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leossmoonn · 6 months

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call out my name | mike schmidt

summary - mike gets jealous after seeing you so friendly with a co-worker

includes / warnings - reader is fem. takes place after he worked at freddy’s. unprotected sex, overstimulation if you squint, fingering.

————

18+ under the cut

mike’s about to shit his heart out as he looks in the window of the car dealership, seeing you and your co-worker standing at the reception desk. his blood starts boil as your co-worker makes you laugh. his hand keeps brushing against yours as he shows you whatever interesting video is on his phone. mike swears your co-worker steps closer to you so now your shoulders are touching. you don’t seem to notice, though.

mike runs a hand through his hair and makes sure the collar of his shirt is tucked. he opens the door, the bell making you raise your head. a bright smile encompasses your face and you stand up straighter, smoothing out any wrinkles in your shirt.

“you here to buy a car?” you tease your boyfriend. “i wish,” mike chuckles softly. his smile immediately drops when your co-worker speaks up.

“hey, mike.” the way he says mike’s name makes his stomach churn. “what’s up, drew?” mike’s smile is polite and tight as he glances at him.

“nothing much. is work slow for you, too?” drew asks. “no, i’m on my lunch break,” mike says. he fights the urge to roll his eyes. drew knows why he comes here.

“must keep you on a long leash with you coming all the way here,” drew says. “what do you do for work again? oh, yeah, mall security?”

mike’s hands ball into fists and he clenches his jaw. he tries to keep his reactions minimal, knowing drew wants to get a reaction out of him.

“actually,” you interject, “mike got a job waiting tables and he just got promoted to manager a week ago.”

“wow,” drew gasps. “how exciting. you must be so proud of yourself.”

mike glares at drew, trying to breathe slowly as to calm himself. you shuffle away from drew, not catching the small disappointment in his eyes.

“let’s go to the break room, yeah?” you ask. mike nods and follows you, part of him relaxing as your hand grabs his tricep. he sits down and waits for you to grab your lunch from the fridge.

“how come you didn’t bring anything?” you frown. “not that hungry,” he shrugs. truthfully, he can’t work up an appetite on the days he knows drew works with you. he‘s tried to eat in the past, knowing how you worry about him taking care of himself. but if he tries to eat, the food would end up wasted, and he can’t afford that.

“do you want half of my sandwhich?” you ask. “no, i’m okay,” he shakes his head.

“what about some pieces of fruit?” you press. “you go ahead and eat all your food,” mike chuckles. you hum in dissatisfaction. you russle through your lunch box, finding a week-old granola bar. “here,” you hand it to him. mike’s about to deny you again, but the desperation in your eyes makes him fold. he takes it and thanks you, taking small bites and chewing slowly.

mike’s worries dissipate the more time he spends with you. his dread is replaced with joy as you laugh at his weak jokes. warmth encapsulates his heart as you scoot your chair closer to him so your knees are touching. the kiss you press on his cheek makes him grin from ear-to-ear.

he saddens when he realizes he has to go back to work. you walk him out to his car, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips.

“i’ll talk to drew about his rudeness,” you mention. mike’s ears perk up in surprise. “oh…you don’t have. i don’t think he was being rude. he’s just —”

“mike,” you raise your brows. he sighs, “thank you.” you smile and nod, “of course. drive safe to work. i’ll see you tonight.”

he nods and kisses you again, having to peel himself away from you to leave.

a few days later, mike has to drop you off at work.

“can i use the bathroom real quick?” mike asks as you start to get out of the car. “of course,” you answer.

you two walk in together and you go to the break room to put all your things away. mike goes and finds you to say goodbye after he uses the restroom. he finds you in the break room with no one other than drew. you’re leaning against the counter, waiting for your coffee to brew. drew is close to you again — too close. his hand is on the counter right by your waist. he’s looking down at you, eyes flickering from your hips to your breasts and neck.

mike clears his throat and both of you turn to him. you walk over, giving him a long and warm hug.

“thank you for taking me to work,” you say. “no problem. do you need me to pick up you?” he asks.

“no, rachel can take me,” you say. “you just worry about picking abby up from school.”

his lips upturn and he nods. you press a kiss to his cheekbone and he begins to leave, but drew stops him.

“hey, mike. sorry about what i said the other day,” drew apologizes, but he doesn’t look sorry. mike nods at him, smiling awkwardly. “it’s fine. thanks.”

mike awaits your arrival at his home, making dinner for the two of my you. abby wanted to hang out at a friends house, so he dropped her off there, leaving the house empty for the two of you for a while.

he perks up as he hears your voice from outside. his heart races in excitement and he goes to the front door to greet you, but his feet stay glued to the floor as he sees drew, not rachel, get out of the car. he’s handing your purse and lunchbox, which mike knows you’re perfectly capable of retrieving yourself. you smile at drew and mike knows enough about you to know it’s a polite smile. it’s when you and drew hug that mike starts to feel nauseous. you stand a little far away from drew for it to be a normal hug, but drew pulls your closer and you don’t pull away. mike watches as drew’s hand slides down your back, just above your ass. mike’s hand that’s on the doorknob turns white. you pull away after a few seconds too long and drew moves to say something in your ear that makes you giggle. mike’s about to go out there and punch drew in the face, but you’re already making your way to the house.

mike scurries away from the door and back to the kitchen. he keeps stirring the pot of pasta, keeping his head down as you unlock the door and enter.

“hey, babe,” you greet him with a smile. you hang your coat on the rack besides the door, placing your purse and keys on the coffee table. you kick off your shoes and place them by mike’s.

“how was your day?” you ask as you walk over to the kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water.

“fine,” mike answers through gritted teeth. “you okay?” your brows furrow in worry. you place a hand between is shoulder blades, which he shrugs off. “yeah. just tired,” he mumbles.

“okay,” you say unconvinced. you don’t push. mike’s a grown man and you’ve been together long enough for him to know that if he has a problem, he needs to speak up and ask for help. “where’s abby?” you ask.

“at a friend’s.”

“looks like we get the house to ourselves.”

your tone is teasing and when he looks at you, you have a mysterious glimmer in your eyes. he can’t muster up an ounce of care. he just hums in response.

“i’m going to go change into pjs,” you say, your warm lips settling on his skin. he just nods and you walk away, mind racing with what he could be so upset about.

dinner is worse. you two don’t talk at all. all your attempts fail. even when one of you are tired, you both make an effort.

“thank you for making dinner. i’m sorry i’m not that hungry,” you say.

“it’s fine,” he says, holding his head down and staring into his plate of alfredo.

“drew shared his chick-fil-a with me, so i guess i’m still full from that.”

something inside mike snaps. he drops his silverware with a clang, roughly getting out of his chair. it scrapes against the hardwood and he grabs his plate, shoving all the food down the trashcan and practically throwing the plate into the sink. he stomps away, going into his room. your stunned at his behavior, slowly getting up and walking over to his room.

“what the hell was that?” you ask. “nothing,” he grumbles. he’s taking off his sweatshirt, feeling too warm from becoming worked up.

“mike, talk to me. you’ve been acting weird ever since i got home. is something wrong? did abby get in trouble at school or say something?” you ask.

“i thought rachel was going to take you home.” his eyes stare daggers into yours. your throat dries and your heart starts to race. you don’t know why you suddenly feel so nervous. you weren’t hiding anything, but mike’s expression made it seem like you had just committed a crime.

“i… yeah. she was,” you say, your voice sounding softer with each word. “then why did drew take you home?” mike asks.

“rachel had to pick up her son from school. he got sick.”

“oh, how convenient.”

you now shoot him a glare. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“stop acting so innocent! we both know he’s in love with you.”

“that’s ridiculous, mike.”

“oh, is it? because from the moment you started working there, he’s been glued to your side. i mean, the first time i met him, he was pressed up against you!”

“he was just showing me how the system worked!”

“i’m sure that’s all he was doing,” mike says with a sour smile. “the other day, he was acting like an asshole.”

“i told him to apologize to you and he did, didn’t he?”

“yeah, because he wants to be on your good side.”

“mike, c’mon,” you try to settle the argument. you take a step towards him but he furthers the distance between you two.

“and today? buying you food and driving you home,” mike recants. “he’s a nice guy, mike. he’s bought food for the whole team before!” you exclaim, feeling exasperated.

“yeah, i bet he hugs everybody like how he hugged you, too. pressed all up against you with hand practically on your ass. and then he whispers something in your ear that makes you laugh so loud. he must be a real comedian since you’re always giggling when you’re with him.”

your frustration turns to worry as mike begins to talk more to himself than you. you have to admit, you’ve always known of drew’s crush on you. but he had never made a real move on you or made you uncomfortable. there was no reason to report him or confront him about it, especially since he knows you’re with mike. you always try to make your boundaries clear with everyone, but perhaps you missed a few of the signs with drew.

“tell me, what did he say to you?” mike asks, looking into your eyes.

“i-i don’t remember,” you admit honestly.

“i bet he was saying something about me, right? maybe he was telling you to go back to his place instead. i wouldn’t be surprised if you wanted to say yes.”

you’re taken aback by his assumptions of you. “is that what you really think of me, mike? you think i would leave you for some guy i’ve known for a couple months? for a guy who is only a co-worker to me?”

“i don’t know,” he shrugs. “you seem pretty smitten with him. he probably thinks you want to fuck him.”

you grit your teeth, feeling your heart sink as you finally hear what mike seems to think of you. “you’re an idiot, mike.” you walk out of his room, going to grab your purse and keys. he’s quick to follow you.

“you’re leaving now?” he scoffs. “i bet i can guess who you’re going to call to pick up you.”

“get over yourself, mike!” you yell. you head towards the door but he grabs your wrist, whipping you around to face him. you’re so close, you almost collide with his chest. his chest heaves up and down, his face flushed. “i think you should get over yourself,” he seethes. “you can’t seem to tell me that you don’t love him.”

“i don’t love him. i love you!” you shout, watching his face soften as your words register. “i didn’t want to tell you like this, but… i think you need to hear it.” your voice is quiet, almost a whisper now.

he doesn’t say anything. you can’t read his expression. you know mike likes to pull away from people. you know he’s afraid of losing everyone he loves. you know it’s hard for him to be open with you and this blow up tonight is a testament to that. you just hope he doesn’t try to push you away even more.

“mike? say something, please. if you don’t love me either then just say that, but it’s important you know that i do love —”

he smashes his lips against yours. your body melts against his out of instinct. you drop your purse and keys, wrapping your arms around his neck and weaving your fingers through his hair. his kisses are bruising, like he wants you to feel it tomorrow. his hands grasp at your sides, pulling you in closer, needing to feel every inch of you.

he begins to walk backwards to the couch, one of his hands leaving your body to feel out the couch. he sits down, grabbing the small of your back and yanking you onto his lap. your lips part for a small gasp of air and he slips his tongue in. your teeth clash as your tongue does a tango with his. your hands cup the back of his neck where his spine begins, tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck.

he moans into your mouth, the sound vibrating inside you. his hands untucking your shirt and snaking up your back. he unclasps your bra and he wastes no time with getting his hands on your tits. even with your bra still hanging off your arms, his hand slithers under the wire.

you can feel his hard on under you. you can’t help but grind, your clit catching onto your underwear. your head drops and you moan into his ear, making him shudder underneath you. your hands move down to his t-shirt, dragging it up his body. he has to pause from massaging your breasts, but takes the opportunity to take your shirt and bra off.

his lips attach to your nipple, his tongue swirling and teeth oh-so-gently nibbling. your hands run down his chest, the soft hairs of his chest tickling your fingertips. your fingers stop at his belt and the ache between your thighs grows. you whine in need, starting to unbuckle his pants. once you do so, you quickly stand up and strip, swinging your leg back over mike’s waist once he takes his pants off.

you kiss him once more, sucking on his lip in between breaths. one of his hands settle on the junction between your hip and thigh, the other finding your cunt. you moan into his mouth as two fingers slip inside of you. he curves his fingers inside of you, brushing up against that sweet spot. your pussy gushes around his fingers with each movement and he can feel your juices slide down his hand at this angle. his thumb reaches up and circles over your throbbing clit. you can’t help but fall into him, his chin meeting your shoulder.

“mike,” you whimper. “feels good, huh?” he breathes out, his chest heaving up and down.

“mmhm,” you nod, screwing your eyes shut and biting your lip.

“he can’t make you this wet, can he?” mike whispers into your ear. he begins to kiss below your ear, sucking harshly. your stomach flips at his words and you shake your head, the only things coming out of your mouth are moans and whimpers.

“use your words, baby.” his voice is low and deep. his mouth is pressing searing hot kissing on your skin, sending a thrill up your spine.

“nu-uh,” is all you manage to say. his fingers pump faster, applying just the right pressure to get you off.

“shit, mike,” you gasp, your orgasm bubbling up in your lower stomach. you start to ride his fingers, gathering more friction around your clit. your fingertips dig into the flesh of his bicep as you come.

“mike,” you slur as he doesn’t stop rubbing your clit. “too much, too much!” you exclaim in a moan. mike slows his thumb’s movements, peering up at your face. your eyes are half-lidded and your lip is swollen from biting it so hard.

he gives you a few moments before taking you by the hips and flipping you over. his cock throbs at the sight of your legs spread for him. he knows how wet you were on his fingers. he can’t wait a second longer.

you grab onto his shoulders as he pushes into you. you both groan at the initial feeling. he fits you just like a glove. your pussy envelopes in warm and wetness, making it easy for him to just slide in.

he doesn’t waste any time with fucking you. he’s balls deep inside of you, marveling in the way your pussy hugs him. your walls clench around him with each thrust, the sounds of your juices gushing around his cock making you both lightheaded.

“you like being fucked like this, hm?” mike pants. “yes,” you breathe out. you’re starting to hyperventilate as his thrust become faster. his hips snap with yours, the sound of his balls slapping against your skin filling the room.

“tell me, can he fuck you like this?” he asks, his nose pressed against your cheek.

“no, mike. never.”

one of his hands grip the couch arm, about ready to pull out the stuffing. his other hand is digging into your side, surely to cause some bruising in the next few hours. your hands hook under his arms and you pull him closer to you as you’re about to come.

“fuck, baby,” he groans. “i-i love you, too. i think i’m gonna come, fuck.”

you can’t tell who’s breathing is who’s or who says what curse words, but you can feel him unload inside of you. warmth fills your insides as the knot in your tummy unravels. you buck your hips up to his in one last attempt to feel any sort of friction and then your body collapses on the couch, feeling weak and numb.

mike pulls out of you slowly, a string of his semen connecting from your pussy to his tip. he gets up and pulls on his boxers, walking to the bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. you pull yourself up against the pillows, resting one leg off of the couch. mike sits between your legs, wiping up his oozing cream. he leans down and presses a kiss to your inner thigh, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. he kisses a trail all the way up to your lips.

he kisses you sweetly this time around. his hands cup your face, cradling you close you him. he pulls away, sitting back with a smile as he looks at your neck.

“you’re gonna have to cover that up,” he says. you touch your skin, feeling how raw it is. you shrug and get up, putting your underwear back on. “i don’t think i will.”

mike raises his brows. “what if your co-workers see? what if drew comments on it?”

you give mike a coy smile. “i’ll tell him who gave it to me, then.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x reader smut #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt smut

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laiiaaa · 8 months

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thinking abt what Carmen would do if his gf’s feeling insecure…i’m so sappy rn this was rly self-indulgent :(

You walk into the bathroom while Carmen’s brushing his teeth, sweatpants hanging low on his hips and triceps flexing as he leans into the counter. You take gentle hold of his arm and press a kiss to his shoulder.

With the toothbrush still in his mouth, he mumbles, “Hey, baby,” before leaning over and spitting into the sink. He turns on the faucet, bends over to rinse his mouth, and relishes in the feeling of your hand rubbing up his back. “You want anything special for dinner tonight?” He makes eye contact with you through the reflection in the mirror. “I’m stoppin’ by for groceries later, I’ll pick up the ingredients for whatever ya want.”

You hum. “No, it’s okay…”

“O-Okay.” His brows furrow for a moment but he moves on, splashing his face and going about his routine.

“Do you know how much longer you’ll be?”

“Uhhhm…” He laughs into his hands and dries his face before turning to look at you face to face. “Like, five minutes? Why?”

“It’s nothing, I just wanna take a shower, ‘s all.” You’re still holding onto him, but your eyes dart away when you speak to him.

“Oh.” He pauses. “Am I in your way?”

You shake your head and smile. “No, why?”

“It’s just—you can get in the shower now, if you want. If you’re in a rush.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why d’you want me outta here?”

“Carm,” you start, a hushed voice, “I have to take my clothes off…”

He pauses again, looks you in the eye with a confused expression, stopping what he’s doing to face you with his whole body, his hands resting on the backs of your arms. “Is somethin’ wrong? Did I do somethin’?”

“No.” Your tone is light enough to keep him confused.

“You jus’ want me to head out for a few?”

You nod slowly. “I just…want some privacy.”

“Oh.” He pouts. “Okay.” His thumbs brush tenderly along your skin, and he presses a kiss to your forehead. “You feelin’ okay, baby?” He’s using that tone—the one that’s sickly sweet and doting, the one that has your knees weak and brain turning to mush. “You don’t want me t’see you?”

“Not right now, ‘m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s—it’s okay.” Another gentle kiss against your forehead. “Do you—is there…” He struggles for the right question. “Could you tell me why, at least?”

You try to push away from his hold. “It’s embarrassing, Carm—”

“Uh-uh—” He shakes his head and pulls your right back. “No it’s not, baby, you can tell me.”

“Just forget about it, it’s stupid—”

He brings a hand to your jaw and holds it firm so you can’t turn away. “Hey.”

Tears start pooling in your eyes, and you keep your gaze away from his as your lip quivers.

“C’mon, talk to me, baby.” His free hand smooths over your hair, brushing it away from your forehead. “What’s got you all worked up, hm?”

“I just…” Your throat becomes sore, and a few stray tears spill from the corners of your eyes, quickly brushed away by Carmen’s callused fingertips. “I just don’t look good right now…”

“What’s that? You don’t look good?” His eyes dart from your bleary eyes to your streams of tears to your shaky lips, and his heart shatters. “Baby—”

“I told you it was stupid—” Your voice cracks when you say it.

“Oh, c’mere…” Carmen pulls you into his chest, offering a lighthearted scoff as he takes in your words. His arms wrap snug around you, one hand smoothing up and down your back while the other stays at the back of your neck, the fingers scratching your scalp gently as he holds you close. “You’re so beautiful, baby, don’t say stuff like that…”

“I just feel gross, Carmen, ‘m sorry…”

He squeezes you a little tighter, takes a deep breath to keep himself from shedding any tears of his own. “Shhh, don’t apologize, you’re okay…you’re okay…” Pressing kisses into the crook of your neck, he repeats those words as his mantra: You’re so beautiful, you’re okay, you’re so perfect, baby, it’s okay…

In his arms like this, it doesn’t take long to calm down again; his hands and arms soothe you, and what’s more is the fact that Carmen of all people—as stubborn as he is about verbalizing everything—keeps his voice a soft coo as he pulls you back out of your worries. When he feels your breathing slow and your chest have a steady rise and fall, he loosens his grip to see your face.

You pout up at him still.

“Baby…” He kisses you anyway. “You’re so beautiful, c’mon.” His hands come to hold your face tenderly, thumbs brushing along your cheekbones to rid them of those damned tears.

“You’re just saying that because you have to.”

He laughs at that, a smile blossoms on his face to show dimples as his head reads back. “ ‘Cause I have to? You’re goin’ crazy, y’know that, right?”

“Stop it.” You try to pout, and your mind still aches with insecurity, but your cheeks still begin to flex with a bit of a sappy grin.

“Uh-uh, you’re so fuckin’ gorgeous, baby.” He peppers kisses all over your face, gentle and slow and delicate the way he always takes care of you. “ ‘N you’re all mine…so, so pretty, I’m so lucky to be with you…”

“Stop it, Carmy,” you whine, giggling against his lips all the same when he takes yours in a kiss. “Okay, I get it, I get it.”

One more kiss for the hell of it, one that has you pulling him a little closer as your knees turn wobbly, one that has him smiling into your mouth and wondering how he ended up with you, ending with his forehead resting against yours.

“I love you, okay?” he whispers, and even though it’s not typical of him to say it first, in his chest he knows he should.

You nod, and all his praise makes your head swim. “I know. I love you.”

“And, uh, I can—” he clears his throat— “I can still get outta here if you want me to—? Make you breakfast while you shower, yeah?" A hand runs down to your waist. "I want you to be comfortable.”

“Actually—” you loop your arms around his neck— “I was thinking…you could keep me company?”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so wide, jaw slack and brows raised. “Yeah?”

“Mhmmm…it’ll make me comfortable…”

And he does exactly that: keeps you comfortable and in the moment, undresses you slowly, worships every part of you with kisses and with high praise. He handles you gently and with so much adoration running through his veins that by the time he’s done with you, dressing you and serving you your breakfast with a peck to your cheek, you don’t have to think twice about how much he loves you.

#carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto #jeremy allen white #carmen berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto fic #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto fluff #carmen berzatto x you #carmy x reader #the bear #the bear fx #the bear hulu #the bear x reader #the bear season 2

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mncxbe · 5 months

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Twinkle, twinkle, where's the star?☆

𝑫𝒂𝒛𝒂𝒊 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ backseat activities

Dazai couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before him, hands coming to rest on your hips as he pushed himself deeper inside your warm cunt. "What's that bella? Tired already?"

You whined in response, cheeks flushing lightly. Hissing a half-hearted "Shut up you", you readjusted your position; you were slightly hinged forward, legs wide open, draped over his thighs, triceps pressing into the leather cover of the two front seats to support you. Using the weight of your body as leverage you slowly rolled your hips against his.

It's been around half an hour since you and Dazai went on your little escapade to the parking lot, since you found yourselves in the backseat of your car and he's ready made you cum twice. Your poor cunt was aching, clit swollen from the overstimulation but Dazai just wouldn't let you be. After all, he wanted to have his fun too.

"Greedy girl..." he hummed, letting out a disapproving tut "You've got your fill for today and do nothing to please me. How cruel 'donna."

You wanted to protest but before you got the chance he hooked his arms under your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest and started thrusting into you at a relentless speed.

" 'samu fuck s-slow down" you whined, earning another grin from him.

"Hm? That's what you tell me after I was good enough to do all the work myself? You've really got to learn your place bella" he purred against the shell of your ear, hot breath sending tingles through your heated body. Your gooey walls clamped down around him as the tip of his cock kept abusing your sweet spots and your back instinctively arched off his chest.

The brunette had no objection to this; the new angle allowed him to perfectly stimulate your cervix, coaxing the sweet mewls and moans he so adored to hear from you. He took a peek at your face in the rear view mirror, his cock twitching at the delicious sight: your swollen lips were slightly parted, pretty teary eyes rolling back into your skull as the perfectly done framing layers of your hair flopped in the rhythm of his thrusts. There really was nothing he loved more than seeing his pretty darling dumb on his cock.

Dazai's slender fingers ghosted over your thigh, sliding between your legs to draw lazy circles on your clit. The sudden wave of pleasure caused you to squeeze your thighs together but he quickly opened them back up using his knees.

"Be good f'me now I'm tryna make us both feel good." he cooed, fingers picking up the speed on your swollen clit and you felt yourself being pushed closer to your next orgasm.

"'samu please I'm gonna ~ fuuck" you were leaking down his cock and onto the leather seats of your car, moaning his name like a prayer as your vision clouded with tears. His thrusts ceased for a brief moment as he rested his hands on your hips, fingers gently tapping your thigh.

"Did ya just come again bella? My, oh my you greedy girl. Think you can take another one?" You desperately shook your head just as he started moving again.

"N-no Osamu please 's too much" you whined but he only hummed sweetly in reponse, pressing his lips against your neck.

"You can take it babydoll. I wanna cum too ya know?" His thrusts were slow and deep, totally opposite to his previous brutal pace; Dazai's touch was lighter, more gentle too, fingertips tracing idly up and down your torso, hands cupping your tits under your bra and lightly pinching your perked nipples. He left left wet, open mouth kisses along the expanse of your neck as praises spilled from his lips. It felt borderline delirious, the burning, stinging sensation in your core was soon replaced by liquid warmth and you closed your eyes, indulging in the pleasure he granted you.

After a few heavenly minutes Dazai felt your body completely relax into his embrace and he released your pretty tits, returning his fingers to your neglected clit. His cock twitched desperately inside you; your cunt was sopping wet so he could easily slide in and out of your warmth, walls clamping down around him like a vice.

"There you go baby so good f'me. Pussy's to die for bella" he hummed as he thrusted up a few more times before spilling his load inside you. You groaned at the sudden feeling, eyes rolling back into your skull as you gushed around him once again.

Dazai lazily fucked his cum deep inside you before slowly raising your hips and pulling out. A little amount of your mixed juices trickled down onto the seats, pooling between his thighs.

With a lazy smile and ragged breath, Dazai brushed a few damp strands of his chocolate hair from his face and pressed his lips against your shoulder in a tender kiss.

"Well bella, guess the cleaning expenses are gonna cost us a fortune"

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #bsd smut #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #dazai smut #dazai x reader

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rakurairagnarok · 9 months

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Heres the poll result!!! Please enjoy!! My commissions are still open!

Summer Bod

Derek sighed. It was a hot summer day, and he was sweating bullets. His classmates had invited him to the beach. Not that he was particularly close to any of them, but he couldn't pass up on a trip to the beach. He didn't feel like being left out like the rest of the year. They had told him to leave his swimsuit at home; Greg's father allegedly had extra pairs from his store, and he had to lose them so Greg had told him he would give them to his classmates. Once Derek arrived though he figured it was set up. The only pair they had extra was a large pink pair, which was way to big. Derek turned red.

"These were the only ones left Derek, we're soooo sorry." One of the guys snickered.

"They do suit you though, such a girly color...oh right you're a guy." One of the girls grinned at her own remark.

Derek took a deep breath and grabbed the shorts. He was not gonna let them bully him out of this day. He was gonna man up and show them. He walked to the changing rooms, tossing the shorts on the side, and started to undress.

He pulled the shorts over his skinny legs and looked at himself in the mirror. His scrawny body had caused him to be bullied and picked on for most of his highschool life. Derek pushed his big glasses up his nose and sighed. "I wish I wasn't so powerless."

As soon as those words left his mouth, the shorts started to heat up, and Derek froze. Not voluntarily, his body litterally wouldn't move an inch.

"What the hell?" Derek frowned as he tried his hardest to get his body to listen to his commands, to no avail. A sudden cramping in his legs caused him to stop trying, as he cried out in pain. He looked down and saw his calves contracting, as if he had been working his legs constantly. Curiously, as they relaxed, his calves seemed to have grown slightly. Before Derek could look more closely however, they cramped up again. This time, his quads flared up as well. This continued, untill his whole body seemed to be on fire. Derek looked, through the tears in his eyes, at the mirror and saw his whole body pulsate. After about a minute he actually saw proof of his muscles growing.

His abdominal muscles, which he had never trained, started to push out, leaving a decent sixpack behind. The cramps started to focus more on his legs again, as his quads started to thicken tremendously. The shorts that were almost hanging from his fragile frame were quickly straining to contain his thickening legs. His calves and feet also grew, and an extra harsh cramp on his right leg caused an intricate tattoo to form all over his calve.

Panting from the pain, Derek didn't notice his legs were finally unfrozen. They still had a mind of their own, flexing the large muscles, and even jiggling the bubble butt he had gained.

The cramps moved up to his torso, his flat chest quickly pushing out into thick strong pectorals. His back widened, while his waist shrunk slightly, giving him an improved widened posture. Another rough cramp just above his groin introduced his body to another new tattoo, spelling 'Willpower' in an elegant font. His side screamed in pain as another intricate tattoo was scratched into his skin.

Just like his legs, his whole torso began to flex; his pecs were bouncing and his tight abs were striking every pose imaginable. His obliques were spreading, almost like wings.

His arms were next in line. It began in his shoulders, which were quickly rounding into large muscular orbs. His posture widened even more, making Derek almost twice as wide as he once was. His bisceps and triceps were blowing up. His former twigs were now almost the size of his head, and his fore arms were not far behind. His hands tightened, years of rough work scraping off layers of soft smooth skin, leaving behind tough and calloused hands.

More seething pain called in more new tattoos, one on his right and a more colourfull on his left.

His arms began to frantically pose in every stereotypical arm pose, flexing his huge bisceps.

The cramps finally moved to his face, completely rearranging his facial structure. His previously boyish face hardened out, giving Derek a hard and strong jaw. His acne dissappeared and in its place grew a thick manly beard.

His nerdy glasses started to morph into an expensive pair of sunglasses, while his equally nerdy haircut got millimetered to a fresh buzzcut. His vision got darker as a baseball cap firmly planted itself on his head.

As the cap tightened, his head began to feel blissfully empty. All his fear, pain and embarrassment drained, leaving behind only arousal, joy and some gym routines. The unnecessary thoughts all dropped down into his steadily growing balls. His underdeveloped rod joined its sweaty globes, and began growing. Inch after inch began sliding down the pink shorts leg.

Derek grinned as he saw his python alive and well. He was happy he was a grower, otherwise not a single pair of pants would be able to contain his massive 12 incher.

He pulled down his shorts to admire his python, not only big in length but also a respectable girth. A clod of pre ran down its length. Derek slowly began to stroke, his balls quickly responding. Before long, thick ropes of cum shot against the mirror, his former life leaving Derek in the most pleasant way possible. Not a trace of the old Derek remained, apart from the bright pink shorts he was wearing, which he couldn't wait to pull off and plant his dick between a cute twinks plump cheeks.

Wanna get a new life? Call Rakurai Inc. Or place an order in my Dms!!

#transformation #male muscle growth #rakurai #male transformation #age progression #gay tf #nerd to jock #clothing tf

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diazsdimples · 2 months

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Tease Tidbit Tuesday

Started uni yesterday and had one hell of a therapy session this morning so I decided the only way to heal my battered and bruised soul was to write some more domestic Buckley-Diaz zoo trip. Please enjoy!

Buck and Christopher walk side by side, dodging small clusters of families with screaming children, mothers dragging their little cherubs along on those weird toddler leash things, and exasperated fathers trying to make head or tails of the less-than-helpful map. As they walk, Buck begins to hum the first song that comes to mind, one that’s been stuck in his mind since they left Eddie’s house, actually. Christopher looks up at him, brows knitted in confusion as he clearly doesn’t recognise it, so Bucks starts over, singing softly under his breath. “I want a hippopotamus for Christmas. Only a hippopotamus will do. No crocodiles, or rhinoceroseses, I only like hippopotamuseses!” he sings, finishing with a flourish. He’s not the words best singer, can barely carry a tune if it’s gift-wrapped and handed to him, but the lyrics are appropriate for the occasion, and they have the exact effect he’s looking for: Christopher cringing and whining about how embarrassing he is. “Buck, it’s April. Why are you singing Christmas songs?” Christopher groans, nudging Buck with a pointy elbow. Buck pokes him back, making Christopher wriggle away as he hits a ticklish spot. “I’m putting in my request early. Do you know how long it takes to grow a hippo?” “Eight months.,” Christopher replies instantly, not missing a beat. “Or around 240 days, to be exact.” Buck stares at him, a little shocked at how readily Christopher had this information, before shaking himself and continuing his teasing. “Yeah, exactly. And what’s in 8 months?” Christopher counts on his fingers, murmuring each month under his breath, until he reaches 8, at which point he deflates a small amount. “Oh. Christmas.” “Exactly, Christmas,” Buck replies with a grin, looping an arm around Christopher’s shoulders. “Want me to ask the big guy for one for you, too? Or do you think you dad won’t like that too much?” “Buck!” Christopher groans, shrugging off Buck’s arm, but Buck can see the smile pulling at the pre-teen’s lips. Christopher might like to act like he’s too old to hang out with his dad and Buck, but Buck knows that deep down, Christopher still loves his time with them, if the way Christopher quickly nudges his head against Buck’s tricep is any indication.

tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @spotsandsocks @aroeddiediaz @pirrusstuff @daffi-990 @jesuisici33 @tizniz @steadfastsaturnsrings @wikiangela @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @evanbegins @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @rainbow-nerdss @kitteneddiediaz @elvensorceress @epicbuddieficrecs @smilingbuckley @actuallyitsellie @thekristen999

#this might be my last fic for a while tbh lads #gonna try write more after this but I've been struggling a bit #but for now please have some fluff #zoo fic #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 abc #911 buddie #911verse #911 fanfic #911 #eddie x buck #christopher diaz

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jelliezellie · 1 year

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Kiss the Cook - Levi Ackerman x Reader

The sun peeked through the curtains. Levi stirred in his sleep, holding you tighter. Something about how he was hugging you and muttering little comp[laints in his sleep made him seem so much more human.

In a world of inhumanity, it was nice to know that the person you go to sleep with and wake up with is human. His brows, for once, weren’t furrowed and his eyes weren’t dark with worry or disappointment. Instead, his expressions as that of complete peace. His lips, not thick, nor thin, were slightly parted.

His eyes slowly fluttered open as he took in his surroundings. The amount of light in the room surprised him at first and he hid his face in your chest, groaning. His arms ventured up into your hair and he tucked your hair behind your ear. “Morning,” he mumbled, his eyes finally getting used to the light. He stared up at you with a sleepy expression. He had the ghost of a smile on his face. “How come you look so angelic in the morning?”

“How come you look so cute when you’re sleeping?” You replied with a question.

“Since when did you watch me when I sleep?” He teased, pressing a kiss against your neck.

You chuckled. “Since you slept in.”

He held himself above you by placing his hands next to your shoulders. He trailed kisses up to your jawline, then finally, your lips. “You’re so stunning,” he whispered. You kissed him back.

Levi always seemed to get affectionate in the mornings. It was his form of meditation, almost. Showing that there was still love in him—feeling the love he still had to give—was comforting to him. And in your shared bed, which was warm (a blessing from the cold winter wind), he’d always wake up the same; with you by his side.

You ran your hands through his hair. “Levi,” you whispered, “you’re so pretty.” His cheeks were tinted pink and, on instinct, he nearly looked away to hide his expression. But he stopped himself. His eyes remained on your charming face as he smiled.

“Are you hungry?” He asked suddenly.

You guffawed. “I am. Do you want to make breakfast?”

He nodded. “I’ll make breakfast. You can stay in bed.”

You tilted your head. “Why’s that?”

“You trained way too hard yesterday, love.” He climbed out of bed and left the room. Your bed felt cold without him. It felt like you were missing your blanket. Like you were missing your pillow, your mattress, or every part of the bed that made it your bed.

You sighed and stood up. Levi was right; your thighs were still taut and strained and for a moment, you thought your legs would collapse beneath you. You stretched and your back popped several times. Your triceps and biceps and whatever other ‘ceps’ you had in your body were all in pain.

Nonetheless, you were hungry and you missed your boyfriend, so you left your room and struggled to walk a few steps to get to your kitchen. Levi was brewing tea and you grinned mischievously. He was turned around.

You snuck up behind him and as soon as you got a few feet away…

“Do you want honey?”

You frowned. “What? How’d you know I was coming? I was completely silent!”

“Oh, were you trying to scare me?” He asked with a groggy smile on his face. “The only thing scary here is your cooking, hence, why breakfast is cooking safely under my supervision.” He flipped a pancake. “So, do you want honey?”

You crossed your arms. “No.”

“Brat,” he mumbled, throwing a glance at you over his shoulder. Levi finished cooking them and placed a few pancakes on a plate for you. He carried it over to you but didn’t give it to you. You reached for it, but he moved it out of your reach with a teasing smile. “Ever heard of the phrase ‘kiss the cook?’”

“God, did Hange teach you that one?” You mumbled.

“Doesn’t matter. It still applies.” He grabbed your chin softly and pressed his lips on yours. You closed your eyes and kissed back. Satisfied, he set your plate down in front of you. “Still so obedient,” he teased, “cute.”

#levi x reader #levi aot #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman drabble #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman fluff #levi fluff #aot x reader #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff

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dellalyra · 1 year

Note

CONGRATS ON THE 1.5k!!!!!!! that’s so exciting and well deserved :)) for your event can i request a gojo thirst about his slutty little black t shirt? (i’m still thinking about it god help me)

A/N: I need a cold shower I’m sorry this is so self indulgent bc I would drop down no questions asked for that man. Filled w smut - shameless really. Hint of a degradation kink nd Dom gojo but mostly the biggest warning is his slutty black shirt. MDNI

Sitting beside Shoko and Nanami, you saw your boyfriend come into the bar you all were meeting for drinks after work - he'd come straight from a mission and Jesus he knew what he was doing. All you can hear is blood running through your ears when he struts toward the table - he did this on purpose is all you can think. You think you’ve forgotten how to breathe and he lifts his arms, strong and defined in a wave. He wrestles the other two into a hug and then leans in, a large hand snaking around to hold the small of your back, leaning down to whisper ‘hey, princess’ with a kiss to the shell of your ear and oh do you shiver at the feeling on his breath on your bare neck. All you can do is look up at him with wide eyes and he smirks, in his glasses, you can see your own eyes - the pretty colour of them almost completely disappeared underneath the dilated expanse of your pupils.

He knows what he's doing.

You can see other women sneer at you, jealousy was palpable. He's always gorgeous, otherworldly in beauty.

But fuck, that makes him positively provocative, he looks like walking sin and hell has never looked more appealing to you. You manage about 30 minutes of chatter between your oldest friends, squirming in your seat with the uncomfortable feeling of your far too damp panties clinging to your heat and you'd swear your pussy had its very own pulse. Nanami left to go to the bathroom, Shoko to get a top up and Satoru wraps his arm around your shoulder, and the heavy feeling of muscles and heat emanating from him makes you whimper.

“Fuck Princess, I knew I’d get a rise outta you but I didn’t think you’d be that much of a pathetic whore to whimper in public.” He smirks, fingers dancing down your arm, eyes looking directly at you through your glasses.

“Fuck you, ‘toru.” You reply, closing your eyes and tilting your head up until a finger nudges your chin so you’re directly looking at him.

“You can if you want, sugar. Wanna hop?” He asks, laying a chaste kiss on your cheek.

“God, please, I need - home. Now.” You whine into his neck, leaving a kitten lick behind because you just can’t help yourself when he is wearing that.

He makes an excuse to Shoko and wraps his arm around your waist and you’re outside and then you’re home and in your room and he’s pushing you onto you knees beside the bed - and looking up at him through your lashes what you see could easily be a god.

His skin tight, black muscle tee is so fucking fitted that every crevice and expanse of him is highlighted in it’s shadows. His bulk, usually hidden in his uniform is fully on display like artwork at the Louvre and you’re there to worship him. To praise the masterpiece that is the way the sleeves hug his goddamn arms with biceps and triceps stretching the fabric to it’s very limit - bursting at the seams. His chest heaves with heavy breaths as the sight of you, in your pretty party dress, on your knees nearly knocks him for six. The definition of his back is easily seen in the mirror behind him, the planes of his abs are just calling for your tongue’s exploration as he lifts the hem of his shirt to bite between his teeth and slaps his long, pretty cock across your glossy lips.

“This what a fuckin’ T-shirt does to you? Christ, I wonder how much of a whore my cock’ll make you then, filthy fuckin’ girl. Now c’mon, might be nice to you if you suck me real good baby.”

#pixie needs a cold shower #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #jjk x reader #jjk #gojo smut #gojo thirst #jjk thirsts

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adrift-in-thyme · 3 months

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Febuwhump Day 3: "Bite down on this" (Legend & Time)

Ao3

CW for blood and injury

-----------------------------------------

The more of it that he sees, the more Legend is confident that he really, really hates blood. Sure, he’s a hero, and being exposed to the stuff is part of the job description. And he can deal with it when it's coming out of him, and he has no choice but to do something about it. But a situation like this? He would be completely happy to not experience.

Yet, here he is. Experiencing it.

Lucky him.

“I-I can handle this, vet,” comes the gravelly voice of the hero he is currently trying not throw up on to save. Time sits shivering against the rock wall, pale as the snow surrounding them. His eye is still sharp as ever, however. Which makes it a bit difficult to send him as heated a glare as Legend wants to.

Not impossible though. Never impossible.

“No, you can’t, old man, and you know it.”

He chances a glance at the wound, unable to keep from visibly cringing. It’s not every day you see a couple of ice arrows skewered in someone’s tricep.

“Let me just think for a minute. I’ve gotta figure out how to get these things out.”

“Pull them,” Time says as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. This time Legend has no problem glaring at him.

“In case you haven’t noticed, your arm is frozen,” he snaps, gesturing to the frostbitten flesh visible past the tatters of armor and tunic. “And has been for the better part of the last five minutes.”

Time looks relatively unperturbed for someone dripping icicles of blood and likely getting more hypothermic by the minute.

“I’ve dealt with things like this before,” he says, even as Legend practically dives into his pouch, searching for his fire rod. “I know what…what to do. It will only take me a moment.”

Fire rod acquired, Legend sets it aside and grabs for a pocket knife.

Oh, this is gonna be so pleasant.

Time tilts his head, a knowing look in his eye. “This is making you uncomfortable.”

“Good to know it’s not bothering you.”

“Like I said, I’ve…done this before. Many times. There is n-no need for you to suffer for…for my sake.”

Bandages, fire rod, pocket knife, heart potion, a scrap of sturdy cloth torn from his outer tunic – Legend’s eyes roam over the objects he has placed beside him, checking to ensure he has everything he needs. Yup, time to dive in.

Yipee.

“Here.” He folds the cloth in half and hands it to Time. “You’re gonna need something to bite down on.”

“Legend…” There is something vulnerable in Time’s gaze now, vulnerable and almost pleading. “I’ll be alright. Just allow me to – ”

He cuts off, letting out a series of tiny – and frankly, adorable – sneezes. Legend hardly fights back a playful grin. So, he’s not the only one with “bunny sneezes.” Thank the Golden Three.

Oh, he’s gonna tease him about that later.

As Time finishes his sneezing fit, Legend picks up the fire rod. Mentally steeling himself, he moves closer to the affected arm.

“Look, old man, I’m sure you have done this yourself. Countless times. But that doesn’t mean you have to do that now.”

Time is looking at him out of the corner of his eye and Legend meets his gaze.

“You’re not alone anymore.”

For a moment, it is quiet. Then, the hero’s shoulders slump defeatedly. With a decisive nod, Legend leans forward.

“Alright, then. Take a deep breath and bite down on that thing. This is gonna hurt and I’d rather you not, you know, bite off your tongue or alert every monster in the vicinity of our location.”

Or causing an avalanche, he thinks, drily. Wild’s Hyrule is almost as bad as Rulie’s. Anything can happen here. Especially when you factor in miserable, below-zero temperatures.

If he hadn’t found the outcropping they are sheltering under now, he is certain they would’ve frozen to death from the wind alone.

Time sighs. But he obediently sets the cloth between his teeth. Legend ignites the rod.

“Ready?”

Time tenses, obviously steeling himself. He nods once, determined and resigned.

Gritting his teeth against the rising tide of nausea, Legend begins.

It’s difficult melting away the ice without scalding Time’s skin, especially with how violently the older hero is shivering. His fingers aren’t the steadiest right now either. More than once he hears Time inhale sharply as flames meet tender, abused skin. But for the most part, he is silent, save for his stuttering breaths.

Then, once the ice is thawed, the worst part comes.

Legend moves the rod to a one-handed grin to keep the ravenous ice at bay. In the other, he grasps his pocket knife. In two swift strokes, he slices the arrows in half.

Now, a low groan makes its way out between Time’s tightly closed lips. Legend tries his best to ignore it. It’s nothing compared to what is coming, he’s certain.

“I’m gonna pull these out now,” he says, a frigid arrowhead already in hand. He can only pray that the rod was enough to melt any internal ice. If not, then this is going to hurt far worse than it would otherwise.

Time nods again. And Legend wastes no more time. With a deep breath, he pulls.

The first one comes free with little resistance, wood slipping free from bloodied, frostbitten skin. Time tenses further as though struggling against the cries he undoubtedly wants to let loose. A low whine is the only thing that makes it out of him.

The second one, however, is stubborn. It is more eager about its ice production, actively fighting the attempts of Legend’s fire rod. No doubt, the very blood in Time’s veins is crystallizing, becoming more frozen by the second. An excruciating experience to be sure. The fact that the old man hasn’t begun screaming yet is either admirable or disturbing. Right now? Legend feels a bit of both.

He brings the rod closer, slowly coaxing the arrow forward with the other hand. This time an audible cry comes from Time, shattering the eerie near-quiet of their little hideout. Legend winces.

“Sorry,” he grits out, voice sharp with worry.

He pulls a little harder. The arrow slides a little farther. And Time’s fingers fist in the cloth of his tunic, knuckles whiter even than his frigid flesh. A tear trickles from beneath his closed eyelid and slithers down his cheek.

More ice melts away, showcasing blue-black skin beneath. Bile rises in Legend’s throat at the sight. But he drags more of the arrow out. It is nearly free now.

“Almost there,” he promises, steeling himself for the final stretch. Time’s only response is a muffled scream when he yanks the projectile free.

With a sigh of relief, Legend hurls the thing away, wincing at the ache in his hands. More than likely, he has frostbite now.

Oh, joy.

But he doesn’t allow himself a moment to gaze at his swollen fingers. Setting the fire rod aside, he places a potion in Time’s trembling hand.

“Here, drink,” he orders, already reaching for the bandages. The bleeding is faster now that it’s no longer impaired by ice. He’d rather like to put a stop to it before Time loses too much.

As he weaves the strips of gauze around him, Time knocks back half of the potion. Then, he offers the bottle to Legend.

“Oh no.” Legend shoves it back at the older hero, shaking his head. “You need all of that. I don’t want to see your arm rot off.”

“And I don’t want to see the same happen to your fingers,” Time croaks. “You have helped me and I’m thankful for it. But you cannot afford to remain in this condition.”

Legend looks from him to the bottle and back again. Then, slowly, he glances down at his hands. They are the same angry shades of blacks and purples and blues as Time’s arm. And though adrenaline had saved him from feeling the worst of it, he certainly feels them now. The ache has grown into a pulsing, tingling burn.

He sighs. As much as he wants to argue, Time has a point.

“Fine,” he grumbles and snatches the bottle away.

The bittersweetness of the potion is pungent and almost nauseating. But as soon as it has begun to heal him, he feels a wave of sweet relief. He hadn’t realized just how much pain he was in. And though this amount can’t soothe all of his wounds, it makes an awfully good effort.

He places the empty bottle back into his pouch, following it with the fire rod and remaining bandages. Then, he scoots over to Time, shoulder bumping against the older hero’s.

Soon, they will have to rise and walk, looking for the path that Wild had mentioned leading down the mountain. But for now, he thinks they are allowed just a little rest.

That ordeal has left him exhausted.

“Are you alright?” Time rumbles, his voice gentle.

Legend huffs a laugh. “I’m living. You?”

Time chuckles and lets his head fall back against the wall. He is still much too pale for Legend’s liking and exhaustion drags at his features. Tear streaks gleam on his ashen skin.

“Living,” he murmurs, “thanks to you.”

He places his uninjured arm around Legend’s shoulders and pulls him close. And for once, the veteran allows himself to lean in. After all, a little warmth is welcome in a place like this. And if he finds comfort in the at last steady rhythm of Time’s breathing, well, that’s just a bonus.

#febuwhump2024 #febuwhump day 3 #blood tw #injury tw #linked universe #linkeduniverse fic #lu time #lu legend #angst #whump #hurt/comfort #trin writes

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beyondsuki · 1 year

Text

Star - Shine

Star

/stär/

a fixed luminous point in the night sky which is a large, remote incandescent body like the sun.

Toji Fushiguro

The woman in the ring

Instagram - Masterlist

Pairing: MmaFighter!Fushiguro Toji x black f!reader

Genre: Romance, Smut, Angst

Summary: What happens when you help MMA fighter Fushiguro Toji —unbeknownst to him—in his time of need?

Toji thought himself a simple man. A simple man who had never fallen in love. Although he would never audibly admit that.

Yes, there was a period in his life when he was married but he never truly felt there. He was young, and a star on the rise. Temptation was all around him yet he stayed faithful and committed to his vows. For five years he was betrothed. Tied down, trapped. For five years his marriage was perilous.

The cause of the divorce was an affair accusation. She thought he was sleeping with a journalist. A journalist? He laughed when she vocalized her concerns. She was incandescent. “You really think that I would sleep with a journalist?” That one sentence matured into a fight neither of them came back from.

He left that night and returned the next morning with divorce papers. He allowed her to keep the house while he now resides in a penthouse that overlooks the city. Every once in a while, a feeling of penitence washes over him and leaves him wondering whether or not he should’ve just stayed. “Toji! Hurry up, we have to get going, the fight is about to start.” He finished wrapping his fists. He grabbed his silk robe off its hook and slipped it on. The coolness of it lasted a few seconds longer than usual before latching on to his body heat. As he walked out and the routine cheering of his fans filled his senses, an unfamiliar face in the crowd caught his eye.

You work hard. You’re currently in medical school earning your M.D. so you can cross the finish line with the label and job title ‘Neurosurgeon’. “(Y/N) Come onn why not?!” Your friend Stacey from your class based solely on muscles was trying to get you to come to watch a fight. “We are in Medical School Stace, why do you want to see people hurting themselves deliberately?!” “It’s not even about that for real.” She said tucking her brown hair behind her ear. Her green eyes flashing with a fierce incentive. “Then what is it about?” “Have you seen Toji Fushiguro!?” “No. And I don’t want to see him.” She pulled out her phone “Let me just show you.” You rolled your eyes and sighed heavily knowing you wouldn’t be able to win this fight. She pulled up a picture and tilted the phone toward you. “Wow.” He is.. “I know right!! So let’s goo I literally bought two tickets and they weren’t cheap.” “Fine.” She had finally persuaded you into getting ready.

You readied yourself and are now sitting in the front row of the Fushiguro Toji vs Alexei Morozov fight waiting for the star fighter to come out. A coalescence of music and loud screaming invaded your ears making you turn your head towards the back. He was much larger than you imagined. Standing at, at least 6’5 this burly man managed to win the hearts of more than a few thirst quenched women. His sinewy muscles stuck out like a sore thumb. And his very presence left a bitter sweet taste in your mouth.

Someone slapped your shoulder dragging you out of your daydream “He’s looking over here oh my god!?” His gaze robbed you of an essential part of human homeostasis—your breath.

You ripped your eyes away from his and looked to the floor. When he walked on stage and his back was to you, you looked up again. You watched as the ‘Fushiguro’ on his silk robe morphed as he slipped it off. When the fight started you winced at the first punch. Tricep, Bicep, Latissimus dorsi, gluteus medius. You named the muscles being hit as practice due to yet another test the next day. Suddenly, Fushiguro was hit in the head and started bleeding.. a lot. You stood out of habit to get a closer look. The ‘medic’ that was attempting to stop the bleeding was failing miserably at her job. You pushed past the journalists and photographers.

“You need to apply pressure!” You yelled trying to get as close as possible. “Ma’am I’m gonna need you to back up.” Some guy with long hair said. “I know I know but your medic is not helping him. She needs to apply pressure to stop the bleeding and he needs to be stitched immediately.” The man looked back at the ‘medic’ staring at the fighter with goo-goo eyes. He pursed his lips and lifted the tape. You walked through and made your way to the mat. You tapped on the woman’s shoulder “Excuse me” she moved out of the way instinctively. “Hello Mr. Fushiguro.” You said while sliding your hands through a pair of latex gloves.

He looked at you confused. “You don’t know me but I’m here to help you.” You took some gauze from the pile of medical supplies and applied pressure to the cut above his eyebrow. You were wearing a black skirt with a white button-down top that slightly exposed your cleavage. His gaze could be felt even under the angry burn of the lights. You frantically searched the pile for an alcohol wipe. Once you found one you held it up to him “Rip.” He did as you asked “This is going to sting.” He pulled air through his teeth as you cleaned it. “Is there thread over there?” You asked the former ‘medic’ who just stood there in awe “Hello?” “O-oh me?” “Who else would I be talking to?” You said. Words coming out laced with venom “I-uh no there’s not.” “Of course not..” you glanced down. Next best thing you thought as you picked up some glue.

You applied it to the wound and squeezed. You grabbed some tape that specialized in holding wounds together and placed it on the cut. “Rag,” you said to the girl. She quickly handed you a rag and you wiped the sweat, dirt, and blood off the fighter's face. You paused for a moment as you looked into his eyes. The one thing you’d been avoiding all night. Brown pools of the sweetest honey. You snapped out of it though when you felt his large hands on your waist. He gently moved you out of the way to get up. You felt heat crawl up your neck, feeling grateful that your brown skin hid the blush appearing. This was when you noticed all the blood that stained your shirt.

You left the ring entering back into reality as you searched for your brunette friend. As you were removing your gloves you heard a familiar voice. “Oh my god!- Will you leave me the fuck alone! She’s my friend and I’m a doctor!” The man with raven hair lifted the tape reluctantly and Stacey ran over to you “Oh my god! How was it?! What was he like!?” She said frantically trying to look behind you to get a glimpse of the fight from up close. “We didn’t really talk..” “But I saw you talking?” “I was talking to the ‘Medic’” you said making air quotes. “Oh..”

You walked over to a man with white hair wearing a shirt labeled ‘Manager’ leaving your overly excited friend on her own. “Excuse me? Do you happen to have a shirt I could borrow?” “Hmm..” he hummed as he tapped his index finger on his lip “I do have an extra one but…” “But?” “It’s his” Oh “It should be fine. He doesn’t ever wear it.” He turned around revealing the ‘Fushiguro’ on his back. He walked to his bag and came back with a shirt. “Here.” “Thank you.” “Please hurry, it looks like we’ll be needing you again soon.” You glanced back at the fight just as Fushiguro took a hit.

You took the shirt and went to the nearest bathroom. You changed out of your button-down blouse and into the one Fushiguro’s manager had gifted you. It was huge. It stopped just before your skirt ended and it was three times the width you were. You placed your shirt in your bag and then went back to the ring.

You stepped in as they were hydrating him. “Hello again Mr. Fushiguro,” He nodded, his eye starting to swell. After slipping into another pair of gloves, you grabbed an ice pack and slapped it in your hand to get it to activate. “Hold this here.” You said to the girl. She obliged and you began to tend to his bleeding shoulder. You grabbed the bottle of alcohol and a cotton round. “You might need to hold on to something for this one.” Just then, you felt his hands on your hips. A chill ran down your spine causing you to pause. They were so warm.

You let out a tremulous breath and resumed to tend to his wound. He tightened his grip when you applied the round. “Sorry.” You apologized. He just stared at you. “What’s your name?” He spoke finally. “(Y/N)” “(Y/N)..” he repeated back, almost dazed “That’s me.” You finished cleaning his wound and could now move on to patching it. Once you were done you moved out of the way—well, at least you tried but he kept you there, in place. “Mr. Fushiguro- I- the round is starting in 10 seconds.” You said, your tone incredulous “Find me after the fight.” “What?” “Gotta go.” He moved you out of the way and stood up.

You left the ring confused once again. You took the gloves off and decided to watch the rest from where you were standing. Fushiguro ended up winning causing an uproar in the arena. Stacey on the other hand hit it off with some journalist. “Are you sure you don’t need a ride?” “Positive.” “Okay! See you tomorrow.” She walked away giddy. You tapped on a blonde man wearing a Fushiguro shirt. “Um- Excuse me?” He turned around “I was told to find Mr. Fushiguro after the fight?” He cocked his eyebrow while his eyes scanned your body. “By who?” “Mr. Fushiguro…” Just then the man with the white hair came out “Kento what the fuck? Why isn’t she halfway to Toji already?” The man shrugged. “C’mon,” the manager led you through the tunnels to where you assumed the fighter would be. “He’s right in there.” He said pointing at a room labeled ‘Fushiguro Toji’ “W-wait you’re not coming in?” “Oh no, I don’t bother him after fights.”

You cautiously walked over to the door and gave a light knock. “Move.” You heard from behind the door. “Hi..” you said when he opened the door. His face was smug “Hi.” He smirked. Your eyes traveled down his figure. He was lacking a shirt, revealing his sinewy abdomen. “Everybody out.” “But sir- we haven’t finished your trea-“ “She’ll handle it.” He opened the door wide enough for the nurses to leave while he leaned against the frame. They all gave you dirty looks as they made their way out. “You just gonna stand there?” He said walking back to his seat. You walked in and closed the door behind you. He cocked his eyebrow “So this is that kind of visit?” “W-what?! I-I didn’t know if y-you wanted privacy!” He laughed “I’m teasing.” You shook your head while he chuckled. A deep, sexy chuckle. One that made you tingle and throb in all the right places. “I knew that..” “Oh did you now?” “I did.” You said before walking over and grabbing the medical supplies.

Toji felt a chills where your fingers graced his back. “Y’know..most people are scared of me.” He said slightly looking back “You? No way” You said, sarcasm laced in your words as you applied ointment to a few of his wounds. “Your possy seemed to have no problems with you. I mean, they all looked pretty disappointed when they had to leave” “Tch yeah...no matter how many times I kick them out they never get used to it.” You laughed. Toji felt his heart flutter. You walked around to his front, moving his slightly sweaty hair out of the way to look at the scar you had patched earlier. “Everything looks good. Well, not good but you know.” Your eyes scanned his face, skillfully avoiding his eyes. “How’d you get that?” You pointed to the scar on his lip. “Accident.” You finally found his eyes. “..You are a vague man.” You felt your pockets. “Do you mind?” You asked, showing him your chapstick. “Only if you come back to my place.”

You froze and tried to read his expression but you couldn’t. You smiled “I don’t give it up that easily.” He grabbed your wrists and slightly pulled you forward. “You sure?” Yes “…no” he cracked a smile and you applied the chapstick. Dipping it slightly when you reach his scar. “Is that a yes?” “Only if you want it to be.” Your heart was beating so loud you were sure he could hear it. He stared at your lips and you sheepishly glanced at his.

He let your wrists go and your lips connected. You felt a burning heat erupt in the very pit of your stomach. You’ve kissed men before but never like this. You loosely wrapped your arms around his neck as you stood up straighter. You both pulled away at the same time. He swiped his tongue over his teeth before standing up. Your arms fell back at your side as he grabbed his shirt and slipped it over his head. He grabbed his bag and then your hand. It was so large in comparison that he completely encased it. “Mr. Fushiguro wher-“ “Toji.” “What?” “Call me Toji.” He said looking back at you. You were struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Toji.” “Yes?” “Where are we going?” “You’ll see.” You walked with him as he pulled you through the tunnels.

On your way there, more of his security started to surround you. When you finally made it out you entered an epileptic’s worst nightmare. You put your arm over your eyes to help shield them from the flashing lights. You felt Toji’s arm wrap around you as you pushed through the photographers.

You sighed when you finally reached the car. “Shit.” “It’s not over.” You watched as they migrated around the car. You finally pulled off and you were on your way. When you arrived, paparazzi swarmed the car once again. His security opened his door and he got out. He then helped you out of the car. As you walked, your hand slipped out of his and you began to drown in the sea of paparazzi. You fell and scraped one of your knees.

Toji stopped immediately after he no longer felt your hand in his. “Mr. Fushiguro! Mr. Fushiguro!” He pushed five reporters out of the way with one swing of his arm. Suddenly, you felt yourself being picked up, bridal style. “T-Toji I can walk.” “I’m not letting you get run over again.” He carried you into the lobby and to the elevator before setting you down. He opened the door to his penthouse when you got there and told you to sit on the couch “Yes sir.” You said throwing your hands up.

He disappeared into a room and when he reappeared he was holding a first aid kit. He set it on the couch as he knelt between your thighs. “Oh Toji you really don-“ he glanced up at you, causing your talking to cease. He cleaned it with an alcohol wipe and as he placed the bandaid on your knee, he looked up at you. “Thank you..”

He squeezed as his hand traveled further up your skirt. “Let me know if you want me to stop.” You nodded slowly. When he got to your panties he swiped his thumb across the wet spot. You shuddered and closed your eyes. “Aht aht. Look at me.” You opened them again to look into his. You felt him use his other hand to pull your panties to the side and open your legs wider. “What a pretty pussy…and so wet too.” He ran a finger through your folds and you tried to close your legs. He held them open and rubbed circles on your puffy clit. “Fuck..” you said, breathless.

He pulled at the hem of your lace panties before sliding them off. He placed them in his pocket before sliding his middle and ring fingers into his mouth. He went back to rubbing your clit as he slid a finger inside. A loud moan ripped through your throat. You placed a hand on his shoulder for stability. He slipped another finger in and curled them. You trembled. He stood up as he fingered you, placing a knee on the couch.

He began to kiss you, traveling down your neck with sloppy, wet kisses. Kisses that left you wanting more. Lewd squelching filled the room as his fingers fucked into you tirelessly. Suddenly, you felt your stomach tighten and your moaning became louder. You tried to speak but nothing came out. “Are you gonna cum? Hmm?” He hummed against your neck sending chills down your spine. He could tell by the way you were clamping down on him that your orgasm was near.

Chills ran down your entire body when he spoke to you. “You gonna cum on my fingers? Hm? Go ahead…make a mess for me.” “Tojii” you spoke finally. You let out a loud whine as you came around his fingers. “Good girl” he said as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You watched through half lidded eyes as he slid his fingers out and placed them into his mouth. He sucked them clean and pulled them out with a ‘pop’. You felt yourself being picked up and carried. He laid you down on his bed, “I’m gonna go shower. Do not touch yourself until I get back.” You nodded “I need words.” “Yes daddy” You said, your voice feigning innocence. Toji felt his cock twitch. He walked away and to the bathroom. You writhed on the bed, more horny then you’ve ever been. About twenty minutes later Toji came out in just a towel.

You sat upright. You looked so small on his abnormally large bed. He walked over to you and you could feel the blush creeping up on you. The towel he wore didn’t cover much. He placed his fingers on your jaw and lifted your head to make sure you looked him in the eye. “There’s no turning back after I start.” He said with an expression that made you feral. You nodded. “Words.” “O-okay” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed you. It was deep and sexy. The way he grabbed your neck with his warm, calloused hand. The way he moved them across your body. Squishing the plush of your ass, stomach, and thighs as if he was memorizing every inch of you.

He started to kiss down your neck. You shuddered underneath him as you let him take full control. You felt his hands slide up your shirt as he kissed and licked around your collarbone. He unhooked your bra with ease and slid it off under your shirt. “Leave the shirt on.” He’s been wanting to fuck you in it since you first put it on. It was bunched up over your breasts. He sat back to admire you. “So pretty…” before you could be embarrassed, he ran his tongue over a nipple. You moaned as your hands found purchase in his short cut raven hair. He bit, pinched, and soothed with his tongue.

He guided you out of your skirt and licked his fingers. He slowly rubbed down your slit, smearing the cum from twenty minutes prior. Placing his hands on your knees, he pushed them towards your chest. He squeezed on your thighs before wrapping his arms around them and pulling you to the edge of the bed. He made his tongue flat and wide as he licked up your cunt. You shivered with a moan “fuckk”. You placed your hand in his hair and tried to push him away. Everything was so sensitive. Too sensitive. You felt him smirk against your pussy as he held you against him with more force. He was enjoying this as much—if not more than you were. He loved the way you smelled, the way you writhed under him with every touch, the way you sounded. Everything about you was sheer perfection in his eyes.

You whined as he hummed into you. Your legs shook as a thin layer of sweat started to coat your skin. “Toji..” “Hm?” He hummed. “I’m- ouu” you couldn’t get the words out. “What is it baby?” “I-I’m uh-gonna c-um” “mm cum on my tongue princess.” And almost as if on command, your orgasm washed over you.

Once again, he helped you ride it out. Lapping up your orgasm along the way. You panted as he backed away. Even through half-lidded eyes you could see the glistening of his chin from your juices. He wiped his mouth with his arm and then bent down to kiss you. The kiss was sloppy and allowed you to taste yourself. You moaned into it and that was his last straw. He pulled his towel off and threw it to the floor, allowing you to see a glimpse of exactly how big he was. You quivered when you felt him rub his tip through your folds. He kissed you again and you gasped when you felt him slowly sink into you.

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you felt him stretch you. He kissed them as you dug your nails into his shoulders, creating little crescent moon impressions. “I know, I know. You’re doing so good for me baby.” Butterflies erupted in your stomach as you slightly relaxed. “That’s it, just r-relax” his hot breath fanned against your ear. He pushed his lips into your swollen ones. Swollen from how much abuse they had adhered from both you and him. He swallowed your whine as he pushed all the way in. “Shit s-so tight.” his voice broke as he almost bottomed out. He sat there for a moment letting you adjust to his size. After a few moments he felt your grip on his shoulder loosen a bit. “P-please move T-toji” he obliged and moved slowly at first, giving the pain a chance to cease.

The moans you released were like music to his ears. The way you tried to talk but ended up just babbling something that ended with his name. “Faster.” You managed to get out. He obliged once again. The room was filled with lewd slapping and squelching noises. He buried his head into your neck allowing you to smell his..vanilla shampoo?

“(Y/N) fuck- your pussy’s s-ucking me I-in so goood mm” he was practically whining. His words turned you on even more. “ouu” you moaned next to his ear. He backed away to sit up on his knees. He looked down to see the ring of white that sat at the base of his cock. Watching the way he completely disappeared inside of you. He moved his hand down to your clit and rubbed in slow circles as he fucked into you. Your moaning crescendoed and your legs shook. “Wait wait- ouu fuck wait.” You put your hand out in an attempt to get him to slow his strokes. He intertwined his fingers with yours as he continued to play with your sensitive nub. Tears graced your lashes as the shaking became more intense. “You gonna cum? Hm? Cum with me baby. Can you do that?” You were clamping down on him so good.

That familiar knot in your stomach was about to snap. He leaned into your neck anew. You bit down on his shoulder as you ran your nails down his back. “Tojii- ouu- mm I’m gonna- shit I’m gonna c-cum.” Your eyes rolled back and your vision went white when you came. Your entire body shook as his thrusts became sloppy. He whined as he pulled out and came on your stomach and shirt. He leaned his forehead against yours as you both caught your breath and came down from your high.

He peppered kisses all around your face as your body relaxed. “You did so good.” Was the last thing you really heard him say.

He went to the bathroom and cleaned himself up. He threw on a pair of boxers before coming back into the room. He cleaned your stomach and thighs with a warm towel making sure to be extra gentle. He pulled that shirt off of you and replaced it with the top to his green silk pajamas. You looked so cute in his large shirt. He then carried you to the bathroom and sat you down on the toilet. “(Y/N), wake up.” You opened your eyes to find a squatting Toji in front of you. From what you could make out, he had green pajama bottoms on with no shirt.

“What?” You were so cute. “You need to pee.” You nodded slowly. “Can you turn around?” You said, slurring the words together. He laughed. “(Y/N).” “Mhm?” “We just fucked.” “So? Nobody can pee with a six foot five man staring them down...” You said in protest. “Absolutely adorable…fine.” He turned around and you peed. When you were finished he helped you to the sink and then carried you back to bed. He covered you and then grabbed your clothes from earlier. He put them in the washing machine and cut all the lights off.

When he got in bed, you were facing away from him. He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you close. He kissed the top of your head before slowly drifting to sleep with you.

@kazushawty

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talesofmuscles · 1 year

Text

Payday

Nick Walker rushes home from the gym, barely dressed up, as his burglar alarm alerts him of a stranger in his house. He hastily gets out of his car and locks before entering the house. He sees that his backdoor has been broken and there’s footprints leading to his office. Trying to be as sneaky as his body allows him to, Nick walks to the office just to see a thief barely able to reach his prized golden trophy. Not to let someone touch his hard-earned prize, Nick jumps onto the thief and tackles the small man.

“Oh no you don’t buddy,” Nick says as he easily subdues the small thief under his weight and size, “I don’t like it when people steal my stuff.”

“Get off me you roid ape,” the thief squeals as his tiny thin body wiggles around, “let me go.”

“Not a chance,” Nick says as he presses his body harder onto the thief, “do you think I’m going to let you freely take my things?”

“Yes you will,” the thief says with conviction and confidence, “I’m going to take all your shits until you have nothing left.”

Nick is surprised about how sure the man is. “I’m going to just tie you up then,” he is interrupted when he feels something jab his stomach, “what the hell?”

Looking down, Nick sees the thief punch his rock hard stomach with a ring. Nick doesn’t know if he should laugh or question the tiny man's decision. Something about the little man's action seems confident and strange. Then Nick could feel a bit of a tingle on his stomach, like a tiny itchy feeling. The itch slowly spreads around his abdominal area until it creeps outward onto his pectorals, arms, neck and down to his legs. After the itch has spread, Nick feels a painful and major cramp all around his body. It feels like all of his muscles decide to contract at the same time. The force is so hard he knocks him back and puts him on the floor. The thief chuckles as he steps on Nick with his scrawny leg like he just successfully conquered the big man. Nick feels the man's legs get heavy as his muscle loses its mass and size. His pecs push themselves down as they flatten. His roid gut deflates like a balloon as his hard abs soften out. His shoulder narrows out to make his frame look even smaller. Those tree trunk legs would soon become nothing but pathetic twigs. Worst of all, Nick could feel his cock and balls lose their virility. His once majestic bulge that would push his shorts and undergarments to their limit is nothing more but limped nubs. Nick squirms on the floor as the once giant bodybuilder is now nothing but a tiny twiggy man drowning under his own clothes.

The thief, meanwhile, feels his body charges up with energy. All the strength rushes into his small and frail body. His bony legs start to swell up as muscles build upon themselves. The newly grown weight and size of his legs and feet cause the thief to momentarily lose his balance and stumble backward. As he falls, his butts bubble out and act like a giant muscle cushion to break his fall. When he lands, the power rushes forward. His pants, which are not barely holding onto its seams, bursts as his cock gets hard and girthy. His tiny balls inflate and droop down with fertile weight. The thief can feel his guts bubbling up as layers of strong muscles and fat build up. At first, he can see visible deep abs but his stomach soon puffs up like a balloon, leaving it a circular hard gut. The long sleeve shirt that the thief is wearing stretches with the roid gut but it would stretch even more as his flat chest starts to melon up. The thief arches upward and then down as his back muscles plump up. The sleeves of his shirt explode as his arms expand. His biceps and triceps grow and tear apart every inch of the sleeve until his shirt is a mere rag. His neck thickens as the surges travel upward. His honey face soon restructures to have perfect square jaws and a sharp chin. Finally, his frame stretches out to balance his height and thickness.

The now naked muscled thief stands up and is awed by his new body. He flexes his body and tries to kiss his bicep but his muscular shoulders make it almost impossible. Nick slowly wakes up from the daze and is shocked to see the giant man in front of him. Nick is even more mortified as he sees his body become so frail that his clothes feel heavy.

“Now if you excuse me,” the thief laughs as he easily reaches Nick’s trophy and puts it in his bag, “I have a payday to celebrate.”

“Wait you can’t do this,” Nick's voice has become pitchy.

“Or what?” the thief grabs Nick’s clothes and drops the tiny man on the ground. He is having a hard time tucking his erection correctly between the shorts, “you going to stop me?”

Nick trembles on the floor thinking of what he can do as the thief laughs. The thief gets dressed and grabs some more stuff before leaving.

“See you never, shrimp,” the thief says as he drives off.

Nick is still frightened and confused about what just happened. He sits naked and shook on the floor and just hopes it is just a nightmare. Realizing he might catch a cold or someone would see him like this, Nick decides to stand up to close the door and put up any old clothes he has. Before shutting the door, Nick notices a glowing ring at the steps. Realizing it is the ring that the thief used to do the trickery, Nick chuckles a bit and puts it on.

“No, today is my payday,” Nick remarks.

//Special story for @brandedx2. Thank you for your support!

#muscle theft #outsider tales

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lunaevangeline · 2 years

Text

{Oikawa Tooru x fem!reader} (college au)

wc: 1.7k+ —warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, semi-public sex, small closed space

This is especially for you @satisfactooru (my beta reader) and @queenelleee (my muse) 🤍 Also written for my sweet @mattsunkawa's "the best years of our lives" collab.

Sometimes Oikawa Tooru can be insufferable. Like this time, he made you roll your eyes. Look how you ended up with him inside the gym closet. It was a silly idea of him who tried to seduce you.

You were doing your work as the PE assistant professor, preparing for today’s class. You were aware that your boyfriend knew your schedule. He loves to 'help' you with your work.

"Oh what a coincidence to find you here," Oikawa gasped dramatically, trying to look surprised.

"You knew I'm here," you didn’t pay much attention, still busy calculating the training equipment.

One click on the pen signifies you’ve finished your task. You cut out his unreasonable behavior.

"Now what do you need?"

Instead of giving an answer Oikawa took off his clothes, showing off his built torso. He purposely stretched his arms, flexing his biceps and triceps. He threw away the garment aimlessly. Your pupil dilated, of course, it's a good sight but what the hell is he doing in the university gym?

Your relationship with him is official and your close friends know the fact that you're dating. But you always ask him to keep a low profile, you don't like too much attention. In some circumstances it's unavoidable but this one is an exception.

He hovered over you, making you step back to the corner. Then, he pinned you to the nearest wall, a cheeky smirk on his face.

"Well, I haven't had a bath after my run."

He dragged his body closer, placing his lips next to your left ear.

"How about you join me?" He whispered seductively, making you shiver down your spine. At least he dried out before he met you, you can catch a lingering scent of baby powder. He knew it was your favorite scent of him.

"Sir, that's a bit inappropriate," you gulped avoiding his direct gaze. Your hand tightened your hold on the bullet notes and pen.

You glanced at the gym wall clock, "Besides, I have work in 30 minutes."

"I can be fast," Oikawa still tried, playfully sending you a crooked smile.

"Not at the campus," you glared, warmth creeping to your cheeks.

He laughed, feeling amused by your timid behavior. He loves it everytime you become so shy around him, he finds it adorable.

"At least give me a ki—"

His words cut by a series of footsteps approaching, you were stunned at your place.

"Crap! Where did I put my jersey?" He cursed under his breath, trying to find his jersey but he forgot where he had thrown it away.

You were panicking, trying to help him out. Your heartbeat quickened as the footsteps grew louder, but before they got too close, Oikawa was already dragging you into the closet room.

The closet room is quite small and dark. There's a glimpse of light escaping through the small open slit but it doesn't help much. As Oikawa towers over you, you can feel his chest pressing against your shoulder.

His hand is on your waist, and his breath hovers over your ears from the proximity. Because of the darkness, your senses sharpen. You hear a heartbeat. It's an octave louder than usual, though you're not sure whether it's yours or his. Direct skin-to-skin contact and his lingering scent alert you to the fact that there is no garment covering his torso.

"What are you thinking about?"

He caresses your knuckle, and your fist loosens.

"I'm thinking how could we escape this place now."

He chuckles light-heartedly. It won't be a problem for him since he has no classes to attend, but for you, it could be a problem if you do not show up in less than 30 minutes.

You pinch his cheek with your free hand, mumbling "not funny". Still, you can hear a soft breathy chuckle escaping his lungs.

"I'm sorry," he grabs your hand on his cheek, bringing it closer to his face, and plants a kiss on the back of your hand. You soften, you really can't win over him.

You thought so, before he sneaks his hand behind your t-shirt, making you yelp.

"Tooru, we shouldn't—" you whispered.

"I miss you," he interrupted you. "Ever since I was so busy with the upcoming university league I was consumed by practice."

"I'm sorry that I can't spend more time with you," guilt lingered in his tone.

But the fault isn't his, in fact, you were also busy with study and organization. You were impressed by how well he managed his time, at the very least keeping up with the lectures while still managing his training.

He plants a few kisses, trailing your shoulder to the side of your neck, nibbling it softly without leaving any mark.

"I miss you too," you claimed, suppressing your soft moan by biting your lower lips at the end of the sentence.

It makes him weak when you said that. He feels needed and loved. He tilts your head to the side, allowing you to face him. It's dim but he remembers clearly every feature of your face. He captures yours. It's slow and velvety but becomes more intense as he licks your lower lips and gains permission to meet your mould.

"Tell me when you'd like to stop," he whispered before pressing his lips again.

The kiss becomes sloppier, by now you must look like a mess. His hand sneaks further to unclasp your bra. He plays with your mound, fondling the soft flesh and teasing your bud. He pinches your nipple softly between his index finger and thumb. You moan into the kisses, trying hard to suppress it by clutching his biceps. Your nails could be leaving a mark on his skin, and you’re sure he will brag about it later on.

The temperature increases in the small room. You started to grind against his hardness. He mewls against your lips, your sweet moans reaching all the way to his girth. You don’t know how hard he's under his sweatpants. He eventually breaks the kiss, you both catching for oxygen.

"Stop moving baby." He clenches his jaw, as you continue to give more pressure. Low groans leave his lips, he can feel his precum already leaking even though he barely touches your pussy.

"You started this first," you sneered, panting. He can picture the mischievous grin plastered on your face. Your shyness is nowhere to find now, he loves it and he finds you hot either way.

"Shit-" he proceeds to lower the band of his sweatpants. His length sprung out and he smeared the precum leaking from his slit.

You become impatient hearing his own heavy breath as he strokes himself. You reach for his cock and touch it. It's so hard and warm, you can already imagine how it would nicely stretch your insides.

He whines from your touch, and he himself is working with your gym clothes. While your bra has become undone, your short pants are still there. He pulls down the band, so it's pooling around your feet. He's checking if you're prepared for him.

"Oh, already this wet for me?" He teases your folds, and you mewl under the feather-light touch of his digits.

"I guess there's no need to eat you out right now since we're running out of time."

He smears your slickness around your entrance, rubbing and circling the sensitive bud of your clitoris. Your knees feel so weak, you hold onto him for support.

His hand is busy aligning his dick with your entrance and while pushing it slowly, he covers your mouth to muffle your voice. Your sweet moans and sultry voices belong to him and only him. No one should have the privilege to hear it.

"You don't want your lovely junior to hear you out, right baby?" He grunts as he penetrates you. You whimper in response. He can feel that it becomes more difficult to shove his full length as you're so tight, either from the circumstances or his words. You cried on his hand, clenching your knuckles.

"Damn, princess. I didn't know that this was your thing."

"Do you love it when I fuck you out in the closet?" he coos.

He continues to pump his length into your pussy, stretching in and out, filling you so well. You didn't reply to his words, just continue to hold your moan. However, he can feel it by the tightening and slickening of the wall grips around his length.

"Tell me princess-"

"would you like me to stop?"

It's even harder for him to form coherent words, almost jumbled from his heavy breath and cloudy mind. Being inside you feels heavenly, and he can't deny the fact that someone could catch his act igniting an unknown feeling. He's going feral over you.

You simply shake your head, your body movement harmonized with him as he thrust you powerfully. He eases his hand that is placed over your mouth a little bit.

"Use your words, sweety," he commands.

"No"

You try your best not to trip over your words.

"—please continue to fuck me, Tooru."

You sound like you're almost crying from the way he made you feel so good.

Then he complies. He angled his dick to hit your sweet spot repetitively, your mouth chanting his name. You’re not sure if it’s because of the darkness, but you really can see the stars even if your eyes are closed. His hands work to stimulate you, pinching your nipples and your other bud down there. Your knot inside feels tightened and tightened before it becomes undone. You gasp, letting out an inaudible moan as your pleasure culminated.

He pulls out his length and strokes his shaft several times. His white secretion spurts out, dripping down to the floor.

You both pant hard, regaining your senses after riding your high. He rests his sweaty forehead on your shoulder, his strong arms holding your waist, so you won’t fall down on your wobbly knees. His other hand caresses your skin reassuringly.

You two were too lost in your time together and didn’t notice that it had been quiet since a few minutes ago.

"Thank you for the treat," he mumbles over your skin, stealing a quick kiss in appreciation.

The corner of your lips curled up.

"Make sure to clean it up later."

512 notes · View notes

havin-fun-imagining-twd · 11 months

Text

Scary as a sleepy kitten

When - 10 or so minutes after He hasn't been himself, which takes place during the Chupacabra episode of Season 2

What - the finishing touches on Daryl's medical care, how Andrea's handling almost mistakenly killing the guy. You assure her that he's about as scary as a sleepy kitten right then. Then, there's digesting big bro Shane's descent from morality along with Daryl's simultaneous growth in it. Bonus is a hint regarding the Greene's barn. So sad there aren't any barn cats in there anymore, wonder what happened...

Genre - a little angsty, a little fluffy, a little found-family.

Who - You, Mangy Hick (that's Daryl), Patricia, Andrea, Papa Dale and his not good book, and sweet little Beth (who's got the same headcanon from the Fabulously Confident Reader stories about liking choose-your-own-adventure books)

Perspective - 2nd person, and 3rd Daryl

Pronouns - did GN again this time

TWs - some language, otherwise you just have a brief blow-up. The day's been something else, y'all

Length? - 10-15 minutes

References - when Daryl made that funny in Like a traditional Sunday dinner, the incident with Ed as seen in "Deserved" Part 1 but mostly Part 2 and its cooldown in It's not the end of the wo - oh. There's the continuation of big brother Shane's descent, a slow progression in a bulk of the chapters. Be sure to check out Invisible Tugging Strings, Part 1 and Part 2 , then Spell your last name, please. as well as He hasn't been himself

Official Masterlist here (find fabulously confident reader there!) and the Chronological Slowpoke Masterlist here

have fun and happy reading!

Apologies for the lengthy delay, slowpokes, my brain has been on power-saver for about a month, might could be evident in the chapter, too XD

...........................................

“Guess I'll just move this arm like a robot—oh-ho, check it, I can still do the tomahawk chop, y’all!”

And yeah, then his friend proceeds to make barely one and a half chops before wincing. The slight pout that forms afterward makes him want to smile, it’s damn cute.

“Hurt more than I thought it would.”

The twangy blonde lady looks entertained. “Tell me why, Y/N.”

Their pout turns more embarrassed. “…Movin’ the forearm requires these here muscles.”

He liked that their accent revved up more with the blonde lady—sorry, her name’s Patricia, he knows, got it.

“Which affects what?” Patricia asks.

“My shoulder and chest.”

“Which are injured and got irritated something serious today, along with what I’m fairly sure is maybe your C6 and 7, maybe the T1, whenever you first got hurt.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they mumble.

Stop thinking Y/N looks cute. Also, what were those letter-number things?

Sighing, his friend stares at their upper arm.

So, during the, like, he doesn’t know, 5 minutes or whatever it was when the old man helped him slump to the bathroom so he could finally take a piss, Y/N’s upper arm was wrapped to their torso to prevent them from hurting it more. They keep overdoing it, and they keep taking their damn sling off, so Patricia made a compromise, he guesses.

And after doing a modeling-pose type thing with their wrapped arm and asking who was wearing their gauze better, them or him, Y/N immediately tried to do the tomahawk chop and move like a robot and why is he finding that so damn cute right now?.

Patricia winks at Y/N. “Name some of the muscles up there and I won’t put the rest in a sling."

You

“Ooh, bicep, tricep,” basics out of the way. “This, um, one of these over here is the brachialis, this is the deltoid, the teres major’s under here.” You got that muscle wrong on an anatomy midterm back during college and never forgot about it. “This here is the trapezius.” Because the dudes who do the trapeze at the circus got real big ones (or at least that’s how you remember it). “And, well, the clavicle is this bone, so the bone under it is the scapula, which means right about here’s the subscapularis muscle,” that she said you may have hurt, “Oh, duh, then ‘the major one is the pectoralis.’ And—”

“—Okay, no sling.”

Phew. “Thank you!”

“For now, anyway. Meanwhile, Hersh is givin’ me a look, let’s get to cleaning our friend, here.”

Him

The funny part is, as Patricia left, she made a face and said, “I don’t remember most of the muscle or bone names, I just took Y/N's word for it. Now, Daryl, don’t go gettin’ out of bed, stay put.”

Now he’s finally laying down, nothing else to be done to him. He’s so damn tired.

He’s scrubbed up, too. Got a big-ass bandage over his head, wrapped all around. That was a trip; Patricia and Y/N washed his head and neck over a bowl. He counted the seconds til it was over, half-listened to whatever they were chatting about to distract himself.

Once he was bound up like a cartoon character and given instruction to not get it wet, Hershel came back and walked him to the bathroom again, this time to clean everything else off.

There was a little stool thing in the shower, with the shower hose on the ground instead of hanging. “Don’t get your head or the bandage wet. There's a waterproof cover over the dressing on your side that you'll have to remove when you're finished. Now, I imagine you prefer total privacy, but if you need the help, I can assist, or I can get your friend Theodore, if your prefer.”

“M’fine.”

The simple response “I’ll be outside the door, Daryl,” surprised him. Made him feel stupid and ashamed and comforted all at the same time.

And he…he needed the damn help. Ain’t like the old guy hadn’t seen his back already, anyway.

Still, the old man mostly stayed behind the shower curtain at his request, and he didn’t see his junk or nothing, Daryl made sure to keep himself covered.

Part of him felt like some pathetic little cat getting a flea bath.

Today was something else.

So goddamned tired…

You

Not 15 minutes went by since he was escorted to the washroom and now he’s fast asleep under the sheets.

Lori and you stayed inside with Carl (and Daryl), and Carol and Rick brought in plates of food into the house for the four of you.

Carol cooked up some jerky with an egg for Daryl as a special treat with the rest of his meal. Menu for tonight is peanut butter sandwiches (sort of, they’re on saltines), hard-boiled eggs (not soft-boiled, you checked this time), with sauteed field greens.

Your poor friend must be ravenous, but it looks like tiredness won this round. He looks so different asleep. Sweet, even. It's silly, but his light snores almost sound like purring and now you're thinking about kittens.

Another moment in the quiet, and you figure you shouldn’t stand there like a weirdo anymore.

Well, his egg and the peanut butter sandwiches will keep until he wakes up, and the jerky and egg will taste great either way, but his portion of sauteed field greens won’t be nice cold. You’re only a little bummed when you slide your portion of little sandwiches onto his plate and take his portion of greens. He’s earned extra treats, he can have all the peanut butter he wants after what he found today.

You inhale deeply. Exhale slowly. Close your eyes and ask inwardly for help after offering more thanks that he came back alive, and found concrete proof of Sophia.

It’s nice to be in the quiet. It feels safer better to be away from Shane right now, too. You aren’t sure what you’re going to do about the sleeping situation other than tell your brother to set up his own tent.

You also take one of the cracker sandwiches, it’s been a rough day. But when you start to nibble on it…your appetite is gone. Which is so dumb, dude, you’d been stoked at the thought of chowing down when you were high on Daryl being okay and having found Sophia’s doll.

Daryl’s chest rises and falls. You listen to his light snores, and find it, as Amy would’ve said, “interesting,” (but understandable) that your stomach has a few butterflies at seeing him so peaceful and still.

You miss Amy. Which prompts you to consider that you should check on Andrea. Earlier, Dale had come in and asked a bunch of questions for her because she was too ashamed to see people. From wherever she is right now, Amy is probably hoping you’ll help comfort her big sister.

Patricia stops you before you exit the house through the side-door. “Been meanin' to ask, I heard you tell your brother to get out, earlier. Everythin’ okay?”

That question was unexpected, words aren’t working for you. You shake and nod at the same time, which is weird, so, you open your mouth to fix it, but nothing formulates.

After a second try, all you can stumble through is “I don’t know, ma’am,” before ungracefully scooting outside.

After 5 minutes of polite conversation on the steps, mainly between you and Dale regarding Daryl’s status, Andrea is still dumbfounded that she’d almost killed someone.

“He’s really okay?”

“He’s bandaged and resting now. You only winged him, but the falls he took earlier did the most damage, Andy.” You’re trying not to be angry with her, but failing. Which sucks, because you know she was trying to protect the group…

But that she still shot it even though it was against Mr. Greene’s wishes and she knew that indicates an unhealthy variety of pride. One can't be having that kind of attitude with a firearm, it ain't good. And Daryl was almost a casualty because of it.

And like, come on, there were five of you running toward her target, it was dangerous for her to attempt to shoot from that angle! Doesn’t she understand that’s irrespons—ugh, and isn’t Shane supposed to have been doing gun safety shit with her? Isn’t that his whole wannabe jarhead schtick—great, now you’re more upset about Shane!

“I’m glad you’re enjoying those, ” Dale tells you, nodding at your cracker and chuckling. “They’re the part of dinner I rushed to help make, this evening was…something.”

He shrugs, and you remember how Daryl grunted that today was ‘somethin’ else.’

“I suppose having spread the peanut butter on crackers was a small step up from offering it on spoons to everyone,” he muses.

You can’t help but hum, a spoonful of peanut butter sounds scrumptious right now. Makes a good breakfast or snack, too.

“Did Daryl eat enough?” Andrea worries. “Does he need anything?”

“He was asleep when I brought him his supper, but I left my portion of the crackers—minus this one—on his plate.”

“Come to think of it, I’m not sure he’s a fan of peanut butter,” Dale thinks out loud. “I offered him some for breakfast one morning, and now that I recall, he backed away from it.”

Not like peanut butter?

“—Oh my God, what if he’s he allergic?” Andrea breathes.

“Nah, he ate a peanut yesterday. I was havin’ one of the little packets for lunch and he tried one, he can’t be allergic,” you assure them. And surely he doesn’t not like peanuts. That would be so sad!

It gets quiet.

Andrea stares at her feet.

“I can’t believe almost killed him.” She inhales and buries her face in her hands. “I shot someone.”

And Dale is only meaning to ease her discomfort and add some levity—but whether it’s because of the new bond you have with Daryl, or maybe because here’s something of a flashback hitting you from how you’d had to actually shoot a living person a few months ago—when Dale jokes to you, “Like I told her, we’ve all wanted to shoot Daryl,” you become livid.

After two shallow breaths of your inner tea kettle screaming, this sentence: “Guess y’all will want sunshine over here to work on her aim, then,” seethes out as you stand and book it to the fields.

The past several days especially has shown you how wrong your initial conclusions about that man were. He’s a work-in-progress, make no mistake, but shit if he ain’t working on it!

Unlike your brother, who keeps getting worse, who just tried to flirt with Lori by saying he didn’t care about a missing, abused little girl—the same little girl Daryl was willing to almost die to find!

Horrified at Shane and about today; confused, embarrassed, overwhelmed, in pain, overtired, and therefore angry about everything, you walk, hyperventilate, and finally, quietly, start to cry.

Then you accidentally drop the peanut butter cracker and cry harder.

The light swish of your boots in the grass starts to crunch when you reach the sandy part by now-boarded-up well. You walk faster, neither wanting to be near the two-part walker inside nor in the area where apparently, Daryl dumped Merle’s ‘hard stuff,’ as he slurred to you earlier during his trauma assessment.

Soon you’re by the rocks you’d climbed the other night. You step up and sit on a lower one and sniffle another minute or so until the worst of it seems to have spilled out.

When will you get a better handle on your temper?

While you’re busy wallowing in self-pity, you notice Dale’s watch ticking and are reminded that you have to return it.

You stand.

Trudge back with your tail between your legs.

He and Andrea are still on the steps.

“I’m sorry. I let my anger get the better of me,” you tell them softly.

Dale waves you over. “Come back and sit if you like, kiddo. It’s been a long day.”

“It’s been somethin’,” you mumble. “And you aren’t a bad shot, Andrea, I was being snotty.” About an inch to your left and he’d have been a goner, you leave out.

“I’m glad I wasn’t as good a shot as I’d hoped,” she sounds ashamed to say. Her head is still hanging low when she makes a one-sided smile and taps the spot next to her. “Will you be helping with shooting practice tomorrow?”

“If that’s still on, yeah.” Shane was enlisting your help with that, which means you’ll have to act civil…ugh, why worry about tomorrow, tomorrow will worry about itself. You take the watch off, hand it to Dale. “Here you go, Mr. H.”

“Ah, very good. I would hate to start losing track of the days, then we’d really be in for it. Let’s see…an hour until it’s time to wind her up.”

The breeze carries the smell of woodsmoke with it. You lean against Andrea for a moment, she leans back.

Then Shane comes into view.

When you catch his eye, you shake your head in warning in case he’s thinking about coming over and schmoozing with the others as if he didn’t just f—tomorrow will be better. Things will be better in the morning. He’ll apologize and things will be better and you’ll all have a good day and maybe Sophia will be found.

“Y/N, how about we talk later tonight?” Dale murmurs.

Did he see the face you made at Shane?

Best change the subject. “If we do, is it finally my turn to borrow that awful book I’ve heard so much about?”

“The Case of the Missing Man is not an awful book,” he chuckles back, then shrugs. “Maybe Jimmie Herron’s style isn’t everyone’s cup of tea. My Irma didn’t like his work, either.”

“Y/N, it’s really not great,” Andrea drones.

“Glenn said the same.”

“Amy had me read it so we could, um,” her gaze grows teary. She closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles and shakes her head. “‘Share the trauma.’”

You smile and shake your head, too. That sounds like Amy. “She finished it up in my tent while I was knocked out with a migraine, first thing out of her mouth to me when I woke up was how lame it was. Told me you had first dibs.”

“Then I lent it to T-Dog”

Oh, right. On the first half-week of the trek to Fort Benning, his nose was stuck in it. “He plowed on through it, didn’t he?”

“He wanted the torture to be over.”

You and she snort, Dale just chuckles again. “After you finish it, only Rick, and our young Carl—oh, and, uh your br—and Shane, they’ll be the only ones to not have done so.” He points his finger as if an idea just popped into his head. “But both Jacqui and Lori thought it was good.”

“Bless their hearts, they loved watching soaps, though, what does that tell us?” you giggle to them.

Dale lifts his hands in surrender. “See me later, troublemaker, I’ll lend you my ‘awful’ book and we can talk. I’m gonna hold you to it.” He looks at Andrea. “Young lady, will you be alright?”

“Yes. I'm just not ready to face anyone yet.”

“You know where to find me.”

She rests her arms on her knees and slouches again, stare fixed on nothing much. You go to rest your arms on your knees, too, and are immediately reminded that that particular position is a no-go for you right now.

“Y/N, after what happened with Ed, when did the feeling of wanting to hide go away?”

“Mine was an easier situation," you quietly point out. "And it wasn’t just me, Shane was the one who—" you grimace at the memory. "You were there.”

“Mm.”

To answer her question, “But I guess it wasn’t til, y’know, I faced people again that I got I didn’t have to hide. Shane's sense of 'duty' helped, too. But after I talked to Carol, saw Sophia smile at me, when I knew they were on my side, I didn’t mind so much about the rest.”

“Pretty sure everyone was on your side with that,” she mutters. “For what I just did…”

“Pretty sure even Daryl will, um, well th-that you were tryin’ to protect the group.” …oof.

She lifts her eyebrows. “You aren’t good at lying, Y/N.”

It wasn’t a lie, per se. “Objectively, you were tryin’ to protect the group.”

“I wanted to feel in-control and like I could do it.”

Oh.

She admitted that? If only your brain could come up with something heartfelt or whatever the situation called for to convey how much humility from someone so confident and self-assured means, instead of this: “I wanna be on your apocalypse survival team.”

A sigh leaves her, and she simply asks, “Just let me know how furious he is with me. I'm dreading how he’ll be when he’s up. I'm a little scared, while I’m being honest.”

“Hm?”

“Daryl.”

“You’re scared of him?”

She eyes you. “We’ve all seen how he can fly off his handle. He waved that knife at Rick and your brother, the axe at Jenner.”

Oh, right. That didn’t even consider cross your mind, that she’d be scared of his reaction to...being shot in the…head. Man, your brain is not working.

It can’t even configure a response again, now you’re just shaking your head like a confused mute.

“You don’t think I have to worry, Y/N?”

“No,” you answer truthfully. “You might would feel better if you saw him, he's probably up an eatin' dinner by now."

"I think now's too soon."

"Trust me, he’s holed up in bed now, he’s about as scary as a sleepy kitten.”

“Kittens have teeth and sharp claws,” she dryly states.

Your mind immediately hops to the exciting fact that you have yet to meet the Greene’s barn cat(s) as you stand and lead Andrea inside through the side door to get to Daryl’s room, waving to Beth reading her book as you pass.

“Beth, this is Andrea. Andrea this is Beth. She’s the one who made the pudding for Carl. She’s Mr. Greene’s youngest.”

Andrea smiles and goes in for a shake. Beth shyly waves, the returning of the handshake ending up as an awkward afterthought.

Sweet as she is, leaving her in peace is probably what she’s hoping for (the poor teenager’s home and front yard is full of wounded strangers).

And you almost make it through the full sentence before gasping in delight when you see what book she has.“We’re just checkin’ on Dar—is that a choose-your-own-adventure book??”

Him

There was this loud noise in another room, woke him for a second. Y/N’s laugh stuck out from the other sounds.

While falling back asleep, he remembered how he'd made them laugh really loud when he ripped that $20 bill that night at the CDC. How they’d belly-laughed so hard at his dumb, tipsy-ass joke had felt so damned unexpectedly good.

He’s back asleep before the amount of pain he’s in can really register.

You

“I’ll bring it over after I talk to Mr. Horvath. He’s the older man in our group, I love him to pieces, you probably saw him in his bucket hat?” you tell Beth.

Jimmy apparently has been poking fun at her reading choose-your-own-adventure books to pass the time because they’re ‘for kids,’ so, lending him The Case of the Missing Man was decided to be the best way to get back at him.

You hope y’all didn’t wake Daryl, it’d gotten a little animated for a minute. To make up for it, you tiptoe when you trek down the hall to his room, Andrea and Beth behind you.

Beth left something of hers in there before he was brought in, but she was hesitant to go in there (which you praised, teenage girls and unknown older men don’t mix). Anyway, she was hesitant because she’s a little, um, well, kinda intimidated by him.

Andrea invited her to join you two, citing “Y/N says he’s as scary as a sleepy kitten right now.”

At his door, you knock lightly and call his name. Wait for an answer, try again.

Upon listening more carefully, his snores sound through the door and let you know he’s still asleep. Slowly, slowly, you open it.

As subtly as you can, you step into room and pull the sheet that had fallen down back over his shoulder before the girls see the scarring.

Daryl stirs, then grunts something incoherent as he flinches, blinks, and tries to turn toward you.

“It’s just me,” you hush. “I was fixin’ your sheet, it’d fallen.” You tuck the sheet down over his shoulder, gently and slowly. “You’re safe in the Greene’s house. Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

His muscles relax and he’s back to snoring before the pet name is finished slipping out of your mouth.

Still standing beside him, you watch his side rise and fall, rise and fall. Reminds you how grateful you are. He really does look so helpless and sweet right now.

You notice Beth peeking back and forth between you and him, but she quickly looks away.

Poor buddy. If the man is this tired, he’ll rest better with closed curtains. He’s big on privacy, besides. Carefully, you start to draw them shut. Andrea joins.

Once they’re all pulled closed and the room is dimmer, she puts her hand on your arm and gently pulls you back into the hall, Beth leading the way. You make sure the door doesn’t make too much noise as it shuts.

“Thanks,” Beth whispers.

“Scary as a sleepy kitten, right?” Oh, that reminds you, “Y’all don’t have a barn cat or two, do you?”

“N-not anymore.”

Aw, that’s sad. “I’m sorry, little one.”

“Oh, um—d-don’t get too close to the big, shuttered barn, okay?” she rushes to add.

Before you can both nod and tell her ‘of course,’ she then stumbles through, “There’s—it’s—the, um—it’s just not real safe!”

She looks so freaked out and nervous that you forget you’re supposed to respond.

Lucky for you, Andrea, smooth as ever, assures her “We’ll let Carl know not play around there,” and starts to chat about how she “steers clear of old barns” ever since she spotted “the biggest rat I’ve ever seen come out of one at a company retreat,” while Patricia comes downstairs hugging to her side what looks like a wedding photo.

Beth scurries away, you make eye contact with Andrea, then Patricia gets your attention.

“Sweet pea, about tonight,” she begins, hands pressed together with her fingertips toward you. “Daryl’s gonna need to be checked on—”

“—Of course. I’ll stay with him. Please do me a list of what to check for and how often?”

“Will do. Try and borrow that big watch again, you’ll need it. Prolly will do well to have somebody else, maybe Carol to help. I'll go find her. You know, there’s an old air mattress in the attic, I’ll have Jimmy fill it up. Just go grab your sleeping bag,” she tells you.

“Thank you!” You’d been hoping for a way to avoid Shane all night. Is this a gift from above or something?

A reminder of, “Don’t use your injured side to carry your sleeping bag in,” from Patricia sends you on your way outdoors to retrieve your stuff.

The air is cooling off as the sun sets. The sky is a hazy orange-pink.

“Y/N, I didn’t realize,” Andrea says, slowly walking beside you.

“Realize what?”

“You two.”

You, too? Is she talking about your shoulder, maybe? “What’d I do? Do you mean my wrapped arm?”

She peers at you, head tilted to the side. “You and Daryl,” she softly clarifies. “It was Dale who wondered first, after you had to excuse yourself.”

Me and Daryl? “What’d we do?” Perhaps she's referring to the search today? Andrea isn’t one to not speak her mind plainly, you wonder why she’s not being more succinct. She doesn't know about you having shot that guy. Dale has an idea, but he's tight-lipped about it.

“So, you and he…?” she trails off.

So, you start to fill her in about the search. “Before Daryl found the doll, we’d—”

—OH WAIT, now you get it!

---------------------------

(for those wondering, the tomahawk chop is something Georgia Braves fans do)

> Masterlist link here

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70 notes · View notes

battorlstuff · 11 months

Text

Philiph

Story Idea - Lovals (training )

David called me a few days ago, he told me about his situation and I decided to help him, I couldn't resist the money either.

All I had to do was ruin the body and appearance of a stud that lived in his building so I hit the road. When I saw him, I immediately knew why David was so jealous of the guy.

I did what he ask me, the 10 thousand dollars would be worth it. I sent an email and left advertising outside the department, private classes, I made him believe that he had won a one-year subscription to the program and would have free private sessions for all that time.

"Hey you must be Philip"

We greeted each other, his smile was charming and his delicate but manly face got me.

"It will be great to have the gym so close, I usually go to GYMgreeks about 30 minutes from the building."

"Oh I'm glad to hear your enthusiasm, now let's start I have another class in a few hours" that was not true but I had to avoid any suspicion.

I made him take off his shirt and gosh the guy was hot. His body was a wonder to behold his shoulders were big but not too big and he kept his triceps nicely defined, his biceps were the best part of his arms he worked them pretty hard and well and the training was noticeable, they were big, but not exaggerated, always maintaining the perfect proportion, the veins bulged along his arms and his triceps stood out without even flexing them. His neck showed prominent veins and was thick leading to a prominent clavicle and a strong, jutting chest due to a toned pair of pecs which sat on top of a well-defined six pack, every muscle showing years of hard work, Philip didn't even have to pose or try to flex their abs to show them off.

The rest of his muscles weren't far behind, his broad back ended in a framed waist and a well defined lower back, it was impossible not to admire those incredible obliques that were joined below with his magnificent deltoids.

His legs were just lovely, his round, firm ass joined to a pair of muscular thighs. His legs were long and his calves were thick making him a perfect specimen with great condition and an excellent build for any athlete.

Damn what a shame, I have to ruin that beautiful body.

"Very good I see that you are in good shape but you could use to gain... a little muscle don't you think?"

"I don't know, I've never liked being that big," said Philip doubtfully, I would have to convince him.

"Don't you think your girl would like to see you more muscular" I squeezed his biceps and it spectacular, I had a great body myself but this guy was hot.

"Hmm I don't really have a girl" this would be so easy.

"Oh, come on someone like you must have many girls drooling over, any suitor?"

"Look at those abs! tell me that the girls in the building don't like to see you shirtless" I said feeling the beautiful and marked six pack, Philip just smiled stupidly it was clear how proud he was of his body and his good looks, bingo, it was done .

"Oh well there's a girl, Camille lives in the building, but she's not in town, she went on exchange a couple of weeks ago and won't be back until the end of this year."

"Then let's surprise her, you'll look better than ever when she comes back, it'll be a <huge> surprise."

The boy did his normal training, he was really in good condition, I told him I would make some changes and I stopped him before he left.

"This supplement is the best of the best, a shake after each meal even at night if you do want to increase muscle."

"Sure, and as for the exercises, what will my routine be?"

"Don't worry, when you come tomorrow I'll have everything ready."

First week (175 lbs)

Philip actually felt his muscles grow, he was more robust and his biceps increased in size. The muscle mass was actually the beginning of his new body, the fat from the shakes began to accumulate in his muscles, deteriorating them.

Second week (179lbs)

Philiph had started to lose definition, mainly in his abs, his arms looked spectacular but Andrew knew that Philip's muscles were already accumulating fat and soon they wouldn't look like this. In addition, his vision became blurred, it was strange, he felt scarred and weaker, even his appetite increased.

Third week (183 lbs)

He thought he was getting stronger lifting the weights more easily, little did he know that Andrew had planned everything well, actually Philip was decreasing the weight he was carrying no matter the size of the discs or the number written on the dumbbells, Andrew had in charge of everything The shake contained a drug that would make Philip tired quickly and keep him in a sleepy state so that he wouldn't notice the change in his body for a few months, when it would be too late to do anything about it.

First month (225 lbs)

For Andrew it became an easy task, it was rather erotic seeing the handsome jock go to the pot and turn into a pig ruining his perfect body. While Philip worked out, Andrew watched with satisfaction at the flab on the pretty boy's body, his previously firm and formidable pecs bouncing with every movement, where his six pack used to be just a flaccid roll of fat hung. Meanwhile Philip noticed that every time he looked in the mirror his vision was blurry, he felt heavy but he couldn't understand the number on the scale, maybe he was just more muscular, that should be it.

Second month (255 lbs)

The supplement had certainly done its job, Philip had lost all muscle tone now it was time to make him grow, the supplement would give him a voracious appetite, and David would take it upon himself to sabotage the pretty boy's diet, also at the end of the "treatment "Philip's metabolism would be so slow that he would never be able to lose the accumulated weight.

Those days David wanted to join in and fuck his rival a bit, so I gave Philip an "energy drink" full of the drug, he was so confused that he didn't notice that David was the one giving him the instructions.

Philip was really losing condition, running out of breath after a few minutes.

Three months later (290lbs)

Philip's pecs had already turned into moobs hanging over his new belly and Philip seemed unaware he was still drinking the shakes. Andrew suggested four jugs of the supplement per day, Philip obeyed his trainer without question.

In the mornings he was too hungry, he showered and dressed but never knew what he looked like, it was as if every time Philip tried to see his body or how much he weighed, his vision would blur and he would start to feel tired and sleepy, the only clue about his appearance were comments and compliments from Andrew about how strong he looked, he said he had never seen progress equal to his.

Andrew trained David after Philip's session ended, so he could see his rival's progress as he worked on improving his own physique while Philip's body was being ruined.

Seven months later (340 lbs)

Philip could no longer lift any weight weeks ago he struggled and almost passed out from the effort trying to lift dumbbells. There was nothing left, not a trace of the handsome and athletic stud he once was.

"Wow, I've progressed, but how many pounds have you put on this Andrew?" Philip asked naively still thinking that he was the same sexy guy who arrived seven months ago.

The handsome trainer just smiled, it was obvious that Philip was still affected by the supplement, he seemed more confused and clumsy than in the previous months.

Second week of the ninth month (410 lbs)

Finally, Philip woke up from the dream, that morning before going to the gym, he decided to try one more time to see himself in front of the mirror but this time he could see clearly.

Every trace of muscle he had left was gone. His abs had disappeared under a huge layer of fat, he could see nothing but rolls and rolls of fat around him, the huge belly hanging down. His belly rested on his thighs like a pale gelatinous mass, it was also covered in red stretch marks. that covered his round navel. He tempted his fingers over the gelatinous mass horrified to see what his enviable abs had become.

Philip watched in horror as his stomach lurched. He wanted to cry and scream, but then he looked at his thighs. They seemed bigger and softer, so much so that they clung together in huge fatty folds making his long legs look short.

His arms, the bulging veins and defined muscles that were his pride, were just pure fat, his biceps were gone and where his muscles used to be, the skin hung like misshapen folds that hung from being too flaccid to meet his lats well. , joining the part where their bibs used to be.

His big pectoral muscles were ruined, they were nothing more than oversized and greasy tits, they hung like two flaccid bags that were only supported by his flabby belly which was so big that it kept the new moobs of the once hot stud in place.

Desperately, Philip reached for the scale and climbed up, the little machine creaking and breaking under his weight, the dial marking random numbers until it went blank. Then, with a fluttering heart, he ran out of the apartment.

Before leaving he saw a note, he had been fired, hadn't been to the office in months, didn't even remember getting any calls, but no job, how come the rent was paid? Food? The cupboards were full, well maybe Andrew could help him.

He arrived at the entrance of the gym without a shirt showing his obese body covered in sweat, he was panting and his face was red from the effort and embarrassment. He had a run in with David on the stairs, it was humiliating, seeing how David made fun of him and Andrew was David's friend? Philip had to get answers. As he could and ashamed of his new body Philip put on his shirt having difficulty doing so.

Upon entering the gym Andrew was ready, preparing a shake in different jars, he only stopped when Philip came snorting.

"Sit down chubby, I think we should talk."

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