#{ The only way he will be that way towards you is if he instantly likes you and obsesses over you. }

[dekuneho]

sober ☆ ( ​prohero!katsuki x reader ) mdni | suggestive — liquid courage failed you before, too many times to count. this time, you're staying sharp.

mature content, alcohol/drinking, getting together, katsuki is such a boyfriend for someone who isnt your boyfriend, whipped katsuki my favorite, pov switching, 4k words

Katsuki grunts, scowling at nothing in particular. “Stupid.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Katsuki, pissed enough as he is, shoves a hand to squint at the message.

where r u???? hurry the fuck up. pleasee omfg

It’s from Flat Face. Figures.

eat shit and die im almost there

Without Katsuki to play the adult supervision, Sero remains the sober friend in outings, mostly because he can handle his liquor well. Sero badgers on with his texts, begging for Katsuki to hurry before they’re permanently banned at their favorite karaoke bar.

Sero follows up on a recent message with an image attached. Katsuki slows his steps to glare down at his phone. Sero’s real shitty at taking pictures, or it could be someone’s jostling him from the side. None of it matters — Katsuki’s eyes zero in on you lying on Mina’s lap, where the camera had captured you mid-laugh.

“Stupid,” Katsuki repeats, unable to tear his eyes away from your glee for a moment too long. He only snaps back to reality when his phone dims. He must’ve painted a manic picture, staring at his phone like a damn creep. Fuck.

He’ll see the real deal in a minute, but still, he saves the image in his phone gallery. That’s between him and his phone.

Katsuki ignores the crisp breeze brushing his bare face. His nose twitches, growing numb; he feels his hands ache in traces of pain that come to bloom when it’s met with a sharp chill. This feeds his irritation further, yet it’s telling that he continues to walk down the road, as if turning back home was never an option in his head.

The attendant appears relieved to see him; whether it’s from recognition of the #5 hero or the acknowledgment of this establishment’s savior from rowdy pro heroes, Katsuki will never know. Katsuki doesn’t even need to ask — she just hurries him to the far corner room where his shitty friends are situated. He mutters his thanks. She just tells him good luck. Damn.

Katsuki pulls the sliding door open and is instantly greeted by the stench of alcohol. Sero’s picture hadn’t done enough justice; seeing it in real life is worse. It’s like the aftermath of a nasty villain attack if it came in the form of piles and piles of beer and alcohol puddles and bar snacks all over the table. Kirishima’s knocked out on Sero’s shoulder, drooling. Jirou is also fast asleep, taking an entire couch, leaving Sero to huddle uncomfortably on the edge of a corner. Mina’s holding the microphone, but nothing’s playing; she’s just singing shit. You’re laughing at Mina, clutching your stomach.

He nearly stumbles over a leg belonging to Kaminari, who’s sprawled on the floor for some fucking reason.

“The fuck happened?” he hisses, narrowly missing Kaminari's arm swinging to latch onto his ankle.

Cheers erupt from all around the table when they register Katsuki’s arrival. Sero looks like a single parent of five — which may just be the case.

Sero sighs. “It’s like I blinked and was left with this.”

Katsuki snorts. At least he knows how it feels. He's felt that way since year fucking one.

He steps over Kaminari's body, ignoring his cry, heading straight towards you. Raccoon eyes is talking to Katsuki — something about him being a jackass for bailing on tonight, not that Katsuki gives a single fuck.

“Killjoy. Boring. You’re getting boring, old man!” Mina yells at his face.

“Fuck off,” Katsuki says reflexively. “We’re celebrating again next week anyway. Don’t start with me.”

You beam at him, hands reaching out like a fucking child or something. He begins to pry you off Mina’s lap, but his hold under your arms gives notice to how you’re shivering.

Katsuki shrugs his coat off and drapes it over you. Looks like he’ll have to take you home himself.

“Sero,” Katsuki voices in a bite, glaring over his shoulder.

Sero rushes to service as Katsuki shifts to his back, leaving Kirishima to sag beside Jirou, their snores harmonizing. Sero drags you to settle on Katsuki’s back, where Katsuki quickly hunches over and shifts his palms under your thighs. You mumble happily, burrowing your nose into the nape of his neck.

Katsuki slings a heated warning in Sero’s direction before the bastard can laugh about it.

“Call a cab,” he grunts out. “Wake Shitty Hair up; he can help you with those shits.”

Sero flicks a hand in a mock salute.

It was a tedious process, but everyone managed, eventually. They all crash at Kirishima’s house. They’ll be fine. And if someone’s house burns down — well… they’re heroes, they’ll still be fine.

Katsuki adjusts his hold, exiting the bar as the cab drives off. He walks, the cold billowing a soft cloud in each breath.

“You awake back there?” he asks, staring ahead.

“Mm, you take such good care of me, Katsukiii,” you coo in his ear, your lips brushing over the shell of his ear.

He shivers, feeling warmth creep up the back of his neck. You laugh irritatingly, grating his nerves and fluttering his stomach. He bristles at the sensation, snarling nonsense that you don’t even listen to, too busy giggling over damn who-knows-what.

“Walking me back to your home, huh? What are you, my bodyguard? You big, strong … hunk of a man…”

Katsuki huffs in amusement. “Yeah?”

“Katsuki,” you drawl, your hand sliding over his bicep. “You’re so good to me. You take care of me, y’know?”

“I know,” Katsuki says, devoid of its usual snark. “‘s ‘cause you can’t do it yourself.”

“Ha-ha!” You lean your chin on his shoulder. “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Wish you could … take care of me like this … forever.”

“Idiot,” Katsuki says, mostly to himself. You don’t respond either way.

Katsuki can fucking smell the alcohol reeking from your mouth. He’s about to tell you off, complain about your goddamn stink, but you’ve gone limp in his hold.

“Do you mean that?” Katsuki starts, and it’s met with silence. Then, snoring.

Katsuki doesn’t smile, but the by-passers would argue otherwise.

This is bad. Starting to get bad.

You got somewhat shit-faced drunk in hopes of making a move on Katsuki with liquid courage, but he’d taken care of you so well that you didn’t even have a hangover as an excuse the moment you jolted to consciousness. Your head is starting to clear up, losing its fog and illusion of confidence, and your brain is running off at full speed.

This isn’t the first time you’ve sobered up while in the warmth of Katsuki’s bed, an hour or so after he whisked you away from your shared friend group.

What the fuck am I doing? You want to punch something and scream, ideally where Katsuki can’t see you throwing a tantrum.

You turn to your side where Katsuki’s still in deep sleep, shoulders rising and falling at once like a decrescendo, slow and steady. It’s a heart-aching sight — achingly bare.

He has his back turned. You hold your breath and peek over, hands catching an inch away from Katsuki’s face, catching a view of his mouth open just a tiny bit for quiet snores to come out. It’s unbearably cute. He must’ve been tired, having to take care of your careless drunk ass all night, and it’s not even the first time.

This isn't anything new either — sleeping on the same bed. You remember it from the first night. He shrugged it off, saying he didn't want to carry your ass anymore. You're already makin' me take care of your dumb ass every time this shit happens — you expected me to go 'n sacrifice the bed I bought with my own money?

"Scandalous," you said, at the time, reeling from how defensive Katsuki had been.

"Not like I'm gonna do anythin' to you." Katsuki stared you down. "Why? You wanted me to?"

How embarrassing to resort to liquid courage and still fail.

This has to end. You are definitely not aiming to become a drunkard just to have a chance with your crush.

“Morning,” a gravelly voice mutters, breath hot on your face.

You come to the startling realization that you've been hovering over Katsuki for longer than you intended. His intense gaze arrests yours, tension hanging in the hair. Like doused in a bucket of cold water, you jerk away and flounder, half-baked syllables spilling as some attempt of an excuse. There is no other explanation for that — you were ogling Katsuki in his sleep.

Katsuki doesn’t smirk, but the mirth lighting in his eyes comes very close to it. He pulls you to his side, gripping one of your wrists and positioning it on the other side of his head. He adjusts your hold until you’re pinning him down.

You choke on your breath. “What—”

This time, Katsuki grins. “You're gonna strain your shoulders, idiot.”

Dangerous man, the primal instincts of your brain scream, flinching away, hissing. The hormonal side begs you to pounce on him and wipe that smug expression off his handsome face.

You quickly pull back, recoiling away, only to find yourself back up to the firm surface of Katsuki’s thigh, where he had lifted it in his wake. The shock sends a sharp jolt of aching pain at your violent reaction. You whimper and clutch at your head, dizziness inciting a pathetic: Owww.

“Don’t move so much, fucking dipshit,” Katsuki hisses, easing your hips down on his other thigh that’s laid flat on the bed. “Don’t you fuckin' dare throw up so goddamn early. Shit, it’s like, what, four AM?”

You sag against him, feeling at ease without the strain of your muscles holding your weight up. Katsuki’s like a mountain mass furnace — how nice. You don’t even register that you’re all but straddled on his thigh; if anyone were to walk in, they’d be well within their rights to assume the worst.

Katsuki cranes his neck as he reaches for a glass. You jostle at the movement, grumbling, and Katsuki mutters a quiet ‘sorry,' holding the water to your lips. You take gulps of water slowly, careful not to spill and ruin Katsuki’s strangely soft mood.

“Thanks,” you say. Katsuki’s actions and the weight of his tone — everything is off-kilter with the mood that’s just set. He’s really… “Sorry for the trouble,” you say in a hushed whisper, guilt settling in.

“If I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t,” Katsuki snaps, frown deepening. His eyes don’t convey the same ire.

“Yeah.” You nod, fond. “You don’t do anything you don’t want to, huh?”

Katsuki’s expression shifts. Just slightly, before it melts back into practiced blankness. “So?”

Everything’s straightforward with Katsuki. But even then — even then, he might not mean it in the same way as you’re hoping.

“I wasn’t that drunk, you know.” You want to look away, but you’re finding it difficult to even try. “I never was. I — I know this is the third time this happened.”

Katsuki lifts a brow. “You remember the first time you threw up in my car then?”

Your face erupts in flames. “I’m so sorry.”

Katsuki pushes you by the small of your back, closer to him. You swallow back an embarrassing noise, somehow quick enough to balance yourself on his chest before you plant your nose to his face. Katsuki’s ruby gaze pins you down, even when you’re the one on top of him. Dangerous, dangerous, leave, your brain yowls. Your body, your heart — stays incredibly still, obedient in the face of the man who's got you weak.

“Do you remember what you said last night?” Katsuki asks, several octaves deep. Roused freshly from slumber.

You squirm. His skin feels hot to the touch, even through his fucking black tank top. “I said a lot of dumb shit, Katsuki.”

“Do you mean them, then?”

You file through your memories, trying to pinpoint precisely what he’s talking about. Katsuki’s patient, seemingly content with keeping you on his lap, staring. You’re the humiliated one here.

“What did I say?” you demand, nerves constricting in your chest.

Katsuki pushes his torso up with a hand, inching his face impossibly close. The heat of his gaze spreads through your entire body. You’re sure he can feel it, too — hard to miss when you’re a lapful of a flighty cat perched on him.

His nose brushes against yours, eyes flickering down. Your breath hitches, caught in the hush of the moment.

“Katsuki?” you ask in a fearful whisper. Katsuki’s eyes snap back to meet your gaze.

“‘m hungry,” Katsuki mutters, leaning back.

Your face burns, his warmth lingering on the space before you. Your hands touch over your face, winded. Still aware of Katsuki’s intense gaze, you pull off from his lap, ignoring the scream of your headache as you dash to the kitchen.

You really thought he was going to kiss you.

No, maybe it's more accurate to say you were hoping for it. You almost pleaded for him to. Had he lingered, you would’ve thrown yourself all over him, begging, Please, please, Katsuki kiss me — I need you. How embarrassing is that? To need someone so badly that he's your waking thought, and yet you hate seeing him around?

Instead, the morning ended with Katsuki lending his shirt and driving you back to your apartment — a set routine — the third time. You talked to ease the tension, but it was a fruitless attempt at the question hanging in the air, dangling in front of both your faces. Katsuki doesn’t bring it up, so you hang onto the sliver of mercy he’s granted.

The week passes, and still, you aren't quite ready when another chance comes again.

You wonder if he’ll bring it up tonight.

This time, the party is in honor of celebrating Katsuki’s — Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight — ascension to the Top 5 in the Pro Hero ranking. Katsuki’s not surprised, but most of the class is; he hasn’t laid off on the crude language, so it’s a wonder he even got into the Top 10 at all.

Most of your former classmates are busy with their duties and patrol, and Katsuki isn’t keen on inviting more than five people to his house. Unfortunately for him, Kirishima, Kaminari, Mina, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari wouldn’t miss this celebration for the world — Villains be damned, it’s Bakugou Katsuki’s big day. It’s an unspoken agreement that you tag along. Katsuki also texted you that you were late an hour ago, so it’d be no use for anyone to upset Katsuki.

Of course, parties go hand-in-hand with alcohol. You had been avoiding Katsuki since that night, fleeing at every glimpse of blond hair. No one has noticed, except maybe Katsuki, whose eyes linger on you for five seconds longer than usual when you knock on his door.

His gaze sends a lick of heat down your spine, and the night’s just starting.

There needs to be a change of plans. If trapping him drunk doesn’t work after three failed attempts, then you have no choice but to do it sober.

That scrap of interest Katsuki had shown last week was more than enough encouragement. If you don’t end up confessing your feelings tonight, then that just means you’re never meant to do it at all — which would’ve been the easiest way out if Katsuki didn’t make it so hard.

“Hey,” you say. "I'm here."

“Finally,” he mutters. Your lips quirk up in humor.

Katsuki’s gaze slips from your collarbone to your thighs before flicking back up. A flame of interest makes itself known to you, to your chagrin. You’re no better: Katsuki’s dressed in low-hung jeans and a black fitted tank top under a striking red button-down, sleeves rolled up to his elbow. How can he make a simple nothing look so sinful?

Katsuki steps back, presenting the surprisingly neat get-together your friends have set up. There’s a buffet of food spread across Katsuki’s dining table — and because you know Katsuki well enough to be privy to his skills in the kitchen, you can tell he cooked all of them. There are banners spelling his name out beside Congratulations!, which must be Katsuki’s limit, seeing the lack of confetti.

“You’re here!” Mina shrieks, bounding over to encase you in a tight hug.

Air knocks out of your lungs as she squeezes your neck. You tap Mina’s back in distress. The room lights up with laughter, greeting you in turn. Kaminari moves to ruffle your hair, but his eyes catch on something behind you, and he pales and hides behind an amused Kirishima.

Katsuki heads to the kitchen island, alcohol lined up in a neat pile. You decide firmly that you are not getting drunk — you will power through with your plan, and that’s your mission for the day.

You pump your fist once and exhale roughly. Plus Ultra! Mina says you look stupid, dragging you off to the living room.

You’re squished between Kaminari and Mina, who throw their heads back for a shot.

True to your word, you denied any shot glasses offered, instead busying your mouth with the food Katsuki cooked. It's too bad you can't shut your brain the same way.

It’s tempting — really, really tempting. You haven’t been able to approach Katsuki, feeling too much like you should just forget about whatever plan you had for a confession and ride the tide back to normalcy. To get shitfaced drunk and leave it for you to deal with in the morning. But whenever you meet Katsuki’s eyes — it’s like you’re back on his bed, he’s too close for comfort, and you're reminded of all those mornings you wished was so much more last night, and the itch for alcohol is swept away.

Mina rests her head on the curve of your shoulder, her hair tickling your cheek. She asks, too nonchalantly for your liking—

“Have you and Katsuki fucked this week yet?”

You’re fortunate enough to have decided to skip alcohol for tonight, or else you would’ve died from choking on it. You glance over, hoping Katsuki hadn't been paying attention, but to your relief, he was absorbed in a discussion with Kirishima. “I’m — Have we — What?!”

Mina barrels on obliviously. “Had sex. Gotten busy. Under the covers. Hands-on learning—”

“No, I — What the fuck!” You shove her off. Mina sways in place; you'd feel sorry if you weren’t so scandalized. “Why are you asking me this?”

“Oh.” Mina tilts her head and watches your reaction thoughtfully. “No wonder why. Katsuki’s looking all tense lately.”

What the hell. “So?!”

Your shriek disturbs the peace of the party.

Kaminari chimes in to add to the blow. You lock eyes with Katsuki from across the room — must be the ninth time this evening — while Mina and Kaminari crowd in on you, relentless with probing curiosity. “I also thought he was acting like he was lacking some action—”

Blood rushes to your cheeks as you rip your gaze off Katsuki’s questioning stare. Then, in a low whisper, “Katsuki and I have never — we aren’t even—”

Kaminari turns his head, presumably to eye Katsuki. “Why does he look like he’s about to eat you up?”

“Do I look like I can read his mind?” You feel irritation like a blade on your nerves. “If he’s all tense, then he should get his dick wet — and I’m not involved in any of that.”

Mina gapes, disgusted. “What? You’d just let him fool around with someone else?”

“Why would that be my issue?”

Mina and Kaminari share a look. “Oh my god.” 

“You’re actually not together? Not even, like — just fooling around as friends?”

“No, Kaminari.” You hate how you sound defeated admitting that. “No, we’re not.”

“Fuck,” says Mina emphatically. “Fuck! You’ve got to fuck!”

“What — Why is this my responsibility? If he’s happy fucking someone else, let him be — You want him to loosen up, don’t you?”

Mina’s face shifts into a devious little thing. “You look like you want him to loosen you up.”

"That's so gross, Ashido."

Kaminari grins knowingly. “You jealous? Why’s that, huh?”

“Because I’ve been wanting to confess to him for two months now, and my liquid courage is nothing but a fucking cock-blocker!” you hiss in a frantic whisper.

“We’ve got to fix this!” Mina says, the hero that she is. “We need you to get laid!”

“Please tone it down,” you plead.

Kaminari tugs you down in a mock of a team huddle. You squirm uncomfortably; you can taste the liquor in their breaths. “What’s your game plan?” he asks. “Seduce him? Lock him up in his room, maybe?”

“I guess? I just want to do it sober.”

Mina suddenly leaps to her feet, yelling like a soldier. “Isolate him, then force your love!”

“Sober and preferably not unhero-like.”

Mina squeals, cupping your cheeks. “Do it tonight. He’s ready, I can feel it. He’s looking at you.”

Everyone in the room is casting glances at the three of you, but thankfully, Sero, Jirou, and Kirishima are respectful enough not to approach and disrupt the troubling conversation for your dignity’s sake.

“Of course he’s looking at me,” you wallow in mortification. “You’re making it too obvious. I’m going to get bullied.”

Mina smirks, her gaze trained ahead. “Yeah, you’re going to get bullied alright.”

You splutter, “What do you mean—”

Katsuki hovers over you three. “Let’s talk,” he demands, glaring hotly.

You’re back in Katsuki’s room, this damned space — the source of all your longing dreams and fantasies. The music from downstairs dials up, though it seems like it’s more out of consideration for you both. You’d been whisked away by Bakugou Katsuki once again, both of you blatantly disregarding the obscene gestures Mina and Kaminari were making as he pulled you upstairs. This time, however, you’re as sober as ever. It feels so different, like you're pulled out after submerging in the water for too long. Everything is so loud and clear.

Katsuki cages you against his door, never one to mess around.

“If I made you uncomfortable, punch me,” Katsuki says out of nowhere.

You’re speechless. “What?”

“Just — yell at me or some shit. Don’t start avoidin’ me, and don’t just move on to some other extra,” Katsuki mutters, deliberately averting your wide eyes. Move on to another— "I'll leave you alone."

"Why would I…" Move on to someone else? That's almost disrespectful to all the pining that's fucked with your head since this crap started. Move on? From Bakugou Katsuki?

"You were talking about it with those assholes."

Oh. He overheard all the wrong parts.

"I'm not gonna hook up with anyone else!"

The tension that has coiled tightly around his shoulders eases. Yet, despite this, he still hadn't made any bold moves to lead you to his bed, holding onto a fragile thread of hesitation that lingered in the air between you. Like you didn't just admit you're exclusively waiting for him.

His face twists up. “And, about that night, I wasn’t gonna — fuck, I’m not gonna do shit you don’t want, but I can’t read your mind. I don't wanna fuck this up.”

“What are we talking about?”

“The kiss, dammit — shit. Get it straight before I get the wrong idea.” Katsuki groans, resting an arm above your head. Is it wrong to be so endeared by someone clearly struggling to get his point across? “Do you mean it?”

You furrow your brows, arms crossed. This again. “What did I say, Katsuki?”

“When you said you wanted me to take care of you forever.”

What the hell? Did you really say that? Screw the exclusiveness of sex, that was basically a proposal!

Katsuki hooks a finger on your chin and forces your gaze back to him. Pay attention to me. Your eyes drift away for a second, catching on his ears, tinted ears — in contrast to his fierce scowl.

Your shoulders relax somewhat. Then you can't help but laugh.

Right, this is still just Katsuki. Your best friend, crush since forever; the guy who took care of you without even asking for anything in return. The guy who apparently has been considering your boundaries even though you've been seducing him drunk too many times.

“Why are you laughing,” Katsuki hisses; his frustration sounds more agitated than furious.

“So you did want to kiss me that morning?”

“No shit,” Katsuki huffs in a humorless laugh. “But, fuck, I’m not shitty enough to force you—”

��Katsuki,” you interrupt, “you should’ve.”

He falls silent, red eyes piercing yours searchingly.

Dangerous, your mind whispers, but you’ve never wanted to experience a thrill like this in your life. “I really wanted you to.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re lucky you took good care of me before I pounced on you drunk,” you say, and you mean it too. Your hands snake over his shoulder, tugging him down.

Katsuki’s breath catches in his throat, looking caught off guard. Wide-eyed and unsure. Cute. “Are you drunk right now?” he asks carefully.

“Never been more sober in my life,” you breathe.

He dives in for a rough kiss, one hand on the back of your head to push you deeper into him. You tilt your head to the side and — yeah, that’s better. Katsuki pries your mouth open, coaxing noises out of you that he each answers with a groan.

He smells like alcohol in his breath. It mixes with the scent of smoke — a dizzying, cloying scent that screams Katsuki. You want this more than Katsuki realizes. You want to sleep with it, to wake up to it.

“How much did you drink?” you ask.

“Just two light ones,” Katsuki says, and then one side of his lip quirks up. “Thought I had to take your ass home again.”

You smile coyly, tracing a finger over his bicep. “We can skip the foreplay — I'm already in your home, aren't I?”

Katsuki goes very, very still. Staring blankly. You hope you can convey it — you hope he doesn’t back out and pull away. You know he’ll get it. Katsuki is smart enough to pick up on your pleading gaze. His eyes burn; clearer, now, bright with understanding. 

I want this, too. You’re not sure if you or Katsuki said it.

You take his daze as a chance to push him to his bed, with you straddling legs as his eyes devour every inch of you.

“Get the fuck out of here if you don’t want me to fuck you right now,” Katsuki says seriously.

You settle over his thigh, mimicking that morning, hands splayed on his chest. Katsuki wheezes out a breath that sounds like he’s been slammed onto a wall, his grip latching onto either side of your hips right away.

“Take care of me again?” you ask.

“Holy fuck,” Katsuki says.

© dekuneho 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, modify, translate. do not input this to AI.

if you read my previous drabble ik i recycled it… but in my defense this one came first. thanks for reading mwa

[dragonsholygrail]

New City, New Life

5k celebration ‘Choose your own adventure’ story

Wolf Hybrid x fem!reader— free use city, olfactophilia, semi-public sex, oral (f!receiving), marking, biting, knotting

You stop the moving truck just outside of your brand new house. Ducking your head you check it out through the window and nod appreciatively. It looked a lot better than it did online! Though for the surprisingly low price you got for an entire house you wouldn’t have complained about whatever it looked like. But you scored great for not viewing the house in person before buying it and moving to a whole other city you had never heard of let alone been to.

Was that pretty stupid of you? Sure! But you can’t exactly regret it when this is the outcome. And besides, you needed a change of pace from the monotony of your old life. You needed a new adventure. An unknown city, your own house, and a change in work was just the start, you were positive.

When that mysterious headhunter came to you a few months ago with the opportunity of a lifetime, it couldn’t have come at a better time. It was like something in the universe knew you were having a rough time and needed to leave. So you took the risk and packed up your entire life. It all happened so fast you didn’t even get the chance to do any of your own research on the neighborhood, the city, or your new job. All you had to go on was the brochures the headhunter sent.

Again, was it stupid? Nah, you’re sure it’ll all work out for the best.

But as you flip the latch and push up the tailgate to reveal the moving truck full of boxes that you alone have to move, you start to second guess your statement. You really should’ve hired that Minotaur Moving Company the headhunter suggested. You can handle this. You can totally… totally… hand this.

“Hey, neighbor!” A voice calls, startling you out your daunting thoughts.

You lean to look over the side of the truck and are instantly blown away by the sight in front of you. A sexy ass Wolf Hybrid walks down the sidewalk toward you. His muscles bulging and straining against his tight button up shirt. His slacks not hiding anything he’s got going on downstairs. The smirk on his face is absolutely panty-dropping and you feel yourself go weak in the knees from it. More than ready to drop down and him do whatever he wants to you.

“Moving in?” He asks instead of immediately taking you right then and then. For a second you’re disappointed before you realize this is the real world and people don’t have sex with people they’ve just met… right?

“Yeah, yeah. Gotta bring in all these boxes, gonna take so long,” you say, your voice sounding breathier than you meant it to.

The Wolf Hybrid’s eyes flash but before you can read the expression it’s gone and that friendly neighbor persona is back on. He looks into the truck and scoffs as if it’s nothing.

“Let me help you with that then!”

Before you can pretend to resist, claiming he doesn’t need to help before he insists in a way that would have your panties gushing, he swings himself up into the truck. The words immediately die on your tongue as you see him pick up a heavy box like it’s nothing. Oh, well I guess your panties are getting soaked either way.

You swear that the Wolf Hybrid can tell you’re already turned on as he inhales deeply just as he passes you. But thankfully he doesn’t say a thing and heads up your porch, waiting with a wagging tail for you to open up your house to him. You exchange polite greetings as you walk inside with him and get started.

The two of your work together pretty well. Walking back and forth between the truck and the house. You can’t help but let your gaze linger on him and the way he moves. And every time you look at him you catch him looking back, his heated gaze raking over your form.

The tension grows thicker with each box you both carry. While the Wolf Hybrid forces you to stay away from the heavy boxes, only allowing you to lift the light ones. It only serves to increase the tension and turn you on even more. Still, you both manage to work up quiet the sweat by the time the moving truck is almost empty.

You sigh heavily as you push yourself back up into the truck. Heading all the way down to the front to look for another box to carry in. Just as you reach down to pick up a box of throw pillows, two clawed hands dig into your plush waist and a sharp gasp falls past your lips. You freeze in place, questioning why your pussy clenches down around nothing.

“Think I’m finally gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, ‘k?” The Wolf Hybrid growls, his chest molding to your back. His snout nuzzles into your throat and down into your shirt. He inhales deeply, a rumble moving through his chest as your musk washes over him. “You’re finally ripe ‘nough f’me.”

With a quick jerk of his hands, he’s shucking off your pants. You jump a second later as his snout presses deeply against your slit, rubbing his nose back and forth, smelling all of you. You moan softly, your mind fading away before you can question what the hell is happening. This is what you wanted this whole time after all. Can’t complain now. And you surely won’t as his long prickly tongue joins in, lapping up the mess your slick left on your pussy.

“So fucking drenched for me already. I think you’ll fit in around here just fine,” he rasps as he latches onto your clit and gives it a teasing suck that has sparks shooting through your core.

You go to finally ask what he’s been on about, and why the fact that you’re a soaked mess for him would mean you’d fit in, but in a flash he’s standing up and kicking your legs out to spread for him. His fat tip pushes against your entrance and your jaw drops, tongue lolling out at his sheer girth. His cock splitting you open in two as he pushes his big cock all the way inside your desperate pussy.

“N-nngh! Fuuuck. So fucking tight for me. Glad I got to you first. With a pussy this good you’re gonna be busy in a city like this,” the Wolf Hybrid growls out, his claws digging into your waist.

You can barely hear him over the ringing in your ears. But none of it matters anyway as he uses his grip and immediately starts spearing his shaft deep inside your sloppy cunt, over and over again. The only sound that registers now is your own moans as he fucks you brainless.

The truck shakes with the force of his thrusts and you hold onto the boxes in front of you for dear life as he takes you on a wild ride. His cock glides along your gummy walls, igniting your every nerve as he hits those spots inside you that have you seeing stars. Loud cries leave you but you can’t seem to give a fuck if anyone hears. They should hear how good you’re feeling right now.

“God, yes! Take it! Take my cock, darling. Gonna have to get used to this after all. And I’ll be more than happy to help you adjust.”

You cry out louder, your throat aching with the strength of the noises leaving you. You desperately try and rock back and meet his thrusts but the Wolf Hybrid snarls, his claws digging even deeper into your hips. He leans over you and his fangs are sinking into your flesh a moment later. Keeping you perfectly still for him as he slams his length into your depths, his tip kissing your womb with every thrust.

The onslaught of one sensation after the other has every single one of your atoms quivering with anticipation. Your toes curl as he reaches down, flicking your clit just right, and a second later you’re freezing up as your orgasm crashes through you.

Wolf Hybrid roars as your precious pussy clamps down on him. He continues to thrust into you, swinging his hips back and forcing his knot inside you with a slick pop. The sudden stretch prolongs your orgasm and makes you scream in delight. He cums not long after you, his knot expanding inside you as he pumps load after load of hot cum straight into your wrecked womb.

“If I hadn’t already said it, welcome to the neighborhood,” he says breathlessly in your ear.

After his knot had gone down, he slipped out of you and the two of you finished carrying the boxes in. Well, more like you laid on your couch while he carried the rest in because you couldn’t seem to walk for the life of you. He offered to stay, help you clean up and look after you till you could walk again, but you politely declined. You started your new job in the morning after all.

As you leave your house the next morning, body still a bit sore from the best fuck of your life, you realized you had a tiny issue. Your car was being driven down by a friend from your old city but it wasn’t here yet. You had to get to work somehow.

Looking off to the side you spot your neighbor in their driveway and your cheeks tinge pink. He was with a couple of his friends and it seemed like they were on their way somewhere. His friends appearing to be an Orc, a Naga, and another wolf. You could always ask them for a ride. Or maybe you shouldn’t bother your neighbor after what happened yesterday. You could always take the bus. Except… you have no idea where the station is. Well, you could always walk. Maybe stop for some coffee along the way.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

CW: Smut, blood, knots, ruts Rating: Adult Summary: Alastor and his Doe have weathered the passing of the seasons, though he has failed to define their relationship and she's been too afraid to ask. Now, Alastor's Rut is upon him and it's time for her to return the favor. Follow up to Antler Play

“Alastor?” you called out as you stepped into your shared bedroom, fluffy doe tail flicking in worry.

Alastor had failed to join you for pastries over coffee. It was terribly unlike him and you feared you had done something to upset him. The relationship between you two was something strange. You shared a room, slept in his presence and yet you still were not totally sure what you were to the buck. 

He had been acting strange the last few weeks, scenting you when none were around. The musk of him clung to you, as if you needed any additional way for him to show his claim over you. 

Yet, you didn’t know what that claim was or what it meant for your heart. 

The door slammed shut behind you. Fear jumped through your system, forcing a squeak from your throat as you turned, looking at the door shrouded in shadows. They were too dark, too deep for the amount of dim light that was in the room. 

He was in here, somewhere. You knew that. You could smell him. The crackle of his power danced over your skin. 

“Cher,” his voice came from the radio sitting on the fireplace mantle, the speakers lighting up the way his smile did when he was more radio demon than deer as he spoke. “Remember how I helped you?”

“Alastor?” You turned, heart pounding in your chest as you looked for him. 

“I’m here,” his voice came directly over your shoulder as his arm wound around your waist, lifting you from your feet. 

His presence was overbearing as he carried you toward the bed, only to set your feet down on the carpet. Facing him, you couldn’t stifle the gasp. 

The antlers atop his head were heavy, wide and branched. Dark shadows clung to them, dripping from the tines. Bitter musk was thick in the air, making your mouth water even outside of your season. 

You were a sexual being, in life and in death. While you learned your seasons made you made with desire, you were not immune to it outside of that time like Alastor seemed to be. 

Trembling legs took you a few steps back from the advancing buck, eyes black as coal swallowed bright red radio dials that looked back at you. 

It all made sense. The last few months, Alastor had been more affectionate. He scented you more. He hovered more. He watched over you more. You thought something had changed between you. Perhaps he loved you, but.. he had entered his season.

His libido was awakening as his body prepared itself for his rut. He was a buck, but the way he looked at you made it feel very much like he was a wolf, ready to devour you. 

“Do you remember how I helped you last year?” Static was loud in your ears, but at least this time the words came from the man you had fallen in love with.

“Yes,” you whispered, heart pounding so heard in your chest that you were sure he could hear it. 

“Will you return the favor?” Alastor’s bright red eyes ran slowly down your body, taking in each curve as he did so in a way he never had before.

“y-yes,” excitement ran through you, shooting down your spine as the large buck reached out for you. 

“My doe,” his voice rumbled through the static, coming from all around you as he wrapped his arms around you.

Your feet dangled for a moment before you threw them around his waist. As he walked as if nothing out of the ordinary at all, shadows and tentacles ripped at your clothes. Stitching on the seams gave way. The fabric ripped- clothes fell from you in tatters.

Your body reacted instantly to the feel of him, to the feel of the static running over bare skin. The rich smell of forest and buck was all you could smell. Fire ignited in you, growing hotter with each deep lungful of him you pulled in. 

Everything was happening so fast. As Alastor laid you on the bed, you realized he was naked. Never had you seen him bare and yet his clothes melted into the shadows without you even noticing. The bulbus head of his cock pressed into your waiting opening as he climbed over you, pushing your legs up and apart. 

“You’re already ready for me,” Alastor said, though his voice came from all around as he thrust forward, length parting your walls in one smoothe stroke. 

He throbbed inside you as his hips met yours. Or perhaps it was your wet cunt that was throbbing? You were not sure anymore as you arched into him. Gruff groans reverberated through his chest as he pulled from you, only to slam back into your wet cunt. 

“Fuck,” you moan as his cock nudges your cervix, hot thick length spreading your core easily. 

Each thrust came hot on the heels of another. Alastor set a brutal, violent pace as he reached down, grabbing your legs in his large hands. He pulled your thighs up, higher and higher, as he thrust into you. As your knees sank, so close to framing your breasts, Alastor groaned again. 

Red radio dial eyes never left you as he thrust, hard and powerful, into your tight cunt, spread so open for him. Tentacles grabbed your legs, freeing his hands to hold your waist, pulling your core down to meet his hips in each painful blow. 

It hurt to be taken by the Radio Demon but the pain felt so good, you couldn’t help the moans, prayers made up only of his name dropping from your lips. He shifted back, pulling your body down the bed a few inches just as the top of your head grazed the headboard. 

He had fucked you up the bed. Reaching up, you braced yourself against the headboard. Alastor’s long arms made it easy for him to reach up, doing the same. The wood cracked as he used it for leverage, allowing him to thrust into you harder still. 

“Fuck,” you moaned, fingers tangling in the bedsheets as he fucked into you again and again. 

His grip on you was painful as he shifted, angling your hips and forcing your back into an arch. The blunt head of his cock pressed against your stomach, pushing out slightly with each thrust. 

Desperate for anything, you dug your nails into his arms. You clung to where his skin shifted from the black stains of blood spilled that he could never wash away to the soft tan of his skin and the light covering of fur over it. 

Sharp claws dug into your thighs. His hips slammed into yours, harder and harder, making you burn inside. You could feel every delicious impact, pulling breathless moans from your lips.

The pebbled buds of your nipples ran against the soft fur of his chest as he fucked into you, trying to reach as deeply as possible with each and very thrust. 

“I’m going to fuck you so good you’ll feel my cock in your pretty little cunt forever Dear” Alastor growled out, voice coming from the radio speakers as well as the man over you, “and after we’re done, I’m going to fuck you again, and again, until you can’t take anymore, just to make sure you’re so full of my cum, nothing else will fit”

“Alastor,” you whined, voice airy as you struggled against the force of his cock pounding through your insides, driving you closer and closer to your orgasm. Heat built inside you, being pulled forth by the pheromones wafting off of him. 

“You’re going to feel my cum inside you as you sit for breakfast around all of those pathetic sinners. You’re going to smell of me. Everyone’s going to know you are mine.” Alastor snarled through his promises, claws sinking so deep into your thighs that you could feel the trickle of blood running up your legs. 

“When I’m done with you,” his voice flipped, coming from him and the speaker, changing nearly every other syllable. “you’re going to suck me clean before I fuck you again”

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your head back as he continued to fuck into you. He couldn’t decide if he wanted our neck under his teeth or if he wanted your eyes on him as he forced you to cum on his cock. Did he want to taste you or see you as he marked you his?

“What?” You gasped out, losing track of where you ended and Alastor began. 

“All you’ll be able to do is think of the way my cock fills you,” he promised, dark words pushing you closer to the edge. “The taste of my seed on your tongue. The sound of my voice in your ears. The feeling of my teeth in your neck. My hands on your skin. My claws gripping your hips.” 

“Please, Alastor,” you begged for him, not knowing how to ask for what you needed. Never had you imagined him saying such things to you. 

“Thoughts of me will devour your mind,” he swore and you were so sure he was right, “until you return to me, begging me to take you again.” 

“Oh, fuck!” you cried out as his tongue ran over your neck. 

“You will dream of me. When you touch your pretty little cunt, you’ll wish it was my hands. You’ll wish it was my cock. I will ruin you.” 

You drug his face to yours, needing his kiss. It was the first kiss shared between you. What sweetness there was in it quickly dissolved into the fiery passion of mating. Sucking on his tongue desperately, you moaned and whined, needing him in all your holes. 

You wanted nothing more than his full possession as you submit, your body pliant just for him as he continued his lust filled rambles, “You’re going to cum so much for me aren’t you pet, gonna drag my cum deep inside you while your little cunt begs for my seed”

Leaning forward, his lips found your neck. Folding over you, each thrust had more power yet. You wrapped your arms around him. The strong muscles of his lean back flexed and bunched under your touch. Your orgasm washed over you with sudden, drowning waves of pleasure. Accompanying your sudden orgasm was the grunting bleats coming from your lover. 

His cock swelled inside you, pushing deeper and deeper with each thrust. The tip nestled against your cervix. Tears ran down your face as your opening was pushed wider with each thrust into you. 

Teeth sank into your neck, grounding him in the coppery taste of your blood and you in the searing pain ripping through your body. It distracted you from the pain in your opening as his cock swelled; the base growing larger and larger as he rutted it inside you. 

“Mine,” he growled as his body stilled, cock locked inside you as he shot rope after rope of hot cum into your fluttering cunt, painting your cervix with it. “Mine,” he rutted against you, hips rocking as he tried to push his cock deeper.

He stilled, lips placing soft kisses on bloodstained skin. Tall ears were pulled back, displaying the heavy antlers that clattered against the wall on occasion. Soft bleats filled your ears as your cunt continued to strain around his cock. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your skin, “I seem to be stuck.” 

“W-what?” you gasped as he tried to pull his cock from you and failed, his base far too swollen to slip out of your hole. 

Soft caresses smoothed your naked skin as he waited, peppering kisses along the bloodstained skin. He wrapped you up in his arms, dragging you to his chest as he rolled onto his side. 

“Mine,” he rumbled, rubbing the side of his head against the top of your head, ensuring he pushed more of the musky scent of him onto you.

“What does that mean?” you whispered, unsure if Alastor was in any condition to answer you truthfully. 

“My doe,” he said, running his hand down your back as his still hard cock, trapped inside of you with the large bulbous knot twitched inside you. “No other bucks will touch you.” 

“While we’re in season?” you braved asking, hoping that his rut was enough like your season to allow for a moment of clarity post orgasm. 

“Forever,” Alastor said, again scenting you. He ran his hooves up and down your shin, spreading the toes and smearing more of his scent onto you. 

“Mine,” Alastor said as he held you close.

“Mine.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[solxamber]

Romance Clichés With: Vil Schoenheit

Cliché: The Airport (Dark Mirror?) Confession

Others: Leona ; Azul ; Kalim

Vil had told you last week about his upcoming movie shoot in another country. He’d casually mentioned he'd be gone for a little while, which you’d taken in stride. After all, he was a famous actor—it wasn't like he was leaving forever. At least, that’s what you thought. But Rook had other ideas.

“Oh, mon ami,” Rook sighed dramatically the day before Vil’s departure, “how brave you are. Truly a testament to love, to be able to bear such a tragic farewell without shedding a single tear! Many would crumble under the thought of not seeing their beloved for years.”

You blinked, pausing mid-bite of your sandwich. “Years?”

Rook nodded, his eyes misting over, clearly lost in some inner poetic monologue. “Oui, it may well be years before we see Roi du Poison’s radiant visage again. Some might say he is embarking on an odyssey, one that will only return him to our shores once he’s ascended to an even greater pinnacle of fame.”

“Y-Years?” you echoed, a pit forming in your stomach.

“Bien sûr!” Rook leaned in, whispering with all the seriousness of a tragic romance novel. “In showbiz, a project could take ages—rewrites, reshoots, promotional tours... Why, he may even settle abroad to cultivate his craft.”

You dropped your sandwich, horror dawning as the words hit you with full force. Your mind went into overdrive. Vil... leaving? Maybe forever? You pictured months, even years of unanswered texts, long-distance video calls, and eventually, just fading away from each other’s lives.

You couldn’t take it! And if he was leaving, you had to make it clear that he’d be leaving someone who would do anything for him.

Which was why, mere minutes before Vil was set to leave, you were charging across campus, heart pounding and absolutely zero plan in mind.

He was standing in front of the Mirror of Darkness, his poise immaculate as always. His entourage surrounded him, but you were zeroed in on only one thing: making sure he knew you would sacrifice anything to keep him.

He was taking a few moments to pose with his usual elegance, utterly unaware that you were barreling toward him with all the grace of a charging rhinoceros.

“Vil!” you yelled, gaining speed as you neared him. He turned, brows raised just slightly before you flung yourself into his arms, nearly sending him toppling over.

“Please,” you blurted, “don’t go!”

Vil’s face softened, and he looked about to speak, but you were already mid-rant, words tumbling out in a fevered rush.

“Vil, I swear, I’ll change my entire skincare routine if you want! Every day, double cleanse, essence, eye cream—I’ll use every serum, sheet mask, and exfoliant you recommend.” You grabbed his hands, clutching them tightly. “And if it’s my diet, I’ll cut out carbs or sugar or whatever you want! I’ll even drink green juice, Vil!”

His eyes widened in something like amusement, but you didn’t give him a chance to interject.

“Please, just don’t leave forever. I don’t care how famous you get or how much international recognition comes your way, or how you’ll become the new face of high fashion—I’ll do anything. I love you, Vil. I’ll do whatever you need me to. Just. Stay."

Vil blinked, clearly stunned, but before you could spiral into another tirade, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a soft, breathtaking kiss. It was enough to shut you up instantly, and when he finally pulled back, he looked at you with an exasperated but deeply affectionate smile.

“Darling,” he said, brushing a hand down your cheek with a chuckle, “I’m really only leaving for two weeks.”

“Oh.” You stared up at him, cheeks flushing red as his words sank in.

“Two weeks,” he repeated, laughing softly, and his face lit up in a way you’d never seen before—completely unguarded, genuinely amused, and utterly, hopelessly in love.

Your flustered mumbling was drowned out by his gentle laughter. “So… all that talk about green juice and sheet masks…” His chuckle turned into a full laugh, rich and uninhibited, echoing through the hall as a dozen phones captured the moment.

He gave you a lingering kiss, entirely unconcerned with the crowd, before pressing his forehead to yours. “You really thought I’d leave you forever?” he whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye. “Oh, my sweet, melodramatic potato.”

You mumbled something unintelligible, hiding your face in his shoulder as your embarrassment finally caught up to you.

By the time he returned two weeks later, it was all anyone on campus could talk about. The candid video of him gazing at you, laugh lines softened, love written all over his face—it had gone viral. Even Vil was taken by surprise at how the internet had swooned over the whole scene, declaring you both the new “It Couple” of NRC.

And if Vil noticed the way his likes had outpaced Neige’s on Magicam, well, he wasn’t above a little bragging.

He’d make a show of it too, asking Mira each morning, “Who’s the most popular couple on Magicam?” And every time, he would grin, smugly satisfied with the answer.

And if anyone dared ask him how he got so much traction on his account lately, he’d just smile, gaze in your direction, and shrug with feigned innocence.

Masterlist

[01zfan]

stealer | l. at

office worker!anton x office worker!reader | 2.9k words

a little repost because i am a chronic post deleter. added a little bit more to this too just because.

contains: secret workplace romance, panty stealer/sniffer anton, suggestive (???)

Anton walked through the maze of cubicles calmly. His dress shoes made a dull sound against the carpeting that lined the office floors. He was making his way to the shared kitchen, where the trusted old coffee pot had a cup just for him. After his cup of milky white and sweet coffee he would be okay. He just had to make it there first.

His eyes that were pointed forward suddenly casted down when he passed by the cubicle right around the bend. Sweat instantly lined his palms as he felt the intense stare follow his frame. He couldn’t leave the area of the cubicle fast enough in his effort of appearing nonchalant. He failed so severely at being calm that when the sound of an office chair rolled across the carpet Anton stumbled forward. His gait faltered and the sound of typing ceased for a second before everyone went back to their screens. Anton cleared his throat and looked downwards before continuing his trek to the kitchen. 

He almost tripped over his feet at the sudden change in pace. He felt like he was being hunted. He couldn’t hide in the men’s bathroom on the other side of the office, he couldn’t turn back to his desk without seeming crazy to his coworkers. He had no choice but to continue walking right into the trapped space of the kitchen.

For a second Anton felt relief. Sohee was already in the kitchen, warming up his breakfast like he always did. Anton shared a grateful hello with his friend, but as soon as relief washed over him panic won again. Sohee grumbled about a task dur before lunch and that he would have to eat at his desk. The same time Sohee left the sound of heels clicking across the threshold of the doorframe corralled Anton to the corner where the coffee pot sat.

Even when he was cornered like a wild animal he still tried maintaining composure, grabbing the pot with a shaking hand and pouring it into his designated cup. When he left enough room for the extra cream and extra sugars the heels ceased. Now in his fixed view of the ground he could see your feet too, standing next to his. 

He said nothing. He knew what was coming as he felt sweat line his lower back.

“Did you steal a pair of my underwear?”

You asked the question casually, leaned against the counter of the break room. You should’ve looked at your nails when asking the question to really drive the point home that you were unbothered. But you would’ve missed the chance to see Anton’s full body freeze, completely forgetting he was making a sickly sweet concoction out of his morning coffee. 

Almost a minute passed before Anton came back to life. He had a full system reboot, looking past you to double check that the break room was completely empty. He also made an attempt to seem nonchalant, but it crumbled when he realized the rest of his sugars were on the counter past your body. You saw Anton’s eyes wander to your waist that was leaned next to his sugar packets, you could see the little hamster in Anton’s mind trying to find a way out of this situation. You only pressed further, leaning towards him causing him to slightly lean back.

“Did you really steal another pair?” You emphasized your words this time and spoke in a low voice to show Anton how shocked you were. “I’m disappointed Anton. Really.” You said.

You smiled to yourself seeing his red neck and his Adam’s apple bob from nervousness. His necktie seemed too tight around his neck. If you were in a more private place you would’ve played with the solid navy tie, maybe even pull at the end until Anton stumbled forward. When he let his head hang forward to shake it you could see the tips of his ears become bright crimson.

“I didn’t steal it.” He answered meekly.

Anton stopped looking at the hand on your hip and went to his milky white cup of coffee instead. It would be unbelievably bitter without the sugars next to your body, but he would just have to deal with it. He needs to get back to the safety of his cubicle soon and as far away from you as he possibly could. But you only got closer, the sound of your dress shoes clacked against the linoleum floor as you took a step forward.

“Are you sure?” Anton nodded his head the same time you tilted yours in confusion. “You know what pair I’m talking about though, right?”

Anton knew exactly what pair you were talking about. The lacy black pair with the tiny bow on the thin waistband in front and the very low cut in the back. You never wore the pair to bed, but you often wore it with low rise pants or tights because you could never see the panty line from the back. The pair hugged your ass perfectly, forming to your shape like a lacy second skin. Anton remembers the first time you showed him the pair, pulling up his hoodie and doing a little twirl to show the back and the front. He remembers the tense feeling in his jaw when he saw the fabric disappear between your ass cheeks and the stern look on your face when you told him he couldn’t rip this pair. 

Anton also remembers hearing you tell him it was your favorite. No wonder you were looking for them. 

They were right next to your pillow this morning, still balled up and still wet from the impromptu gag Anton begged for the night prior. The pair was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes, a burning reminder of the position you had him in yesterday. He barely remembered when you pulled the pair from his mouth after you two were done; it was hard to remember anything when Anton realized how perfectly the pair fit in his hand. 

Anton developed an inexplicable liking for your panties. The very first time he ever got a smell was when he went down on you. Instead of pulling your panties to the side he was drawn in, pressing his nose deep into the cotton as you writhed from the tip of his nose prodding your slit. Anyon was tempted to lave his tongue over the part that covered your cunt, you were already seeping through the fabric when you pushed your panties to the side. 

Your full body shivered at the cool air of your room and Anton shook at the musky scent of you and the heat coming off in waves. 

After the first taste he was hooked. When Anton looked at your hands impatiently tapping the surface of the counter he was taken back to you opening his mouth by squeezing both sides of his face. Your prodding fingers smushed his cheeks and pried between his jaw causing his mouth to open. Anton was already weak from feeling you on top of him, he was no match against your greedy fingers. The second his plump lips parted he felt the intrusion of the damp cotton, stuffed into his mouth by your index and middle finger of your other hand. He groaned around the fabric and whimpered when you bounced on his dick faster than before. When he gathered the strength to open his eyes he saw you smiling at your handy work. 

“Since you like to smell them so much I bet you’ll eat them too?”

Of course he would. He would swallow them whole if he could. That’s why Anton couldn’t stop himself from taking the pair while you were still sleeping. The first taste was sitting in the locked drawer of his desk currently. It was perverse, it felt like he was committing a crime when he brought the pair close to his face before taking in a deep breath. But Anton couldn’t resist slipping the pair in his pants or balling it up in his fist when he reminisced on the night before. He was a strong man, but when it came to having any part of you at his disposal he was weak. What he had in mind for your pair of panties tonight was too good to pass up. So he hurriedly plucked the pair from your bed before kissing your forehead and walking out your door. He swore the smell lingered in the air now, the smell of coffee was replaced with the sweet smell of you. Each time Anton blinked he saw the pair in his desk, balled up atop his manilla folder and files.

“The black pair, right?” Anton asked.

He made the mistake of looking you in the eye again. You saw right through him, he knew it. But he still played dumb, trying his best to forget what he did hours prior before leaving your apartment.

“I was looking for them this morning after you left and I just couldn’t find them anywhere.” You said.

Anton shrugged his shoulders and you shrugged yours the same way mockingly. There was silence between the two of you for a moment, and Anton could see the knowing smile spread across your face. He quickly let out a breath of annoyance and rolled his eyes. Maybe indignation could distract you from the fact that he can’t lie to you and he could blame the blush on his face form being asked such a personally question at work instead of being caught red-handed while trying to make his morning coffee.

“Why do you think I always,” Anton looked around the break room again to make sure you two were still alone. “steal your underwear?” He said, lowering his voice.

“Remember that cute pink pair I had?” You spoke at a normal volume, you even took the extra step to take your hand from your hip to point at your lower stomach “With the red heart on the front?” You asked.

The answer to your question was Yes, how could I forget? It was the pair I bought you. But Anton was stunned to silence. He knew where you were going with your line of questioning before you parted your lips to speak again.

“The pair I found underneath your pillow, remember?” You looked at the sugar packets on the counter and mindlessly started messing with them. “Or the red pair that was all balled up in the top drawer of your dresser? Now that one was still kind of—”

“Stop.” Anton said quickly.

He admittedly had the habit of keeping them in various places. Once you opened up the glove compartment of his car and your green thong tumbled out. One time it was the sky blue pair hanging off the corner of his home office computer, like it was motivation for him to turn in a work assignment. There was also the one time you found a pair in the pocket of his sweats. Each time you would grab the pair dramatically with the tips of your fingers, holding it up to his view like it was evidence. Anton would always see the verdict of the evidence on your lips and the wideness of your eyes. 

He knew he was sick. He knew he was perverse and he knew you knew it too; but something arguably even more disgusting inside of Anton was happy about it. Arguably being a thief was better than whatever Anton was, but he genuinely believed if the title fell from your lips he’d wear it proudly. He’d put it right next to his ID badge, maybe even a pin right next to the pronouns on his lanyard. Pervert/Freak written in big bold letters in your handwriting. A trophy on his desk that read #1 Panty Stealer. Sometimes late at night when you weren’t with him and Anton had a pair covering his eyes and another wrapped around his dick he could see the words fall so clearly on your lips. He could see the disgust in your eyes like a vision, feel the red hot embarrassment wash over him like it was happening in real life. He imagined you’d even take it a step further, not stopping until he pitifully shook his head and told you with a shaking voice that it wasn’t true. 

Even now with the little bit of teasing Anton felt that sick thrill all around his body. He admittedly left your apartment in a hurry this morning, not realizing he slept through his alarm. He barely had enough time to go home and change to proper office attire before driving all the way back to work. He felt off center this whole day, and the teasing he’d usually be able to rebuff was making sweat line his back and make himself uncomfortable in his slacks. The longer you kept an unfaltering look on him the harder it was for him to focus. He prayed that his partially turned body hid what he didn’t want you to see—atleast not here. 

Just when Anton thought the tension was going to eat him alive, someone came into the break room. Eunseok had his headphones on, barely sparing a glance over his shoulder at Anton and you leaned against the counter hogging up the coffee machine. Anton looked to him quickly before snapping his vision away. Eunseok did his best to ignore the panicked look and did everything in his power to not read the room. He was focused on his lunchbox in the refrigerator and that’s it. He didn’t even want to stick around to microwave his food, he doesn’t mind cold sandwiches. He was in and out, not even bothering to exchange a friendly greeting.

When Eunseok left, Anton knew it was time to admit defeat. He had a report to get back to and the remaining bits of his pride to salvage. So When you cocked your hip to the side waiting for an answer Anton let out a deep sigh.

“Do you want them back?” Anton asked quietly. 

He thought about your pair in the locked cabinet of his work desk. He wondered if you knew the exact whereabouts of this particular pair. He wondered what type of reaction it’d illicit if he walked you to his cubicle while his team was out for lunch and opened up the locked cabinet for you. Would your eyes widen the same way they did the first time realizing how far Anton went? Would you tell HR? Would you finally tell Anton what he so desperately wanted to hear?

You only smiled sweetly before ripping the sugar packets and pouring it into Anton’s ceramic cup.

“Bring them by my place after work.” You answered.

You reached forward and brushed a piece of his hair out of his eye. You tilted your head affectionately before leaning in close. Anton swore he was going to hear the words fall from your lips when your hand went to cradle his warm cheek. He even closed his eyes in preparation to see it, not wanting to miss a single second. But you only took your hand away and turned on your heel before leaving the break room completely. 

There was no way he was going to make it back to his desk.

[hellsitedotcom]

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

༊*·˚ some very short scenarios because I have a severe brainrot and some of y'all might like to hear my odd daydreams ༊*·˚

༊*·˚ warnings: none. english isn't my native language, lol, and I'm still sick. not proof-read! we die like real men here. bone app the teeth. ༊*·˚

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Your breath hitched when Aventurine suddenly grabbed your hand and pulled you close, your face inches away from his as his eyes bored into yours, that smirk you've grown accustomed to once again sneaking onto his lips, ''Care to dance?'' Around you, the world seemed to blur at the man's offer, your plan to meet the Trailblazer by the Dreamscape Sales Store all but forgotten as you held his gaze. ''What are you-?'' but before you could finish your question, he had already pulled you toward the floating instruments playing at the plaza. There was a surprising gentleness to the way he guided you, slow dancing along to the melody playing as he spoke, ''You looked like you needed a distraction.'' ''I didn't,'' you muttered, still unsure about the whole ordeal as you both fell into a smooth, elegant rhythm, ''I was merely thinking.'' The man chuckled lightly, the sound making your heart flutter unvoluntarily, ''Sure, if you say so, friend.'' Choosing to stay quiet, you continued dancing, almost cursing yourself, but there was a part of you that hoped the moment would not end. The minutes passed as the song concluded, the man's movement slowing down as you both came to a halt, his nose nearly brushing yours as he leaned a little closer, his smirk growing, ''How unfortunate that this is merely a dream, though perhaps we'll be able to continue this somewhere else one day...'' And then he stepped away, bowing slightly before a familiar voice called out behind you, forcing you to tear your eyes away from him as the Trailblazer came jogging toward you. One last time, you looked back to were the man had just stood, wanting to havr the last word only to find that he had disappeared, though his words still echoed through your head. ''Perhaps we'll be able to continue this somewhere else one day...''

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

When Moze suddenly materialized in front of you, the tension in your body seemed to instantly vanish as you stepped away from the dead borisin lying by your feet, ''Is everyone alright?'' ''Yes,'' the man replied curtly, eyes narrowed, partially obscured by his hood as he looked you up and down as if checking for injuries, ''Jiaoqiu told me you were still here. He said you were the one to help him out.'' ''It was nothing,'' you brushed off, struggling not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze as he stepped closer. It wasn't the first time you helped out the Yaoqing, given how much Feixiao seemed to appreciate your company, nor was it the first time you had helped Jiaoqiu out of a tough spot - something that had lead to a more...private moment between Moze and you once already. For a brief moment you wondered if you sought the foxian out on purpose, in hopes of earning Moze's attention, before disregarding those thoughts the second Moze's nimble fingers wrapped around your wrist, lifting your arm up to inspect it, ''You're injured.'' ''It's just a scratch,'' you replied quietly, your voice barely audible, making you feel slightly embarrassed as he continued to inspect your bleeding arm before slowly dragging his gaze up again to meet your eyes. There was something captivating about him, stealing your breath just like last time, when you had been the one to thank him for keeping the Trailblazer safe. Back then it had been your hand seeking out his. At first, he didn't say anything further, just watching your face as if waiting for something, for you to voice your thoughts, before the grip around your wrist tightened and he stepped even closer, his body mere inches away from yours as you looked up to hold his gaze, ''You should be more careful.'' But before you could reply to him, the man pulled away already, turning to leave as you still stood among the dead borisin, staring after him with furrowed brows, your other hand wandering to hold your wrist, just were his fingers had caressed it only seconds ago. ﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

You were leaning against his desk, a smile making its way onto your lips as you watched Jing Yuan walk up to you, smirking lazily as he wrapped his arms around your waist and buried his face in the crook of your neck. ''Shouldn't you be training with Yanqing?'' you hummed, feeling him press lazy kisses against your skin, tilting your head to grant him more access as your eyes threatened to fall shut. The general just grunted, ghosting his lips along your jaw before he locked eyes with you, your hand reaching up to brush his bangs to the side, ''He'll be fine without me. Not to mention that he can just ask your little friends from the Express for help...'' ''Jing Yuan-'' you tried arguing with him, only to be silenced with a kiss, his forehead pressing against yours afterwards. ''Hm? What is it?'' he wondered innocently, continuing to place kisses along your jaw, down to your throat, ''You need to speak up. I can't hear you.'' ''I doubt this is a good idea,'' you sighed, one hand holding onto his arm while you used the other to support yourself, nails scratching over the surface of his desk, ''Given this isn't necessarily a private space.'' Jing Yuan just laughed, the sound muffled as his hold on you tightened, ''Someone's a little paranoid, no? We'll be fine, though if you want to freeze the door shut, be my guest.'' ''No one is going to interrupt us...'' he continued, though not even a heartbeat later, a familiar voice echoed through the hallway, causing him to pull away and whip his head around with a disappointed expression. ''I shouldn't have said that.'' Now it was your turn to chuckle as you pushed yourself off his desk, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before slipping past him, not wanting Yanqing to become suspicious over your proximity, ''You probably shouldn't have, though I did try to warn you...'' ''Very funny, really,'' he replied, still smirking, though his eyes had grown slightly darker, ''We'll continue this later, somewhere...more private.''

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Only a few system hours had passed since you had fought Phantylia, yet you already found yourself back on the Express, patching yourself up when suddenly the door to your room opened and Dan Heng stepped inside, his eyes instantly locking with yours. ''Why didn't you let the Healer Lady take a look at you?'' ''I didn't feel like sticking around for longer than necessary, I suppose,'' you hummed in reply, watching him step closer. He was still in his Imbibitor Lunae form, glowing eyes piercing through you. ''Jing Yuan wanted me to extend his gratitude to you,'' he muttered, coming to a halt right in front of you, making you straighten up. ''That's why you're back so early?'' ''No,'' Dan Heng admitted, his brows furrowing slightly as if he was struggling to find the right words, ''I- I wanted to see you, to check on you.'' And then, so unexpected that it took you a moment to process, he lifted his hand to cup your cheek, gently brushing his thumb over your skin as he stepped even closer, ''I wanted to apologize for involving you in this...in my problems. I did not mean for you to become a part of this...for you to get injured.'' Taken aback, you just held his gaze for a moment, eyes widening slightly at his words, before a soft smile made its way onto your lips and you placed your hand atop of his, ''There's no need to apologize.'' ''I'd go to the ends of every universe to help you,'' you whispered hesitantly, afraid it'd make his walls come up again, make him pull away from you again. But, to your surprise, the man mirrored your smile as he continued to caress your cheek, the glow of his eyes just a little brighter now ''I know". Carefully, as if afraid, Dan Heng leaned closer, his nose brushing past yours and your lips only inches apart, when suddenly March 7th's voice rang through the Express's hallway, making you both jump apart. ''I-'' the man stuttered, flustered, his cheeks turning the slightest bit red as he looked at you, but you merely shook your head, chuckling, ''Let's just see what she wants. We can...come back to this later.''

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

[splishfish]

this is my first time requesting! I really like your writing and the way you write Tomura☺️

I'd really like another soft Tomura fic if possible!

Tomura Shigaraki x GN Reader

Tags: Soft Sex, Pre-Established Relationship, emotional reader and Tomura

WC: 738

“Thank you, for this…for not being afraid…” Author's note at the bottom!

Tomura has always had a staring problem, especially when it came to you. You would often catch him staring at you from across the room, his eyes swirling with a gleam you couldn’t quite catch from far away. When you would catch him, it took him a few seconds to look away, separating your gaze from his as he went back to whatever was occupying him at the time.

When you started dating, he stopped looking away. He also started invading your personal space.

He reminded you of a cat. The way he would just stare at you from a distance, or even up close. Silently, he would sneak up behind you, hovering over you and watching as you did whatever menial task you were doing.

It was cute.

Then, as your relationship progressed, he started getting more confident.

His hand would brush past yours, his pinkie or ring finger rubbing against yours in a silent display of affection. When you were sitting in bed or on the couch, he’d plop down next to you, bringing an arm up to wrap around your shoulders and bring you to his chest. His red eyes would stare down at you, with what seemed to be a million emotions swirling through them.

He never said anything during these moments. Just gentle touches and shared looks.

Eventually, when sex was introduced to your relationship, you noticed a subtle change in Tomura.

With your arms wrapped around his neck, and your legs locked around your hips, he rocked the both of you slowly into a blissful rhythm. The pace was slow. Slower than you would have expected him to go.

His hands reached up to cup your face, four fingers gently tracing the shape of your jaw. His forehead pressed against yours, his eyes fluttering shut as he slowly increased the pace of his thrusts.

He brushed the hair away from your face, pressing small tender kisses along your face. Your heart fluttered at the sudden affection, your eyes staring up at him with a mixture of confusion and fondness. His eyes opened once again, his red irises locking with yours.

He stopped his movement for a few seconds, small pants mixing together into a warm cloud as you both stared at each other. His face contorted, something akin to a grimace as he resumed his pace, burying his head in your shoulder. “Damn it…” He muttered against your skin, his chapped lips pressing light kisses along your neck. You turned your head, your arms unraveling from his neck before placing your hands on his shoulder, gently pushing up to see his face.

“Tomura…?”

He grunted, reluctantly pulling away from the safety of your shoulder. His hair stuck to his face, beads of sweat rolling down his temple as a light flush coated his pale skin. His chest was rising and falling in rhythm with his heavy breathing, and he looked at you with what seemed to be a pained expression.

You instantly attempted to sit up, but he pushed you back down. His hands untangled themselves from your body and face, trailing up your arms to intertwine your hands. His eyes trailed towards your hands holding his, his pinkie finger hovering above the soft flesh.

He looked back at you, his eyes widening slightly.

You weren’t scared. No. It seemed as if you didn’t even realize how close you were to death. It would only take a small slip up. A mistake. An impulse. And you would be- “Tomura?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, his eyes flickering between your eyes and the rest of your face. Committing every detail, every blemish, every scar and beauty mark to his memory.

He breathed through his nose, before leaning down and pressing his forehead against yours. He stared at you, and finally you were able to recognize the emotion that swam in his eyes.Before you could properly comprehend it, he spoke in a soft murmur, resuming his pace from before.

“I love you…”

Your eyes widened, and as you opened your mouth to respond, he quickly cut you off, speaking again.

“Thank you, for this…for not being afraid…”

You couldn't help the tears that formed in your face, a small smile forming as you closed your eyes. You leaned up, pressing your lips against his own, your voice cracking as you pulled away to murmur against his lips.

“I love you…Tomura…”

OMG!! This was my first request ever!! You have no idea how excited I was to get this lol! I hope you enjoy it! I ended up liking it a lot more than I thought I would!

[yoyomomiko]

AAAA we seriously need more Daisuke x reader fics (|||´Д｀)

May i request something fluffy for the boy? (-ε- )

Drift to Sleep

Pairings: Daisuke x F!reader (gender isn't mentioned)

Summary: You've been having trouble sleeping properly, maybe your boyfriend will help out with that.

Warnings: a bit cringe, not proofread, probably contains grammar mistakes, english isn't my first language!!

(A/N): I'm sorry this is so short!!😔 Btw just to throw this out here I wish Jimbo didn't exist. -> m.list

You dragged your feet on the ground, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes as best as you could. Your eyelids drooped down, threatening to shut completely over your eyes and lead you to sleep.

You can't remember the last time you've had proper sleep ever since you stepped foot on the Tulpar. You've had trouble staying awake, yet you couldn't even take a nap.

You don't understand why you can't sleep for more than two hours. Seriously, you keep waking up in the middle of the night, either by nightmares or simply because fate has other plans for you.

At least you had Daisuke.

The way his smile would click something in your brain and instantly power you on, matching his energy. He could easily brighten up your day, even when you felt dull.

"Good morning!" Daisuke beamed, immediately grinning as he saw you entered the room.

"Morning..." You muttered, forcing yourself to smile back, barely managing.

"Not 'good'?" He tilted his head to the side, noticing your tired expression.

"If it was good I would be sleeping." You mumbled in a flat tone, taking a seat next to him.

"What's wrong?" He asked, genuinely concerned at the way you were so drained out.

"It's hard to sleep... I don't know why or how, I just can't." You explained, furrowing your brows. "I'm tired, but I just can't..." You added, gazing in front of you as you zoned out.

Daisuke only gave a head nod in response, smile faltering for a bit. He didn't like seeing you in such a state, he just had to figure out how to make you feel better.

"Maybe you can get Anya to check on you." He suggested, gently wrapping an arm around your waist loosely to keep you closer to him.

"It's not worth it... I'll just waste her time." You replied, closing your eyes but to no avail. You knew you had work to do, had to force yourself to stand up and do your chores. It was just so hard...

୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧ • ★ • ୨୧

You turned in your bed from side to side, forcing your eyes closed as you tried to control your breath and count sheep, hoping that you'd fall asleep that way.

You tried every sleeping method you could think of, but none of them have worked so far. You figured out you could just give up and walk circles around your room to exhaust yourself even more.

Just then, you heard a soft click, and then a creak coming from the door. Light came in through the crack, revealing Daisuke's smiling face.

"Daisuke? What's wrong?" You asked in a hushed tone, sitting up on your elbows to look at him. You squinted your eyes due to the blinding light as Daisuke made his way into your room and shut the door silently.

"I can't sleep either." He shrugged with a big, dorky grin on his lips. He started walking towards you with light steps, just so that he's not being too loud to alert any other crew member.

"So... Why not try to fall asleep together?" He suggested, silently making his way over in your bed as it shifted under his weight.

You chuckled at him, watching as he layed down with open arms, waiting for you to throw yourself into him so he can cuddle with you.

You shook your head, pulling the blanket over the two of you as you placed your head on his chest, throwing one of your legs over him as his arm wrapped loosely around you.

His body was so warm, the embrace you two were in felt heavenly, and you certainly didn't want to pull away from it.

You felt your eyes close themselves, feeling Daisuke's chest rise up and down from his soft breathing.

You could hear the way his heartbeat was increasing, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back while you were slowly drifting to sleep under his touch.

If you knew it was this easy, you would've done this from the start.

★yoyomiko ★miko

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭?!・l.f.

—Even after your bodyguard saved your life you insist that you don't need his help, maybe you feel a little different after he drops his weapon in the middle of a fight—and forces you to admit you need him.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・action, fluff, crack, enemies to lovers // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・cursing, death of bad guys, blood, cursing, guns, knives, felix being a little shit, did i mention cursing?? (its my mother tongue)

𝐚/𝐧・BOO BITCHES!! haha i'm back after being gone for a... month...yeah...sorry. this is just something silly i had originally planned to put into my bodyguard!lix fic, but i ended up changing the plot so i can no longer (maybe) use it, though i loved it so much i just decided to post it :)) alsoooo does anyone want to be tagged in bodyguard!lix fic??

How the fuck did you manage to get yourself into this situation? Is all you can think of as the room swarms with men, all armed with various weapons, effectively backing yourselves into a corner.

Well, shit.

The walls are cold and hard as you fight your way to the door, driving your throwing knives into any vulnerable place your enemy shows. Men are falling all around you both by your hands and Felix's. It's all a blur—arrows wizz by your neck, mallets swinging around your head.

"Watch out!" Felix shouts. He places his hands around your waist. You are in the air before you can even blink. An arrow hits the cracked cobblestone where your forehead would have been.

Holy shit.

"Thank you," you throw over your shoulder, yanking the arrow out of the wall, launching it into the final man's chest fumbling with his bow right before he collapses. "But I didn't need your help."

Felix barks out an incredulous laugh, pressing his tongue into his cheek. Momentarily he is baffled before something else passes over his expression.

"Fine," he rests his back against the wall, dropping his bloody knife onto the floor, much to your horror.

"Felix, what the fuck—" you don't even get to complete the sentence before another man is sprinting towards you, appearing from the entryway red-eyed and vengeful, fueled by the death of all his comrades. You launch a knife at his jugular. He crumples like a rag doll.

"Felix, pick the knife up," you shout frantically, watching as six more men swarm into the hallway charging toward you. They really don't seem to like you. You move to pull more knives out of your seethe only to find you have four left.

"Felix, this isn't funny, pick the fucking knife up," you demand, far too afraid to be ashamed about the slight trembling in your tone. You send him a look over your shoulder, their stomping growing closer, too close, way, way too close.

"Are you going to admit you need my help?" Felix's obnoxiously smug voice sounds from behind you, practically tasting the smirk in his voice. You grit your teeth so hard they feel like they are going to fall off, but the steps grow louder, too loud.

"I need your help." The words taste so foul in your mouth you almost want to throw the "I hate you" that follows right back up. He smiles, back to his happy, cheery, you-want-to-smack-him-in-the-face-so-bad self.

"Atta girl," he purrs. "Now duck."

You obey.

Two guys breach the entrance, announcing their presence with a deafening battle cry. In one swift motion, Felix pulls a gun from thin fucking air and levels it with their heads. Taking in the mountains of dead bodies, they choose to listen to the barrel of his gun, halting instantly.

"Do you mind? The adults are talking," he chastizes, rolling his eyes as though he is talking to a petulant toddler instead of four knife-wielding guards.

"Where the hell did you get that?" you gasp, pointing to the that in question. He tilts his head, a slow, serpentine smile spreading across his lips. "Oh, this thing?" he flashes it in the light. "I got it from the guard at the gate." You're going to kill him. You're going to take this knife and shove it straight through his stupid, stupid head.

"You've had a gun this entire time?" You seethe, your eye twitching. For a moment, you're so pissed you completely forget about the men awkwardly waiting by the door two seconds away from sprinting.

"I thought you said you didn't need any help," Felix smirks.

"And you chose now to hold me up to my word."

In some half-baked plan to escape, the group charges forward, not before Felix pulls the trigger, shooting all four members square in the forehead—all without ever leaving your gaze. He rolls his eyes, shooting you a look like, 'Do these guys ever learn?' Then, as if nothing ever happened, he says,

"You seemed very adamant."

You were going to punch him, really, truly, you were going to put your fist through his annoyingly beautiful face. Instead, you yank the gun from his hands, clicking the safety and sliding it into the belt of your pants. He doesn't complain as you drag him out of the room, stepping over thick puddles of blood and tangled limbs, cringing slightly as red stains the bottom of your shoe. You wipe it on the floor when you step into the hallway, tiptoeing down the corner.

Somewhere in the distance, murmurs of voices catch your attention. Hiding behind a corner, the shadows cloak you, protecting you from unwanted eyes. The voices loom closer, almost close enough—in complete silence, you could make out the words.

"Hey love, your shoe's untied," Felix speaks from behind you, so loud you spin around, pressing a finger onto his lips in a rush, slowly realizing what little distance is left between you. He smiles against your finger, bringing his tongue to lick a fat stripe up the skin. You fight back a disgusted shriek, instead resorting to a harsh glare and a defiant middle finger.

"I really, truly, to the deepest depths of my soul, hate you," you say, wiping the saliva off your skin.

"Yeah, yeah, save it for the bedroom."

Tonight was going to be a long night.

cookie owns this

[babyfoxflower]

The Hunter and the Hunted

Human! Alastor x Fem! Reader

*Disclaimer: This story is an AU and does not follow Hellaverse canon. Alastor is pretty much just a hetero, if this offends you in anyway, then I suggest you block me and go on your way.*

Synopsis: This the story of Alastor and the love of his life, his huntress, the charming Y/n Rosier. A rare beauty out on the bayou, his heart is instantly stolen by her. He’ll do anything for his beloved, even if that includes murder.

Story Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Violence, Blood, Hunting, Murder, Mentions of Child Abuse, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, 1920s Attitudes Towards Women

Prev Chapter Three next chapter

It was decided, not out loud, that they would meet every Saturday. This was how it went on for a whole month. He would come over, they would converse for a while before doing some kind of activity together.

This week’s was shooting practice.

Y/n fired at the first glass bottle, it was hit. She fired at the second, another hit. She fired at the third, a miss.

“Damn,” she exclaimed.

“That was swell! You almost hit all of them,” Alastor praised in a slightly sarcastic manner.

“Don’t patronize me, pretty boy,” she stuck her tongue out playfully.

He chuckled, “Can’t help it. Especially, when you get so adorably sore, babydoll,” he booped her on the nose.

He’s been like that ever since they got more comfortable with each other. Openly teasing her, she didn’t seem to mind and even gave it right back to him. God, if she only knew how much she already owned his heart.

Y/n got three more empty bottles and

lined them up on the ground, “Your turn.”

Alastor fired at the first bottle, it was hit. He fired at the second bottle, another hit. He fired at the third, a hit.

Y/n scrunched up her face, “Show-off.”

“Haha. I’ve been doing it for a lot longer.”

You’re the one that brings this side out of me, my darling Y/n.

“I suppose you want a reward for beating me, hm?” She raised an eyebrow at him.

“I didn’t know it was a competition. But since you asked, sure I’ll take a prize,” he grinned.

“Hmm, what could I, a lady, offer a gentleman?” She put her hand under her chin, as if pondering, “I know! Close your eyes.”

A suspicious look washed over Alastor’s face, “Why? What are you going to do?”

“Oh, trust me…I promise you’ll like it, Sugar.”

“Alright, then. I’m trusting you, my dear,” he closed his eyes.

He was unsure what to expect. Suddenly, there was the feeling of hands cupping his face followed shortly by the sensation of lips on his.

Instinctively, he pulled her closer to him by the waist, holding her against him. She was so small compared to him, he bet she was standing on her tiptoes just to reach his face. Of course he kissed her back, their lips moving in sync with each others.

With the strong arms he used to carry that stag, he lifted her up. She weighed practically nothing, like a rag doll. He put one hand under her thigh and kept the other firmly, but gently, on the small of her back. He could feel the garter holding her stocking up. She wrapped her arms and legs around him.

Y/n tilted her head to the side, allowing for a better angle. His lips were soft. She didn’t know what she was expecting, but she didn’t think he would have such a supple mouth.

She smells really nice. What is that…lavender? Vanilla, perhaps? I hope I smell good.

He smells like tobacco and…bourbon? Does he drink? I like it though. I hope he likes my perfume.

Eventually, they had to pull away for air. Alastor held her, the most tender of smiles on his face.

“Well, did you like your prize? Hehe,” she giggled.

“I loved it. Merci, ma Chérie.”

“Je t’en prie, mon Cher,” she said, “Oh no, your glasses are crooked. Let me fix them for you.”

She straightened his glasses, “There, is that better?”

“Much, now I get to see you better.”

Y/n blushed.

Cough, cough.

Oh god, I know that cough.

“Mother! What are you doing out here?” Alastor asked as he gently placed Y/n down.

“Oh, I was just having a stroll, and then I happened to come upon you two,” she turned to her attention to Y/n, who was smoothing out her dress, “And you, my dear, must be Y/n, correct?”

“Mrs. Hartfelt, it’s nice to finally meet you,” she held out her hand.

Mrs. Hartfelt’s demeanor shifted to a more cheerful one as she pulled Y/n into a warm hug, “Oh please, Sweetheart, call me Claudine! It’s wonderful to finally put a face to the name!”

“Thank you!”

Mrs. Hartfelt pulled away from the hug, “Let me have a look at you. Well, aren’t you as cute as a button!?” She was smiling with her whole face.

“Oh, thank you, Mrs…I mean Claudine!”

“Are you hungry? Why don’t you come over to the house and I’ll fix you kids up something to eat?”

Y/n turned to Alastor and he gave her a look that said ‘if that’s what you’d like.’

“I am a little hungry…”

Mrs. Hartfelt linked arms with her and started pulling her along before she even had time to finish her sentence, “Splendid! You like jambalaya? I make quite tasty jambalaya if I do say so myself.”

“I love jambalaya!” Y/n exclaimed.

Alastor shook his head, picking up his and Y/n’s guns off the ground.

“Well, are you coming, Alastor!?” His mother yelled.

“Coming, Mother!”

———————————————————————

As they approached the Hartfelt house, Y/n’s mouth almost fell open. To say it was lovely would be an understatement. It looked like a miniature version of those neo-classical style mansions left over from decades prior. It was white and had two large Greek columns. The windows were long and on the second floor there was a balcony.

“This is really where y’all live?” Y/n asked.

“I know, I know…it’s a mess! Alastor still needs to get around fixing that crack in the roof. Isn’t that right, Mister Handyman?” Mrs. Hartfelt turned to Alastor with her hands on her hips.

“Mother, there’s no crack in the roof. I’ve been up there twice and still couldn’t find it.”

Your eyes are going, old lady.

“You’re just not looking hard enough.”

“I think your house is beautiful, Claudine,” Y/n smiled sweetly.

I suddenly feel like a backwoods hick.

“Thank you, my dear. Such a sweet girl. Just like Alastor said.”

“Oh, you said that about me?” Y/n turned to Alastor.

He looked down at the ground, sheepishly, face crimson, “Yes.”

Y/n blushed, “What else did you say about me?”

“He said you were the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen!”

“Mother, shouldn’t we get inside? It looks like it’s going to rain,” Alastor said, changing the subject.

“Yes, we should! Come along, Y/n, you and Alastor can sit in the parlor while I get lunch ready,” Mrs. Hartfelt led her inside, “And Honey, make sure you leave those guns on the porch. You know I don’t like them in the house.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he placed the guns carefully on the porch before following them inside.

As soon as Y/n stepped inside, she felt like she was in a whole other world. There was a foyer with a chandelier, and a beautiful dark wooden staircase. The walls were charmingly decorated with paintings and framed portraits.

“Y/n, I can hang up your coat if you’d like?” Alastor offered.

“Oh, thank you!” She removed her coat and handed it to him.

“Of course, Darling,” he smiled.

He hung up hers before hanging up his own, along with his cap. Even the coat rack was nice, built again with that oh so lovely dark wood.

“I’ll show you to the parlor,” he said, taking her hand in his when he knew his mother couldn’t see.

“Are you sure your mother doesn’t need help in the kitchen?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, it’s best to stay out of her kitchen. Trust me, once she starts cooking, she becomes a whole other person.”

Y/n laughed.

“Ha! I’m not joking. One time, I went in there to ask when dinner would be ready and she threw one her slippers at me.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Alastor led Y/n into the parlor. It had red velvet sofas and big fireplace that had little carvings in the mantel, a stuffed deer’s head mounted above it. There were also rows of bookshelves. On one of the shelves was a radio.

“Did you hunt that?” She pointed to the deer head.

“No, actually, it was my grandfather who hunted it. I did help him taxidermy it though,”pride in his voice.

“Oh, you know how to taxidermy?” An excited smile painted her face.

“Yes, I quite enjoy it. It’s such a relaxing hobby.”

“I imagine so! I find such delight in gutting and skinning animals after a hunt. Making them into an art piece sounds even more satisfying.”

“A lady after my own heart! Draining the blood is also very entertaining.”

“Oh for sure, it is!”

“I can show you how to make taxidermy, if you’d like? With your small hands, I think you’ll be very gifted at it.”

“I would love that! Thank you so much, Sugar!” Her face was lit up completely.

She’s so cute. How am I even supposed to deal with this? I just want to give her everything and then some.

They sat down next to each other on one the sofas.

“So, are you and your grandfather close?” She inquired.

“We were. He passed away seven years ago.”

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It was his time. He lived a very long life, made it to eighty years old.”

“What was he like, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“He was what one would call a true southern gentleman. Kind, generous, and charismatic. He was the one who taught me how to shoot, hunt, and fish. In many ways, he was more of a father to me than my own father.”

“I’m sure he would be proud of the man you grew up to be,” Y/n smiled softly, squeezing his hand lightly.

“Thank you, my dear. He would have liked you, I think he would have liked you a lot,” he squeezed her hand back.

“I bet I would have liked him too.”

“Oh! Would you like a cigarette?” Alastor asked, reaching over to the side table and grabbing a silver cigarette box.

“Sure, is alright to smoke inside?”

“Yes, Mother doesn’t mind as long as it’s in the parlor,” he handed her one before taking one for himself.

He then pulled out a lighter from his pocket and lit hers first.

“Merci, mon cher!” She exclaimed.

“Avec plaisir, ma chérie!” He replied, before lighting his own.

Alastor couldn’t help but watch as Y/n brought her cigarette up to her lips, those same lips he tasted earlier, and took a long drag. There was something almost sinful about it.

Good lord, I never thought that I would be so jealous of a cigarette.

He took a drag himself, inhaling that sweet taste of nicotine before exhaling a puff a smoke from his mouth. Little did he realize that she was watching him too, studying how that slender cig fit between his long pretty fingers. Without her knowledge, her thighs started rubbing together.

What am I doing? He’ll think I’m some randy slut if he sees me doing this.

She turned away from him, noticing a framed photograph with three young girls in it on the side table next to them.

“Who are they?” Y/n asked.

Alastor turned his attention to where she was looking, “Oh, that’s my mother and her sisters.”

“Really? Who’s who?”

He picked up the photograph, making sure to keep his cigarette away from it.

“The one in the middle is my mother. The one to the right of her is my Auntie Colette and the one the left is my Auntie Clementine. They’re triplets.”

“Oh! What are your aunts like?”

“Well, Auntie Colette is the most artistic and free-spirited of the three. She ran away to Paris and became a painter. I’ve only met her three times in my life but she seems like a nice enough lady. And then Auntie Clementine is a real homebody who rarely leaves the house, she got married at sixteen and has eight children.”

“Damn, eight kids!? Sorry that was rude.”

Alastor chuckled, “No, no, you’re fine. That would be my reaction too.”

Y/n laughed, “Are you close to your cousins?”

“Not all of them, but growing up my cousin Elodie was my best friend. She’s quite cheerful and has a high sense of morality. You two would probably get along,” he smiled.

“Well, I’d love to meet her sometime.”

“That would be lovely, I’d love to introduce you to all of my family eventually. I’m sure they’ll absolutely adore you,” his eyes were full of sincerity.

Maybe one day, I’ll get to introduce you as my wife.

Y/n’s face turned red, “You’re such a sweet talker!”

Taglist 🏷️: @chibistar45 @doveatheart @ghostofajinx @girl-math-aint-mathing @91062854-ka @harmfulb1tch @2dmenforme @ladyadrasteia666 @uniquecutie-puffs @vxllys @wendds @alastorsgirl48

[orcasoul]

Marcus Acacius Imagine #1

Warnings: Fluff, age gap, smut (under 18's DNI!)

Word Count: 665

Older husband Marcus Acacius who never expected to marry again almost two decades after his wife ran away with a servant. Who had long ago given up on the notion of love and poured all of his energy into serving Rome. Who, at a large celebration in honour of his retirement felt the whole world slip away as your father introduced you to him. Who became instantly besotted with your delicate smile, your gentle mien, and the shyness you exhibited around him. Who spent the whole evening in deep conversation with you, drawing you out of your shell and learning as much as he could. Who the very next day arranged your marriage to himself with your father.

Older husband Marcus Acacius who felt the gods had truly blessed him as you walked towards him in your bridal attire, looking like Venus herself. Who felt your smaller hand shake as you took his and instantly became overwhelmed with the urge to ease your nerves and to protect and shield you from every bad thing this world had to offer. Who knows that your youth and naivety has not prepared you for the real world and as long as you have him to care for and safeguard you, you'll be fine. Who will spend the rest of his life ensuring you will want for nothing from this moment on. Who's not foolish enough to believe that you love him as he does you - by the few interactions you've both had it's clear you do care for him, but love can take time for some people - and he will make it his mission to gain your love.

Older husband Marcus Acacius who, being an experienced lover knows just how to both sooth your wedding night anxiety and excite you at the same time. Who trailed his lips over your shoulder as he released the clasps of your dress, the fabric flowing to the floor around you. Who stared in reverence at your naked flesh, your subtle curves and the swell of your breasts, professing that you are the most ethereal creature he has laid eyes on. Who tilted your chin up to meet his eyes and saw both lust and apprehension staring back at him. Who allowed you to take your time undressing him, getting lost in the feel of your soft fingers as they trailed over his many scars. Who's heart almost burst with joy as you tiptoed up to press your lips to his.

Older husband Marcus Acacius who laid you on the bed, smoothing his hands down your body, from your neck, over your breasts, past your navel and finally settling over your sex, cupping it gently. Who began to rub circles over your clit with the heel of his hand while pushing a finger inside your aching core, soon followed by a second. Who grinned in triumph as you came apart beneath him, your flushed face looking both awed and fascinated at what just happened. Who, only once you had become pliant enough entered you slowly, pushing in all the way to the hilt. Who watched your eyes roll back as he increased the intensity of his thrusts inside your warm, wet walls, drawing moans and gasps of his name from your pretty lips. Who made sure you came one last time before spilling his seed inside you.

Older husband Marcus Acacius who held you in his arms as you slept, studying all the fine lines, beauty spots and freckles on your face and shoulders, smoothing the silky skin of your back and relaxing in the warmth of your body pressed to his. Who has never felt more at home than his is right now, embracing the woman he adores and has waited his whole life for. Who hopes that his seed has already taken hold and will soon have you swelling beautifully with his son. Who will love, worship and protect you and any children you give him until his dying breath.

[yurinaa-world]

Could I request Blade, Welt, and Dan Heng with a who likes drawing and painting them?

"𝓓𝓻𝓪𝔀 𝓶𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓱 𝓰𝓲𝓻𝓵𝓼"

💫𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈: Blade, Welt, & Dan Heng x Gender-Neutral reader

💫𝒮𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: with a reader who likes drawing and painting them

💫𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈: Fluff, & Spelling mistakes

💫𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒 "𝑀𝑒𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝐻𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈"

“Could you at least try to smile?”

Your 10th critique about him. You loved drawing him all the time and now you’ve made him into your subject to draw. But you don’t seem happy at all, squinting at him, in hopes that he listens.

“I’m not smiling.” He groans, refusing your demand—honestly, in your eyes, a smile might fix the only atrocious pose he does all the time—arms crossed, while accompanied by a blank-looking face. “Come on! You would look perfect with a smile on your face!” You rebuked. You didn’t bring out all your best supplies just for a basic sketch of him you do all the time! This has to be perfect!

“Hmph.” 

That meant no…

Then you’ll play dirty yourself. 

“I thought you loved me!!” You began to fake cry and looked away to make him feel bad. “If you loved me enough, you would at least smile for me. I’m only painting the man I love dearly out of my free will and time.” Every word you spoke made him out to be a terrible person, and until your last breath, he did not hear the end of it.

“Fine…” 

He had enough of your anger directed towards him, as he sighed, the ends of his lips shakily spreading wide and revealing an ugly and awkward-looking smile—which makes him look like you’ve got him at gunpoint— “Uh, forget I said that, you don’t have to smile,” those words alone leave him instantly frowning and glaring at you.

“I was just joking earlier!”

💫𝒲𝑒𝓁𝓉 𝓎𝒶𝓃𝑔 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒩𝒶𝓂𝑒𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈"

“Are you going to line those sketches?”

You jump the second you hear his voice from behind you, a bit flustered, closing it and pressing your sketchbook right against your chest to hide the drawings of him, though it’s clear he’s already seen it. “Well…Well, I'm not sure yet.” you sputtered, watching him sit beside you while you were embarrassed by the fact he saw your sketches of him.

“Could I see them? Your sketches look beautiful from a distance, you want me to see them, that is.” 

“Uh…” Gazing back at his hopeful eyes while he awaited your answers. It wouldn't be harmful to show him, since already seen everything.

“Uh, sure, they aren’t that good though.” 

Shakily handing him your sketchbook in his, his hands flipping through the pages while looking at every one of your drawings with a distinct eye. It feels like an inspector is looking through them (if you’re being truthful). Watching his expression every time he flipped through a page; nervousness pools its way into your stomach.

“These are incredible, you’ve left me speechless.” Even the way you drew him; made him look far better than he does in person. The way you draw, each pencil stroke having its place when during a messy sketch, your hands are truly gifts.

💫𝒟𝒶𝓃 𝐻𝑒𝓃𝑔 "𝐼𝓂𝒷𝒾𝒷𝒾𝓉𝑜𝓇 𝐿𝓊𝓃𝒶𝑒"

He could feel the tips of his ears go red as he awkwardly posed for your painting. Your detailed gaze looked at him; it felt like you were looking through him. You could even get up to capture a certain detail on his clothes.

Please don't notice. Please don't notice. Please don't notice.

He keeps repeating that phrase in his head. Your fine eyes looking up at him make him freeze even more. You make him feel so see-through as if you were trying to unravel his deepest secrets.

“Dan Heng, inch your head up a little.” you move away from your canvas to look at him, signalling with the tip of your paintbrush in your hands, yet you frown at him when he inches his head a bit too high up, which makes him freeze up—unsure where to move his head.

“A little down,” 

“No, no, that too downwards,”

“Now you're too high again, wait a second.” You sigh, putting down your paintbrush and pallet somewhere off the side, before quickly reaching to his side, gently cupping his chin, and lifting it to your desired height and position. He could feel his sweat dripping down his forehead as you quickly fixed his appearance once again; maybe his ears might go red with the close proximity you have with him.

“There you’re perfect now, Do not keep that position for me please.”

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[chelseaknoo]

could you head cannon Eminem with a bimbo during the 2000s. It just Randomly popped up in my head 😭

2000s Eminem x bimbo!Reader

-Marshall was sitting out on his front porch when he noticed a cute girl in a tank top and skirt struggling to carry boxes into her family’s new house.

-He quickly came up to you and asked if you needed help, and you immediately said yes. After he finished carrying your many boxes, you kissed his cheek, leaving a small lipstick stain, and thanked him.

-He instantly fell in love with your soft voice.

-After being around him more he realized how ditzy you really were when you said his name wrong many times and even confused him with a different rapper.

-When you hugged and kissed your cute puppy, you told him you were the daughter of a wealthy man, and you could basically do whatever you wanted.

-This made him want to relentlessly make fun of you and trick you constantly.

-After you became his official girlfriend, he went, You'reexpensive mansion and hung out in your pink huge fluffy room.

-You showed him your collection of skimpy expensive clothes.

-Him constantly laughing at you stumbling or tripping on your heels.

-Him glancing at you’re exposed cleavage from your low-cut tops.

-Loving to hear your soft voice over the phone.

-Your pink miniskirt constantly riding up and showing what’s underneath.

-He sometimes teases you in his lyrics, playfully weaving little jokes into his songs. But when other rappers try to do the same, he quickly shuts it down, making it clear that he won’t tolerate anyone else talking about you that way. Only he has that privilege, and he won’t let anyone cross that line.

-He loves the way you look at him with those wide, innocent doe eyes. There’s something about your gaze that draws him in.

-You bend down in front of him, unknowingly revealing your entire underwear. Oblivious to his gaze, you continue, unaware of the view you’ve offered.

-Wearing you’re pretty pink bows

-Him smelling like roses and strawberries from your perfume.

-Kiss marks on his face.

-Loves seeing you in your short pink nightgowns.

-Sometimes cold towards you.

-He sometimes finds your ditziness to be annoying but cute sometimes but overall he loves you very much<3

[spotsandsocks]

🎃 cat

Hello and thank you for trick or treating with me - I got to 650 ish words with this one so here we go with cat

Dinner is over and a surreptitious check confirms no one is watching him. Eddie stands up as casually as he can to take his plate to the kitchen then edges carefully towards the pole. Not too slow or too fast nothing to attract attention. You wouldn't think it but its actually the fastest and least obvious exit to take as long as everyone else is looking in the opposite direction. Luckily for him they are. Not that he’s doing anything wrong but he could do without the inevitable comments that will come if he’s caught.

Glancing around one last time everyone looks fully occupied so he makes his break for freedom, fully aware that he’s five minutes later than usual and that means there will be complaints. Someone won’t be happy with him. The lump in his pocket reassures him he’s prepared for the encounter so he’ll be forgiven quickly enough.

One hand on the pole he makes a last check. It’s been particularly hard to avoid Buck catching on to what he’s doing because he’s so often with him or looking at him. However at the moment Buck is fully engaged in a heated debate with Ravi and Chim about the relevant merits of some social media site he’s never heard of.

Taking advantage of that he vanishes out of sight.

Downstairs his exit is significantly easier, most of the shift are still upstairs, a few other occupied by the gym equipment or chores Bobby set. He makes it out to the back of the station without having to explain why he slinking around.

He wouldn’t be in this predicament if she wasn’t so cute and he hadn’t fallen completely in love. If Buck finds out he’ll never hear the end of it.

The packet slips out of his pocket with a crinkle and within seconds she’s there. Making a lot of noise, as he suspected, she’s cross with him but as he also knew the treats laid out on his hand soon fix that. Eddie sits down and the cat he refuses to name purrs wildly, butting her head against his fingers demanding attention and affection.

“Hello beautiful” he whispers, giving the golden brown tabby cat the fussing she wants.” How’s your day going?”

The stray he’s very much not in the process of adopting purrs some more and climbs into his lap. She is very pretty and absolutely adorable. Still young, probably not even two yet. He doesn’t need a cat. He doesn’t want a cat. He hasn’t got a cat.

Yet.

He smiles down at the one kneading his thigh happily and strokes her ears. It’s not his fault if she’s so fluffy and cute is it? How’s he supposed to resist. He knows Buck and the others are bound to find out soon but until they do he kind of likes having this little lady to himself.

*

“Where’s Eddie?”

Hen asks the person most likely to know. She’s looked everywhere and she wants him to help with the inventory downstairs but he’s vanished. Buck looks back over his shoulder at her, pausing whatever argument he’s having with Chim.

“He’s out the back, he snuck out to see his cat again, thinks I don’t know.” Buck shakes his head in disbelief. “As if…”

As if indeed Hen thinks and trades a look with her partner who’s sat next to his brother in law and pulling a face Buck doesn’t notice. It’s funny how Buck notices some things instantly and other things get totally missed. The guy had a set of weirdly specific interests.

And speaking of Buck’s weirdly specific interests Hen looks and eventually finds the missing firefighter sat outside talking quietly to a small noisy cat. She can hear it purring from the door she’s hiding behind.

Eddie looks so calm and happy that she retreats quietly the way she came with her own smile. She can wait a little longer for Eddie to come back from not too secret adventures in kitty sitting some things are just too adorable to interrupt.

Sorry for all the tags these last few days you must be tired of me!! Only one more after this and then I’ll be quiet for a while @actualalligator @bekkachaos @beyourownanchor6 @bekkachaos @caroandcats @daffi-990 @dangerpronebuddie @darkrose6578 @diazsdimples @eddiebabygirldiaz @exhuastedpigeon @hermscat @hippolotamus @inell @lonelychicago @monsterrae1 @repressedqueen @ronordmann @stagefoureddiediaz @steadfastsaturnsrings @shipperqueen6 @tizniz @thekristen999 @thelikesofus @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @underwaterninja13 @wildlife4life

[eringobragh420]

DIFFERENT KIND OF KNIGHT (pt.2) - DAMIAN PRIEST x f!OC

💜 Pairing: Damian Priest x f!OC/ Finn Balor x f!OC 💜 Summary: Annabel is caught cheating on Finn with Damian. Now she must deal with the aftermath. 🛑 Warnings: Angst. mention of infidelity 💜 Word Count: 3.9k 💜 Notes: This is the continuation (part two) of Getting Caught. It'll be a multi-chapter story featuring an OC. ❤️ Thank you so much to @femdisa for reading through a portion and offering her valuable feedback. ❤️ MASTERLIST ❤️ 💜 Taglist: In the comments. If you’d like to be added, please click here!

It wasn’t difficult convincing Finn to leave dinner early. He took one look at her face, the blood drained from her cheeks, her round, glassy eyes, the way she seemed to be unsteady on her own feet, and asked if she needed to go. She could only nod, clutching at her abdomen as her stomach rolled and sloshed, and Finn stood instantly. He apologized to their friends as he wrapped an arm around her and helped her toward the exit. Don’t look back, she told herself. Don’t do it. So of course she did, glancing subtly over her shoulder at the moment Damian returned to the table. He noticed who was missing and looked up, meeting her gaze. He couldn’t do much else without giving them away, so he simply nodded before collapsing into his chair and scrubbing his hands over his face. She felt that ice pick again, chipping away at what was left of her heart.

Finn helped her into the car, and she felt like the worst girlfriend in the world, maybe even the worst person in the world. It was a miserable sentiment, but she would never deny that it was exactly what she deserved. She could complain about Finn all day, everything he did or didn’t do, and none of it would justify sleeping with one of his closest friends, and however he chose to react when she told him what she’d done would be appropriate, and she would accept whatever the outcome might be.

“Annabel?” Finn asked, snapping her out of her reverie. She looked at him. “Do ya think it was somethin’ ya ate?”

She didn’t understand the question, so decided to ignore it. “Finn, we need to talk,” she all but vomited the words.

Her boyfriend glanced at her wearing a lopsided smile. His blue eyes flashed like lightning as the street lights passed. “Talk about what?” he asked, still smiling. So beautiful, so ignorant.

Annabel gulped. “Um … I don’t know—” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Better to just rip the bandaid off. “Finn—” Christ, it hurt just to say his name. How the hell was she going— “—I’ve been sleeping with Damian.”

Finn’s cobalt eyes were on the road when she confessed, and he looked back at her, so obviously ready—and clearly wanting—to laugh at her terrible joke. His attention went back to the road for a split second before he was focused on her again. He did this several times, handsome smile fading more and more until it disappeared completely. He shifted in his seat. “What did ya say?” he asked.

Her mouth became arid and her heart was pounding so hard it was like one long beat. “I’ve been sleeping with Damian,” she repeated, this time adding, “I’m so sorry.”

The vehicle came to a slow stop at a stop sign, a low squeak echoing off the neighborhood houses. Finn looked at her, and she swore she saw The Demon flash across his face. “You’ve been fuckin’ Damian?” he pressed.

Annabel didn’t care much for his choice of words, but she accepted that she deserved hearing them. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’m—”

“For how long?” His voice was steadily rising. “When did it start?” She should have known he might want answers to these questions, but here she sat, utterly speechless. “What, suddenly ya don’t hear me?”

“A year,” she replied. “It’s been a year. Finn, I’m so—”

“Sorry, right, yeah, I heard ya,” he interrupted, and she sealed her lips. They were still stopped at the intersection, not another car in sight. “So what do ya want me to do, Anna?” he questioned. “I’m just supposed to forgive ya? Because ya told me the truth?” She shook her head, tears blurring her vision. “And why did ya tell me? It’s been goin’ on for a year and I had no fuckin’ idea, so ya could’a just kept right on fuckin’ each other.”

Annabel looked at Finn, the tears that had been building now cascading down her contoured cheeks. She sniffed. “Rhea caught us,” she muttered.

Finn nodded, chuckling mirthlessly. “So not because ya felt bad or ya regret it,” he sneered, “but because ya got caught.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, wiping at the tears on her face and neck. Fuck, I’m even worse than I thought. “Yep,” she whispered, welcoming the numbness from earlier as it overwhelmed the self-loathing threatening to consume her.

A terrifying quiet gripped the inside of the SUV lasting only several moments, but feeling like years. Finn’s piercing eyes slowly slid to her, and she knew better than to meet his gaze, but it was instinct that made her look.

“When did she catch ya?” he growled.

More tears formed, quickly tumbling out of her eyes, and she didn’t bother trying to clear them away, knowing a flood was imminent. “At the restaurant,” she murmured.

Finn inhaled deeply through his nostrils. He sat still for a moment before his hand crept to the door handle where he pressed the unlock button. “Get out,” he ordered, surprisingly restrained.

She’d expected him to be furious and she’d expected their relationship would likely end, but she hadn’t considered that he’d just kick her out of the car. Of course you didn’t expect that—you’re a selfish bitch. She wanted to plead her case, beg for him to let her grab some things from their place, along with her own vehicle, but why did she deserve any of that after what she’d done? She looked at Finn, tears still falling, and he kept his eyes forward, both hands clutching the steering wheel white-knuckle tight. She nodded, grabbing her purse, and she climbed out of the SUV. As soon as she closed the door, Finn took off, tires squealing and smoking, and she watched him go, deep down wishing he would turn around, and even further down, knowing he wouldn’t. 

Annabel stood on the sidewalk next to the stop sign, watching Finn’s car until it made a turn and was out of sight. Numb body now on autopilot, she retrieved her phone from her purse and opened her contacts. As she scrolled through names and nicknames and businesses and bosses, she came to the slow realization that anyone who might have picked her up in this situation was a friend of Finn’s. All of her friends had been friends with Finn first. After suffering a devastating knee injury in her first and only WrestleMania match several years before, she was told she would never wrestle again. Upon hearing this news, Hunter, one of WWE’s executive producers, offered her a job behind the scenes, but on the NXT brand at the time. Since all of her friends had been on the main roster, she eventually lost contact with them. It was about that time she’d been hurrying backstage, immersed in an email on her phone, when she’d literally run into one of the most handsome men she’d ever seen in her life.

Shaking her head in a failed attempt at physically jostling the memories from her brain, she focused again on her contacts. Family would have been there in a heartbeat no matter how despicable a person she was, but they were 3,000 miles away. She scrolled several times past the one name she knew would help her because she worried this would be the one time he didn’t answer her call. After a brief moment of consideration and the shedding of more tears, she tapped his name with her thumb and slowly raised the phone to her ear.

Damian answered after only one ring. “Hey.” She blinked, taking a deep breath, and she cupped her free hand over her mouth as a sudden urge to cry out overpowered her. The memory of Damian’s confession came crashing through her already delicate mind and she thought she might pass out. “Bel?” Oh, god, don’t call me that. Not that. Not the nickname I love the most that only you have ever called me.

She collapsed against the metal post of the stop sign. “Damian,” she wept, removing her hand just enough so her speech wasn’t muffled, replacing it immediately after.

“Where are you?” he asked, and a second later she heard car keys jingle. “Are you at home?”

“No,” she replied, lifting her hand again. “I’m at a … stop sign …” She looked up at the street names and read them off. There was silence on the other end of the line.

“He left you by some stop sign?” Damian growled.

“Damian, please,” she sobbed.

“Alright, alright. I’m on my way. I’ll be right there, okay?”

Annabel was only able to nod before tapping the button to end the call. The true gravity of the situation threatened to crush her as she waited. She and Finn had been a special circumstance, Hunter had told them, reminiscing about his early relationship with Stephanie, so he’d agreed to look the other way as long as she and Finn’s relationship didn’t interfere in any way with work. And it never had. Until now—because surely Finn would tell someone about what she’d done. And if things weren’t complicated enough, she’d involved Damian Priest. Depending on how everything played out, they all three could end up fired. Thanks to her. 

“Well done, Annabel,” she sniffed, wiping away more tears. “Well done.”

Her feet were screaming by the time Damian arrived. The heels she’d begged Finn for had certainly been made with looks in mind and not comfort. She heard Damian’s sleek black sports car before she spotted the headlights, and her brain was briefly paralyzed by the memory of the time she’d ridden Damian’s dick while he sped down the highway at well past the legal limit, both of them giggling like children, moaning like pornstars. One of the most dangerous, exciting, and sexiest times of her life had happened in the very vehicle that was approaching her now. Why are you thinking about this right now? How does any of this matter right … now? 

“Are you okay?” Damian asked, rounding the front of his vehicle. He was still in the black slacks and black button down he’d worn to dinner, and she wondered if he’d left the restaurant to come and get her. What had he told their friends, if anything? What had Rhea told them? Had Finn already called or texted them to let them know he’d just found out his girlfriend was a slut? “Bel?” He reached out for her, and her body stiffened. She couldn’t let him touch her. Not now. Probably not ever again. He held his hands up, nodded, and opened the passenger door for her. She hobbled over, dreading the height of the curb she was going to have to descend before she was able to climb into the car. As she was about to take the plunge, Damian extended his hand to her, and she took a long, painful moment to consider her options. She could try it on her own and risk a sprained ankle or she could just hold on to the tall Puerto Rican’s hand for the few seconds it would take her to get inside his car.

She decided on taking his hand and regretted it almost immediately. I’d marry you tomorrow, she heard him say in her fracturing mind. I can’t breathe when we’re not together. Why had he confessed in the first place? Why the hell had he done it right after they’d been caught? And why the hell had she seen so many beautiful things when she’d looked at him? Swallowing bile, she all but tumbled into the passenger seat, Damian’s hand squeezing hers as if he could provide any sort of assistance, but she wasn’t allowing him any closer than he already was. She swept her much smaller fingers easily out of his grasp, and she glued her eyes to the floorboard until Damian finally closed the door. While he passed in front of the headlights, her fingers fumbled as she unstrapped the heels from her feet and then laid them neatly across her lap. A shaking nail scraped along the sparkling crystals as her mind played a reel of the day she and Finn had been shopping and she’d spotted the shoes. She’d be the first to admit she’d acted like a child—stamping her little feet and begging her boyfriend to buy them for her—but he’d relented with a smile, that beautiful Finn Bálor smile, handing the cashier a credit card before kissing Annabel on the cheek.

“Bel?” 

She jumped, clutching the heels. The car was moving, and she didn’t remember leaving the stop sign. Realizing someone had spoken her name, she found Damian in the driver’s seat, glancing between her and the road just as Finn had done after she’d told him her deepest, darkest secret, and sent their lives into an irreversible tailspin. “What?” she asked quietly.

“I asked where you wanted me to take you,” Damian replied, his voice like smoke on velvet, and had she just stubbed her toe, she’d have found comfort in it. 

“Oh.” Her eyes fell. “Um … the nearest hotel, I guess.”

“I’m not taking you to a hotel,” Damian said.

“Damian—”

“Forget it, Annabel. I’m not leaving you alone.”

Alone. That’s all she had to look forward to. She’d have to look for a new place to live—alone. She’d be traveling alone. She’d be staying in hotel rooms alone. She’d grow old alone. She’d die alone. And the legacy she would leave behind would be that of a cheater.

“Well,” she sighed, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“Then I’m taking you back to my place.”

“Damian—”

“Please, Bel? You can have the bed, I’ll sleep in the living room.”

She couldn’t deny the appeal. No need to venture into public and try to act like her life wasn’t falling apart. But most of all, she wouldn’t be alone. This might be her last chance not to be alone, and she felt her eyes tingle like she was about to cry, but no tears came. Had she actually cried them all or was she desensitizing as a coping mechanism?

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The remainder of the ride to Damian’s place was silent. Annabel cradled the heels, all the while playing the night over in her mind. How did neither of them lock the door? They’d always been so careful. They took risks, of course, but there were always precautions including locking the fucking door.

Damian pulled into a space outside his apartment building. She took a deep breath and opened the passenger door, barely getting her feet out before Damian was there. He reached for the heels in her hands and she snatched them away, hugging them tightly to her body. For the moment, they were all she had of Finn. He’d bought many things for her, but they were all at the home they’d shared, and she wasn’t sure if she’d get any of it back. They’d been gifts, but did she really have any right to them now? Damian gazed at her for a moment, and she refused to meet his eyes, so he closed the car door, and she followed him inside on bare feet.

She’d been here before, and she remembered feeling comfortable and safe, despite the infidelity she’d been committing, but now, all she felt was dread and shame. She glanced at the life size Batman in the corner of the living room, feeling the natural urge to make fun of him for it like the first time she’d seen it, but she forced those urges into the very pit of her stomach with a hard swallow. She looked at the black sofa recliner near the wall where she would sleep—there was no way she was going to let Damian give up his bed for her—and she wondered if he even had spare blankets and pillows. It was a lovely apartment, expensive, decorated with superheroes because Damian Priest was nothing if not an overgrown child, but it was only one bedroom. She wasn’t even sure he had a different comforter set than the one she’d always seen on his bed. 

The two of them stood awkwardly in the living space, Annabel clutching her heels, Damian with his hands on his hips. She kept her eyes on the floor—that’s where they were the safest—as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. They were still sore from having stood on an empty street corner with not but a stop sign to keep her company.

“So,” Damian started, clearing his throat, “you know where the bedroom and … everything is.”

“I’m just gonna sleep in the chair,” Annabel said, kneeling to place the heels on the gray hardwood floors beside the sofa as if they might shatter should she be careless with them. Like she’d been careless with her relationship with Finn, and it had so shattered as a result.

“Bel—”

“Damian,” she interrupted maybe a little more aggressively than she’d anticipated, but the man stopped speaking just the same. “It’s been a long fucking night. I don’t wanna sleep in your bed, I wanna sleep in the chair. Okay? Is that okay with you? And can you please stop calling me Bel?”

“Alright, okay,” Damian tossed over his shoulder as he headed down the hall. He returned a moment later with a blanket and pillow, setting them on the sofa. “And I got you these.” He held up one of his band t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts. “I doubt the shorts will fit you, but—”

“Thanks.”

“If you need anything—”

“I know where your bedroom is,” she replied, and the implications alone almost made her retch.

Damian took an apprehensive step toward her, her body became rigid, and he backed up. He looked at her for a moment, which she could only tell out of her peripheral vision because she still forbade herself from linking her eyes with his, and then he turned and headed for his room, hands in his pockets, head down. Did he feel bad, she wondered? Was he filled with guilt? Regret, maybe? Or, considering his earlier revelation, was he happy they’d been caught? These thoughts led her to one final question, and she buried the inquiry deep within the wrinkles of her brain, hopefully never to be considered again.

After changing out of her dress and into the t-shirt Damian had provided—the shorts were too big and far too long for comfort—she hugged her knees to her chest and laid sideways on the recliner, head on the armrest. She had no expectations of falling asleep, but as soon as she permitted her eyes to close, she was not only sleeping, but dreaming. Nightmaring, rather. The Demon was chasing her through an empty neighborhood, the heels on her feet making it all but impossible to run efficiently. Damian was there, standing at the end of the street, and she sprinted in his direction, knowing that as soon as he saw The Demon, he’d take off running himself and stop him from ever reaching her. But he never moved. She screamed his name, but nothing came out. Damian extended his arms, and she was only feet from him, launching herself off the ground and into his arms. But The Demon had an arm around her waist and he wrenched her back, further from her destination, from where she was supposed to be. 

Annabel woke up as she tried screaming Damian’s name again, thankfully making no sound in reality either. Her heart pounded, her throat was dry, and her entire body thrummed, forcing her out of the recliner. She paced for several moments, trying to control her breathing, but her lungs were completely offline from the WiFi in her brain. Alone. She’d thought wrong about being able to handle being alone. Her feet moved, seemingly of their own free will, and she wrung her hands as she padded down the hallway to the bedroom door left ajar. For her. She pushed the door open slowly, just enough so she could see inside and inspect the scene before she decided to enter. Damian was asleep, sitting up against his pillows, TV remote on his bare chest, one arm bent behind his head, brawny bicep on full display, and was there ever going to come a day when she didn’t automatically check him out? For fuck’s sake, you are a slut. 

“Damian,” she whispered, nearly choking on his name. One hand clutched the door, the other the knob, as she wasn’t going to enter without his permission. “Damian,” she repeated a little louder. 

The man jumped, eyes opening to the size of saucers. “I’m up,” he rasped, clearing his throat as he sat up, the remote rolling off his chest. He was disoriented for a moment, taking a few breaths, and then he noticed her cowering at the door. He swung his long legs over the side of the bed and stood. “Are you okay?” he asked. He started toward her, stopped, and backed up before she was able to react negatively.

“I …” she trailed off. “Can I sleep in here tonight?” she forced out in a whisper. “I just—I didn’t want—”

“Shh,” Damian softly hushed her. “Just get in bed.” 

Annabel started around the bed to her side—you don’t have a side—when Damian grabbed his pillow.

“Wait,” she said. Damian turned to her, and her mouth clamped shut because suddenly she had no idea why she wanted him to wait.

“Do you want me to stay?” 

Annabel nodded, grateful he didn’t force her to say it, and she carefully slid into a bed she’d spent more time in than she would ever admit to. Damian repositioned his pillow before climbing under the covers.

“We can—” Damian started.

She made her way across the mattress slowly, offering Damian every opportunity to stop her—only half of her actually wanting him to stop her—but he remained still as she ducked under his arm so she could lay her head on his chest. She pressed her body to his, refraining from wrapping a leg around his so as not to give the wrong idea. The last thing she was interested in was any kind of sexual encounter. She simply needed human contact, to feel his warmth, his refined muscles, and when his arm promptly came around her waist, avoiding any of her spots, she realized she needed more than just contact—she needed to be held, to feel safe, to feel … not hated. Maybe she didn’t deserve it, but she swore to continue her self-loathing tomorrow—she just wanted to have tonight.

“You good? Is this okay?” Damian asked. Annabel could hear the sleep coating his voice.

“Yeah,” she breathed, nodding. “Thank you.”

Damian nodded and took a deep breath, Annabel’s head rising with his warm, bare chest, and her eyes were suddenly heavy. “For the moon never beams, without bringing me dreams of the beautiful Annabel Lee,” his scratchy voice broke the momentary silence. Annabel’s—whose middle was Lee—eyes widened, brows creasing. “And the stars never rise, but I feel the bright eyes of the beautiful … Anna …” He trailed off, poetry recitation replaced by soft snoring. 

She suddenly had so many questions, but Damian’s snoring was to her like white noise was to other people. Add to that her body’s sheer exhaustion, and her just widened eyes blinked slowly before closing, her own gentle snoring joining Damian’s.

[yuwuta]

yuuta crumbs pls queen 😔🤲

here’s something from a fic that’s been kicking my ass as of late, it’s something i planned way back in february as a valentine’s day thing and obvs never got around to finishing it in time 😔 for context, yuuta’s been hit with a kind of cupid’s bow/lovesick curse that makes him act, well... more lovesick than usual. f2l because what's new around here

“Yuuta, stop!” 

He freezes, the tone of your voice shocking him to a complete stop—the desperation and anger in your cry reverberates through him and incites fear. Not the basal kind that makes him feel like he’s in danger; the kind born from anxiety; the kind that makes him terrified of losing you.

When he turns to you, it’s with wide, regretful eyes, and a strikingly meek demeanor, in complete contrast to his previous, eminent bloodlust. He unclenches his fist from Toge’s jacket, dropping him from his grasp to trudge towards you with laser focus.  

“Are you mad at me?” Yuuta questions, words desperate not unlike yours before, but far more rushed, and laced with an anxiety that isn’t unlike the normal Yuuta you know. He stops walking when he’s in front of you, tipping his head down slightly, leaving no room for you to look anywhere but directly at him, when he notices you trying to tip-toe to look past him to Toge, “Did I make you mad? Are you angry? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hate me!”  

He keeps pleading with you, begging you not to hate him. You’re not sure that he even knows what he’s apologizing for, but his mantra of don’t hate me, don’t hate me—I love you—don’t hate me rings loudly in your ears. 

His reaction confuses you. Had the way you called his name struck something this despondent and regretful inside of him? Can he even feel true regret right now?—you’re certain if you hadn’t stopped him when you had, he’d have hurt Toge, but he didn’t seem sorry about injuring his friend, only for making you upset. It wasn’t like a few days ago when your mere presence could catch his attention, make him light up and wag his tail like a puppy. You had asked for Yuuta to calm down before he grabbed Toge, but he was blind to your wishes this time—it wasn’t love that was fueling his actions anymore. 

His curse didn’t make sense before, but now it’s grown even more confusing to you. You don’t have time to ponder the abnormalities any further when you start to feel Yuuta’s cursed energy bubbling around you. He’s still crying for forgiveness, clearly remorseful of his actions, but his energy doesn’t wallow with him; it grows stronger with every plea from his lips, and eventually the room feels stifling because of Yuuta’s persistence and exclamations of love for you.  

“No, no—Yuuta, I don’t hate you,” you’re careful to call his name tenderly this time, despite your hurried actions to reach and cradle his face between your palms, “I never said that. I never would.”  

Almost instantly, he seems to calm, the room feels lighter, and he stops rambling for forgiveness once he hears your words. “You… don’t hate me?”  

“No, Yuuta, I could never hate you,” you tell him, gently, endeared by how placid he’s become after a shred of reassurance—and relieved to no longer be drowning in the threat of his cursed energy, “But if you love me—”  

“I do,” he interjects, raising a hand to wrap around your wrists, tilting his head down further into your palms; and his eyes sparkle now like a little kid who’s excited to share something—eager and grounded and certain, “I do love you, not if.”  

You pause, then smile. It’s impressive how chipper he is now when he was bordering on a lovesick-induced panic attack mere seconds ago. “Well since you love me, you can’t hurt the other people I care about.”  

Yuuta frowns now, moving his hands to peel yours away from his face. He lets go of your wrists only to wrap his hands around yours instead, holding them between your bodies. “But I don’t want you to care about anybody else,” he pouts, petulant, the childlike air around him now on the verge of a tantrum, “I love you, and only you. I want you to love me, and only me, too. Isn’t that fair?”  

His words are so earnest and bold, you’re tempted to believe him this time; almost tricked into thinking Yuuta is saying this of his own volition; almost flattered by his proclamation until you remember that these are the emotions and words of a curse, and not his own.  

“I can’t not care about my friends. They care about you, too—Toge cares about you a lot, so you can’t hurt him, or anybody else, not even for me.”   

You feel him squeeze your hands as his lips turn downwards in frustration. He’s quiet for a moment, weighing his options, and you carefully scan his face, hoping your words don’t resonate the wrong way. Luckily, after a minute, a small smile crawls onto Yuuta’s lips and his head perks up before he tells you, “Okay… if… if you care, then Yuuta cares!”  

“Well, that’s not...” you pause, when Yuuta’s grin widens, eyes crinkling from his smile and you don’t have the heart to stop it, nor do you have the capacity to stop him should you trigger another episode. “You know what, yeah that works.”  

“Because I love you!” he continues, moving his hands to rest against your shoulders, now happy and sure of himself, “Do you love Yuuta, too?”  

Your head jerks slightly, leaving you looking up at him owlishly when you realize this is the first time he’s asked you that question. Up until now, the cursed version of Yuuta has put the emphasis on his love for you, unconcerned about a mutual attraction. Even just now, his concern with Toge’s potential attraction to you was a new development—and his true concern seemed to be with how he could stop it, to ensure that you only felt his love.  

Things are changing. Yuuta almost hurt someone he otherwise considers a dear friend—he’s not just playing at pure love anymore—now there’s jealousy, and fear, and a possessive nature on the table, too, and you’re not sure what to expect next. His curse is inexplicably complex, almost impossibly human. You wonder how it’s at all possible. 

You know that Shoko advised you not to feed into Yuuta’s cursed feelings too much, but right now you can hardly see the line between your Yuuta and the lovesick version of him, and you won’t wait until that border is permanently blurred. If reassurance is what it takes to keep his feelings at bay, then so be it. You’re not scared of Yuuta himself, but you fear that he might hurt himself just to seek your approval and love. You can’t let him do that, especially not when he already has it.  

“Of course I do, Yuuta,” you reply, a wobbly smile with teary eyes because now you’re pleading with him, “Please, don’t forget that.”