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luveline · 10 months ago

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kisses before dinner — steve comes home to his girls after a long day. 2k, mom!reader

Steve has a back ache twinging between his shoulders that takes his breath away as he treks the last step up to the front door. The door gets caught on the latch when he pushes it open, which is awesome, Steve’s so glad you’re being safe late at night, but deplorable in that he has wood grain etched into his jaw and no way inside.

“Girls?” He knocks the glass pane. “Anybody home?”

Everyone should be home. Your car is in the driveway, the girls’ shoes are by the wall. He pushes the door open as far as he can (not far) and weasels his face into the gap to look for you. It’s dark besides the upstairs bathroom light.

Steve calls your name a few times, but eventually comes to the realisation that you’re all asleep and he’s locked out. He closes the door and heads back to his car to scrounge the spare back door key from under his seat.

He fights through the garden gate covered in brambles to the backyard. It hasn’t been touched since summer, forgotten things left to the elements. Avery’s bike flakes with copper coloured rust against the wall. The trampoline net is tangled and fallen off of one side. There are plastic cups in the stinging nettles growing back beneath it and gummy bears swollen with water along the paving stones like some poor retelling of Hansel and Gretel. He unlocks the back door and promptly knocks over the trash can he’d left in front of it. His back whines as he cleans it away, but at least it’s warm inside.

It’s good to be home.

He shoves the toppled garbage back into the can, washes tomato sauce off of his hands in the sink, and lets himself bask in his own poorly lit company for a moment, rubbing his tired eyes. He was hoping for a welcome party. It took longer to help Robin move than they’d anticipated.

“I won’t be back for a while,” he’d said apologetically down the phone.

“Okie dokie,” you’d crooned. He didn’t need to see you to know there was a baby in your lap. “Just come home when you can, babe. And lift with your knees! I’ll put your plate in the fridge, yes? Love you.” Your voice turned to sugar. “Love you, love you, love you, honey.” You definitely weren’t talking to him at that point. Mother of my kids, he’d thought reverently, the strength of a thousand men restored for an hour or two before the fatigue truly set in and he and Robin considered leaving the rest of her furniture on her new front lawn.

He scratches his hair from his eyes with both hands. Mother of my kids, he thinks again. You’ve actually managed to keep the kitchen tidy, the only evidence of a day of play being the grape juice rings on the dining table placemats. How the fuck you’ve done it is a miracle worth marvelling. Three children, one (admittedly smaller) baby bump, and a full eighteen hours by yourself. You’re very impressive.

He decides to tell you emphatically with his face in your neck. He should shower, and he will apologise to you for subjecting you to his sweaty hair in the morning. You’ll shrug off his apology, say something sweet about for better or worse or maybe wrinkle your nose and kiss him anyways.

Steve honestly can’t find any shame about how much he likes you. Like and love can begin to diverge in a marriage, especially after kids when your duty as parents is more important than it is as partners, but you’ve yet to let him pull away, and he won’t give you a reason to. He’ll keep trying as hard as possible to be a husband you can adore. And you don’t have to do much, really. Realistically you give the majority of yourself every day to Steve and your kids, but he would cling to you if you got sick of it. He knows he would. You could turn hermit and live under the bed, and Steve would spend half his life on his stomach just looking at you.

Half trying to pull you out again. The other half getting the girls ready for school. He’s so tired he doesn’t realise that this is too many halves.

When he gets to the top of the stairs he feels like a lifetime has passed since he left that morning, bright and early at 5AM. There’d been driving, car swaps, booing at people from behind the wheel, a hundred boxes, a million trips up and down the stairs, and a suspicious washing machine recalibration. This was without the cold coke drinking, peanuts, popcorn, mistimed movie references, and the obligatory insulting of Robin’s girlfriend’s mauve chaise, of which Robin refused to participate.

Between all that, there’d been worrying, and a want for more phone calls. Promise me you’ll call me if you need anything at all, he’d said that morning, giving your face a fond caress. There’s a confidence that comes with this much love. Steve can pour every inch of his affection for you into one touch and knows you’ll soak it up like a sponge. Really. Any problems, any stress, any tantrums. Just call me. I’m ten minutes away.

You were grateful if amused, telling him he didn’t need to worry so much, and then offering him another slice of toast.

Is it weird how much I love my wife? he wonders, pushing open the bedroom door gently.

You’re actually awake! He’s shocked and a little betrayed to find you looking at him, but the betrayal fades when he notices the swelling around your eyes and your trembling arm as you hoist yourself up under Avery’s weight. He’s woken you up coming in.

“Sorry,” he mouths, frowning at your shakiness.

You manage a smile and beckon him forward. The problem is the little ladies strewn about in the way. Avery drools on your chest while Dove takes up the entirety of Steve’s side, spread into a star shape, and Bethie snores loudly by your knees. An especially aggressive one makes him laugh as he rounds the bed to your side.

“Hello,” he whispers, taking your face into a loving hand, “sorry I’m back so late.”

You smile into his palm but don’t say anything.

“You okay? Had a good day?” he asks.

You hum something nonsensical. He wipes at your cheek in the rough way you enjoy, your face bumped with every stroke of his thumb.

“Did you…” Your eyelashes flutter closed. “Did you eat?”

“Loads. Sorry. I’ll eat my dinner tomorrow.”

You wrinkle your nose. He’s been dying to see it. “Don’t bother, it wasn’t my best.”

“All dinners are your best.”

You cover his hand with yours, and then you steal it away from your cheek and kiss it all over. Steve bends down to hug you.

“Missed you,” you say at the same time. Steve laughs. “Was it a long day?” you ask.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“It was aeons,” you say. “The girls were good, mostly. Baby not so much.”

“Aw, no,” he croons softly, “what’s she been doing?”

“She won’t let me eat.”

Steve rubs the top of your arm. “I’m sorry, honey. You should’ve called me.”

“What are you gonna do, H?”

He breathes out into the side of your face. “You’re right, like always. What can I do?”

He can’t do a thing to ease your morning sickness, so… Steve ends up taking a knee on the bed beside you to hold you for a while, no rush to lay down even though he aches in strings and shouts. “I’m glad I can’t get pregnant. I’d have hundreds of your babies if I could and it would be torture.”

You laugh at his absurdity in the giggly startled way he’d been hoping for.

“Did you throw up?” he asks, pulling away enough to see your face while his hand starts the soft journey down your front to your bump. You’re about three months along and the bump came quickly. It’s cute and Steve loves it and he tries not to be weird about it but he’s weird about you.

“No, just kept churning. I made eggs for breakfast and we can’t eat them anymore.”

Steve kisses your cheek, the corner of your eye, knowing it’ll make you happy. Your smile follows swiftly after, and he kisses that with gusto. “I don’t even like eggs,” he mumbles.

“You love eggs.”

“What was it like being the stay at home mom today?” he asks.

“Hard. But fun. Avery was being really nice to me all day, did you have something to do with that?”

“Avery’s always nice.”

Your smile widens impossibly, “Yeah, but she was asking me if I wanted to sit down and if I needed a glass of water all day.”

Steve shrugs. “Doesn’t sound like something I’d do.”

“Well don’t do it again, H. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t need to worry about me.”

Steve strokes your forehead, totally in your orbit. “She’s not worrying. Are you worrying about her when you take care of her? And sometimes you need a reminder.”

You chew it over. “Okay… you’re right. You win that one, Harrington. Mostly ‘cos I’m too tired.”

Steve always wins when he gets to slide into bed next to you. You push yourself over and bunch the kids up tighter. There’s not quite enough room for him. He feels as though he’s one little legged kick from falling back out, but he doesn’t mind, wrapping an arm around you and Avery where she’s sliding off of you and onto the mattress between you both. The poor girl is in a deep sleep, dribbling from the corner of her mouth. Steve wipes it away.

“You comfortable enough?” he asks.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

He rests his head against yours on the pillows. “Missed you.”

“But you had fun, right?”

“It was great. I feel like I ran a marathon.”

“Exhausted?” you ask.

“And accomplished… You sure you’re okay? It was a long day by yourself. That stunt you pulled in the kitchen? Incredible.”

“I thought you’d like that. I told the girls you’d buy them a pony.”

“You did not.”

You laugh into his cheek. “No, I didn't, you caught me… I’m fine, really. I did miss you. It’s not nice, not seeing you. I’m used to a couple of hours, but it started feeling wrong when it was dark out, I… it’s silly but I was thinking about how horrible it would be if you never came back–”

Your pitch lifts up as Steve gasps and slaps a hand over your mouth (doesn’t slap, but covers, big hand on your lips and pressing them shut without sympathy).

“Don’t be ridiculous.” He meets your eyes, smiling hard despite the fatigue clinging to you both, and doesn’t buckle, even as you kiss his palm again. “Pregnancy brain is a scary thing.”

Your eyes turn to melting. He’s putty immediately, pulling your hand away to caress your cheek.

“Wanna be crazy in love in the morning?” he asks gently. You put your arm behind Avery’s back and smile as she snuggles into your ribs. Steve kisses your nose. “Go to sleep, honey. I can feel how tired you are. Back to normal in the morning.”

“Love you, Steve.”

“Love you, too.”

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felixknow · 2 months ago

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Pathetic!

han x reader/ (afab but one comment could be read as amab), friends to lovers, teasing, mutual pining/lust, blowjob, premature ejac., pathetic!han, loser!han and confident but simp!reader, 3k

Based on how Han... Adjusts... Himself...

Your friend Jisung has a… peculiar habit.

You first noticed it when you agreed to a silly dinner party with your old trainee friends. Everyone decided to dress up in their prettiest dresses and most handsome suits to go to McDonalds at 10 p.m. and even though the food was greasy and near-tasteless, the company of your friends made it one of your favorite meals you’d ever had.

It was when everyone was cleaning up and getting ready to leave that you first noticed Han’s odd habit.

You were the last two to get up from the table. Most of your friends had already drifted toward the trash cans and the exit, and as you stood you watched as Han, who was not paying attention to you, unabashedly grabbed his penis through his pants and manually readjusted it.

Your eyes widened and you turned on your heel away from him, shocked but vowing to yourself that you’d never tell a soul you saw it, and sure you’d never see it again.

Until the next time it happened.

And the next.

Considering the years you’ve spent in this friendship, it feels odd that you’ve only noticed this habit recently, but maybe he’s having some sort of issue, perhaps? Maybe his shaving routine has changed, maybe he’s wearing new underwear, maybe he caught something-- you don’t know and it doesn’t feel like your business at first. Or at the second, or third, or fourth occurrence.

It’s when you start to catch onto what makes him adjust himself so blatantly that you realize that it is your business. In fact, it starts to feel like it’s because of you.

There’s the time in the pool with your friends where you watch him off to the side in the shallow end readjust himself after you finish a splashing war with two of your friends, which somehow manages to nearly knock your top off.

There’s the summer sleepover where your tank top was lower cut than you intended, and through the glow of the firepit you could just make out the shape of Han squirming, his hand firmly latched between his thighs for a few moments.

There’s the time you and several of your mutual friends attend a SKZ fan meeting to support your favorite superstar, and sitting on stage Han tries his best to be casual as he adjusts himself moments after excitedly waving to your group, but boy is it obvious to your trained eye.

Almost every time you’ve seen Han in the past few months, there’s been a moment when his hand inevitably ends up wrapped around his cock, despite his pants being in the way.

It always comes after the lingering looks. It happens after the slight flick of his tongue across his lips. The prolonged eye contact. The rosiness of his cheeks when you come too close. The dramatic flair of him draping himself across you, or the grabby hands as he asks you to cuddle with him, or the feather-light touches on your back or your hip as he passes you in a narrow space.

There are two things you’re certain of at this point in your friendship:

Han Jisung is attracted to you, and you are so, so attracted to him.

Once this becomes fact in your mind, the game begins.

How long does it take to get Hanji to touch himself?

On some nights, it’s hours. On some, it’s minutes. Once it was even the very first thing he did when you walked in the room (maybe because you’d spent the previous night partying with him and may have drunkenly danced with him one too many times, or maybe it was because you’d texted him that morning that you’d had fun with him and want to go dancing with him again, or maybe it was because it was another movie night and you’d come in short pajama shorts and a t-shirt with a “fashionable” rip across your chest).

The second phase of the game starts after that night.

When will Hanji notice that I’m trying to bother him on purpose?

(The answer is “not until you tell him outright,” but we’ll get there.)

You have fun playing with him. At first it’s acting like you didn’t realize he was behind you, so you back up until your butt touches his hip or his crotch. Then it’s accidentally sitting so close that you nearly sit on his lap. One time it’s having “accidentally” put on too much perfume before getting in the car with Hannie after he offered to drive you to your friend’s place for dinner. Another it’s wearing a white top on a day when you know it’ll be rainy, and “accidentally” forgetting your umbrella so you show up to Han’s apartment with a mostly see-through top.

Each time you catch it, either from the corner of your eye or while outright staring at him. His hand goes down while he’s either looking away or trying to act casual. He grabs his penis through his pants so fully that you can see the complete outline of it as he shifts it to the side or pushes it down or otherwise readjusts.

It makes you wet, being so close yet so far from seeing it. Sometimes when he grabs it you swear you can see the defined tip or the swell of his balls pressing on the fabric as well, but it’s over as quickly as it began. Sometimes just the press of his hand down on his lap like a nervous little virgin unsure of how to control himself turns you on so bad that you’re squirming in your seat.

Oh, god how you’d fuck him. How you’d wreck his entire world. If only he wasn’t so god damned oblivious.

No matter how many times you try to catch his eye and pointedly look down to his crotch, or how many times you pull your top lower while directly in his line of sight, or even shake your ass when you know he’s watching-- he says nothing. He does nothing.

You know he notices. Oh, how he notices. His face turns red. He pulls a pillow into his lap. His voice cracks. He can’t make eye contact with you. He stutters. He stares at your chest when he thinks you aren’t looking.

And he wants, oh he wants so bad.

It finally comes to a head on the night you know for absolutely 100% certain that you’ve given him a boner.

It’s a game night with two of Han’s fellow SKZ members. You’re sitting on the floor in front of the couch and Han is behind you (at your design, of course). One of his legs is under him, and one of his legs is hooked over your shoulder. You keep your arm locked around it while you play Mario Kart, claiming that you need it because of the way you’re sitting. “I can’t hold my arm up at the right angle without it,” you whine. “I have to keep my controller all the way up here--” you gesture to holding the controller at your chest level rather than in your lap-- “otherwise the sensor doesn’t pick up.”

No one calls your bluff-- you’re lucky that when Felix handed you the controller he said that it was the finicky one that didn’t like to cooperate all the time. Thank you, Felix.

Every time you win, you throw your arms up and reach for Hannie behind you. He either gives you his hands and he leans his head down and you pet his hair. When you lose, you turn your head to his knee (or, after he shifts lower in his seat, his inner thigh) and nibble or just rub your face as if you’re hiding it in shame.

Within 10 races you know you have Han wrapped around your finger. Any time you turn your head to look back at him, he’s already looking at you. He can likely see straight down your top, and the combination of that with you touching his thigh leads to him needing a pillow in his lap to prevent the whole group from noticing his little, ahem… problem.

And then comes the break.

“Should we pause and get dinner?” Minho asks

“I was just thinking the same thing,” you chime in. “But the issue is I really want pizza from that one really good place that refuses to do delivery. Like, come on, your orders get mixed up a couple of times and you require ID to pick up food? It’s the 21st centuryyyyy,” you whine, throwing your head back against Han’s thigh.

“Oh, pizza sounds so good,” Felix says with a satisfied groan. “I can go get it if someone comes with.”

“Mm,” Minho acknowledges, climbing to his feet. “Let’s go. We can order on the way.”

After a brief discussion of what everyone wants, the two clear the apartment, and then…

Han clears his throat and shifts in his seat.

“Do you wanna play another round while they’re out?”

You put your controller down and spin around so you’re sitting on your knees, now face-first at Han’s crotch-- or rather, the pillow on top of his crotch.

“No, honestly Hanji, I’m so fucking sick of waiting.”

“What--” You grab the pillow and try to move it, and his eyes widen, his face a pure expression of shock, and he fights you to keep it in place. “No, no! I need that-- Y/n, stop!”

“Hanji, when are you going to tell me that I turn you on? I’m so tired of waiting.”

“You-- What? How did you--”

“Am I wrong?” you ask, finally letting go of the pillow and letting him hold it. You give him your best doe eyes, blinking up at him innocently. “That’s what you’re hiding, right? Because I keep touching you and because you can see my boobs, right?”

Han tries to say something but he flounders, barely making a full sentence.

“Hanji, I’m tired of you teasing me,” you whine. “You touch your penis in front of me all the time. When’s it my turn?”

“Y/N--” he gasps. You take the chance to grab the pillow once more and yank, swiftly removing it and throwing it across the room. His legs come up and his hands go down-- he tries to cover himself and hide, but you see the tent in his pants and even notice the dark spot forming on the crotch of his gray sweatpants.

“Oh, Hanji, you poor thing. Isn’t that throbbing?” you ask, sliding one hand up his leg, gently coaxing him to relax and slightly open his legs for you again. “I know mine is. Why don’t you let me take care of it?”

“Your… You’re…?”

“You’re so cute when you’re flustered. You’re such a sweet little thing. I could just eat you up.” You keep gently touching him, running your fingertips up and down his calf until he rests his leg on the ground again, now only his hands covering his tent.

“How long have you liked me, Hanji? You should have told me. I’ve been trying to encourage you, but I don’t think you’ve caught on, have you?”

“No,” he admits softly. “I thought… I thought maybe you liked that I was fawning over you?” he says unsurely. “I noticed a few times you were really close to me on purpose…”

“Yeah?” you ask, gently touching his hand while lying your cheek on his thigh. “Like when?”

“Like that time you were talking to me in the kitchen and then you bent down to get something and touched my… um, touched me with your butt. It was straight out of a movie.”

You giggle and manage to intertwine some of your fingers with his gently.

“You could have said something, you know. You blushed so dark I thought your head was going to burst. You were so red.”

“I was afraid you felt my dick through my pants,” he says defensively, but softly, almost like he’s afraid to speak too loud and burst the bubble that surrounds the two of you. “I was so hard.”

“I get you hard a lot, huh? Pretty much every time I see you I catch you touching yourself.”

“What?!” he asks, eyes wide, once again in that delicious look of shock.

“You have to readjust yourself. I see you. It’s really obvious the way you grab it, you know.” You voice drops to a whisper as you separate his hands and finally get a good look at his crotch. “It’s kind of…” your hand reaches out slowly, giving him the chance to stop you, but he doesn’t. “Like this,” you say, wrapping your hand around his shaft through his pants. Instead of trying to push his dick down or to the side, you drag your hand up until it rolls over the tip and off of him entirely.

Han moans, lifting his hips up slightly to chase the feeling of your hand. You smirk but try to bite your lip to hide it, wanting to keep the innocent yet frisky facade you’re upholding.

“No,” you say softly, wrapping your hand around his cock again. “I think it was actually more like this.” You twist your wrist slightly as you move down his shaft then back up, once again sliding your hand over his tip. This time you press your palm against it, slightly pushing his dick to the side.

“Hmm,” you hum, licking your lips. “No, that’s not quite right. Can you show me, Hanji?”

“Huh?” he asks through a shuddering breath.

“Show me how you grab yourself, Hanji. And then I wanna do something for you.”

“Okay…”

Han’s shaky hand reaches down and he grabs his dick, pushing it down and to the side. He shifts his hip, tries to act casual while trying to tuck his boner into a tighter area of his underwear but it does nothing to hide his erection once he releases it.

“Mm, always seeing you touch yourself has made me so jealous. And you get to play with it whenever you want. It’s my turn to touch it, isn’t it? Can I touch it, Hanji?

“You already did, to be fair,” he says, his normal cheeky self still shining through his nerves. “But, I mean, yeah… if you want to you can do whatever… if you want… I mean… What do you want to do?”

“What do I want?” you ask, smiling up at him. “Oh, Hanji, if we did everything I wanted, no one would hear from you for weeks.”

His face reddens again and he laughs softly.

“If I had known we were thinking the same thing, I would have asked you to do this a lot sooner…” he admits. A wide grin spreads across your face and you hum happily, tugging on his sweatpants.

“Let me suck your cock, Hanji. I’ve been waiting so long.”

“Don’t have to ask me twice,” he says, lifting his hips and pulling both his pants and his underwear down swiftly. His cock springs free, bouncing a little from the movement, and you have to bite back the “aww” that comes up your throat. It’s just so fucking cute with its pink tip and its honey shaft like the rest of his pretty skin and it looks so suckable and instead of saying anything you hum happily as you greeidly suck him into your mouth, barely giving him a second to adjust to the feeling before you’re bobbing your head and trying to gather as much spit in your mouth as possible to give it a good, wet glide.

Han moans loudly and unabashedly, throwing his head back and sinking into the couch, fully letting you consume him.

“Oh, fuck,” he whines, hips jerking up slightly. “Oh, fuck! Wait, wait, wait,” he says, sitting back up and gently guiding your head off of him. “Y/N, I think I almost came,” he whines, and your jaw drops.

“Hanji, that was fifteen seconds. That wasn’t even a minute.”

“I know,” he whines, chest heaving as he pouts and tries to calm down. “I don’t know, it just hit me and I felt like leaking.”

“-Leaking?”

“That’s what it felt like!”

“Hanji, don’t tell me you call it ‘leaking’ when you cum.”

“No! I don’t! I’m just saying this one felt like a leak like I was just gonna let it all down. You were sucking me like a straw and it was just gonna all come out.”

You stare at him for a few silent seconds and then, in shock at your own revelation, say “You are so wimpy. And pathetic. And it makes me so fucking horny.”

Han laughs just as much as he whines, throwing his head back and covering his face with both his hands.

“Y/Naaaaahhhhhh,” he whines. “You can’t insult me and then say it makes you horny. I don't know what to thiiiiink.”

“Think about my pussy, your bed, and hopefully the nearest condom.”

Han peeks at you through his hands for a few seconds and then nods frantically, trying to sit up and get to his feet.

“Okay, okay, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Let’s go! What are we still doing out here?!”

As Han gets up, his sweatpants and underwear nearly trips him while he tries to step past you. You giggle, covering your mouth and watching his naked butt as he rushes down the hall to his room.

Oh, god, how you’re attracted to him.

#han x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #han fake texts #han one shot #han fic #han smut

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nymphea0 · 3 months ago

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Until Death My Love

Part 4 (END).

Yandere husband x Wife Reader

Warning : mention of fire, chase scenes, and some mature content, mention of sleeping drug.

Please read the warning before you start to reading this story, might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. I think to make a special chapter what do you think? Should i make it?. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story,love.- Neva🦋🦋

Word Count Around : 1679 Word

Story Part 1 : Until Death My Love

Story Part 2 : Until Death My Love

Story Part 3 : Until Death My Love

'Brooklyn, New York.'

It's been a month since you ran away from your house and your husband.

You admit that you are very scared, you believe all of Roana's words that said that Alex, your husband, would kill you because you were caught entering his secret room.

You always knew that Alex loved you very much, but you didn't know that he had even noticed you during school, somehow you felt like he was stalking you behind his friendly smile.

Picture of yourself that were taken secretly, the body of someone who was quite familiar with you. You can't believe that Alex did that, your husband who you always thought was a normal man who was successful working as a coal company CEO turned out to be just a disguise as a mafia associate, you feel like he has deceived you.

This morning you will start your work as a library cleaning staff in the corner of Brooklyn, New York.

The city is quite crowded, the population is quite dense, and it is very easy to find work here. While cleaning the library bookshelves, sometimes you think about going back to Alex, your husband, maybe if you didn't follow Roana's words, you might be relaxing at home right now.

But you are not ready for the risk of what Alex will do if he finds out that you know his little secret.

But the rice has become porridge, you can't turn back what has happened.

The Graze Library, or more like an old bookstore, is deserted and the salary you get is not that big, but at least it is enough to support yourself.

It's been 1 month and 3 weeks that you have been in Brooklyn, you always come home late, because your working hours start from morning to noon, then continue with the evening until 9 pm.

Through the wet asphalt cobblestone roads due to the rain, you don't know .... since when you feel like someone is watching you.

Only the sound of rats and your footsteps can be heard on the quiet streets towards your shabby and cheap apartment.

'Tap'

Trying to avoid puddles of water that could make your shoes wet.

Just as you arrive in front of the door of your apartment building, you hear the sound of a trash can falling.

Either because you are paranoid or you are too shocked, you immediately look back only to see there is only a rat and a trash can that has fallen.

'Cit'

'cit'

Sighing in relief that it was just a sewer rat busy looking for food.

Opening the door of the apartment building and entering the building. Walking slowly while greeting the male receptionist who is busy playing with his cellphone with a friendly smile.

Entering the elevator slowly, and pressing the button for the 6th floor.

'Ting'

The elevator door opens, you walk slowly in the dim hallway of this cheap apartment building. Even though this building has 8 floors, you can't help but feel afraid to live in this building.

This building rents out apartments at a cheap price, because this building has entered the criteria for an unsuitable building. But what can you do if you only have a little money, no one will rent an apartment building for 45$ for a whole year.

Stopping in front of a wooden door with peeling paint, unlocking the door and entering your small apartment.

'Krieet'

Even the sound from the door was more terrifying than your financial condition.

After making sure the door was locked, you walked tiredly to the leather sofa that was even torn to shreds. That night you slept so soundly that you didn't even notice the bouquet of flowers in your bedroom.

That morning ... you couldn't help but worry about what you saw, a bouquet of primroses, fresh flowers tied with a white ribbon.

Looking around the apartment you couldn't help but worry who would even dare to enter someone else's house without the owner's permission?

Primrose or people call it primula flower, a flower with various colors.... has a fairly romantic philosophy, namely passion, love and loyalty.

Who in this world even dares to give it in someone's bedroom? Does the person who gave this intend to seduce you?.

You really want to throw away the flower, but your heart says otherwise, the flower is too beautiful to be thrown in the trash.

That afternoon you worked as usual, you rested and ate a chocolate bar as a filler for your stomach that was screaming for food.

Sitting relaxing under a willow tree, the graze library is on the corner of our Brooklyn, close to the forests. Looking at the river rippling slowly following the flow of the ships that passed by.

After resting, you continued working, tonight you came home above 9 o'clock! . You didn't know that the person who was supposed to be on the night shift today was playing truant and you had no choice but to replace him at work.

It was past 12 midnight, midnight .... a pretty good night for people who want to commit crimes.

That night, Aunt Irene, the old woman who slept in the library said to spend the night in the library, it's not good for a young woman like you to go out in the middle of the day.

But you are stubborn, you want to sleep soundly in your dusty room.

With strong determination you walk faster than usual, passing the willow trees, only accompanied by the sound of mice and also dim street lights.

You feel very watched, you feel like someone is watching you.

Then at the end of the road, you see so many people gathered in front of your apartment building, there you see a beam of fire that shoots wildly in your apartment building.

With quick steps you head towards the crowd. Ask one of the random people there

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you, why is this building on fire?"

"Miss, are you a resident of this building? If so, it's too bad, a few hours ago there were some people in black suits who forcibly bombed this building, who knows what their motives were, but the police and security forces are still investigating it"

You could only be pensive hearing that, walking unsteadily to the people who were evacuating, you looked around your apartment building which was crowded with people, many firefighters were busy putting out the fire.

You looked sadly at your shabby apartment building that had been completely devoured by fire.

Where will you sleep tonight. Planning to go back to the library only to stop frozen.

There you saw Alex, standing not far from you, looking at you with longing eyes.

You panicked with 1001 ways to avoid danger, you ran away from Alex, who of course he chased you.

Running as hard as you could down the muddy cobblestone streets of Brooklyn was not an easy thing.

You could hear Alex calling your name. You just keep running and running, you can hear clearly, Alex is chasing you with his men.

Are you going to die? Does Alex want to kill you because you know his little secret.

Your breath is very heavy, you can feel that your heart is beating as fast as you are pumping adrenaline to get away from Alex, only to feel your hand being pulled so hard by Alex, your husband!.

"Caught you, my love"

Alex wraps one arm around your waist, the other holds your chin.

"Are you satisfied hmm? Is my love satisfied playing running around?"

You don't know what to do, you can only be silent and frozen.

"Why my dear? Why did you leave me? Did I do something wrong?"

"Answer me love?!".

Alex with his hands that are holding your chin tighter, stares into your eyes sharply.

With a very deep longing and passion, Alex kissed your lips very aggressively, the kiss was full of longing, and thirsty for touch. His lips claimed your lips.

His tongue played with yours, releasing your wild kisses, Alex looked at you who was in his arms.

His leather-gloved hand touched your lips which were swollen from Alex's kiss.

You don't know why but slowly but surely you feel your body limp in Alex's arms.

Damn, you realized too late that Alex slipped sleeping pills into your previous kiss.

Your vision blurred, you could only see Alex smirking at you, and finally you fell unconscious in Alex's arms.

Alex, your husband, he has been watching you his little wife for 1 month, letting you live in this shabby apartment, he really wants to pick you up by force and shower you with luxury and not poverty, how can his love live in poverty, he is not willing.

Following his father's advice, Alex let you enjoy your simple life.

In a shabby and old apartment, working in a library that was even deserted, always eating instant food.

His heart ached so much, seeing his wife live so miserably, but he had to restrain himself, just think of this as a lesson for yourself that you can't live without him, his wife who is so weak and needs protection so much, his stray cat who really likes to find trouble.

His heart ached even more when you smiled kindly at the male receptionist whose face wasn't even that big, how dare you, his little wife, make him jealous, so he would burn down that shabby apartment, he had enough of restraining himself, he had enough of seeing you live in poverty.

Alex looked at you who was currently sleeping soundly in Alex's mansion in New York City.

You were sleeping very peacefully, wearing only his shirt, one of your hands was tied by gold-colored handcuffs combined with a small chain wrapped around the handcuffs.

Walking slowly but surely, Alex sat beside you who was sleeping, brushing your hair that covered your face from his view.

Gently stroking your face, kissing your forehead lovingly, then your cheek, then your nape, until biting your neck affectionately which currently left a love bite mark.

That night your eyes opened, Alex claimed you as his, claiming his very naughty wife, that night, only witnessed by the moonlight shining through the window, illuminating 2 people who were busy wrestling in bed in the pleasures of the world.

How many hours is it? You don't know what time it is, Alex your husband, busy making love to you, busy moaning erotically in your ear.

Busy making sure you are pregnant with his child. Alex, a man who always holds back, he doesn't hold back tonight.

With his possessions united with you, and you who can no longer think rationally, can only follow the rhythm of your husband's game.

That night Alex made love to you like an animal in mating season, very brutal and did not give you a break to breathe.

"Haah .... must make you pregnant yeah ?? My darling must be pregnant ... nghh that way .... you will not run away from me anymore"

Alex held your body that was already limp under his body, kissing your lips passionately Alex said.

"Rest my love, very naughty, my very naughty wife ahh you make me crazy about you my darling, don't expect you can get away from me"

"Even until death ...you are mine..love"

*Source image: pinterest

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story . Project Dark Romance Story 1.

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions , Always be good people Dear. Much love , Neva🦋🦋.

@snowflakes666 @athena-roy @ayoulookingfine @sirenetheblogger @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr

#yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere #possesive #obsessed #nevaerah

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vaspider · 1 year ago

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So let's talk about this for a minute.

First of all, how do you think Pride events fund themselves and stay free for attendees? O.o Vendor fees aren't all of it - a lot of money comes from sponsors - but like... we paid $1300 to vend at Seattle Pride this year. That's the money that pays the people who work to make Pride happen. That is not free. Pride as an event does not just magically happen. A lot of people work really hard to make Pride happen and to clean up after it.

We're a small trans-owned company and 100% of our employees are trans & queer. We jokingly refer to Pride as "Gay Christmas". The money we make during Pride means we stay open, Pride events get vendor fees, and our employees get paid for the rest of the year. This company does not exist without Pride events. The only reason we survived as a company during COVID is because my wife has a stable, good IT job.

This shit isn't free to do. It does not just magically happen. Performers need to get paid. Tech crew needs to get paid. Equipment needs to be rented for performers. Stages need to be rented. Electrical services need to be paid for so food can happen. Ice and water cost money. Trash pickup costs money.

A lot of people volunteer and donate, but festivals and big community events? They cost money, and the money we pay to be able to vend is part of how Pride events happen. Without that, small queer businesses like @nerdykeppie don't survive and the only people putting their money in to make this happen, AND MONEY NEEDS TO CHANGE HANDS FOR EVENTS TO HAPPEN, are Smirnoff and fucking Wells Fargo.

For fuck's sake. Y'all want small queer businesses, but you really don't want us to actually survive, do you?

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gremlingottoosilly · 5 months ago

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Hope you're doing alright. Just wanted to send in an ask for computer nerd!König with a smug reader who thinks it's funny to ask him "where's the sex drive" every time he fixes a PC?

Konig has half a mind just bending you over the computer desk, tying you up with some loose cords, and then fucking you like there is no tomorrow. Maybe he is slapping you with a loose ethernet connector you had hanging out of the wall ever since he fixed the wifi in your dorm room and allowed you to slump over your shittily made bed with a laptop. He does too much for a girl that won't ever let him fuck her - and yet, he can't help but desire being in your presence. Loving each second of your company, even as you just made him some overly sweet tea and ask in your sing-song voice what he wants to have for takeout. You're not dating, but he fixes your computer from time to time and that should mean something. You're not dating, but you bend over his shoulder whenever he fixes your computer and ask dumb questions. Some of them are to just rile him up - some of them just to get his attention so he'd take a look at your cleavage and give himself some jerk off material for the next week. You never thought too much of it - Konig is a nerd, and a loser, but he is a useful and quiet one. You could handle sitting on his lap and asking him about different monitors. Maybe trashing your computer with some old porn hacks that made him blush as he was cleaning it up. It wasn't surprising when he finally got enough and pushed you on your knees, making you choke on his cock while he was trying to unbrick your driver from the amount of trash you piled in it. He should have done it a while ago - your jokes are much more tolerable when muffled with his cock, and your expression is much cuter when he can force you to whimper and mumble as you come from just the feeling of his cock alone.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #cod x reader #yandere cod #loser!konig

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munsonthings86 · 9 months ago

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sunshine

pairing: steve harrington x fem!reader

summary: a love-struck steve cooks you dinner for the first time

warnings: cursing, alcohol, bit of backstory, oversimplified summary, steve's parents kinda suck (when do they not), best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, soft!steve

an: i think this is my favorite thing i’ve ever written. i'm so in love with these two. i hope you all enjoy this one as much as i do. * don’t copy my work * (also pretend there's a big city near hawkins for the sake of this pls)

wc: 6.0k

“Ow!” Steve hissed, nicking his finger yet again as he made his best effort to dice pesky onions. The knife was razor-sharp as it was fresh out of its packaging, having never been used yet. Frustrated, he squeezed the band-aid he'd spent a solid ten minutes looking for, tighter on his finger, earning a harsh sting.

"Goddamned knife," he whispered, tightlipped, but as soon as the complaint left his lips he wished to yank it back in. It was the chef's knife you'd bought him along with many other thoughtful housewarming gifts to celebrate Steve moving into his first apartment. Steve had insisted that you return some of the gifts, noting that "one gift was more than he could ever ask for".

In spite of his pleas, you didn't return a single gift. Of course, you didn't. You had bought items you knew Steve would need but would ultimately forget to buy for himself. Just to name a few, you'd gotten him a trash bin for his bathroom, a record player, and the best utensil set that the rest of your Family Video paycheck could buy.

Peering at the odd assortment of household objects you'd lugged into his barren apartment with a bright smile pulling at the corners of your lips, an expression of gratitude and bewilderment claimed his face. Steve's round, chestnut-brown eyes ogled yours as you ranted and raved, explaining your thought process behind each purchase.

The record player was for nights like these. Peaceful nights indoors, simply enjoying each other's company without the tense presence of his parents who would shout for him to turn that damn music down if he even thought about letting the needle hit the groove of the record.

"Now we can play music as loud and as much as we want to," he remembered you saying, blushing at your use of the word "we". Though you two were only best friends and have been since grade school, Steve couldn't help but fantasize about a life with you. You, drowning in one of his bigger-than-you t-shirts, prancing around the apartment as you listened to some your favorite records.

He'd begun pondering on how he would rearrange the bit of furniture he had, that'd allow for space for your belongings as well, before you lured him out of his thoughts, defending the bin.

From what he gathered, you bought the garbage bin due to his burning inability to keep his bathroom clean. Steve was someone who took great care of his appearance, always well-kempt and attentive to even the smallest of details.

His bathroom did not reflect this, whatsoever. He had a bad habit of harboring empty cans and bottles of Farrah Fawcett spray that littered the already limited counter space he had in his en suite bathroom.

Steve was such a boy when it came to tidiness.

Everyone knew that about Steve, though. What they didn’t know, however, was how skilled he was in a kitchen. After being left to his lonesome whenever his parents would venture off to one of their many business trips, Steve spent his nights learning to cook after his allowance dwindled and he couldn't afford pizza delivery anymore. The second he'd clock in for his shift at Family Video, he'd make a beeline to where you stood, stocking VHS tapes, and instantly began buzzing and bustling about the new recipe he tried the night before.

You had begged him to let you come over one night to taste one of his home-cooked meals, but his response was always the same. "You can't rush perfection, sweets. But I promise, when I'm ready to grace the world with my master chef skills, you'll be the first to know."

You would roll your eyes dramatically at him but admittedly, you felt a sense of pride wash over you whenever Steve would tell you about his cooking endeavors. It may not seem like a big deal to others, but you knew how much his parents being so negligent, so often, bothered him.

Though they were never the most warm and affectionate, there seemed to be a colder chill and heavier sense of loneliness in the house when they were gone. That's why you never denied Steve whenever he'd call late at night asking if it was okay to spend the night at your house.

He always felt at home there.

Steve learning to cook for himself meant that his parents' absence was finally beginning to help him grow; no longer craving validation and tenderness from his family. He got that when he was with you. That's what the utensil set was for. A silent sign saying that though his parents weren't there, you were.

"Don't get me wrong, sunshine, I love the gift, but why's this knife so funny looking?" Steve asked, squinting his eyes at the sharp object that looked like it was from some alien universe. It had three square-like holes infiltrating the blade, and the tip came to an up-turned point that split in two. The handle was the only average looking part about it.

"That, my friend, is a cheese knife," you answered matter-of-factly, gazing at the box that had all of the included utensils neatly labeled.

"They make knives specifically for cheese?"

"Apparently, yeah," you snorted, tossing the empty box off to the side of the room with the other discarded cardboard that you made a mental note to move to the recycling bin on your way out. Steve never recycled. Bad habit he picked up from his parents, you figured.

"Well, I can't wait to use my weird new knife. Thank you. Seriously," Steve smiled softly as he watched you with those big brown eyes that voiced his gratitude and sentiment louder than his words ever could.

"The best weird chef has to have the best weird equipment. You're welcome," you grinned, toying with the loose thread dangling from your distressed band tee, as your eyes collided with Steve’s.

Looking at Steve was hard.

In the midst of quiet and almost intimate moments like these, the nerves bolting through your body screamed at you to look anywhere else, but the greed of your heart yearned for you to keep drinking in the deep chocolate pools that were Steve Harrington's eyes.

The two of you gazed at each other for another second, though it felt identical to a blissful eternity, until Steve furrowed his eyebrows after registering what you'd just uttered. "Did you just call me weird?" He asked, hand on his hip as if he's offended, though he truthfully isn't because he's positive you're infinitely weirder than he is, and he's more than willing to debate with you for hours on that topic.

"Nooo," you sang, quickly turning away to distract yourself with some unpacking that Steve had called you over to help him with, which you happily agreed to. A little extra time with him was time well spent.

"Yeah, okay," he rolled his eyes. He happily tucked away the flashy silverware he'd poached from his parent's kitchen into the darkest corner of the drawer, leaving the less flashy but much more appreciated utensils you bought him, front and center, ready to be shown off.

"Oh those? My best friend got them for me. Aren't they nice? Did you know they make knives for cheese?" He imagined himself saying, hoping he'd get the opportunity to boast about them to his guests some time soon.

Steve smiled to himself at the memory, angling the cutting board that harbored a pile of diced onions that he'd at last conquered, into a bowl, sliding them off with the blade of a knife that was a lot less odd shaped compared to his trusty cheese knife. It didn't even have to be that specific memory. It could've been any imagery of you being the effortlessly sarcastic, intelligent, breath-taking person that you were, and it would be the warm light to inevitably guide him out of whatever dark mood that dared to plague him.

Steve was so helplessly in love with you.

April 14, 1978, he could never forget the day, was particularly dreary. So dreary it made Steve begin to question why the spring time was thought to be such a radiant, pleasant season when all it ever did was bring rain and provoke people with allergies. Steve slammed his blaring alarm off with a groan, never bothering to pry open his tired eyes.

The sky was dark and dreadful, concealing the golden rays of the sun he yearned to see. As he trudged through the house, reluctantly gearing himself up for yet another torturous day of middle school, Steve silently prayed for some unorthodox happenstance that would call for the canceling of school.

But much to his dismay, that wasn't the case.

When the bell pierced through the classroom speakers, alerting the beginning of Steve's favorite class, P.E., he rushed to the locker room, jumping into his gym uniform, as he was determined to continue his unfaltering streak of dodgeball victories.

Steve was in the zone, taking out his opponents left and right as if it was nothing. If dodgeball was an Olympic sport, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that he could've won multiple gold medals.

Then you came.

Sauntering into sixth grade gym class, adorning a lengthy, bright yellow dress with your hair done up, looking as anxious as can be. It was your first day at Hawkins Middle and you'd just transferred halfway into the semester, all thanks to your parents decision to move to the small town, leaving New York City and all your friends behind.

Everyone turned their curious heads to peer at you, whispering amongst each other, prompting you to clutch your books tighter to your chest as if to shield yourself. Your soft smile as you looked around at your new classmates instantly made Steve's chest and stomach warm and gooey inside, making him want nothing more than to walk up to you and convince you to be his friend. Steve hated how gossipy his classmates were, as it clearly made you uncomfortable, but he couldn't bring himself to look away either.

The way the illuminous medallion hue complimented your skin tone was nothing short of art. To him, you were the sun personified. The sun he was so eager to see.

Due to your lack of sports attire, Coach Daniels had you sit on the bleachers, watching as the other kids resumed their game of dodgeball after mumbling a "warm" welcome to you, per Coach's request.

Steve lost his first game of dodgeball that day. He just couldn't seem to focus when you were perched just a few feet away, thumbing through your withered book, looking like one of the prettiest girls he'd ever laid his adolescent eyes on. Steve, or the boy with the hella good hair as you dubbed him in your diary later on that night, was too enamored with you to be bothered by the taunts coming from his friends. He jogged over to you, offering to keep you company until fourth period began, which you happily accepted.

And ever since then, the two of you have been as thick as thieves.

"Hawkins PD, open up!" Steve recognized your muffled voice, though you deepened it, to imitate a police officer. Your signature three knocks followed, urging butterflies to erupt throughout his stomach, as he longed to see you. It couldn't have been more than twenty-four hours since the two of you had last seen each other, but even one hour without you was an hour way too long for poor Steve.

"It's open", Steve called, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder, setting the stove ablaze, planting a pot over the flame. Right on time, he thought.

"Hey, Harrington," you smiled as you struggled to enter, cradling two bottles of rosé wine and your purse in your arms, pushing the door open with the help of your hip.

"Hey, sunshine. Lemme get those for ya," Steve offered, stowing your bearings on the counter gently, while you kicked your shoes off, mumbling a "thanks".

A warm amber light casted from the ceiling of the kitchen spilled into the shadowy living room a few feet away, like a neglected can of paint. The only thing that remained un-melted by the darkness was the quiet record player, as if the generous light knew you'd be looking for it the minute you walked in.

"How was your day?" Steve smirked as he watched you rush over to the object he swore was the only reason you liked to come over, sifting through the vinyl's searching for your favorite one. What’s Love Got To Do With It by Tina Turner. Steve spotted it before you did. Absentmindedly, you responded, “Not too shabby, ya know? How was yours?”

“Yeah, it was alright.”

You crouched down to the two tier storage table, running a finger across the spines of the records, searching for your beloved song. It quickly became the song you most adored when you'd bought the tape for your Walkman a few years prior. Your days weren't complete unless you played the song at least twice, so much so that Steve found himself quietly humming the song to himself whenever he'd miss you. He even caught himself doing that dumb little finger dance you normally did whenever you listened to a song you really liked. He'd never tell you that, though.

Much to your dismay, you couldn't seem to spy that sneaky record. You dropped your hand disappointedly, faintly fearsome that it'd been misplaced. Steve's apartment wasn't huge, but it wasn't exactly tidy either. “It’s right there, sweets. To your left.” So you diverted your attention to the left. No Tina Turner. “No, your other left.”

“Here?” you pointed. Steve hummed in confirmation.

“Well, that’s not the left, Steve. That’s the right,” was your response that you punctuated with a roll of your tired eyes. Apart from knowing how to get to Skull Rock with his eyes closed, the boy had zero sense of direction. It was something you found both endearing and infuriating. It depended on the day, really.

“Potato, potahto.” Oh, Steve. Melting butter into the burning pan in front of him that he almost completely forgot about, all thanks to your beautiful presence, he began sautéing his diced onions along with some fresh garlic. "Well, speaking of 'potahtoes' you need to be cooking some, 'cause you promised me dinner tonight," you smiled tight-lipped, cocking your head at an angle.

You felt the unpleasant sensation of your stomach growling, cursing you, at the heavenly thought of food as your shift at Family Video earlier today was unforgiving to your non-existent breakfast. You fumbled with the vinyl a bit as the mouthwatering aroma of home cooking stormed your senses and Steve spoke once more. "Feisty today, aren't we?"

"Just a tad," you laughed quietly.

"Well, I hate to disappoint you but tonight we're not having potatoes. I'm making your favorite," he pointed, shuffling the pan to give it a gentle stir. He made sure to turn to face you in time to see your hopefully delighted reaction. "Alfredo?!" you spun around with a glittering grin, almost knocking over Steve's plant. A fake one, of course. A real plant was a bit too much responsibility for him.

At the nod of his head, your cheesy smile soften to a smaller, less toothy one as you watched Steve while he resumed cooking. What you failed to share with your best friend was that the last phrase you'd actually use to describe your day was "not too shabby". Besides waking up almost an entire hour past the start of your shift (Keith made sure to give you an earful about that) and everyone and their mother in town deciding to be at Family Video today, it seemed like your day was never-ending. The only thing keeping your mood from turning stink to sour was the idea of going to see Steve.

Steve was kind of magical in that way. Anger, sadness, anxiety, you name it, it was no match for Steve. Though he was no poet, he had this way with words that would never fail to make you feel so comforted. So safe. Any instance where Steve had to talk you out of whatever mental turmoil you were enduring, it felt you were being endlessly wrapped in a cozy, tight blanket, sheltering you from all the darkness.

How Steve knew you were having a shit day and needed your favorite meal along with your favorite boy? Lord knows. His ability to read you without even needing to be near you was nothing short of wizardry. But like you said. Steve was magical.

"You're the best," you proclaimed, prompting a mumbled sly remark from your chef for the evening, before the music began. Being here, along with the divine sound of Tina's ethereal voice and pasta boiling in water, was more than enough to make you feel like you were right at home, though your true address was miles away. When the time to depart would make its cursed arrival, it was never easy to leave, especially with the way Steve begged for you to stay, using those unfairly adorable puppy dog eyes that paired beautifully with his lengthy lashes, against you.

And it always worked. Well, not always. You had some degree of self-control. But more times than not, you couldn't help but to cave in to his protests. How could you resist? It was Steve.

With a satisfied grin that carved deep smile lines into his blushing cheeks, he'd tuck his sheets snug around your body, repeatedly asking you if you were comfortable enough. His bed was cloud-like, plush and doughy and his pillows smelled like his shampoo and conditioner, a hint of cologne on his comforter. It was like you were trapped in a cocoon of Steve. You wanted to tell him you were beyond comfortable, that there, in his bed, you were in just about your favorite place on Earth but, habitually, you concluded that a simple nod would suffice.

Crawling onto the empty space beside you, he made sure to face you, leaving a soft squeeze on your shoulder before humming "G'night, sunshine," closing his eyes and tucking his hands under his head. And like always, Steve was a perfect gentleman, dead set on never getting under the covers himself when you'd sleep over.

Guilt would disrupt your relaxation at the sight of the brisk night chill building little hills on his freckled arms, though you selfishly loved the way he'd cuddle up to steal some of your body heat. His plump lips would part as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, light snores and chirping crickets being your lullaby.

You hoped to have another night like that soon.

In the midst of times like those, storms of wonder and doubt raged on. Was Steve like this with everyone else? Were you being silly thinking that you and Steve could be more than friends? Being Steve's best friend for nearly a decade, you knew he wasn't exactly a prude. His King Steve era was honestly one of your least favorites. Though he reserved his usual tenderness and affection all for you, you've witnessed a whole slew of girls enter and leave Steve's life, and none of them looked like you.

You wanted nothing more than to be one of the girls he'd have leaned up against his locker, arm resting next to their head, cheeks fanned by his minty breath as he whispered honeyed words. You craved dates at the drive-in theater in Steve's burgundy 1983 BMW only to neglect the movie and end up making out, like he did with other girls.

When Steve would bring his latest lover around, desperately, you did your damnedest to bury your jealousy and and fill its grave with merriment for him, because if anyone deserved to be happy, it was Steve. But the girls at school only wanted to be with Steve because of his status and all the flashy things he could buy them.

The flashy things were dull to you, though.

You wanted to be with Steve because you wanted to hold his hand and press soft kisses to his cheek. To hug him a little tighter and little longer than a best friend normally would. To run your fingers through his fluffy hair whenever he would grow stressed because you knew it calmed him down. To make him breakfast in bed when he was sick and even when he wasn't. To love him your fullest potential.

But you had to settle for this. Calves tucked under your thighs with a blanket draped over your legs as you stared off into space, longing for someone you thought you couldn't have, not knowing he was stealing glances of you wondering what was running through your pretty little head.

Resting your arm against the back of the sofa, holding your head up, your lips were downturned in a pout, eyebrows pulled together as you studied the throw pillow a few inches away from you. A little pillow can't be that interesting, something has to be bothering you, he thought. He was unapologetically curious to know if pressing his lips against your own would make that frown melt into that sweet smirk you usually had.

Steve hated when you were unhappy. It made his mind race. Did someone say something to you? Did someone do something to you? Did you eat today? How was your shift? Why did you lie when you said your day "wasn't too shabby"? Obviously it was shabby. Look at your face. That tired and troubled, cute little face. What can he do to fix it? You were his sunshine, you deserved to be happy, always.

Giving the pot a final stir and turning the flame off, Steve carelessly tossed the grease-stained hand towel flopped over his shoulder, down by the sink, strolling over to where he'd earlier set down the two bottles of wine. White Zinfandel. Neither you or Steve were wine connoisseurs, but when you called Nancy panicking about how extensive the selection at the liquor store was, she swore by it.

Balancing two glasses and a single bottle of the rose-tinted alcohol, Steve took an extra glance at your face, deciding to scoop up the second bottle into his arms. By the looks of it, it was gonna be one of those nights.

You tried to hide your smile as you noticed he was coming over, a slight grin on his face as he set the glasses down. You and him both knew he was only coming to cause trouble. He set the delicate haul down on to the thrifted wooden coffee table in front of you, slipping you one of those comforting 'Steve smiles' he usually did.

Like the forgotten towel, he threw himself down on the couch next to you, warm hand having a much softer landing on the plush of your thigh; a familiar and welcomed touch. Habitually, you curled up closer to him, no longer able to hide your smile.

"Why so glum, chum?" He tilted his chin down, slightly poking his bottom lip out, as he looked at you through batting eyelashes.

Laughing through your nose and subsequently parading a grin that displayed nothing but teeth and hollow happiness, you remarked, "What do you mean? Don't you see me smiling?"

You were fooling absolutely no one. Steve knew you were sad. And, goddamn it, he was gonna get it out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean, you weren't smiling just a few seconds ago until I came over. You're welcome, by the way, I'm flattered that I have such an effect on you," he smirked, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"Okay, now I'm glum again," you roll your eyes at his not-so discreet cockiness. You hid your face in your hands, resting your forehead on Steve's shoulder. It was hard with muscle, but soft with tenderness and safety. "I was smiling at the wine, for your information."

The palm of your hand that pressed against your face muffled your words, but Steve could still understand what you said, it was evident in the way your tone was laced with satire.

"Ah, yes, that makes way more sense" Steve replied, monotone. His thumb began coasting along your skin as he urged you, "Alright, jokes aside. How are you really feeling?"

Hoisting your head up, you almost answered before he continued, "And don't give me that 'not too shabby' crap 'cause that frown you had going on earlier already snitched on ya."

When the hell did he get so observant? Steve was no idiot, but sometimes things needed to be spelled out for him. But come to think of it, you never had to spell things out for Steve whenever it came to you. He just always had a way of knowing.

"I don't know, Steve. Honestly. Some days are just a bit tougher than others. Today was one of those days," you murmured, avoiding the attentive gaze he was burning into your shifty eyes.

He slowly nodded as he processed your words, head falling on top of yours as you again found comfort on his shoulder. His eyes fluttered shut as you began mimicking the affection he was giving you on your thigh, rubbing his arm through the creamy cotton material of his crewneck. You hadn't seen it before. This one was new. So were the jeans he'd paired with it.

"Why're you dressed so nice, Harrington?"

He laughed more to himself than to you. "Well, the food can't be the only thing that looks good, you know? Wanted to look nice too. It's our first dinner together, after all," he mumbled the last bit.

Steve felt the skin around your eyes tighten against his shoulder as your eyebrows scrunched together. "We've had dinner together before, though."

"This one's different," he replied, almost instantly. You'd hoped Steve's eyes were still closed so that he wouldn't see the bashfulness you were weathering, plucking the corners of your lips into a soft smile.

A silence fell between the two of you. Not unusual. Not awkward. Never unusual or awkward. There was a mutual cherishment of moments like these. Shamelessly invading each other's personal space on the couch as if it was made to only fit one person, music playing lowly the distance, but preferring to listen to the sound of the other's breathing.

"How can I make you feel better, sunshine?" Steve questioned, voice still hushed. The volume of your voice wasn't much louder as you responded, thoughtlessly, "You don't have to ask me that. You make me feel better without even trying."

"Oh yeah?" He craned his neck so that his head was impossibly closer to yours, awaiting your confirmation. Steve knew that you enjoyed his company, as he did yours, but he was only joking earlier when he gushed about having such an effect on you. It was now his turn to hide his blush, when you hum, nodding your head fervently.

These were the warm moments that confused you so much more than any subject in school ever did. And unbeknownst to you, it messed with Steve's head too. He'd never been this close with anyone before. Especially not with any of his "girlfriends" in the past. Sure, they'd cuddle and talk about their feelings. But it never felt the way it does with you. Steve was in love with you. It was hopeless.

And he had to make it known. Soon. If not, he swore he'd explode.

"Ready to eat?"

"Mhm," you buzzed, untangling yourself from the envelop of Steve. As he pressed his knuckles into the sofa, willing himself up, you reached for the bottle of wine and a glass, but your hand only made it so far until it felt the sting of a petty swipe from the boy next to you. "Ah ah, missy, dinner first. Lord knows how many hours its been since you last ate."

You snorted, "Relax, it hasn't been that long."

"Oh yeah? When was the last time?" He looked at you with raised eyebrows and an expression that said he already knew your answer was going to be ridiculous. And if there was anything you learned tonight, it was that Steve was highly skilled at knowing when you were lying, so instead, you left him with a goofy smile and giggle that told him he was absolutely right in his assumption.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," the spot where he sat went cold as he left to the kitchen, fixing two plates for the both of you. You moved the drinks and glasses over to the dining table, using a nearby lighter to ignite the accompanying lavender and vanilla scented candles. Tina Turner's vinyl was replaced with Tears for Fears' album Songs from The Big Chair instead, as Steve used his elbow to dim the kitchen lights, hands full with heavy plates of pasta.

"Oh my gosh, this looks so good! Good job, Stevie," you cheered, as he set your plate down in front of you, pouring you a much needed glass of wine. Your hands shook with hunger or excitement, or both, as you picked up your fork, ready to dig in. "Yeah, don't get too psyched yet. Let's hope it tastes as good as it looks."

"I'm sure it does."

His knee rests against yours as he sits adjacent to you, gathering food on his fork, though his eyes are peering at you, awaiting your verdict. The mouthwatering smell of garlic, butter, cheese and other heaven-sent elements overwhelm your nose and you feel like you can't eat it soon enough. You pause for a beat and so does his heart, hand over your messy mouth as you chew. Steve's hand twitches as he contemplates wiping the sauce from the corners of your lips and licking his finger clean.

"Steve," you begin, eyes flickering shut. "I'm gonna need you to cook for me every night. This is so fucking good." The tension in his face eases at your palpable delight, mission well accomplished. He was proud of himself. Very proud. Almost as much as you were of him.

You throw your head back, the purest form of satisfaction consuming you. "I'm glad you like it, I've been trying to nail it for weeks," Steve laughs, finally taking a bite for himself.

"Well, you've succeeded," you beam, washing it down with a sip of wine. Everybody Wants to Rule the World begins playing and you smile at Steve, knowing it was his favorite song at the moment. You nod your head along as Steve hums. A truly peaceful pocket in time.

Through the large windows opening the living room to the rest of Hawkins, you had the perfect view of the bright lights and mountainous buildings from the neighboring city. It was like the sky had flipped on its axis and the stars weren't in the sky anymore, they were among the trees and high rise properties.

"Steve, look how pretty," you point towards the window as his gaze shifts from you to raindrop-riddled glass. "I love being able to see the city so close. Sucks that we can't see the stars, though. I've always wanted to go stargazing."

"Yeah, I remember you mentioning that a while ago. We gotta go one of these days," he replied, shoving a forkful of alfredo into his mouth.

"Oh, did you wanna go too?"

He shrugs his shoulders, chewing before speaking, "Eh, I'm not really a big stars guy. Besides, if I wanna see a pretty little light, all I gotta do is look at you," he says inattentively, going right back to eating as if he hadn't just said the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you.

"Shut up, Harrington," you roll your eyes, letting out a half-hearted laugh as you take your last bite. How could he flirt with you so easily? So carelessly? Couldn't he see that you loved him and that whenever he says things like that it does something to you? Clueless boy.

"I'm serious. Why do you think I always call you sunshine?" He replies, not a hint of irony in his face.

"Steve," you warn, sitting back in your chair. You didn't know where this conversation was going, and you'd be damned if you got your hopes up for what you always got whenever you did: absolutely nothing.

"It's why I love when you wear yellow. Reminds me of the first time I ever saw you," he pressed. He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Clueless girl.

"Steve," your voice wavered. "What? Why do you keep saying my name like that?" He laughed, dryly.

He grew worried that he was saying too much. Saying things that a person shouldn't say to their best friend. He took a sip of his wine. Then another. Then another. He was considering just downing the whole glass. Maybe he was saying too much.

Screw that, he was in love with you.

"What're you saying to me right now?" You charged, voice a little harsher than what you'd intended, but you demanded an answer. A straightforward one. "I'm saying that I'm done hiding it."

"Hiding what?"

"That I love you."

The revelation yanks your parted lips shut, unsure of what to say next. You had dreamed for what felt like a lifetime for Steve to say those words to you and at last, it was no longer a dream, but instead reality. The rapid pace of your heartbeat could be felt in your chest and ears, and the butterflies in your stomach were more wild and untamed than ever before.

Steve's eyes didn't leave yours, though the stillness from you was killing him. The silence between you two that was once never awkward or unusual, was now painful and nearly unbearable.

Your dilated pupils scanned over his face, relentlessly. The jokey, teasing grin that he often sported when he was messing with you was unaccounted for. Holy shit. The gate to your thoughts opened once more. "You're serious," you whispered.

"How could I not be?" Steve watched you with adoring eyes, the warm light of the candle giving the melted chocolatey pond the sweetest infusion of honey.

"Kiss me."

Forks and butter knives fall to the ground with several, loud unpleasant clanks as Steve leans over the square dining table, hungrily pressing his lips against yours. His lips are garlicky and a little chapped, as yours probably are as well, yet the kiss is nothing short of perfect.

His mouth does a passionate dance against yours as you follow his lead, embracing the plush little pillows with your own. It was both everything you've imagined it'd be and nothing like you'd thought at the same time. You already knew Steve was an amazing kisser. Anyone who went to Hawkins High knew it. But experiencing it for yourself was completely different and new. It was euphoric.

The two of you have to reluctantly pull yourselves off of each other to catch your breaths. This moment was a long time coming.

Steve's hands are still holding onto to either side of your face, unwilling to let you go just yet. Truly savoring every second of the present. His breath fans across your cupid's bow, as he smiles against your lips. "You drive me crazy, you know that?"

Giggling, you wrap your palms and fingers around his wrists, rubbing your nose on his. "Sorry," you shrug, feeling his thumbs caress your warm cheeks.

"Don't be," he shakes his head, engulfing your soft lips into another kiss.

message from jojo: pls comment and reblog if you enjoyed! it means a lot <3

#stranger things #steve harrington #steve and sunshine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x black!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington x you #steve harrington headcanon #soft!steve harrington #stranger things 4 #joe keery #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x poc!reader

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rockpapertheodore · 11 months ago

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Fun tip for my friends who have issues keeping their cars clean:

If you have an issue with just fuckin... not taking trash out of your car, start stuffing it into your old takeout/fast food/shopping bags. That's Step 1.

Step 2 just becomes practicing taking one of them out of your car every time you go to the gas station or the store. There are trash cans specifically there for you to put your car trash in, between the pumps at the station or the doors to the store.

They are there for you to use.

They are not top secret special trashcans for use by qualified personnel, and the clerks and other customers are not judging you for using them.

Nobody thinks you're a slob for carrying a knotted plastic bag or two full of trash and stuffing it into the trashcan by the door. In fact, a majority of people are grateful that you put your trash in a can instead of throwing it onto the ground!

Companies put these trashcans out specifically because they realized it was a lot easier and cheaper to clean up a bunch of trash cans instead of having a dedicated trash pickerupper guy cleaning the lots constantly. You are allowed to use them.

#adhd tips and tricks

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vanteguccir · 7 months ago

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── ୨୧ !　𝗔 𝗗𝗔𝗬 𝗧𝗢 𝗙𝗢𝗥𝗚𝗘𝗧

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where, in a day full of downs, Y/N faces a series of challenges at work that culminate in an anxiety attack in the car on the way home, but Matt is by her side to bring her back.

WARNING: Anxiety attack, crying, bad thoughts, bad day.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anon

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N sighed as she sat at her office desk, preparing herself for another day of work. The comforting smell of the freshly brewed coffee Matt bought at the Starbucks drive thru on the way to her company surrounded her as she adjusted her chair and turned on her computer.

But what seemed like a smooth start quickly turned into a disaster.

As the girl reached for her mouse, her elbow hit the cup, which surprisingly wasn't closed properly, spilling the scalding liquid onto her keyboard and legs. An involuntary scream escaped her lips as she jumped up from her chair, trying to clean up the mess with her hands, hurting them in the process. Her eyes traveled across her desk, picking up the nearest blank papers - since she didn't have any napking - draping them over her thighs.

"Great, just great." She muttered to herself, feeling the penetrating heat of the drink on her skin and the bitter aroma mixing with the smell of the office.

Embarrassed, she crumpled up the paper, throwing them in the trash beneath her desk before heading over to the tea table, picking up a handful of napkins, her eyes darting around her, feeling gazes burning into her back.

The girl took a deep breath, turning around and returning to her seat. Surreptitiously, she cleaned the keyboard as best she could and tried to dry her legs with what was left of the napkins, but the damage was done.

Feeling discouraged, she tried to focus on her work, but her mind was troubled by the incident.

Hours passed, and Y/N was immersed in an important project when her boss, Mr. Johnson appeared next to her desk.

“Y/N, can you give me the reports from the finance department?” He asked in a serious voice, his eyes running over the small drips of coffee dry on the wooden surface as his nose wrinkled at the strong smell.

Without thinking, Y/N picked up the documents that were in the pile of papers on the right side of her desk and handed them to him with a confident smile. However, her confidence quickly disappeared when she read a small excerpt from the back of the last page, then realizing that she had given him the wrong papers.

A feeling of horror overcame her when she saw the shocked expression on her boss's face as he looked at the contents.

"What is this, Y/N?" His voice was thick with anger as he looked at her disapprovingly. "Those aren't the reports I asked for!"

Y/N felt her face burn with embarrassment as she tried to articulate an apology, but the words seemed to stick in her throat. She helplessly watched her boss throw the papers haphazardly beside her right arm, turning and walking away, muttering irritably about the incompetence of some employees.

Shoulders slumped, Y/N turned forward, fighting back tears of frustration, her blurry vision distorting the entire contents of her computer. She wondered how she could have made such a silly mistake and felt discouraged by her own incompetence.

As she tried to refocus on her work with the onset of a headache and her chest burning in agony, the office light flickered and then went out completely. A collective sigh of frustration echoed through the office as all the employees were plunged into darkness.

Y/N clenched her fists in frustration as she realized she hadn't saved her recent work, the black screen staring back at her. She knew she would have to start from scratch, probably take work home so she could finish the task on time, having already irritated her boss beyond belief, a disheartening thought after such a disastrous day.

In the dark silence of the office, Y/N fought the feeling of defeat that threatened to consume her. She knew she would have to overcome the day's challenges and continue, after all, she was just another employee and couldn't afford to rest her mind before keep going, and at the moment, all she wanted was to escape the turmoil and forget the terrible day she had.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

The clock marked the end of the day, and the office was empty. Y/N collected her belongings and headed to the company entrance, ready to meet her boyfriend Matt, along with Nick and Chris, who would pick her up after they finished recording the car video that would be posted the next day.

She waited patiently in front of the front doors, watching the strong wind sway the palm trees around the luxurious entrance. Her thoughts wandered to the disastrous day she had at work, reliving each moment in her mind, wearing herself down with the thoughts of what she could have done better for everything that happened, not happening. The feeling of failure weighed heavily on her shoulders, but she forced herself to maintain a neutral expression, hiding her emotions from the few passersby who passed by.

Time passed, and Matt still hadn't arrived. Y/N checked the time on her phone several times, feeling impatience growing inside her. She knew she should give him the benefit of the doubt. After all, unforeseen events happened, but her anxious mind couldn't help but think about all the things that could have happened.

Then, as if the universe were conspiring against her, the gray clouds above her head broke, and torrential rain began to fall. Y/N looked up, feeling the cold drops wet her face and penetrate her clothes, soiling her pants even more. She wished she had brought an umbrella, but it was too late to regret it now.

As she waited in the rain, Y/N felt flooded with a mix of emotions. The frustration of the day was mixed with concern about Matt being late and the feeling of helplessness in the face of adverse weather. She wanted to burst into tears, to let out all the tension and anguish she had been carrying, but a part of her refused to give in.

Instead, Y/N maintained a mask of calm, keeping her emotions locked inside herself as her mind screamed silently, her arms crossed tightly beneath her breasts, trying to trap as much heat as possible.

Finally, after an endless wait, Y/N saw Matt's car approaching. Her heart leaped in relief as he stopped in front of her, watching Chris rush out the passenger door, leaving it open for her and getting into the backseat next to Nick.

"Sorry I'm late, babe." Matt asked after making sure she was seated and comfortable, a guilty smile decorating his face. "We had some problems with the topics and barely noticed the time passing."

Y/N just nodded, forcing a smile in response. She knew there was no point in complaining or breaking down now.

As the car drove away from the company, leaving chaos and rain behind, Y/N took a deep breath as she leaned her head against the glass, ignoring the discomfort of her clothes sticking against her skin.

In the back seat, Chris and Nick were immersed in a lively conversation about one of the topics discussed in the video as the car moved along the wet road, a topic that Y/N was sure she would've joined on the discussion if she wasn't feeling so bad.

The steady rhythm of the rain beating against the glass provided a relaxing background, but this calm was soon interrupted when Chris decided, out of the blue, that he wanted to connect his phone to the car speaker to put some music.

"Wait, I found a song earlier today that's a very Lil Skies vibe." Chris said with an excited smile, fishing his cell out of the front pocket of his sweatpants.

Before he could select the song, Nick acted quickly, taking the device out of Chris's hand.

"No, wait! Billie released a new song recently." Nick recalled, with a challenging tone of voice. "You always pick the same songs."

Chris frowned, retrieving his phone again, as if it were a tug of war.

"No, today I want to listen to my songs!"

The exchange quickly turned into an argument, with Chris and Nick gradually raising their voices as they argued over who should control the car stereo like two kids, while Matt watched them in the rearview mirror, telling them to shut up from time to time. The friendly atmosphere of the previous moment quickly disappeared, replaced by a palpable tension that filled the interior of the vehicle.

Meanwhile, Y/N huddled tighter on her seat, feeling more and more overwhelmed by the tense atmosphere. She tried to focus on the scenery passing by the window, but the sound of Chris and Nick's loud, gruff voices hit her like an avalanche.

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm her nerves. She knew she shouldn't get involved in the brothers' fight, that she had nothing to do with it, and that, unsurprisingly, discussions like that were routine in her life. But despite her efforts to control herself, the pressure of the horrible day she had had weighed on her shoulders like an unbearable burden.

As the argument continued to intensify, Y/N felt a wave of anxiety wash over her, the desperation to scream at them to shut up getting bigger. Her heartbeat accelerated, her breathing became shallow, and her hands began to shake involuntarily.

She knew an anxiety attack was coming, but she fought to contain it, fearing what would happen if she lost control, not wanting to worry the boys, or worse, upset them even more.

However, even with all her determination, Y/N was unable to prevent the inevitable. Chris and Nick's rising voices, mixed with the crushing weight of her own worries, were too much to bear. A sudden sob escaped her throat, tearing the air inside the car, which was soon followed by more sobs, each one more anguished than the last.

Her shoulders began to shake violently, her body contorting under the overwhelming weight of her emotions. She tried to hold back, but the tears came in torrents, blurring her vision and obscuring her world.

Matt looked away from the road to look at her, his expression turning to immediate concern when he saw her condition.

"Y/N, babe, what's going on?" He asked, his voice full of alarm.

Chris and Nick abruptly fell silent, their argument forgotten as they looked at Y/N with expressions of shock and concern.

But Y/N couldn't respond. She was deep in her own mind, fighting the waves of anxiety that consumed her. Her world had narrowed to nothing but pain and despair, her body shaking uncontrollably under the weight of her thoughts.

The interior of the car was immersed in a tense silence. Matt kept a steady hand on the steering wheel, but his attention was entirely focused on Y/N, whose sobs filled the space between them.

"Baby? Hey, petal, look at me." Matt asked softly, his voice flooding with concern as he tried to reach her through the abyss of her anguish.

Y/N reluctantly raised her eyes to meet Matt's, but her vision was blurred by the tears still streaming down her face. She felt a wave of despair as she realized that she couldn't calm down no matter how hard she tried.

Matt took his right hand off the steering wheel, keeping control of the car with his left one, bringing it to Y/N's leg, stroking the wet covered skin with a firm touch, trying to bring her back.

"Breathe with me, baby. C'mon, take a deep breath. That's it, in... then out."

He began counting in a low voice, guiding her through deep, slow breaths. Y/N tried to follow his instructions, focusing on the rhythm of her breathing and the comforting feeling of Matt's touch.

Meanwhile, Chris remained silent in the backseat, his expression a mixture of guilt and concern. He knew that his actions had contributed to Y/N's current state, and that weighed heavily on his conscience.

Beside him, Nick placed a light hand on her shoulder, silently conveying support. He wanted to find the right words to comfort Y/N, but he felt helpless in the face of the situation.

Then, suddenly, Matt turned the steering wheel abruptly, turning the car towards the side of the road, parking it there quickly, knowing that he would get nowhere if he kept trying to help her in a moving vehicle. He unbuckled his own belt, followed by hers before turning fully to his girl, his eyes fixed on hers with gentle determination.

"Sweetheart, listen to me." The brunette ordered, his voice firm, but full of love. "You're safe. I'm here with you, and I'm not going anywhere."

He gently took her face in his hands, caressing the icy skin of her cheeks and leaning over the console to kiss her forehead tenderly. Each gesture was full of care and affection, an attempt to dispel the fog of anxiety that enveloped Y/N.

"You are strong, my beautiful, beautiful girl." Matt continued, his voice soft and comforting. "You'll get through this. I'm here for you no matter what."

With his loving words and gentle touches, Matt began to guide Y/N out of the abyss of her anxiety attack. He wrapped her in his protective arms, almost laying his torso on the console - ignoring the pain the hard surface provided to his skin, holding her tightly as she sobbed into his chest.

Minute by minute, Y/N's shaking lessened, her breathing becoming more regular. Finally, after what looked like an eternity, she pulled away slightly from Matt's arms, looking up at him with gratitude in her moist eyes.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice breaking, her teeth catching her lower lip momentarily, feeling guilty for making them have to witness such a situation. "I... I'm fine now."

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. So, so proud." Matt smiled at her, his eyes brimming with relief as her voice emanated calm. "I love you."

"I love you more."

As the car returned to the road, the storm inside Y/N began to dissipate. Her arms remained crossed around her own torso, trying to convey some sort of comfort to her body as she didn't receive the touch from Matt that she so desperately craved.

"I'm sorry, boys." The girl whispered a few seconds later, turning slightly back, her eyes darting from Chris to Nick and back again.

"Never apologize for situations like this, Y/N. You can't control your body, much less your emotions." Nick quickly stopped her avalanche of negative thoughts, giving her a serious but loving look.

"It's us who should apologize. I imagine something must have happened before, but either way, we're the ones who caused this." Chris looked down at the top of the car's console, scratching the back of his head with his right hand in embarrassment.

"It's okay. It was just a bad day." The girl smiled slightly at the two, her eyes still burning from the intense crying and her body sore from the strong tremors, but her heart could now rest.

Matt looked at her momentarily, smiling big and proud, his blue eyes shining with pure love. His hand, which was still on her thigh, lightly pressed the covered skin, stroking it with his thumb, before turning his gaze forward again.

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reasonsforhope · 1 year ago

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"At nearly 150 acres, the Jardim Gramacho landfill in Rio de Janeiro was one of the largest and most infamous in all of Latin America. Now it’s a mangrove forest teeming with life.

Decommissioned 11 years ago, between 1970 and 2012 the dump, bordering Rio’s famous Guanabara Bay, received 80 million metric tonnes of trash from the area’s Gramacho neighborhood.

Now, a public-private partnership led by the Rio Municipal Cleaning Company has returned the area to nature, specifically mangroves, one of the most valuable of all ecosystems.

Planting 24 acres of mangroves at a time, today the forest stretches out more than 120 acres and is the largest mangrove area of the bay.

“Before, we polluted the bay and the rivers. Now, it’s the bay and the rivers that pollute us,” a lead official on the project told Africa News. “Today, the mangrove has completely recovered.”

Other organizations have taken action to restore mangroves along the bay as well. The non-profit Ocean Pact funded the Green Guanabara Bay Project which successfully restored 12.5 hectares or around 25 acres of mangroves.

According to some estimates, 1 acre of mangrove forests can store more carbon in roots and soil than 4 acres of even the most biodiverse rainforest, making them paramount to any world climate mitigation strategy.

Furthermore, their impressive lattice work of roots and insane durability means that storm surges impacting mangroves lose about 66% of their kinetic energy without even destroying the trees.

Lastly, coastal fishing communities, in [four] words, cannot exist without mangroves. They act as nurseries and perfect habitat for all kinds of fish and crustaceans that small-scale fishermen rely on for their daily bread."

-via Good News Network, 7/31/23

youtube

-video via Africanews, July 26, 2023

#brazil #mangrove #mangrove forest #fishing #tropical storms #hurricanes #storm surge #pollution #landfill #garbage #rio de janeiro #guanabara bay #Youtube

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pinkroseblooms · 9 months ago

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Boy Toy

Sugar baby!Toji Fushiguro x Sugar mama!f!Reader

Summary: You try to break things off with Toji; needless to say, he does not take it well. wc: 5.1 Warnings and tags: this story contains smut, dirty talk, cursing, rough sex, begging, emotional manipulation, toxic behavior/relationships, some soft!dom/bratty!sub elements, a clingyyandere!toji, possessive behavior, obsessive love, some angst, some fluff, all twisted af.

a/n: I see a lot of Sugar daddy!Toji content and wanted to switch things up a bit with some emotional feels. I also ended up listening to Rick Montgomery's "Boy Toy" on repeat and got ideas. Personally I headcanon that if Toji ever did somehow develop genuine love for another person it wouldn't necessarily help him chill out this time around, he'd just become more unhinged.

His things are in a pile, close to the solid red oak door; they’ve been packed away in brand new luggage carriers and on top is the duffle bag Toji had initially used to carry his stuff in for overnight stays.

If it were anyone else, Toji would have expected the various articles of clothing and personal items that had steadily accumulated inside your spacious home to be thrown out carelessly like trash on your equally spacious lawn. That or burning in the firepit.

If it was anyone else but you, it’s what Toji would have expected, but you weren’t petty that way; even now as you stand before him, arms crossed, gaze almost blank, you radiate a certain measure of dignity. It’s one of those things Toji’s come to admire about you over the past year. It’s effortless, that magnetizing charm you exude; he liked it right away.

“You can keep the bags, sell them if you want.” Your lips form a small but rueful smile. “I sent you a check; call it a severance fee.”

“I thought I didn’t work for you anymore.”

Toji hasn’t considered you a client in months, though really, a mark was more accurate. You were disgustingly wealthy with a cute face and that was all he needed to pounce on the offer to be your bodyguard and occasional companion to the odd social events. Even cleaned up and polished, Toji was able to keep others away in droves, exactly what you were aiming for; you found social obligations tedious and his handsome yet intimidating presence kept everyone around you from lingering too long and insisting on taking up too much of your time and attention. Toji spent the first three or so months in your company essentially as an employee and he was satisfied with the arrangement. It would have been so easy and simple, it should have been, had you not burrowed your way into his head, like a bullet piercing bone.

Dammit he never should have fucked you. Toji had every intention of keeping things professional. He should have kept his distance, he certainly shouldn’t have let his fingers trace your skin after zipping up your dress, and damn you by the way for looking over your shoulder at him with those pretty doe eyes and not telling him off when the second you caught Toji leaning in, almost like he wasn’t realizing he was doing it, to get a whiff of your scent mixed with the perfume he had said was his favorite.

“You don’t have to keep the charade up anymore; it’s insulting at this point. I won’t force you to stay here.”

“You’re dumping me.”

“No. That would mean we were actually dating. Toji…Fushiguro-san, I made a mistake.” You’re almost talking to yourself as you look over Toji’s tensed shoulders to the entrance of your home. “I was fooling myself, thinking you could open your heart to me. But, I knew what I signed up for. So, no, I won’t leave you without any job security until you find your next meal ticket.”

“You’re not-”

“I heard you. Please, it’s not like you to back track on your words, so don’t start on my account.”

Toji was bragging over the phone, giving a verbal middle finger to an asshole of a former employer who demanded Toji’s services for a hit. You overheard him refer to you as a “piggy bank” with a pretty face, among other things. Shortly after ending the call, Toji left to work out (he couldn’t get too lazy, got to keep in shape to protect his favorite girl) and grab some food (on your card) only to return to this. You didn't even give Toji a chance to greet you with the usual flurry of kisses and a bear hug before telling him point blank he was leaving and now.

Even as Toji struggles to wrap his mind around your abrupt change in demeanor, with that practiced look of almost serene impassivity, you look so good to him, wearing an oversized sweatshirt and tiny bike shorts. You always dress down at home, in comfy, baggy things. Toji supposes you packed away all the sweatshirts you’ve collected from him with everything else of his.

“You won’t even let me apologize?” Toji stands stiffly in the foyer, next to the bags; behind him is the front door, still open, as if waiting for him to step outside. “It was all shit talking. I didn’t mean how it sounded.”

“That doesn’t make it better and it’s not just that. You’ve been hot and cold lately. Admit it: you can’t bring yourself to acknowledge me as anything but an obligation.” You exhale slowly, rubbing your temple. “I’ve tried to be understanding; you lost your wife and I realized it would be hard. I knew that, I knew there was a chance that no matter how close we became, I was never going to be enough for you.”

You put up a good front, but Toji can recognize the faint tremble in your voice, see how your jaw locks slightly, as though you’re holding back curses. He’s hurt you.

“Baby, c’mere?” Toji opens his arms with a pleading half smile. “You’ve been stressed lately, that’s all. You’ve been working hard and I haven’t been showing my appreciation properly, is that it?”

“Oh spare me. Listen, I won’t swear revenge or sick henchmen on your trail.” You go on, calm as can be, not budging an inch. “The check won’t bounce and all your things are there; if I missed anything, I’ll send it to you. You’re free to go.”

Toji stares at you in disbelief, arms dropping to his sides. You could have just as easily said "you're dismissed" with that cutting tone of yours.

“Are you fucking serious?”

When you fail to respond, he suddenly turns from you, but not to storm off. Instead, Toji slams the front door closed so hard, it’s a wonder the whole structure didn’t come crashing down. You don’t so much as flinch when Toji strides up to get in your face.

“I want my stuff out of these bags.” he snarls. "Now."

“There’s no need to make a scene. It’s not like you’ll be without a benefactor for long; I bet you could find another meal ticket just walking down my driveway. The whole neighborhood is full of lonely rich women, you can have your pick.”

“You’re not a meal ticket. You know that, you know I didn’t mean it dammit!”

“Enough.” You raise a hand up, your voice clipped. “Fushiguro-san, you have your things, plenty of money, and my own promise to leave you in peace. What more could you possibly want? What exactly is it that you’re holding out for? You don’t expect me to fund you indefinitely, I’m sure.”

"Why are you acting like this? Like you don't even give a shit?"

Toji’s hands clenched into fists; he’s radiating power and murderous intent, but you don’t look swayed or even scared. You know he wouldn’t strike you. Just the idea sickens him; no, it’s not you he’s actually angry with.

“I’m a fucking idiot who wanted to show off, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear? Fine. Now we’re gonna talk this out like adults, I’ll put this shit back-"

“No, you will not. I want it gone. I want you gone. Don’t you understand?” You tell him firmly, eyes finally averting to the pile of bags. Toji’s puffed chest deflates at the sadness that finally touches your inflection. “I’m disappointed enough as it is; can’t you do this one thing for my sake? Why are you insisting on dragging this out?”

“I want to put it all back.” Toji blurts out stubbornly, so loud his voice echoes in the high ceilings. “You can’t do this to me, I want to stay.”

“Excuse me?” You snap. “What exactly am I ‘doing to you’?”

“Come on, this is so silly, kicking me out over a misunderstanding.” Toji lowers his voice, a smile coming to his lips as he attempts to charm you once again, hands coming up to gently grasp your shoulders. “You’re breakin’ my heart here. You said it yourself, it’s a been over a year, you know me-”

“Do I?”

“Yes!” Toji steps forward, a strained grin on his lips. “You do. You know me and you know you’re my best girl.”

“Out of all the others?”

“Best and only; I haven’t been with anyone else in months.” Toji rubs his hands over your arms but you only give him a look of derision. “I’m not lying; tell you the truth, ever since we went out to the beach, it’s only been you. Remember that trip?” he grins softly, nuzzles your temple; he knows you want to lean into him, you’re just being stubborn. How adorable. He loves when you get grumpy and need his help relaxing. “I showed you how to make a fire and we fell asleep outside on the hammock. That night was something else...you’ve been the only one ever since. Baby, I swear, there haven't been any other women.”

Toji inches closer, hands shaking slightly where they grip your shoulders; his love bites are still visible, some more faint than others; his arms ache to hold you. You’re so close, so what’s with this wall you’re putting up?

"I want to believe that."

"It's the truth."

Toji isn’t sure how or when it began, but before he knew it, you were calling just to talk and ask how he was doing, if he needed anything. You requested he join you not just for meetings as extra muscle or posing as a date, but on walks and meals, having conversations about the weather to debates about the nature of man to whether toast was better with jelly or jam. You’d take Toji out randomly on shopping trips and end up buying him pretty much anything that caught his eye. Anything Toji wanted, he got, and along with it you increasingly showered him with praise and affection.

When the sex began Toji thought he got you out of his system the first time, only to end up not just repeating these trysts, but staying longer and longer after he fucked your brains out. It was borderline embarrassing, how quickly Toji found himself lulled in by your pillowtalk as you encouraged him to sleep in, promising you’d have breakfast ready for him in the morning. Sometimes, Toji would come over when you weren’t even home with the spare keys you gifted him and promptly burrow himself in your bed until you were due home. The whole room smelled sweet and it was so cozy being wrapped in the down blankets. Toji's eyelids would get heavier as he wallowed in your scented sheets ike a pig rolling in mud until the combined aromas of your perfumes, lotions, and natural scent clung to his nostrils, soothing and oddly familiar; within minutes Toji would be out like a light. After some of the best rest he had ever gotten, Toji would wake up to you stroking his head, petting him like a dog, and asking him what he would like for dinner.

Eventually, inevitably, came the point of no return. During that beach trip Toji told you about his past; he didn’t go into too much detail, mainly that he had loved someone and he was pretty sure lightning only struck once. You didn’t get jealous or angry; you simply kissed his knuckles and put your hand over his, not saying much of anything while Toji spoke. That night on the beach you held his hand and allowed him to reminisce at his own pace into the early hours of the morning, until he was too exhausted to do anything else but hold you and the two of you stayed that way until noon.

That peaceful, almost unreal night, Toji realized you actually gave a shit about him and he didn’t know what to do with that. Regardless, you made it clear you didn’t expect to own his heart and soul. You only promised to take care of him.

“I was being stubborn, you know how I get sometimes. You’re my one and only, baby, can’t we just forget about it?”

“I want you to leave.”

“No.”

“It wasn’t a request.”

“No!”

Toji’s hands cup your cheeks and he winces at the disgust in your eyes; why are you looking at him like that?

“Okay, okay, let me make it up.” Toji’s voice is sweet as pie; he leans in, practically purring in your ear. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll show you how sorry I am.”

“Get. Off. I knew you were shameless, but this is...”

You might as well have slapped him across the face; Toji’s smile falls as you glare like he’s some repulsive insect, a leech, like the thought of him touching you is making your skin crawl.

Toji’s hands retract from your face, expression blank. “You’re really serious.”

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look. As if you don’t have women on speed dial to call up. Why don’t you make up with one of your other meal tickets? I’m sure they’ll have forgiven you by now for however you wronged them-”

“I told you there isn’t anyone else. Don’t do this.” Toji mutters, head hanging; his chest throbs, he can feel sweat trickle down his temple. “Don’t make me go.”

It’s doubtful you could forcibly remove Toji from your presence, but that’s beside the point. It doesn’t mean anything if you don’t want him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted.”

“No, I’m really sorry.” Toji falls to his knees. “Don’t make me go.”

“Hey, wait, what are you…?”

Toji wraps his arms around your thighs, face pressed into your waist; you stiffen but he hangs on tighter, fingers digging into your hips almost painfully.

“Please, don’t make me. I wanna go upstairs, back to our bed. Listen, I,” Toji pries himself away from you just enough so he can look at you with glassy eyes. He’s panicking now, babbling and frantic as you try to pry off his arms. “Stop that! Baby, I got all messed up about getting too attached and I-I didn’t mean anything I said, you gotta believe me.”

“Toji, let go!”

A cold sweat makes Toji’s already tight shirt stick to his tensed back muscles; he feels like he’s being choked. How could you do this to him? All he wants is to stay with you, whether it’s as a bodyguard, a hired companion, a fuck toy, hell, he’ll settle for being your pet if that’s what it takes to get you to take him back.

"You promised you'd take care of me." he mutters, ignoring your vain attempts at freeing yourself from his unyielding hold. "I don't...want it to be anyone else."

Toji won’t let you go. You’ve made him lazy and spoiled with your pampering; he doesn’t have to work if he doesn’t want to, never has to worry about money or food or rent, and he never has to wake up alone anymore. Whether Toji’s angry, tired, bored, or as of late, happy, you’re the first person he thinks of. You give him everything and now you’re trying to cut him off.

"You let me go right now!" You slap at his shoulders, try to pull back his head from where it's pressed into your midsection. "Are you even listening?!"

With a distressed moan, Toji nuzzles your tummy, kisses the skin peeking out from your sweatshirt riding up under his forearms; his rough hands relax their grasp a fraction to caress your hips.

“Let me stay. I won’t answer calls from my old bosses, I’ll quit betting. If I look at another woman, gouge my eyes out. All you have to do is tell me how to fix things.” Toji smiles at you, one he knows makes women weak in the knees. “Don’t be mad at me anymore. I’ll make it up, I swear. I’ll do anything you want.” he promises between kisses and nips to your skin. “Why are we wasting time arguing? You know, I can make you feel so good. My poor baby, spending all day working so damn hard; you deserve better. I'll help take the edge off...you’d like that, wouldn’t you? I can help, just-”

“Toji, stop-”

“Just let me dammit!”

Toji feels you freeze up; you’re looking back at him with wide eyes. His stomach drops like a rock.

“Sorry…I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

No. Now you look scared, maybe a bit concerned; is that for him? Toji can feel some warmth creeping into his chest in spite of everything; you’re so good to him. You went to so much trouble for him and he has no idea why.

You can’t do this. You can’t treat him like a thing to be cherished and then take it all away. Toji just wants things to go back to how they were that morning, with you feeding him berries and syrup drenched pieces of fluffy pancakes, giving him teasing kisses in between each bite, asking what his plans were for the day as he lounges in your lap, wondering what he did to deserve to be so content and full and happy. You made him so happy.

“Shit.” Toji sniffs; he can feel them coming but can’t stop the tears leaking from his eyes. “Shit.” he curses again, bowing his head until it’s resting against your tummy again. “You can’t…you can’t leave me. I won’t let you. I won’t let you abandon me. I can’t-”

“Toji, calm down.” Your voice softens considerably. “Look, do you understand why I’m upset with you?”

“I know, I know I fucked up okay?” Toji croaks, still clinging to your legs. “So what the fuck am I supposed to do, huh? I already said I would do anything you want, so just tell me!”

“Sh, come on, breathe. I need you to calm down, alright?” You bend at the waist slightly, to card your fingers through his damp hair. “Okay, I believe you. I do. I believe you, Toji.”

“Are you gonna kick me out still?”

“No, I won’t for the time being. We can sit down and talk about-whoa!”

Toji wastes no time; he has you lifted off the ground in his arms. You quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders as he makes a beeline for the stairs.

“Slow down!” You glance backward in disbelief at how easily he bounds up the carpet steps. “How are you so strong? Don’t drop me, okay?”

But Toji doesn’t answer; he practically bolts, finally reaching the next level, races down the hallway until he’s at the door to your-the bedroom he and you share. Toji’s heavy boot easily kicks the door open, somehow without breaking it off the hinges; in record time you’re on the bed, but shockingly, Toji doesn’t start stripping you down.

“Toji?” You ask tentatively; he seems fairly out of it and you can’t help feel worried. “Toji, what are you doing?”

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to bed, huh?”

Toji kicks off his boots, gently sits you down in the middle of the mattress among the fluffy pillows and the cheap plush bunny he won for you at a crane machine. Nearly hyperventilating, Toji climbs into bed after you, snatches the sheets and comforter to wrap around the two of you in a soft cocoon. Toji grabs you, cradling you in close as he tries to even out his breathing; for a fleeting second you wonder if this is what stuffed animals felt, if they could become sentient, when children held them tight for comfort. Your attention is brought back by the man rubbing his face into your hair insistently, as if he could tell your mind had briefly wandered.

“Hey, are you-?”

“Don’t make me go.” Toji cuts you off hoarsely. “You love me, right?”

“I do.”

“Say it.”

“I do love you.” You confess sincerely, words muffled slightly due to your face being squished into his chest; his heart is beating a mile and minute. “I was hurt, alright? I want to be good to you, Toji. You have to let me though; you’re not the type to dance around an issue. I just want you to be honest with me and yourself.”

“Yes, yes, I want that. You’re so good to me, baby, thank you.” Toji wraps his legs around yours; if there was a way for you to mold into him he’d make it happen. “Can I move my stuff back in?”

“I…” You hesitate. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

“What? No we aren’t. If anything, we're not moving fast enough. Are you still thinking of leaving?” Toji grabs your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him; his eyes look crazed. “You’re not right? You just fucking said you loved me-!”

“Hey, hey.” You put your hands over his gently. “If you really meant what you said before, you have to listen and be good. Can you do that for me?”

Toji nods quickly. You smile for him, finally, and it's a sight for sore eyes. How do you always look so pretty? Toji’s chest throbs and he hugs you, making your ear press against his heart; you can hear it, right? It almost stopped dead when you were glowering at him, Toji still can't believe he was so close to losing this. It's not going to happen again.

“I wanna touch you.”

Toji separates from you as abruptly as he had squeezed you to him; he hovers above you, tugging on the band of your shorts, your panties. He groans pitifully when you still look unsure. Toji hikes your legs up until your ass is pressed to his chest and he’s face to face with your pussy, still covered up. That won’t do: wordlessly, he rips the seams of your shorts apart and pulls your panties to the side. Gently spreading your pussy lips with his fingers, Toji makes sure to look you in the eyes while he lets a long trail of spit trickle from his tongue to your exposed clit.

“See?” he licks a long strip over your slit, salivating at the taste. “I’m drooling for it, just like a dog….heh, I can be your dog. Is that what you want? I’ll fetch and roll over and beg.” he traces his tongue around your swollen clit. “All you gotta do is ask.”

You can barely form words, forget making requests, as Toji slobbers, licking and sucking until you’re dripping wet. Your hands grip the pillows and your head rolls back and forth; you can hardly speak and you’re more squealing than moaning when Toji starts using his fingers to fuck your soaked pussy.

“I’m loyal too. You’re not ever getting rid of me.”

Toji pulls back, kisses and nips the inside of your thigh as he watches his fingers disappear inside you over and over again. He’s smiling down at you, dumbly, in a daze as you let out soft cries with every pump of his wrist, every time his thumb rubs a touch too hard on your clit. He’s the only one who gets to see you like this, composure gone, face flushed, eyes wide, hardly able to do more than moan and whine at his touches. Toji’s smile turns devilish; he purposefully pulls his fingers out and shoves them back in to draw out the squelch sounds from how wet he’s made you. He slowly drags his fingers out all the way and you inhale sharply from the sensation.

“It’s my turn to spoil you.”

Toji lowers your hips down on the sheets and quickly shrugs off his sweatpants and underwear; his cock bobs when it’s released and you’re a bit shocked at how hard he is despite not touching himself.

“Let me fuck you.” Toji rocks his hips, cock over the inside of your thigh. “You still want me, right?”

And if you think he’s going to stop at one round, if you think for a second one time is going to be enough and you somehow still plan to have him out on his ass, maybe you don’t know him. Toji’s fingers dig into your ass; he’s rutting now, throbbing and dripping precum all over you and the bedspread. It brings a twisted grin to his face, like he’s marking his territory. After all, this is where he belongs. If you won’t be persuaded by his touch and words alone, Toji has other ways, he just doesn't want to resort to making you afraid of him.

Because he meant exactly what he said: you're not getting rid of him. If you try to, Toji will just come back. If you run, he'll chase, if you hide, he'll come looking. You've made him into this.

“’M being good, yeah?” Toji lowers his head to your chest to slobber over your nipples next, barely able to speak with his lips sucking and his tongue flicking over them. “I can keep making you feel good, just let me fuck you, let me put in in, let me wreck you-”

“Toji, I want to ride your cock tonight.” You play with his hair and kiss his jaw. “Can I?”

Toji doesn’t hesitate; he throws himself back to lie on your pillows, getting even harder as your scent hits him. He licks his lips in anticipation as you straddle him, stroking him once before lining the tip up with your pussy. Toji’s eyes roll in the back of his head as you slowly sink down, clenching tight; he has to grab at the sheets and force himself to be still, has to keep telling himself this is for you, he’s going to go at your pace and show you how good he can be, obedient and careful. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger and he loves it-

“It almost hurts. You're so hard.” You gasp when you’re fully seated on his cock. “Oh, Toji…are you going to cum soon?”

“Nah, don’t worry about that baby.” Toji grins up at you, face flushed and hands shaking as they cling to the pillowcase. “So good…it feels so fucking good when I’m all the way inside. Go on, use my cock to cum, ride me until your pussy can’t take it.”

You tilt your hips so the tip of Toji’s cock rubs against that spot that makes you see stars and your clit gets rubbed against him with every thrust. At first you have your hands over his chest, but when Toji tries to slide his hands up to grab at your tits, you stop him.

“Huh?”

“No, you don’t get to touch me.” You pant out, gently but firmly holding Toji’’s hands above his head. “Tha-that’s your punishment.”

Toji’s brow furrows; he’s practically pouting. He knows he said "anything", but he wants to touch you so badly. Your tits look good enough to eat, nipples slick and begging to be played with, and your skin feels like silk on his fingers. Toji watches, biting the inside of his cheek, tasting blood when you start bouncing, thighs taut and face contorted in pleasure as you get closer and closer to making a mess on his lap.

“Baby,” Toji groans. “Come on, let me, you’re close right? It’ll feel better.”

“I can cum like this.” You say playfully as you tap his pursed lips with one finger. “You said you'd be good.”

“Just wanna touch you....” Toji’s hands twitch but he doesn’t shake off your grip; he raises his hips and you let out a whine. “Please?"

You stop moving and Toji grits his teeth, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Hey…why did you stop?”

“Sorry,” You smile in genuine delight. “You’re really adorable, you know that?”

“Fuck, keep goin’,” Toji nibbles the tip of your finger before you pull it away. “Come on, keep making my dick wet,”

“So cute.” You cup his face and press a long, loving kiss to his forehead. “I love you, Toji, I really do.”

Toji can’t stop himself; he yanks you down, traps you in his arms and thrusts up.

“Ah!”

“Sorry, ‘m sorry baby. I gotta,” Toji slurs. “Ah fuck it.”

You shriek as Toji flips you over; he has your legs spread and lowers his face down to suck and kiss and bite at your breasts, slamming his cock as deep inside your pussy as he can go. He briefly touches your hair, patting your head as you scream and writhe, smiling down at you so warmly even as his cock splits you open.

“Can’t help it. Need it, need this so fucking bad.”

Toji latches onto your neck, sucking so hard you think he might tear the skin; you cry out and your nails accidentally scratch long, red lines down his back and shoulders. You’re clawing and sobbing, completely overwhelmed underneath him. He’s fucking you like an animal with no regard for pacing or rhythm, holding you down and open for him to slam his cock inside your swollen little pussy. Toji straightens up to grind himself into you just the way he knows you like best, gently rubbing away at your clit, smirking at the way you gush around his cock. You’re so pretty like this, flushed and messy for him.

“Tell me again. Tell me you love me and I’ll make you cum so hard your legs shake.”

“Love you,” You gasp, arms wrapping around Toji’s bulging neck, drawing him in closer; you press kisses over his cheeks, nose, chin. “I love you, I-ah!”

Toji is done being patient; he keeps his thumb pressed down on your clit, rubbing it harshly as he grinds his cock right into that spot, deep and hard; you’re never going to forget how his cock feels. Toji kisses you none too gently, lips prying your mouth open as he shoves his tongue down your throat; he really doesn’t even mean to be rough this time. The desire to devour you is overtaking him.

He’s so close. Your pussy’s soaking, his head’s spinning; just before Toji’s about to cum, you muster up enough energy to hold him back tightly and pet his hair, moaning softly into the kiss, wrapping your legs around his waist. Toji wanted to last longer, but it’s too much. Abruptly, he breaks the kiss and his mouth goes to your jugular; Toji swears he can feel your pulse under his teeth.

“Cum inside me.” You plead, whimpering into his ear. “I want it…want you, Toji, no one else.”

“Shit.” Toji presses his forehead to yours, hiking up your thighs; the bed is creaking and shaking with the force of his thrusts. “I love you so fuckin’ much.”

Toji goes rigid and still as he cums, cock suddenly painfully sensitive; when you smile tiredly and kiss the palm of his hand, actual tears well up in the corners of his eyes. It’s all too much. He didn’t know he could even still feel like this, feel much of anything anymore. You shudder from his hot cum gushing inside you, but Toji doesn’t pull out just yet and you don’t seem in a hurry to move him anyway.

“I think you broke my dick.”

“...pardon me?”

“Pretty sure your pussy drained me dry…fuck.” Toji chuckles tiredly, very slowly pulling himself out, smiling in satisfaction as his cum seeps out of you and onto the sheets. “Did you like that?”

“I loved it.” You tell him softly, just beginning to catch your own breath as Toji uses his shirt to gently wipe you clean between your legs. “Toji?”

“Yeah?” Toji tosses his shirt somewhere and lays over you. “You want me to get you something? I bet you’re real tired after that.”

You pause; you look very serious all of a sudden, all business once more. “Toji, we really should talk about ‘us’. I don’t think we can just return to what we were.”

“What? But you said you loved me.” Toji raises his head to glare at you. “You’re not seeing other men, so put that idea out of your fucking head.”

“That is not what I meant!”

“Okay…what is it then?”

“I was going to say, are you sure this is what you want?” You ask carefully, looking into his eyes. “Is this really what you want?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Toji can’t believe you even have to ask; he frowns and clicks his tongue impatiently. “Fair warning, I’ll find you if you try to leave before I wake up.”

“I don’t doubt it, you’re an excellent tracker.”

“I mean it.” Toji mumbles into the crook of your neck, his heavy arm over your stomach. “You run, I’m hunting you down.”

“I wasn’t planning on making a grand escape; I was thinking something more along the lines of breakfast in bed.” You suggest and smile at the way Toji’s visibly perks up. “Oh, have you had dinner yet?”

“No, I came straight here from the gym.” he lies, eager to have you fuss over him. "I'm really hungry..."

“I’ll order in something; what do you want?”

“Anything, just get lots of it.” Toji squeezes you. “But don’t go yet though. Wanna stay like this a little longer.”

“Whatever you want.”

In minutes, Toji is snoring and curled up in your sheets like a tuckered out puppy; his leg even kicks randomly. When he wakes up to the smell of warm food and your nails gently scratching his scalp, Toji yawns with a groggy smile and opens his mouth for you to feed him, licking crumbs off your fingers greedily. You really do spoil him.

796 notes · View notes

yangbbokari · 1 year ago

Text

Skz makes a bet on you Maknae Line

Pairing: OT8 SKZ x f!Reader

Genre, AU: angst ofc, lovers to exes!AU

Warnings: cursing, mentions of cheating, many mentions of insecurities. I think that abt it

Summary: you happened to learn one day that the never really loved you and only made a bet with the other members to see if you would fall in love with them

A.N: Not proof read at all and this is the maknae line to the previous one. Both part twos will be coming out soo I promise🤭

Parts: Hyung Line Part 2

HAN JISUNG It was his birthday and you were more than happy to surprise him. The members were in on it too. To suddenly stop during practice and sit him down.

For the whole day you were preparing. Making a cheesecake for him and baking a cake for the rest of the members. You decorated the cheesecake in some little quokka cake pops. After you were done, you began cooking his favorite meals and packing them up. When all the cooking, making, and cooking was done, you found that you had more time on your hands. So you felt the need to clean the house so it’d be all tidy when he got back.

You checked the time before heading out. The house was clean, food was ready, now all you needed to do was get a gift and drive to the company. As you strolled through the store a very particular item caught your eye. A small clip earring with a feather at the end. It was perfect. Jisung always called you his, quote on quote, “Little Dove.”

So you grabbed it and put it in a little box with a bow.

You drove to the company excitedly. Giving the food to the staff before making your way to the practice room. You were just about to step in when you heard it. The color drained form your face and the excitement you held earlier, gone.

“I can’t believe it’s been a year since me and y/n started dating and we made that bet.” You heard your boyfriend say.

Bang Chan tried to stop him. “Jisung, I think—”

“You guys have to remember! We made a bet to see if I could pull y/n. Y’all made me go up to her and ask if she wanted to date me because she seemed lonely and if she agreed then I’d get 20 bucks from each of y’all.”

You could hear the boys try to stop him since they knew you were here but it was too late. They turned to see the door to the practice room slowly creak open. Standing there with the cake in your hands and tears in your eyes.

“Happy Birthday, Baby.” You said as tears fell from your eyes. Quickly wiping them away since it was supposed to be a happy occasion. Placing the cake into a staff members hands, you shoved the box into your pocket. “I-I-I guess I’ll give you what you want for your birthday gift.” You turned and ran as far as you can. Dropping the gift into the trash can on your way out. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ LEE FELIX He knew you were this insecure so how could he say that. You’d always hated your figure since before you could remember. Whenever you met someone new, that was the first thing they noticed. The size of your body. You hated the way you looked but Felix always told you different. He made you believe you were as beautiful as you are and you slowly gained your confidence.

That was until today. The confidence he helped you build, he tore down himself.

Today, you came home a bit earlier than usual. When walking through the door, you announced your arrival but Felix was nowhere in sight. You could hear the slight mumbling coming from another room. You had forgotten. He had told you that Minho was coming this morning.

After taking off your shoes and hanging your coat, you walked over to the door. Just so happening to hear what they were conversing. The cat-like boy began first. “You remember that bet we made?”

“Hmm?” Your boyfriend replied.

“You’ve got to give it to me that you and y/n started dating in the first place.” “Ohhh!!! That’s what you’re talking about. The bet, right?”

“Yeah, when I told you I’d give you one hundo if you got the fat girl’s number. Now it’s been two years since you guys started dating.” Too immersed in your own shock, you dropped the items you were holding. Tears filled your eyes. Both, Felix and Minho’s, heads jerked in your direction.

“Y/n? How long have you been standing there?” Felix asked you in a panic.

“N-not long…”

You picked up your things from the floor, reput on your shoes and coat, grabbed your keys, and headed out the door. You didn’t know if you could stay any longer. You felt hurt to hear that. He helped you through your insecurities just to make it worse than before he arrived. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ KIM SEUNGMIN Your whole world fell apart. And so did your oh so perfect relationship with Seungmin.

It was just a petty argument that came from stress and the lack of sleep but it still hurt you. It actually hurt more than you thought it would. But what hurt most of all was what you had to find out.

Seungmin returned home after tour extremely tired so you did your best. You made sure he had every meal and wasn't overwhelmed. But apparently, you didn't do enough. He began to berate you for even the smallest things and it tore your heart apart.

One day, as you laid on the bed the two of you shared, he slammed the bedroom door open. You flinched and looked up at him. A little bit annoyed you asked, "The hell was that for?"

He sighed and glared at you.

"You want to know? This comeback has been stressful and all you do is lay in bed all day. You never clean around the house even though you're only doing a part-time job. I mean seriously, are you just going to be that FUCKING LAZY!?"

You looked at him in disbelief. Never in a million years did you ever expect to see this side of him.

"I literally just got done cooking and came to lay on the bed. I was waiting for YOU to get home. I washed our clothes, folded them, put them away, then cleaned around the house. I did all this because I know you like your place tidy. Plus, a clean space is better for the mind."

"You call this clean!? It looks like a pigsty." You felt the tears blazing at the corner of your eyes. "Don't fucking say that. I'm trying my best to not say anything right now." "Say it then!!" He yelled. You huffed and turned away not wanting to argue any longer. "Yeah... turn away like you always do. I should've just left you as a bet. Never loved you in the first place."

It was a slip of the tongue. He didn't mean it. Or did he? Either way, it hurt you. Seungmin knew he was wrong but didin't want to admit itin the heat of the moment.

You turned to face him, finally letting the tears out. "Fuck you..." Was all you said before grabbing your phone and leaving the house. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ YANG JEONGIN It was accidental. Jeongin was so flustered in the moment that he confessed everything to you. He didn't intend for you to find out like this but how else were you suppose to?

The both of you were at dinner with the other members. They all teased Jeongin for being such a simp for you. You just chuckled at their antics. It was cute to see the youngest member get teased by his hyungs and you were glad to witness it all in first person.

Jeongin, being fed up, accidentaly let it slip.

"Well it was because you guys made a bet with me that if I could pull y/n then y'all would buy me the new Bruno Mars album."

Everyone went silent as you slowly faced him. "What did you say..?"

Jeongin immediately placed a hand over his mouth. Tears brimmed your eyes. You stood up, excusing yourself. "I-I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick." None of them even tried to stop you. They knew that they'd be devastated in your situation too.

Were you being a little dramatic? The answer was yes. You could've heard Jeongin out instead of hiding in the bathroom. But at this point, you weren't so sure. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ taglist: @lolareadsimagines @garrixer-06 @bandolls @chansbabygirlsstuff @camilagonzalex @mariteez @beccaskz

#skz angst #skz x reader #kim seungmin x reader #skz #felix lee #felix lee yongbok #han jisung #yang jeongin #seungmin angst #han jisung angst #felix angst #jeongin angst #skz making a bet on you #skz maknae line

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