean it.

Like this is genuinely about to get me out of writers block oh my fucking god. “His girl, friday” is a term i’ve never heard before but it’s so fitting with this. I love the go-getter incredibly efficient reader so much.

And god, it would bother Vox to an ungodly point. Because being in close quarters a lot, you being his assistant, of course he picks up on your efficiency. It makes him a little insecure because you honestly get things done quicker than he could.

So after throwing everything he can at you to knock you overboard your parade of orderliness, and you doing it all absolutely flawlessly, he can’t help but throw one of his tantrums.

Coming to him at the the end of the day, explaining you did everything he’d asked, and went beyond, closed multiple business deals for him, and got the inside information on upcoming possible marketing events. He should be happy, this objectively helps his business. But instead, he sits at his desk, watching you from across the room, before absolutely exploding.

I mean, you do his jobs better than he does. And he goes on a huge rant about how he doesn’t believe this, and how you must have absolutely no life, and basically degrading and insulting you for doing your job correctly.

And then yes, you yell at him, practically daring him to fire you. He won’t, you’re too much of an asset. You’re basically untouchable. So with that, you yell back, but unlike Vox who erupted with rage, you keep yourself as level headed as possible while talking sternly. Make even talking to him condescending as of talking to a child, explaining how it’s absolutely unbelievable he’s throwing a fit over good work ethic, and how he’d have to be out of his mind to pout about something so beneficial for Voxtech.

Going on and on about how his competitive, aggressive, targeting work behavior is unacceptable and pathetic… and now you have him back up against his desk, his sneer turning into a look of astonishment.

And then his eyes dart down, heat rising to his cheeks, and you notice the bulge in his pants. At first, you go silent, but then tease him with “You want me to take care of that too? Or will you yell at me for being too good at my job.”

Well, then he’s mad again. Probably definitely a struggle for power the first time you fuck. Yes, he tries to dom you, and fails because jesus, he really was pathetic. But you have him lied back in his chair, pinning his wrists down to either side of him, while you ride his dick into overstimulation. But he’s trying to keep quiet so no one else is the office hears his whimpers and whines.

But when he gets too loud, simply remind him that you’ll have to stop and he responds with a watery, whimper of “Y-yes ma’am.”

Now, fridays are dedicated to his girl, friday. Coincidentally, you’re both working late on those days, and even more coincidentally, you have business in his office.

That business being bending Vox over his desk until he has to cover his pathetic sobs with his hand so a janitor doesn’t hear him crying for his mommy.

Anyways, I’m almost done. I think this specifically appeals to me in a human Vox au sense because i’m hell, a work place of hell wouldn’t be particularly normalized, but it’s hell so it’s absolutely not frowned upon. He’d probably get teased about it at best, and literally a high five for tapping that. But in a human au, the stakes are much higher because there’s an actual sense of ethics and morals in business.

Also in the fifties, do you even know how taboo it would be for a boss to not only be sleeping with his assistant, but getting dominated by her every night???? I dunno.

Oh and the toxic masculinity of it all because it’s the 1950s and without being exposed to the normalization of kinks in hell, it would be so hard to break this brat down. Obviously not impossible, it’s Vox. But so much more irritating.

However, i’m hesitant to actually do a human au literally because of the silly picture I always put at the beginning. Because like I have such a specific image of what he looks like in my head (the @//notherpuppet human design) but… I don’t want to have to DM an artist and be like “Hey! love the art, can I use it for my dom reader power dynamic assistant x boss Vox x reader human au fic 😁😁😁🙏🙏” LIKE GANG I CANNOT.

Anyways, this wasn’t proofread, rant over, bimbo out.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #dom reader #vox x reader #inbox open #sub vox

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luceafarul-de-dimineata · 28 days

Text

Showing whb characters animated movies

You were in Paradise Lost because you ~acidently~ burned your hand and needed to be seen by your boyfriend Gamigin. Why you were there you asked him to watch a movie from the human world with you to pass the time. You and Gamigin had to put your collective knowledge together to figure out how to connect the phone to the old ass TV they have in Paradise Lost (those small shitty TVs they have in hospitals)

When you put on "How to train your dragon", Gamigin has his mouth wide open looking at the screen. He adores the movie and makes you both reenact his favourite scenes of Hiccup and Toothless. He would become so autistic about the whole franchise and you won't hear the end of it. Marbas and Buer probably give you the cold sholder for making Gamigin "more annoying than he already was" as they put it.

It becomes tradition between you two to watch the trilogy at least once a week (though he always tells you how much better the shows were). Bonus: He has Romantic Flight as his ringtone for you.

Watching Shrek with Beelzebub was an experience. He once shot you a message asking what the most influential film in the human world was and you said Shrek, parly ironically. Next thing you know, you're in one of the countries in Hell watching Shrek with Beelzebub. You two were laughing through the whole thing, partly because of the movie, partly because of your comments about it. He probably starts imitating Shrek's accent in the worst scenarios possible. Once yelled at an angel "Stay out of my swamp!" even though he was on the streets of Tartaros (Mammon at least found it funny).

After you beg Leviathan for 2 days, he finally caves in and watches the My Little Pony Movie with you. He would never in a million years admit that he enjoyed it, but you can still hear him humming some of the songs in it. Surprisingly, he'll let you talk about it, mostly because he likes your voice, but also because he thinks your analysis of it is interesting. Maybe if you're not a threat to Hell and you stop giving Foras headpats, he'll show you a real unicorn one day. If you call him Pricess Twilight Sparkle he'll hang you with no hesitation, though his glare is much more likely to kill you than the rope.

You were back in Paradise Lost, bored out of your mind when Morax comes to you with what you think is a smile on his face. He hands you the DVD for "Beauty and the Beast" and explains how Bathin had gifted it to him before he moved to Nifleim. He asks if you're interested in watching it together to cure your boredom (haha). It was a pleasant watch and by the end Morax was in tears. You cuddled while he just recapped the movie to you while sniffling. "A-and she still love him because h-he was beautiful on the inside".

You find out that Morax never watched a movie before because he was constantly busy, so it must have been a moving experience for him. He will 100% say that you're the beauty and he's the beast unironically because this man's irony part of the brain got surgecally removed at birth.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb gamigin #whb beelzebub #whb leviathan #whb morax

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mrsdarkandyandere7 · 8 months

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Dark! Tangerine » Scenario #1: Jealousy

Pairing: Dark Tangerine x (female) Reader

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

SUMMARY: Jealous Tangerine thoughts.

WARNING: Toxic/Abusive Relationship; Manipulation.

AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback.

Also this gif is perfect for this scenario, isn't it?

If you think that Tangerine isn’t a jealous man, then you’re living in a fantasy world.

He is fueled by jealousy.

Your boyfriend feels - nope, he knows - that more than half of the male population in the world is after you and that’s why he must keep you away from those pricks.

Tangerine will openly forbid you from going out on your own, no matter how much you argue or beg. He’s inflexible when it comes to it and you also might as well forget about your job. He needs to know that you’re safely tucked in the comfort of his house, far away from any danger (aka any male specimen).

Otherwise Tangerine won’t be able to concentrate on anything else, practically bursting a brain vein from overthinking. His mind making up the worst scenarios of creepy men flirting with you, trying to swoon you or even worse, to hurt you. Lemon does try his best to reason with his brother, but it’s a failed attempt as Tangerine is quite the stubborn man.

If you try to escape the house to go somewhere, he’ll be so quick to find out where you are as your phone location is always available for him (you don’t know about this).

Chances are that you’ll be enjoying yourself at a coffee shop with some friends, assuming that your boyfriend is busy with a job outside the country meaning you won’t have to worry about rushing back home when suddenly a very angry Tangerine shows up, with ripped off clothes with blood stains all over and very little patience as he asks whether you want to come home willingly or should he drag you back. Your choice, of course.

You barely speak to him on your way home, bursting in tears of annoyance and shame the moment you get inside his car. Lemon tries his best to serve as a mediator and to calm you down but Tangerine’s rage is too big to be controlled as he shouts at you of how irresponsible you were.

He’s not shy explaining and detailing all the possible scenarios that could happen to you. You do know that he has dangerous enemies, right? Enemies that won’t bat an eye before cutting you into tiny pieces to get revenge at him. Enemies that wouldn’t hesitate as they would fuck you like animals over and over till they left you broken.

Did you know that? Yeah, he didn’t think so either. Basically it’s a huge guilt-tripping session until you feel like - maybe - it’s actually your fault. Maybe Tangerine is right. He’s your boyfriend after all, right?

He only wants what’s best for you. Those are the words he repeats that night as he apologizes for yelling at you as he kisses your head, pulling you into a bear hug.

He’d lose his mind if he ever lost you and that’s something you need to take into consideration. So promise him that you’ll be a good girl from now on and he might just let you out into the garden.

“I care about you, ya know that, right? I’m so fuckin’ sorry I yelled at you, sweetheart, but you seriously’ scared the shit out of me. I swear that if anything happened to you…I’d just fuckin’ kill myself. You’re my life and that’s all I care about.”

#@mrsdarkandyandere7 #yandere x reader #bullet train #dark tangerine #dark!tangerine #dark!tangerine x reader #yandere tangerine #yandere tangerine x reader #yandere!tangerine #tangerine x reader #dark!fic #dark fic #tw: toxic relationships #dark tangerine x reader

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itneverendshere · 4 months

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you're burning - rafe cameron (one shot!series)

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader (fem!reader; criminal!reader);

word count: 1637

WARNINGS: sexual tension; asshole!rafe; enemies to coworkers??; mentions of sex; sort of canon!rafe; guns!; eventual smut in future parts.

this is part of the you're no good one shot series :)

chapter ii

Being born into a criminal life came with its perks.

It wasn’t a walk in the park, and most definitely not all sunshine and rainbows, but it wasn’t as horrible as it sounded once you got the hang of it. It’s not like you had a choice but to get used to it; people like you didn’t get options handed to them on a silver platter.

You made the best of what you had.

The one thing you never fully grasped was how the men surrounding you were all complete imbeciles. How they had the brains to pull off skimming rings, you’d never know. It added a layer of absurdity to your already unconventional life.

Safe to say you’d spent most of your life putting up with narcissistic, foolish assholes. Your father was included in the category. Years and years of pent-up frustration, being constantly overlooked by them, being told you were nothing but a pretty face in a sea of sharks.

Their colossal error was underestimating you, and the consequences were evident: most of them lay dead, your father confined to a hospital bed for life, and you assumed control of the family business just before your nineteenth birthday.

Karma, it seemed, always worked in your favor.

Confident in your ability to navigate the treacherous waters, you prepared to deal with Rafe Cameron. Having faced the worst kinds of men, he was just another obstacle on your path—a handsome one, perhaps, but nothing more.

That’s how you know the silent treatment is the most annoying thing you can do to the likes of him, running on a short fuse. You’ve seen him in arguments and physical fights before; he gets off on pissing off other people, their yelling, screaming, hitting just spurring him on.

He’s a crazy bastard, but you handle crazy better than anyone. When you’re dead silent, blankly staring at him, you know he’s going to snap sooner or later.

“Do I need to teach you how to use a fucking phone, uh?” He’s leaning over your shoulder, hand gripping your shoulder, “I texted you earlier.”

His tone is downright condescending, and you must remind yourself you can’t shoot him in the face, especially not in his house. But alas, there are other ways to set the record straight. You’re not about to let him order you around like he does to everyone else.

The muscles in his jaw clench like a vice, grinding against the pent-up frustration coursing through him, “Stop acting like a bitch, will you—look at me.”

The rhythmic tapping of a foot on the floor becomes a thunderous drumbeat, echoing the impatience and irritation that consumes him.

You’ve got him right where you want him.

“Or what?”

The corners of his lips curl upward with a sinister satisfaction. The subtle twist of his mouth exposes just enough teeth to convey a predatory amusement, casting an eerie shadow on his visage.

“Or I’ll put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. Can't bitch to me with a mouth full of dick, can you, sweetheart?"

Your lips curve upward in a sweetly saccharine smile, a facade of warmth that didn't quite reach your eyes. The corners of your mouth lifted with calculated precision, crafting an illusion of congeniality that seems almost too perfect. It’s a performance of sweetness, a mask you’ve spent years perfecting.

Your posture plays along, leaning slightly forward to give an appearance of openness, yet the controlled tension in your frame hints at a deliberate manipulation. Then, with a subtle shift, the atmosphere changes. The smile persists, but the warmth evaporates, leaving behind a cold, unyielding resolve.

It was as if a switch had been flipped, and the truth emerges from the shadows. Your eyes, once sparkling with false sweetness, now pierce through the pretense with a steely gaze, revealing the icy truth beneath the sugary exterior.

“Watch your fucking tone, Cameron.” Your hand moves with practiced precision, aligning the barrel of your gun with a level of subtlety that defies detection. The weight of the firearm, concealed beneath the fabric of your clothing, remains a secret threat, “Next thing you know, you’ll have a bullet shoved up your ass.”

A shift in the atmosphere signifies the dawning awareness on his face. His pretty eyes widen, pupils dilating with the sudden recognition of the perilous situation. It’s as if the cold touch of the barrel has grazed the contours of his consciousness.

Rafe’s quick to hide his surprise, titling his head as he examines your face, “You brought a gun to my house?”

With an air of subtle exasperation, you cast your eyes skyward, their movement a fluid and practiced roll. The graceful arc of your eyebrows framed eyes that, despite their momentary defiance, retain an undeniable allure to him.

How the hell did he not notice you were pointing a gun at him the entire time?

“Like you’re not carrying yours in your back pocket?”

“You’ve been staring at my ass, sweetheart?”

Your smirk returns, a blend of amusement and defiance, "Well, Cameron, considering the crap that comes out of it, I figured I should keep an eye on it."

His attempt at a comeback falters, and for a moment, you revel in the satisfaction of having the upper hand. The room simmers with tension, and the realization of his vulnerability lingers in the air. The power dynamic has shifted, and you're not just a pretty face in his sea of sharks.

The corners of his mouth twitch, a subtle acknowledgment of the unspoken truth.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that."

You maintain your poised demeanor, the gun still subtly trained on him. "Guts, brains, and a bullet with your name on it. Choose your next words carefully, Rafe."

His bravado wavers, and for a fleeting moment, you see a hint of uncertainty in his eyes. The rhythm of his foot tapping on the floor stumbles, the drumbeat disrupted by the unforeseen twist in the confrontation. You've successfully disrupted his usual rhythm, and it's clear that he's grappling with the realization that you're not just another obstacle on his path.

Your sweet smile has transformed into a calculated expression of authority, a reminder that in this dangerous game, you're a player to be reckoned with. The silence that follows hangs heavy, punctuated only by the unspoken understanding that you've turned the tables, and for now, Rafe Cameron is at your mercy.

“The text I sent you earlier,” He starts, “It’s about the gold.”

“What about it?”

“Sarah— my sister, for whatever fucking reason, is with John B now and they’re on it.”

Your eyes narrow as the revelation settles in. The mention of the gold adds an unexpected layer of complexity to the situation. Sarah Cameron, entangled with John B in the pursuit of the treasure, introduces a variable you hadn't anticipated. It's a precarious alliance that could tip the balance of power in unforeseen directions.

"Your sister is with John B?" Your tone is laced with skepticism, not entirely convinced that Rafe Cameron isn't spinning another web of deceit.

He nods, a mix of frustration and concern etched across his face.

"They're on the trail, and they're not the only ones. Kooks and Pogues alike are gunning for it. It's a mess."

The gravity of the situation dawns on you. The gold, a coveted prize with the potential to reshape the dynamics of your life, is now in the hands of a volatile mix of individuals, underage individuals at that.

Your mind races, calculating the risks and opportunities that come with this unexpected turn of events.

"Sarah's involved in this mess?" Your words carry a hint of incredulity, but deep down, you're not entirely surprised. The Camerons seem to be drawn to trouble like moths to a flame.

Rafe's eyes meet yours, a trace of vulnerability in his gaze. "Yeah, and I need your help to sort this out.”

A cynical chuckle escapes your lips. "Help you? You must be out of your mind, Cameron. I don't do family reunions, especially not when it involves gold and a bunch of meddling kids."

His jaw tightens, but he knows better than to push you too far. The unspoken threat of the concealed gun serves as a constant reminder of your unpredictable nature.

"I'm not asking for a family reunion," He retorts, "I'm asking you to keep your word. You said you’d do it, yeah? We have a deal, that’s why you’re here.”

Your lips curl into a sardonic smile, and you tilt your head slightly, assessing him. "I'll play along—for now."

The room is heavy with unspoken tension as you glance around, taking stock of your surroundings. The prospect of diving into the chaos surrounding the gold doesn't sit entirely comfortably with you, but opportunity often wears a deceptive mask.

"Here's the deal, then," you declare, your tone firm. "I'll help you clean up this mess, but once the gold is in our hands, our paths diverge. No strings attached, and no more family dramas. Are we clear?"

Rafe's gaze holds yours, a mixture of relief and acknowledgment in his eyes, framed by thick, dark lashes.

"Crystal clear," He replies, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly, "Once we have the gold, you're free to go your way, and I'll go mine."

With a nod of agreement, you holster the gun, a silent acknowledgment that, for now, the alliance holds.

“Although my bed is always open for you, sweetheart.”

You huff, turning around as you make your way towards Ward’s office, Rafe trailing behind, you cast a final glance over your shoulder.

“Go eat a dick, Cameron.”

He raises an eyebrow, a sardonic smile playing on his lips, "You really know how to kill the mood.”

“Would rather have me kill you instead?”

“Is this some kind of foreplay?”

Ugh.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fluff #rafe fic #rafe angst #alternate universe #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe smut #obx fic #obx fanfiction #outer banks

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ineedtogetalife11 · 4 months

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Why didn't you say something??❤️- Leo Valdez x Poseidon Cabin reader.

Yo, I am SO sorry this took me so long to make, It's just been a very busy break which is a big contradiction.... ps I am so sorry for this SHITTY writing.

Summary: reader doesn't like pda but leo does, and I mean, just read it. I am soooo sorry if this is not what you wanted

Warnings: Cursing, kissing, maybe some dirty jokes?? Angst but it's fluffy. maybe some ooc characters bcs I'm reading magnus chase rn

It had been a few months since you and Leo had started dating, and you were, addmitadly kinda worried about it. Don't get me wrong, you were so happy about it, Leo was the best boyfriend you could ever ask for, but he was extremely a bit touchy. You loved leo, butt you just didn't like touch that much. Like, a high five, a kiss on the cheek, and maybe a hug every now and then, but you weren't an all around PDA person. Leo, on the other hand, loved it. He always had a hand on you, on your shoulder, your thigh, your ass. And even though you weren't exactly shy when you wanted something, you really didn't want to insult Leo, so you just went with it. But you eventually got tired of it. So you went to the best person you could think of; Percy.

" Yo, Seaweed Brain!" You called out "Percy c'mere" Percy turned around, and you walked over to him.

"What's up y/n/n" he said patting your head. You swatted his hand away.

"Hey! No touchie." You said.

"Right," he said lowering his hand. "What's up" you sighed

"So you know how I'm dating Leo right?" Percy rolled his eyes.

"Yeah"

"And you know how he loves... PDA?" Percy nodded.

"And you know how, I... don't?" Percy finally seemed to understand.

"Is he not listening?" He asked. "Because if he's not respecting you I can drown him." Percy warned.

"No no no no no! It's not like that," exclaimed. Percy's head tilted to the side. "I- I uh- I haven't told him." You admitted. Percy's expression turned exasperated.

"Dam y/n! What do you want me to do about that?" He asked

"I don't know! Give me older brotherly advice maybe?" Percy considered this.

"Tell him." You looked at him exasperated.

"Oh my gods thank you that's never came to mind." You said sarcastically.

You walked away and sat in your cabin. You didn't know what to do. You were a fucking big 3 kid, a child of poseidon! You had fought millions of monsters. But you couldn't tell your boyfriend how you feel.

~T-t-t-time skipppppp~

Leo POV

Leo was nervous. He didn't show it, but he was. And it was because of y/n. He loves his s/o, he really does, but lately he has noticed that you didn't respond to his affection like you used to. When he put an arm around your waist, you didn't squeeze back like you used to. Oh my gods did I do something wrong? DO THEY WANT TO BREAK UP?

Leo was frantic. So he did the best thing he could think of. He went to Percy.

"Yo seaweed brain!" Leo whisper yelled as he broke into cabin 3 at 3:00 in the morning. "Wake up!" Percy squirmed.

"What the fuck do you want?!" Percy replied.

"Shhhh, don't wake up y/n" Leo said. Percy grumbled some colorful words that would impress even Arion. "Um, is y/n okay, because I noticed that they aren't as touchy as they used to be and-" Percy cut leo off.

"Leo I swear did you come in here to tell me about your lovers quarrel because I DON'T KNOW!"

Leo emerged from there very wet.

Dam, Leo thought. Leo was scared, and he had been scared his whole life. He list other people, and he most definitely did not want to lose you. So he did something that was the worst decision he could make. He stopped being so touchy.

Reader POV

"Percy? Percy?" You called.

"What the fuck do you want this time." Percy said not even saying hi.

'Damn, I must have annoyed him.' You thought to yourself.

"Dam Perce I just wanted to ask a question.'" Percy looked unconvinced. You continued "has Leo said anything about me, because he seems less touchy and-" you get cut off

"Get the fuck away from me."

Okay I am so sorry for this but uhm, I have been so busy and I dint have a lot of time so I will post this really quick just to get something out there and if this gets 20 likes I will put out part 2 as fast as I possibly can.

#pjo hoo toa #x reader #fanfic #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #connor stoll x reader #leo valdez x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy and annabeth #annabeth chase #Chb x reader

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w2beastars · 1 month

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Waezi2′s thoughts on “Beast Complex” chapter 23.

I wanted to blog about this gem for a while now. "The Wolf and The Dog" is as Paru as it get.

Meet Adamo.

Adamo is a 61 year old dog, a German shepherd to be specific. And he is a notorious stalker. And he is very good at it, but we will get to that in a minute.

Adamo doesn't think that what he does is creepy. He has an excellent nose and is a born tracker since that's what his family has been bred to be. Yes, even in Beastverse, dogs are a result of selective breeding.

His stalking is not of nefarious reasons as such, he is just obsessed with following animals his nose gets the attention of and learn everything about them for no reason than the satisfaction of the hunt.

But one day, the nose of this old dog catch a very special scent.

On his way home, Adamo notice a female wolf in his train who carries a massive bouquet of flowers with strong pleasant scents. As if she is hiding something. That's something a herbivore would normally do, so this catches Adamo's attention right away. He starts sniffing and learns surprisingly much about her, like that she can't be more than twenty and that she must work in an office filled with females as he can't notice any male scents. And she uses so much makeup and soap, anything to dim her own smell.

In his own mind, Adamo sees himself "painting" the female wolf and he now stalks her to learn everything about her.

Adamo gets sloppy for a second and gets noticed by the wolf. But she apparently doesn't realize he is stalking her, so she just smiles at him and goes on about her business... or her smile is a warning... or perhaps an invitation?

Adamo realize he is much more fixated about this wolf than any other of his targets, spending a month following her around.

It even seems like the old dog starts to have a strong affection towards the female wolf who BTW is named Fasa(appropriate name for her, look it up after reading this blog). She seems like a model citizen, early to bed, early to work and always nice to the elderly.

But in a Paru manga, that's often a red flag.

Adamu gets a closer look at her apartment...

... Damn.

Sure, there are plenty of predators in the Beastverse, but Fasa is an organized one, having chopped up her victim, keeping the different parts in bags in her fridge and eating brain and eyeballs, not wasting anything.

Adamo is shocked by what the female he has a creepy crush on has done and, without thinking, yells something he have not said in a long time:

Yep, Adamo is a retired police detective. No wonder he is such an effective stalker. And seeing someone committing a predator crime wakes up the old cop.

Fasa is however not intimidated by the old fart, she knew she was being watched, she just got sloppy and forgot to close her curtains. She smiles at Adamo when he says he used to be a police officer, recognizing a fellow canine who is a slave to their instincts. Fasa is a slave to her hunting instincts while Adamo is very much a dog, having only joined the police because he is good at tracking and at following orders. And now that he is retired, he keeps tracking other animals because he doesn't know what else to do.

Fasa then embrace Adamo, making the dog terrified as he has no idea if he is gonna end up in the wolf's fridge as well or if she is hugging him since they are "the same".

But then the actual cops comes.

Fasa is surprisingly calm about being arrested, not resisting at all. Feeling guilt about his unhealthy hobby, possibly because he was just reminded that he used to be a cop who arrested creeps like himself, Adamo is about to confess to the police officers that he is a stalker, but Fasa interrupts him.

Fasa claims that Adamo is in her apartment because she had kidnapped him and was about to eat him as well, then whispers to him that they are not similar at all.

... Makes you wonder if that is suppose to be assuring as his stalking is nowhere near as bad a crime as what she has done... or if it is degrading as he as a dog is a pale shadow of what a wolf is.

Either way, she smiles as she tells him to take care of himself, and the manga then ends with a perfect panel:

Adamo stands between the strong-smelling flowers Fasa used to hide the scent of the blood of her victim/victims, like she is covering up for his crime of stalking. The symbolism is chef-kiss worthy!

This is most likely in the top five of the best chapter of Beast Complex. Its a bittersweet tale and it is kinda funny how Fasa manage to appear more noble than Adamo... or at least have more dignity.

That's all for now. I'm Waezi2, and thanks for wasting time with me.

#beast complex #beastars #paru itagaki #itagaki paru #paru #Adamo the German Shepherd #Adamo #Adamo the Dog #Fasa #Fasa the wolf

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wildrangers · 5 months

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"Slut!" // William Nylander

Word Count: 2.8K

Summary: Famous singer reader x our boy Willy

{For my 1989 Vaults Track Challenge}

Warnings/tropes: fluff, resolved angst (very minor), mentions of anxiety, strong allusions to sex but no serious smut (like PG-13-ish), cursing

You were used to attention but even you had a limit. You’d hit it a few months ago after the tabloids latched onto you being seen with a mystery man, aka Marc from your agent’s office. When your team published that to dispel the rumors, the media reframed it as you sleeping with him for favoritism within your agency. While they hadn’t actually been yelling “Slut!” at you, they may as well have been and you’d needed to get away from New York.

You’d escaped to Toronto because you enjoyed the city whenever your tour had passed through and decided it was busy enough to get lost in without attracting the press. You were hunkered down working on your next album, doing your best to lose yourself in the rhythm of the city and get back to what you loved most—your music.

Got lovestruck, went straight to my head

Got lovesick, all over my bed

Love to think you’ll never forget

Handprints in wet cement

You’d been walking your dog, Edith, when the air changed around you—you couldn’t quite explain it, but you could feel a group of people getting excited about something and it set you on edge—had you been spotted? You froze, eyes darting around as your breath fogged in front of you.

You spotted a group of maybe a half dozen girls giggling as they walked away from a tall, blonde man with two dogs. As you let out a deep sigh of relief, Edith spotted the other dogs and yanked the leash out of your grip, charging for them and their owner.

“Edith!” you called, heart in your throat, as you jogged after her. Luckily, you were in a quieter part of the city but you were still panicked until you saw the guy grab her leash.

“I am so, so sorry, thank you so much” you called out once you were in speaking distance of him.

“It’s no problem” he replied, smiling easily at you. “I was relieved when a dog was running over—when I heard someone yelling ‘Edith!’ I worried a grandma was really in trouble.”

You chuckled and shrugged, “I mean, she’s just an Edith, you know?” Normally, at this point, you’d disengage to avoid being recognized but his face was so open and you hadn’t realized until now how lonely you’d been holed up writing. “Who are these gentlemen?”

William introduced himself, as well as Banksy and Pablo. You discovered your buildings were near each other so when he offered to join you on your return there, you took him up on it despite your reservations.

“So, what do you do for work?” William asked after a natural lull in conversation and your pulse picked up.

“Oh, I work in the music industry, what about you?”

You felt him reassessing you and his cheeks suddenly flared pink, “I’m sorry, I thought you looked familiar but it didn’t click until just now.”

“Please, don’t be sorry” you laughed, your own embarrassment rising to meet his. “It was nice talking with someone as a human being.”

“Yeah, I get that” he sighed.

“Oh?” you asked, wracking your brain for how he could possibly relate to such a strange feeling.

“I play for the Maple Leafs” he explained and you nodded, pretending to know what that meant. He must have caught on because he let out a rich laugh that made you smile from the sound alone. “The NHL team here, this is kind of a hockey town.”

“Well, that explains the girls back there…” you mused, reflecting back on the frenetic energy that comes with a person meeting someone they only know through a TV.

“They were sweet” he shrugged and you glanced over, noticing his legitimate nonchalance.

“It doesn’t bother you?”

“Not really, it comes with the territory and 95% of the time people are nice.”

“Well, that’s good” you mumbled, mostly to yourself. While your fans were lovely, your mind flashed to all the times you’d been met with judgement and jealousy from girls who were into your famous exes. It was a bizarre, shame-inducing experience despite you doing nothing wrong.

“Hey look!” Will said excitedly, pulling you from your thoughts. “Come here, quick.”

You followed him in confusion towards a small section of sidewalk that had been replaced and was surrounded by caution tape. “What exactly are we doing?”

“Come on, we gotta do our hand prints, no?” he grinned and his genuine excitement made you smile too.

“Fine, but quickly” you agreed and he whooped before taking his left hand out of his glove, you doing the same with your right hand. You two quickly stuck your hands in, the wet concrete cold to the touch.

“My plan worked” he smiled and you tilted your head in confusion. “Now you have to come over, make sure we can wash that concrete off your hands. Can’t play guitar with chunks of that stuck to you.”

Lovelorn and nobody knows

Love thorns all over this rose

I’ll pay the price you won’t

You must have dozed off watching the Leafs game because you were woken by Will softly greeting the dogs. You stretched, letting the throw blanket fall around your waist as you yawned.

“I’m sorry, babe, did I wake you?” he asked quietly, placing a kiss to your forehead.

You hummed in response, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck to pull his lips to yours. His kiss was gentle and attentive—he always seemed to anticipate just what would make your heart flutter in your chest. He pulled away a moment later, his blue eyes shining with joy that warmed you from within.

It had only been a few months since you’d met and, if you were being honest, you were a little terrified by how quickly you were falling for him. Contrary to what the tabloids said, you normally guarded your heart quite closely. But with Will, it was beginning to feel like all you needed was him.

“Where’d you go?” he asked and you realized he’d sat down beside you, concern all over his face.

“I’m sorry, just got lost in my thoughts.”

“What were they saying?”

You hesitated, trying to decide how to phrase it, “It just worries me how much you mean to me already.”

“Oh, älskling” he replied, pulling you to him. Your arms wrapped around his middle and you buried your face in his neck, breathing in his scent. “What concerns you about that?”

“I’m scared of people finding out” you admitted softly.

“Because of the media being assholes?” You nodded, pulling him tighter. “Y/N, people say shit about me all the time. It’s just what happens when you’re in the public eye.”

You sighed, pulling away slightly to look at him. He didn’t get it—how different it was being a famous woman versus a man. “What would the story be about you if it came out that we’re dating?” you questioned and he grinned.

“Just that I’m lucky to have somehow landed a woman that is way out of my league” he replied and you rolled your eyes, butterflies filling your stomach at the compliment.

“What do you think it would be about me?”

He took in your serious expression and paused to think before shrugging, “Tell me.”

“Y/N, dating William Nylander!” you proclaimed dramatically. “Another new man for the songstress! Will she ever settle down? How many famous men will she use for attention? What will her ex think? When can we expect the break up album?”

You’d tried being light-hearted but your voice cracked on the last word as tears pricked your eyes. “Hey, hey” he said quietly, embracing you again and running a soothing hand through your hair. “They can say whatever they want. Only we know what this is—how real it is. They can’t take that from us. But, if we keep hiding, think of all the things that fear is taking from us. You coming to a game, me being able to go to a show of yours someday. Me being able to take you out to celebrate a win or on a nice date.”

Tears flowed freely at his words, “I didn’t mean to hide us, I’m just scared.”

“I know” he replied, wiping away your tears. “And I’ve loved getting to know you and developing this relationship, just us two. But that’s not how relationships work—I want you to meet the team and me to meet your friends, see your home in New York. I mean, if you’d want that” he said, faltering at the end.

You grabbed his face in your hands, placing a gentle kiss to his nose. “Of course, that’s what I want” you reassured him, getting lost in his deep blue eyes. And as he leaned in to kiss you again, you accepted that you’d likely get backlash in a way he wouldn’t. But you wouldn’t let that stop you from being with him fully.

But if I’m all dressed up

They might as well be looking at us

And if they call me a slut

You know it might be worth it for once

You were nervous as you left Scotiabank Arena with Steph and a few other girls. You’d felt safe up in the suite, watching the game with the other partners and families but away from prying eyes. Now, on the street surrounded by fans, you felt your anxiety rising. You could feel people watching your group, noting the WAG jackets—you couldn’t tell if they’d realized who you were or were just intrigued because of your relationship with a player.

As you saw Will’s car pull up to the curb, you confirmed with Steph which bar you’d all meet up at to celebrate the win before sliding into his passenger seat.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Will asked, eyes scanning your face.

“Yeah, I’m sure” you nodded, despite the nerves filling your stomach. His strong hand gripped yours as he pulled out, heading a few blocks away to the bar. You’d gone to a few closed team events to meet everyone—parties at people’s apartments, joining the girls for at-home brunch, etc. All to help you feel comfortable enough for this milestone.

“You look beautiful, Leafs blue suits you” Willy complimented as he pulled into a spot and you squeezed his hand in thanks. He quickly came around to your side, opening your door and helping you out as he always did, ever the gentleman—it was one of the things you loved about him. You paused for a second at that thought before deciding you had enough to worry about tonight without bringing the L word into it.

You were escorted to a private room where you enjoyed a few hours of joyful company, dancing and drinking, celebrating the guys and their hard work. You’d almost convinced yourself you’d overthought this outing—everything was going great, why had you been so worried? But by the time you were leaving, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the bar and the alcohol flowing through you, your fears were confirmed as cameras began flashing.

Will wrapped a protective arm around you as your name was shouted from all around, Steph tucking herself closer to your other side, bracketing you in their safety.

Send the code, he’s waiting there

The sticks and stones they throw froze mid-air

Everyone wants him

That was my crime

It was the following afternoon and you were spiraling. All those moments you thought were private were plastered across the internet. You and Steph cheering after a goal, you picking up John’s daughter so she could see the ice better, you shielding your eyes when Will had taken a hard check. Let alone all the photos they’d gotten outside the arena and of you walking into and out of the bar.

Even worse, a fan had gotten past your building’s security, knocking on your door shortly after lunch. Luckily, she’d been sweet but it still rattled you. Your building’s manager had apologized profusely, quickly changing all the codes into the building and retraining the staff on privacy procedures.

Will was at practice and wouldn’t be over until later that afternoon, leaving you to your own devices. You’d successfully fought off Googling your own name for hours before finally caving.

Y/N spotted with William Nylander—but is she still with Marc?

Y/N has gone through all of Hollywood’s men—she’s moved onto Toronto now!

When can we expect the Nylander album?

That last one had been the worst—as if your music was owed solely to the men you decided to be with, not something you worked tirelessly on. Your phone vibrated beside you and your shoulders sagged in relief as Will’s name popped up.

“Hey babe, are you almost here?”

“I’m outside, can you send me the new code? It’s a zoo out here.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I totally spaced, it’s 161152. I’ll call George to let him know you can come up.”

A few moments later, you were pulling Will into your apartment and locking the door behind him. You began to explain everything that had happened today but instead simply burst into tears.

“I’m so sorry, älskling—I believed you but I didn’t realize how crazy it would be. But we’re going to figure this out, okay?” And you let yourself believe him as he rubbed soothing circles on your back, his presence filling you with a sense of safety. “And I’m going to be taking your laptop away from you” he added, spotting what you’d been searching.

You chuckled through your tears, pulling away to grab a tissue from nearby, “I knew I shouldn’t but couldn’t stop myself” you admitted and he nodded. “I’m sorry about all of this.”

“Hey, no” he countered, gently gripping your face between his hands. “We knew this could happen.”

“I know but why would you want to put up with all of this?” you asked, emotion clogging your throat again.

“Because I’ll take anything and everything that comes with being with you” he answered, eyes serious as they held yours. You didn’t know what to say to that so you just wrapped your arms around his middle again. “Want to take a nap? I could use one after the last twelve hours.”

Half asleep

Taking your time

You’re not saying you’re in love with me

But you’re going to

A few hours later you were woken by kisses placed all over your face and gentle hands caressing your waist. “There she is” Willy mumbled into your ear and you giggled, turning your face so you could capture his lips with your own. His exploring hands made quick work of both your clothes and soon he was a comforting weight on top of you.

You’d obviously had sex with Will countless times by this point but this felt different somehow. You both normally favored faster, rougher sex but Will was moving so purposefully and slowly, seemingly drawing out the time you two were joined together, impossibly close.

Later, as you came down from your high and felt his rhythm falter, you opened your eyes to meet his and the look there stole your breath away. Such affection and care were in his deep blue eyes before he dropped his head to your chest, burying his face in your neck as he caught his breath.

“That was incredible, Y/N” he said softly and you pulled his face up to yours, pouring all your unsaid feelings into the kiss.

Half awake

Taking your chance

It’s a big mistake

I said it might blow up in your pretty face

A few nights later, you were curled up in Will’s bed, wrapped in his embrace. The dogs were fast asleep around you but you were clinging to wakefulness, enjoying the warmth of Will behind you after a long day in the studio.

“Y/N?” Will said softly and you hummed in response, turning in his arms to face him.

You smiled up at him sleepily but felt yourself wake up a bit more at the intensity in his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just…” he began, swallowing thickly. You frowned slightly at his nerves, reaching up to brush a piece of hair out of his eyes. “I just love you, that’s all.”

You fought back a smile, “Oh is that all?”

“Shut up” he giggled, hiding his face in your neck, pulling you even closer to him somehow.

You ran a hand through his hair, placing a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you too, William.”

“Yeah?” he questioned, pulling back just enough to gaze up at you.

You nodded before smirking, “You may come to regret it but yeah, I love you.”

He placed a gentle kiss to your collarbone before settling into your chest again, “I could never regret this, my love.”

A/N: My first Willy story! Thanks to those who sent support for this little series I'm working on to hopefully get out of this writing slump. I wrote this in a few hours so please let me know any feedback you have ☺️ 'Say Don't Go' with Lindgren next!

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