#I promise i'll drop more content I swear

[ccybersharkk]

I wanna write about 017's relationship with the other creeps so badly but there's so much and so little to say at the same time.

Like yeah. He can't stand Jeff. Wdym I have to explain why he hates him

[sttm99]

Content warnings: swearing, making out, unedited

Prohero!Dynamight falls for the live wedding painter at his best friend's wedding

Dynamight is explosive in more ways than just his quirk.

When you see him in person for the first time whilst doing the live painting for Red Riot's wedding ceremony, he's all you see for a moment or two, and you're thankful you didn't mess up a chord at the sight of him.

His presence is overwhelming, taking up the space around him, sucking people in whilst simultaneously pushing them away.

He walks down the aisle with another pro-hero bridesmaid on his side before taking his place on the dais with the rest of the groomsmen, meters away from where you're standing before your easel.

Dynamight stands next to Chargebolt, his signature frown softer than usual as he watches his friend get married. You stare at him, eyes tracing the contours of his face as best as you can despite the distance as you work to capture his face in the painting.

He's a handsome man, you think, as you press quick strokes to his hair. When you look up again, he's staring at you, and the eye contact has your stomach dropping in a way that's not entirely unpleasant.

He looks away immediately Red Riot comes up, lightly patting his best friend's back in encouragement.

Once the music starts and the bride enters the hall, Dynamight is the last thing on your mind as you work to capture her. As you do so, you fail to notice the way he goes back to looking at you.

You set your things down at the corner of the large reception hall, beginning the second painting of the evening.

You smile softly at guests as they come to admire your work, trying your best to capture the bride's extravagant reception dress as she prances around the place gleefully.

You're focused as your work on her skirt piece, squinting as you paint across it delicately, so much so you don't notice the presence just behind you.

"You're good at this shit." You hear suddenly behind you. The voice is startling enough to draw your focus away, but not so much that you mess it up.

You glance behind you at the tall blonde male, fairly shocked at his presence. You'd assumed he wasn't the type for social interactions judging by how cold and aloof he was to most of the other guests.

"It is my job," You say as you turn back to your painting.

"I know." He walks forward, so he's beside you now, his gaze on the scene on you've done so far. "But this-" He pauses, glances at you then back ay the easel, "This is really fucking good. And you're fast. I saw the one you did at the ceremony."

You hum, a nice warmth coursing through you at the praise.

"Thank you, Dynamight." You turn to give him a small smile. Then you hold out your brush to him, "You wanna try?"

His eyes widen a bit and he quickly shakes his head. "Nah. I'll do a shit job, I promise you."

You laugh softly at how hesitant he was, but you could see the way he was eyeing the brush. "It's fine. You'll just make some strokes on the gown." You insist. "I'll guide you."

He pauses, looking straight at you as he mulls it over.

"Fine. Gimme that." He huffs as he takes the brush from you and stands closer, holding it over the board.

"Okay, so..." You hold his enclosed palm and bring the brush closer to the painting, making light strokes on the white gown of the bride.

Your eyes are on the painting, but his are on you, your face as you focus, your hand as it holds his, and a warmth begins to pool at his stomach.

"See?" You murmur with a small smile as you look back at him. Your cheeks redden just slightly when you see how he's already looking at you.

"Um... are you-"

"You should call me Bakugo," He says as he looks away from you and back at the painting. His voice is lower than before, and his disposition is less stiff.

"Oh." You just say quietly as he hands the brush back to you, unsure of what to say next.

"Now's when you tell me your name in return." He's quieter, and he's refusing to look at you.

You assume it's to hide the red you can see dusting his face.

"YN." You say to him as you take the brush back, a small smile on your face. He nods once and repeats it under his breath in a voice that almost makes you squirm.

"Is that me?" He asks quietly as he squints at a figure in one corner.

You look at it and nod. "Yep."

He hums, "And that's Soy Sauce face." He points at another figure you're sure is Cellophane. "Then Earphone Jack and the idiot. Deku, Half and Half-"

He goes on listing pro heroes by strangely accurate but offensive nicknames, and you can't help but find it incredibly funny.

He spends most of the reception with you as you paint, ignoring the weird way people look at him as he refuses to leave your side, even going as far as bringing you a plate of cake after it's been cut, and some other foods and drinks.

As the night ends and the guests leave, he's the last by your side before the newlyweds and their closer friends and family come over to see how far you've gone.

"It looks practically done," Mina says in awe.

You smile as you pack the rest of your things. "Almost. I'll have to do some finishing touches at the studio first, though. You should get them back in about a week."

They hum as they take some more looks.

Kirishima looks at Bakugo as he stands right next to your side. "You gonna follow her to the studio too?" He snorts at his friend, "Seeing as you couldn't leave her side, you might as well."

"Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair."

You laugh as you pack up the painting, "Anyways, I hope you guys had fun, and congratulations on getting married." You say as you begin to leave.

"I'll help you," Bakugo grumbles as he carries your large box of paints and brushes.

The look he gives you lets you know that he's not taking 'no' for an answer, which is how you found yourself outside the hall with him next to the car.

"Thank you, Bakugo, for the help." You say as you look up at him with a grin.

He stares you down with his regularly furrowed brows, his hands stuffed in his pocket as he thinks of what to say to keep you longer.

"Would it be inappropriate if I asked for your number?" He's so close you can smell him and it makes you feel fuzzy.

You grin. "Not at all."

He hands you his phone for you to out your number in, and as he watches you do it with your hands slightly stained with paint, he can't help but want to kiss you.

Would that be inappropriate? He's sure it will. You two just met. But still, he can't help but want to try.

Bakugo stuffs his phone back into his pockets the moment you hand it back, and he steps closer to you. His palms are sweaty, and he's trying to inconspicuously wipe them as they're stuffed in his trouser pockets.

"Would it also be inappropriate if I kissed you here?" His voice is husky as he asks and you can see the blush on his face.

He's so much different than the media paints him out to be, more awkward than mean, more aloof than nasty. But you think that maybe this persona, this Bakugo, is just for you.

You smile up at him shyly, your hands tightly clasped behind your back as you nod.

He doesn't hold your face because his palms are too sweaty. He doesn't think he can get them dry enough on time because he wants to kiss you now.

He leans forward, and you do too, and when his mouth meets yours, you're lightheaded. His lips are soft as he kisses you, and he moves them in a way that shows experience.

You smile into it, satisfied and still wanting more, and before you know it, his palms are on your waist, pulling you flush against his body and pressing his lips harder against your own.

When you pull away, his eyes are half lidded, but you can see how blown his pupils are.

"Good night, Bakugo." You whisper to him.

He pecks your cheek once before letting go, "Good night."

[ordinary-barbie]

scary dog privileges.

summary: Nobody's messing with you as long as Rafe Cameron is around.

pairing: rafe x sweet!pogue!reader

word count: 1.7k

tags: fem!reader, swearing, a guy acts like a creep towards reader, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex (protected), mutual orgasms

note: dipping my toes into obx fanfic after hyperfixating/crushing on Drew Starkey and reading a ton of Rafe stories, haha. I have not seen the show but I'm shooting my shot here anyway!

~~~~

They say that opposites attract, which couldn't be more accurate regarding your relationship with Rafe Cameron.

Rafe was the Kook king of Kildare Island, someone who oozed cockiness and arrogance. Meanwhile, you were a soft-spoken Pogue. When people spotted the two of you together, they couldn't wrap their heads around it, and frankly, neither could you. Rafe had his pick of any girl on the island - especially the Kooks - but somehow he only had eyes for you, which warmed your heart.

It all started last year, with a party at Tannyhill to celebrate your class graduating from high school. You were content to stay under your covers, binging Love Island Australia on Hulu, but your friend Olivia had begged you to come with her. Eventually, you relented, your curiosity about one of Rafe Cameron's famous parties getting the better of you.

Within five minutes, you'd ran into Rafe—literally. You'd been swaying to the music and accidentally bumped into him, spilling your drink all over his shirt. You'd been mortified, apologizing profusely and insisting on helping him clean up.

Rafe was a goner ever since.

Now it was time for another Tannyhill bash to celebrate the start of summer, and you were squarely by Rafe's side. In the year you'd been together, you'd discovered how protective your boyfriend was. He held onto you like an anchor, always having an arm wrapped around your waist or shoulders, no matter if he was talking to Topper and Kelce or kicking some rando's ass at beer pong. You appreciated it; parties often made you feel like a nervous baby deer, and it was nice to have someone to hold on to.

Unfortunately, you couldn't always be joined at the hip. "I'm gonna piss but I'll be right back, baby," Rafe promised, giving your ass a light squeeze on the way to the bathroom. As soon as your boyfriend was out of sight, your smile dropped. While you'd made an effort to get to know Rafe's friends, you were still incredibly nervous in a house full of Kooks.

To kill some time, you scrolled through Instagram, giggling at Olivia's latest story. She'd posted herself having a "friendly pizza sesh" with a guy, but you knew she'd had a huge crush on him since high school.

Suddenly, a shadow passed over you. "What's got you laughing like that, pretty girl?" You jumped, startled by the unfamiliar male voice.

A smirking guy with short, curly dark brown hair and glinting hazel eyes sauntered up to you. "Hey, I'm Aidan. I'm new in town—but maybe a cute thing like you could show me around?" he lazily drawled.

Your skin prickled with discomfort. You suddenly wanted to shrink into yourself, but you forced yourself to smile anyway. "Sorry, I'm not interested."

Aidan laughed, undeterred, and leaned into you. "Playing hard to get, huh? That's kinda hot," he whispered into your ear, making your stomach churn.

"I said no thanks," you responded, laughing nervously. You should run. You needed to get out of there. But for some reason, you found yourself rooted to the spot, trapped with Aidan and the pungent stench of his cologne.

Aidan pouted, using his arms to pin you against the wall. "C'mon babe, just give me a chance. I don't bite."

"How many times is she gonna tell you to fuck off before you get the point?" Relief flooded your chest at the sound of your boyfriend's voice.

Aidan rolled his eyes. "Why don't you fuck off, dude? We were having a moment."

Rafe glared at Aidan, his eyes blazing with rage, and grabbed the other boy by the collar of his Lacoste polo. "That's my girlfriend, you jackass. And you're gonna step the fuck away from her. Now."

You suddenly felt a zinging sensation in your core, turned on by Rafe's behavior. He was so sweet and silly and kind but could turn into a snarling dog in an instant — definitely not someone to fuck around with.

Rafe released Aidan's collar and the brunette gulped, suddenly trembling with fear.

"I - I'm sorry man. I had no idea," Aidan stammered. "I'll leave her alone."

Rafe wrapped a protective arm around your waist, scowling at Aidan. "Get the fuck out of my house."

Aidan meekly nodded, scurrying out of Tannyhill. The party filled with laughter, with people cheering Rafe on. But Rafe ignored the commotion, only focused on you.

"I'm so sorry baby. I should've been there to protect you from that—that asshat," Rafe apologetically said, tenderly stroking your cheek. You leaned into his touch, instantly comforted by the warmth radiating from his body.

"It's okay, Rafe," you assured him. "It's not like you could take me into the bathroom with you."

Rafe frowned, kissing the top of your head. "Maybe I should. Can't have these fuckin creeps tryna mess with my girl."

You laughed, shaking your head at your well-meaning boyfriend. "I adore you, but I'm not gonna stand there and watch you pee."

Rafe flashed you a lopsided grin. "Why not? We've done way worse things in there. That poor sink has seen some shit."

You playfully shoved Rafe's shoulder. "Rafe Alexander Cameron! I can't believe my knight in shining armor is so crass."

"Don't act like you don't love it, baby," he casually replied, kissing your neck. You let out a soft moan, tilting upward so Rafe could have more access.

The two of you were interrupted by the sound of Topper fake retching. "Begging y'all to please get a room," he pleaded. You couldn't help but snicker at Topper's dramatics.

Rafe lazily flipped off his friend before whisking you off to his bedroom and locking the door. "Get on the bed for me, pretty girl," Rafe said huskily, brushing his lips against your ear. Damn, that nickname sounded so much sexier from Rafe's lips than that douche from earlier. (Aaron? Andrew?)

You kicked off your sandals and laid down on top of Rafe's king-sized bed, pulling off your dress and underwear. Rafe quickly shed himself of his clothes and laid on top of you, kissing down every inch of your body.

"So I'm your knight in shining armor, huh? Well let me give my princess the treatment she deserves," Rafe drawled, relishing in the way your body reacted to his touch.

He plunged two fingers inside you, pumping them in and curling them right against your sweet spot. You gasped, loving the way he stretched you out. Rafe had been the only guy you'd ever slept with and at this point, you couldn't imagine yourself with anyone else; how could you, when you've only experienced the best?

You began to crave more than just his fingers, however. "Rafey," you whined, fully overcome with lust.

Rafe chuckled, lazily rubbing at your clit. "Use your words, princess. Tell me how to make you feel good."

You gulped, still feeling a little timid when it came to expressing your desires in the bedroom. "I need—I need your mouth, Rafey. Please."

Rafe knitted his eyebrows in mock confusion. "Where, baby? Your lips? Your cheek? Your forehead?"

"Rafe Cameron. Eat my pussy before I explode," you begged, your horniness taking over.

Rafe smirked, pulling his fingers out of you before slowly running his tongue across your folds. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty. Almost as much as I love this sweet little pussy. She's already so wet for me, holy shit."

You whimpered, arching your back in ecstasy as Rafe continued to pleasure you, kissing and sucking at your clit. You felt that familiar fire in your stomach, a sure sign that your climax was fast approaching.

"Oh, Rafe—'m gonna cum," you moaned, your legs shaking. Rafe sped up his movements, rubbing your clit with his thumb and index finger while pumping his tongue in and out of your hole. Eventually the dam burst and you felt your orgasm wash over you as your legs clamped down on either side of Rafe's head.

You took a minute to come down from your high, admiring the sight of your boyfriend with mussed-up hair and your glistening slick decorating his face. Even while looking totally disheveled, Rafe was a work of art.

Rafe wiped his face with the back of his hand, savoring the rest of your juices on his fingers. "Always my favorite meal baby," he purred. "But now I need to be inside you. Turn around for me, princess."

You shifted your position on the bed so you were lying on your stomach while Rafe rummaged in his bedside drawer for a condom. You heard him unwrapping the foil packet and rolling the condom on before feeling the head of Rafe's cock teasing your hole. You let out a breathy moan, loving and loathing the teasing simultaneously.

Rafe held on to your hips as he pushed into you, thrusting in and out at a steady pace. "Can't get enough of this pussy," he grunted. "So warm and tight f'me."

The din of the party going on downstairs faded away, and you could only focus on the sounds of sex occurring in the room: the duet of moans between Rafe and you, the creak of the bed, the sound of skin slapping against skin. A year ago, you couldn't imagine coming out of your shell like this. But now? Well—

"Gonna cum again, Rafey," you breathily blurted out, feeling your pussy clench down on Rafe's cock.

"Fuck yeah, princess, just come all over my cock," Rafe groaned.

Almost as if on cue, you felt your climax wash over you, and Rafe helped you ride out your orgasm before spilling his load into the condom. You had a fleeting thought about Rafe shooting his cum inside you instead, but you weren't quite ready for that yet.

You and Rafe took a minute to catch your breaths before he took off the condom and tied it up, tossing it into the wastebasket next to his bed. He rolled over on his side, enveloping you in his arms and burying his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

"Baby, you're incredible," Rafe murmured, kissing your shoulder.

You smiled, feeling light and airy inside. "Rafe, you're incredible. Thanks for being my scary dog earlier."

"I'm sorry, 'scary dog?'" Rafe repeated with a laugh.

"Scary dog privilege. It's something I saw on TikTok," you explained. "Basically it means that if you're with an intimidating-looking person, people will leave you alone because they don't want to mess with a scary dog. And seeing you be protective like that? It was pretty hot."

Rafe fondly gazed at you, stroking your hip. "Well shit, I'll be your scary dog anytime then, baby."

[heyimkana]

Untitled

Pairing: Yuuta Okkotsu x Female Reader

Word Count: 5K (I feel like I should apologize but if you’ve seen my other works, this is considered super short I’m being fr rn)

Summary: Yuuta is your new neighbor, and everyone loves him because of his sweet and kind personality. He has a crush on you, but you’re a married woman, so you can’t reciprocate his feelings the same way. But when your husband starts cheating on you, you can’t help but turn to him for comfort.

Content Warnings: alcohol, swearing, adultery/cheating, age gap (Yuuta is in his early twenties, reader is almost in her thirties), unprotected sex, also Yuuta going down the yandere route at the end I'm not playing so if it's not your cup of tea don't read

A/N: wrote this in one sitting after aleks @yuutito said something about yuuta and older woman that rewired my brain (how dare she went to sleep after casually telling me this like I wasn't going to just just sit there thinking about *redacted*-ing this ver of him in 124352 different positions). i was supposed to be watching my kids playing in my backyard but i wrote this instead. pls don't call child support. this is also supposed to be a drabble 🤡 🔫 i was going to send it to her on discord but a few people were asking if i was dead (girl, only on the inside lol) cause i haven't posted in a while so hi everyone guess who came back from the war (i'll go through my inbox asap i promise ily)

P.S: don't use your brain when you read this cause i certainly didn't use mine when i wrote this only my dick

Yuuta Okkotsu is your new neighbor. 

He lives across the street, and you’re not close to him, not yet. He’s younger than you, much younger than you—a fresh graduate from a reputable university who’s lucky enough to be able to work from home. He doesn’t go out much, but he’s friendly, always leaving good impressions around the neighborhood. Everyone knows Yuuta. Everyone loves Yuuta. 

The first time you asked about him, purely out of curiosity, was when you greeted your neighbor next door, an older woman living alone ever since her late husband passed. She just got home from, what you assumed, another trip to the clinic. You saw him stepping down from her porch after making sure she was okay and bidding her with a polite bow. You traded smiles with him, but he didn’t stop for a conversation. You just saw his face turn scarlet at the sight of you, and he dropped a quick “Hello” before he bolted.

“Who was that?” you asked.

“Oh, he’s our sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

“Sweet neighbor Yuuta,” you laughed a little. “He just moved here like three days ago, and everyone calls him that.”

“Because it’s true!”

“Uh-huh, and what did he do that was so sweet to you?”

“He’s helped me with my chores—washing the dishes, bathing my cat, mowing my backyard. He saw me having trouble crossing the street yesterday, so he offered to take me to the clinic today. Such a sweet boy, that man. Very handsome, too.”

That last part you could agree with. Instantly. 

You see Yuuta occasionally, always by coincidence, like maybe in the morning when you leave the house to put out your trash or grab a newspaper. He always seems like he’s eager to strike up a conversation but gives up before he can, simply because his heart can’t take it. You know he has a crush on you; it’s clear as day. He’s young, and he’s in love. It’s cute. But you’re married and committed, so that’s that. 

You meet him more frequently when he starts going to the same local supermarket. You bumped into him in one of the aisles, with him approaching you first because he saw you struggling to get that ketchup bottle on the top shelf. He’s so polite, and he’s, indeed, very sweet, especially to the elderly, always taking his time to humor them when nobody else seems to pay them any attention. He grabbed the bottle for you, and you ended up chatting with him while waiting in line. He offered to help carry your groceries, and you were thankful because you weren’t sure you could bring everything alone. He walked you to your car, bade you good night, and told you to take care. 

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta. 

Things haven’t been going well with your husband. It’s fight after fight after fight.  At first, your relationship became so strained because you couldn’t conceive even after two years of marriage. The truth is, you don’t want to have a baby, not too soon, not when you still want to focus on living your life, but he wants it terribly, and if you want your marriage to work out, there’s no other choice but to try. You’re somehow glad that the universe seemed to work in your favor, at least for now.

You’re unsure if it’s your fault or his—you don’t have the money or time to get yourself tested. Nevertheless, he kept trying, turning your sex life into a string of dull experiments, one after another. It didn’t come as a surprise that after a while, he gave up. What did come as a surprise was when he started cheating. 

You have reasons to back your assumptions from all the evidence you’ve found along the way. The lipstick stain on his shirt, the hint of female perfume in his car, the way he never left his phone out of reach, terrified of you looking into it. It’s enough. 

It’s Friday night. Your husband won’t be home until late. Still got a bunch of stuff to do at work, he said, which is another way of saying, I got my secretary sucking my dick since you barely even bother anymore. Which is true.

You’re tired of him. You’re tired of having sex with him where he only cares about him cumming inside you and nothing more. You’re so tired of fighting. And now that he's cheating on you, you grow too tired to care. About him. About your marriage. About everything.

So, you head down to a bar one night just to distract yourself. And there he is again. Yuuta. Sitting by himself, watching a football game on the big screen with a beer bottle in hand. He looks rather… lonely, a new face that makes your heart twitch a bit. His solemn look makes him more gorgeous in a way, more mature, more mysterious, and girls love that, don’t they? A slightly dangerous aura to a very sweet face, unapproachable yet inviting.

But that doesn’t last too long because the moment he sees you, his face brightens entirely. He smiles, standing up from his seat to greet you, and you meet him halfway. You end up chatting all night. He’s a fantastic listener, and he’s so kind and thoughtful with each word, comforting you the way you need the most. It’s embarrassing that you nag about your husband like this, but he seems genuinely interested in helping you convey your emotions, and you just can’t stop. It feels so liberating.

Yuuta buys you your favorite drink but also reminds you not to get too much alcohol in your system. You begin to trust him, knowing for certain he won’t take any advantage of you. He walks you home right after. It’s true that he lives right across your house, but he makes sure you get inside safely. He leaves only after he sees you close and lock the door behind you. You spy on him from the window, wanting to see what he does after you’re gone. You see him rubbing a hand over his face, flushed from ears to neck, looking extremely happy that he got to spend time with you. 

He’s so cute, you think to yourself. Like a high school lovesick boy, kind of cute.

Yuuta then notices your husband’s missing car, meaning that you’re alone in the house. He looks sad on your behalf, which is so kind of him to think about your feelings that much. Then he turns upset, as if he was thinking, how dare he stay out so late, leaving her without protection like this. Looking visibly worried, he then texts you, “Let me know if you need anything, okay? My door is open for you anytime.” You smile and promptly reply to him with, “That’s so kind of you, thank you.” 

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

These friendly sorts of private meetings between you and him go on for a while. Your husband often arrives late, usually drunk out of his mind or too tired to stay for a chat, and he heads straight to bed without even giving you a goodnight kiss. It hurts, but it’s fine. The more your husband breaks your heart, the harder Yuuta will try to mend it and make it whole again. And he did. Every night, when you’re lucky enough to see him, you’ll feel like a heavy weight is lifted from your chest. You feel… happy, even in this terrible situation, and it’s all because of him. 

You usually hang out with him at the bar, but sometimes you don’t feel like going for a ten-minute drive, and you choose to just cross the road and knock your fist against his door. No matter what hour you visit, day or night, for a morning latte or evening tea, he always greets you with the prettiest smile.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

Weeks passed by, and now you spend most of your free time chatting with him, sitting on the couch in his living room, and talking about yourself more than you ever did with your husband. He likes listening to you talk about yourself, and he tells you that you shine so brightly when you talk about the things you’re passionate about. He always stammers out his praises, looking like he’s seconds away from combusting into flames just from calling you beautiful or something. He’s so young, so inexperienced yet passionate when it comes to love and romance, and it shows.

You ask questions about himself, too, and you can understand why it’s addicting for him to watch you speak, because the second he does that, he’s breathtaking. 

You find out that he likes the things you like, he’s watched the movies you’ve seen, and he’s read your favorite books. It’s not just a coincidence, is it? Maybe you’re a match made in heaven. But even so, nothing happens. He’s too respectful, and he makes you respect yourself. You’re married, and he’s a close friend of yours. That’s it.

He’s just your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

One morning, you find a bouquet sitting on your porch. Oh, right, today’s our anniversary. Your husband has this habit of sending you your favorite flowers on your anniversary. He does this every year, which is nice of him, but you really didn’t think he’d send you one this year, seeing how he barely exchanged more than three sentences with you. So now that you receive his flowers, you’re beginning to think, oh, maybe he’s trying to fix things between us. You’re not sure if you want that, though, not anymore. Most of your heart already belongs to someone else, which is terrible since you’re married, but you can’t help it. 

You pick up the flowers anyway; too pretty to be thrown away. You open the card attached to it. I will love you forever, it says, written in his handwriting. The way he wrote the letter f is a little different. Looks like he wrote in a rush, you presume. Either that, or he just didn't care enough. And it’s whatever; you didn’t expect much anyway. You appreciate the thought until your eyes land on the name he wrote.

That’s not my fucking name.

He must have sent flowers to his secretary at the same time and had his card switched. That fucking cheater.

You thought you didn’t care about him anymore, but God, now you’re livid.

Yuuta shows up at the perfect place and at the perfect time. He invites you over to have dinner together at his place. “J-just, you know, as friends,” he says, unconsciously giving you the confirmation that he does not think of you as a friend. Not at all.

So you come over in a beautiful red dress later that evening, and he stares at you, completely in awe, for a good three seconds. “You, umm—” He blushes madly, his head so full of steam he could barely think. “You look like… like a goddess.”

“Thank you,” you simper. That was so corny for him to say, but he meant every word, which makes it endearing. “You look amazing, too.” And he is. God, he looks so handsome in his black buttoned-down shirt, and his parted hair, and his sweet, sweet smile.

I want to fuck the shit out of him.

It’s the monster inside you who speaks it. The part of you that’s been neglected for so long, that’s never been touched in the way you wanted to. And it’s screaming, begging for Yuuta to love you.

But no. We’re friends. We’re just friends, aren’t we, Yuuta?

Yuuta cooks, too, apparently. Every dish looks fucking delicious, and everything else is perfect. The table setting decorated with your favorite flowers. The scented candles with your favorite fragrance set up romantically on top of the cozy fireplace. The soft music playing in the background, a piano instrumental of your favorite song. It’s like a date. A celebration. Like something you should’ve had with your husband today.

“You did all of this on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hmm?”

You gesture to your surroundings. “We’ve read the same books and watched the same movies. Okay, fine, maybe we have the same taste. But this song, those flowers, everything you’ve set up in this room, you did all of these for me, didn’t you?”

He pauses before he tucks his chin, avoiding your gaze. “I just… wanted to make you happy,” he confesses bashfully. “Is it… Is it too much? Do you not like it?”

“Yuuta, of course, I love it.” You stroke his arm, washing his worry away. “I just… I’ve never had someone care about me this much before…”

He melts under your touch, and there’s so much he wants to say, but his lips form nothing but a sad smile. He caresses your face with tender hand, his fingertips quivering slightly when they land on your cheek. His heart must be beating like crazy right now, you smile to yourself, leaning further into his touch to soothe him.

“I would do this every day for you if you let me,” he whispers, promise behind each word. “I would make you happy, so happy you’d forget what sadness feels like. What loneliness feels like.”

That stirs something inside your chest. “And what do you want in return for that?” You slide up a hand, testing his limit.

He stops your hand by covering it with his own. For a second, just for a brief second, he emits a different feeling. There’s intensity behind his gaze that burns you as if he wanted you all to himself. And that’s understandable. No man, especially one who’s so desperately in love like him, would want to share his woman with someone else, but he knows the situation they’re in, doesn’t he? It’s just not possible for you to be together, not now, not completely. Maybe that’s why he switches back in a blink, smiling until his eyes crinkle adorably. “Nothing,” he answers. “As long as we can be friends like this, it’s more than enough for me.”

He’s a terrible liar, you think, slightly amused. It’s cute how he tries so hard to conceal his feelings and you still can read him like an open book.

The food tastes as amazing as it looks, even down to the last bite. You don’t talk about the bouquet, afraid that you’ll ruin the mood, but Yuuta is always so attentive when it comes to you. He asks you what happened, and he hugs you the second he sees tears brimming in your eyes. You’re not sad. You’re fucking angry. And thank God Yuuta is there to let you vent your frustrations. You go as far as telling him almost every little shitty thing your husband did to you behind your back, as well as the slutty secretary that’s been sleeping with him for money. It feels relieving to finally say their names out loud, with so much hatred, so much rage, and to have Yuuta respond with, “No matter how pretty she is, she’s nothing compared to you. Your husband doesn’t deserve you. If I were him, I would’ve—” he stops himself, just in time, flustered and mortified under your gaze.

You’re older. You’re older than him by eight, no, nine years even. You know what’s going to happen if you encourage him to say the words he’s been dying to say. You know what it’s going to do to your relationship. But fuck that. If there were one man in this world who knew how to treat you like you deserve…

It’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

So, by the time the two of you move to the couch with some wine in your system, you lean forward, letting your fingers trace the protruding vein on the back of his hand. His eyes widen at the way your dress does very little to hide your cleavage, but he averts his gaze right away, being the gentleman that he is. But tonight, you want him to be the opposite of that. You don’t want him to be sweet; you want him to let his desire win. There’s a monster hiding inside him, something much more terrible than your own. You sometimes caught its glimpse when he thought you weren’t looking his way. The amount of obsession that fogged his eyes, his fixation over you, turning his sapphire blue eyes so dark, so deep, so intense, like he wanted to have you locked up in his room, tied up and used and thoroughly fucked until you found no strength to stand and no will to escape. It should’ve been a scary thought, but it wasn’t. It was… exciting.

“I want to hear it, Yuu…” Seduction lays thickly in your voice as you lay a gentle hand on his cheek, guiding his eyes back to you. You stare up at him from underneath your lashes with this look in your eyes that makes his breath hitch in his throat. “If you were my husband…” You wet your lip, your tongue a sinful dance to his eyes. “What would you do to make me feel…” You purposely drop your gaze to his lips, letting him catch your message. “…loved?”

You watch him gulp, goosebumps breaking on his skin. You watch his eyes fall to see the way you rub your thumb over the bumps on his knuckles. You watch them turn half-lidded as they linger a second too long on your lips. And you watch him break all control he has over himself, and you let him devour you the way you’ve been wanting him to.

He’s your sweet neighbor Yuuta.

And he tastes even sweeter with your cum on his tongue.

It’s happening too fast, yet it feels like it’s not going fast enough. He starts by holding you by the face, slotting his lips against yours, passionate and gentle at the same time. He pulls away for a moment to see your reaction, and when you kiss him back, he lets out this sinful moan that causes your stomach to churn.

He’s so fucking sexy. Even without trying, he is. 

In the next second, he’s eating you out on the couch, spreading your legs, and kneeling on the floor with his head trapped between your thighs, wanting to get as much of you as you can give him. When his tongue circles your clit, and he’s moaning against your heat, it feels so good you almost run away, not used to experiencing this much pleasure. It’s scary how easily he plays with your body. How fast he can tell which part of yours likes to be licked, which ones want to be sucked, and which ones want to be fucked. He moves agonizingly slow, but each touch feels so right that you find no reason to complain. He’s sure to take his time with you, to make you feel loved in the way a wife should be when her husband makes love to her.

He takes hold of your thighs, holding you tight, but you want it even tighter to the point of leaving bruises all over your skin so you can show them to your husband later. His gaze is intense, constantly keeping his eyes on you. Your expression turns him on, making him ache so bad within the constraints of his pants that his eyes turn watery, desperate for release. He’s too ashamed to ask you to touch him, and maybe he doesn’t want to be touched, not yet, he just wants to focus on pleasuring you for now. So he keeps sucking your clit into his mouth, and he slides one hand into his own jeans to grip his cock tightly. He fucks his fist as fast as he fucks your hole with his tongue, groaning, whining, whimpering against your cunt. He’s pathetic. You love it.

You push him down to the carpeted floor after you drench his mouth and chin with your juice, and you push his fingers, coated with his own cum, into your mouth. He curses once at the sight, and it’s so sexy when he does it. After all this time hearing him talk so softly, so innocently, hearing a low, “Fuck, you're making me lose my mind,” tumbling off his lips is such a fucking turn-on. 

You tear yourself away from your dress before you rip open the buttons of his shirt, not caring if the two of you are in the middle of his living room, visible for anyone to see if they dare take a peek through the window. You wish the light in the room were brighter. It would’ve been a lovely show for your husband if he came home to see you riding another man’s cock, using Yuuta to your own satisfaction, and watching him make you cum the way he couldn’t. 

Yuuta, oblivious to your thoughts, is gasping out your name, one arm hiding his beet-red face while his other one is gripping your thigh. “W-wait,” he flinches, his breathing tattered. “You’re going—too fast—”

You know you are, but it’s so good that you can’t stop. His cock rubs your walls so deliciously as if it was made solely for this purpose. You cum so fast, so hard, and he follows almost right away, unable to hold it even longer when he sees you looking like that when you cummed. 

Your body is still trembling when he suddenly lifts you off his cock and guides you to his face. “Ride me again,” he says, begging. “Please, Angel, I want to taste you again.” And you do, sitting on his face and letting him lick, suck, and lap at everything that seeps out of you.

He’s staring at your swollen clit, licking his lips and seemingly dazed as he rubs his thumb softly over it. “I’m sorry I came inside you,” he says, genuinely feeling guilty about it despite you giving him permission to.

You shiver, still feeling so sensitive for receiving so much stimulation at once. “It’s okay. I can’t get pregnant anyway,” you laugh it off. “I haven’t gotten myself checked yet, but we’ve been trying for two years, and nothing has happened yet, so…”

His gaze darkens. “I see,” is the only thing he utters before he scoops you in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. You’re surprised; you really thought that was it. Both of you came twice already in, like, fifteen minutes. That’s enough, isn’t it? But he’s still young, and he has a lot of energy that leaves him insatiable. If you let him, he’ll have you for the entire night.

It’s not a bad thing, not at all.

So you kneel in front of him on the bed, bite the corner of your lip to drive him even more insane, and stroke him slowly with your hand. “You still want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” he breathes out, the muscles in his abdomens tautening. “Yes, Ma’am, please…”

Ma’am? You almost laugh. How does he keep getting cuter and cuter?

“Okay.” You reward him with a little kiss on the head of his cock, robbing a soft whimper out of his mouth. Lying down on the bed, you spread your legs, sliding two fingers down your body to do the same to your cunt. “Come here and love me again, Yuu.”

He obliges in a split second. Yuuta has so much love to give, and he lets his mouth, his tongue, and his cock paint a perfect picture on your body.

Everything feels like heaven until he suddenly stops in the middle of thrusting his hips, earning himself an impatient whine. His blue eyes have lost their warm, pretty light. They’re as dark as the night, but lust and greed are the perfect colors for him. He sits on his knees, resting your ankles on his shoulders, breathing heavily. 

“Yuuta?”

He’s not listening, too captivated by the way his tip slides in and out so easily. You’re so fucking wet for him; it’s embarrassing, but Yuuta would take a picture of you like this in a heartbeat, with your wedding ring still wrapped around your finger and his cock sheathed deep inside you, should you allow him to.

He splays his hand over your stomach, giving a little pressure to your womb. You squirm, suddenly feeling like you no longer have control over anything, over him, not like the way you did before. It’s frightening and thrilling at the same time. “Yuuta, what are you—” Your jaw turns slack at the sensation when he thrusts inside, just once, just to see how far it goes within your walls. He’s so hard and thick and throbbing that you could practically feel him poking from inside of your stomach. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing, his eyes glistening when he feels a bulge forming under his palm. He swallows. He looks… hungry.

“You said you couldn’t get pregnant,” he says, running a tongue across his lower lip, his eyes still fixated on the way you’re taking him so well, all stretched out and tight around him. “You know what I think?” He pulls himself out completely, shivers in his breath. “I think you’re wrong.” He slams his hips forward so abruptly, and with so much force, you have one hand shooting past your head to keep a safe distance away from the headboard. 

“Yuuta—” You gasp out, struggling to match his rhythm. “Wait—”

He only smiles a little, chuckles a little. He’s so far gone. He leans forward until you’re pressed chest to chest, folding you in half before he laces his fingers together with yours. “I think you can get pregnant.” He moves closer to your ear, whispering with his lips caressing your lobe, “And I’m going to show you how.”

He fucks the breaths out of you, swallowing each cry with his mouth, embracing you so tightly you can feel his heart beating against yours. “I’m sorry,” he pants, “It hurts, doesn’t it? I—” He’s interrupted with a low groan, feeling you clenching around him.“��really am sorry—” He smashes his lips against yours, smothering you with his kisses, too. “I know I’m being too rough, but I can't—”  He has one hand gripping the top of his headboard, giving him more support to drive his hips even deeper. “I can’t—stop—” He fucks you again, and again, harder each time until you find yourself unable to make sounds. “You’re so good... You feel so good around me... My angel…” You’re being folded, handled, trapped, and he fucks you until you’re drained, until you’re filled, until he’s spent. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Just a little bit more..." He kisses your forehead and your cheek to soothe you down, cradling your head as he buries his face in the crook of your neck. His hips start to move erratically. “Don’t ever leave me… I will love you forever, so—ah, God—” He chokes out a sob when he feels you spasming around him again, reeling in another wave of orgasm that hit you so intensely, you see white.

It takes him a little over an hour until he finally lets you go. For now, at least.

But once he gives you a chance to breathe, he cleans you up so gently, dabbing a warm towel over your skin, peppering kisses as soft as butterfly wings down your back, your thighs, your chest, before ending his journey at your stomach. He rubs the supple flesh of your belly and smiles, completely satisfied after giving you his everything. And it scares you a little bit because… You might really end up getting pregnant this time.

“I have to go before he comes home,” you say, feeling your body ache terribly when you try to raise yourself off the bed. They’re not shown vividly yet, but there will be bruises in the morning in places you’re not sure you can cover. 

Yuuta hugs you from the side when you barely have one foot on the floor, whispering against the bare skin of your hip, “I’m not letting you go.”

It makes you happy. You feel so wanted, so loved, even after all the affection he gave you all night. The truth is, you don’t want to leave. Ever. To walk into your own home after experiencing what heaven feels like… It would be torturous.

“I wish I could stay with you, too.”

“You do?” He looks up with big, round eyes, hope residing in each one of them. “Would you stay with me forever?”

“If I could,” you reply and it’s true. God, if only you could stay forever with him, let him love you this way, forever. That would be perfect, wouldn't it?

“That makes me happy…” He takes both of your hands, kissing you on each wrist before he does the same to your palms. “That makes me so happy…” 

It tickles, so you laugh a little. He makes the same sweet sound, the sound of a boy in love. 

“I really need to go, though…” You whisper, hypnotized when he starts pushing your digit past his lips. It’s warm and wet inside his mouth, waking up the butterflies in your stomach. He keeps his eyes on you, looking so sensual as he sucks around your finger, enveloping it from base to tip. “Yuuta…”

“I understand.” He pulls away, ending it with a kiss. He seems disheartened, his smile doesn't shine as bright anymore and it hurts you. "I guess you left me with no choice."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay." He returns your embrace, just one more time before you have to let him go. “Can you turn around for me, please? I want to give you something,” he softly smiles. “A present. It will be quick, I promise.” 

You do as he says, excited at the thought of it. What will he give you? Knowing him and how he went through so much effort to prepare a dinner for two friends, you just know it would be something incredibly romantic. Yuuta kisses your nape, open-mouthed and lingering. You nibble on your lip to suppress your moan as he trails his lips from between your shoulder blades down to your spine. 

“Yuuta,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You’re aching for him again, and it’s dangerous. Your husband can come anytime soon. “I know what you want, and really, I wish I could stay,” you say from the bottom of your heart, looking over your shoulder to see him, and you’re immediately answered by a kiss. He presses his chest to your spine, one hand cupping half of your neck and your jaw to keep you in place so he can deepen the kiss. His mouth moves with fervor, filling you up with desire, and if it weren’t for the sound of your husband’s car moving into your driveway, you would’ve let him take you there for another hour or two.

“I need to leave. Now.” You break away to gather your clothes quickly. Except you can’t.

You can’t move your hands.

Robbed out of your balance, you fall face-first to the floor. Your breath catches, your heart plummeting to your stomach when you realize you have your hands tied behind your back. You feel something rough grazing against your skin. There’s a rope ensnaring your wrists together, and it’s digging painfully into your flesh every time you struggle to break free. 

Panic rises quickly to your chest. You look up, your body froze with terror at the sight of him smiling at you. 

He’s not your sweet neighbor Yuuta. Not anymore.

This is the monster you caught a glimpse of before, in full form. His handsome features suddenly feel unrecognizable, not when you can no longer witness the warmth in his eyes.

What is happening? You breathe fast, frightened beyond your mind. Why is he doing this?

“I told you I’m not letting you go,” he says, walking slowly toward you. With every step he takes, your urge to escape grows bigger.

The second the dread sinks in, you part your lips to scream for help, but he clasps a hand over your mouth just in time. “Sshh shhh shhh,” he whispers, bringing you back to your feet. “We wouldn’t want your husband to find out, would we?” 

You try to kick and toss your body around, but he’s strong, much stronger than you could ever imagine him to be. From your peripheral vision, you see him taking out a syringe from a drawer behind him, fitted with a hollow needle to inject the clear liquid into your skin. You feel your heart pounding in your throat, your scream muffled as he sinks it into your skin. “There, there. Off you go, honey,” he whispers in your ear, as you begin to lose your will to fight. Your consciousness slowly wanes away with each second passing by. “I’m so sorry, Sweetheart. It’s only scary at the beginning, I promise.” He tosses the syringe away, now empty. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask. Did you like the card I gave you?”

The card? What card?

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I’m sorry for tricking you like that,” he says with a little pout. “Truly, I am. I didn’t want to lie to you, but I had to do something to push you over the edge. I knew you liked me too from the start, but you wouldn’t make the first move. You kept staying faithful even when your husband was cheating on you like that. I admire you for that,” he sighs, utterly smitten by you, but only for a second before his tone drops. “But I was getting impatient, you see. And I knew you were, too. I watched your favorite movies. I read your favorite books. I learned everything about you and did everything you liked, but you still wouldn’t leave your husband for me. So you left me with no choice. I have to make you understand,” he slides his hand up your stomach, passing the valley between your breasts before he chooses to linger there, squeezing, teasing, pleasing. “That no one can touch you like I do. No one can love you like I do.”

You can feel him kissing your neck, licking a stripe up from your collarbone to the spot below your ear. “It was quite tricky copying his handwriting like that. There’s one letter I still can’t do very well even now. But it was enough to trick you, so I think everything’s fine in the end,” he chuckles, the sound filling your chest with horror, though you could barely register it now, not with the drug flowing in your system.

“You asked me what I would do to make you feel loved if I were your husband.” He carries you closer to the window, letting you see, with all the little power you have left, your husband closing the door of his car. Yuuta embraces you from behind, his hands tangled around your waist as he lets you rest your head on his shoulder. “I’m gonna show it to you.” You watch your husband make his way to your porch, oblivious to what’s happening in the dark room across the street. “I’m gonna love you, Angel. I will love you forever. With all my heart. And I’m gonna take my time. I’ll be so thorough with you that once I’m done, you won’t be able to spend a second of your life without me.” 

Your husband closes his front door, and with it goes your last chance of escaping, if there was even one.

You start losing strength in your legs, in your arms, but you’re still able to cry, and so you do just that. It won’t help you, nothing will help you, no one will help you, and no one will know what he’s doing to you, not when everyone thinks so fondly of him. 

“Oh, Sweetheart, don’t cry.” He kisses your tears away, landing an even softer one on your temple. “Don’t be afraid of me, my love. After all, it’s just me.” He meets your eyes in the reflection of his window, smiling with his hand holding the front of your neck.

“Your sweet neighbor Yuuta.”

***

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 26 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley says some things in the afterglow of winning custody of Noah that surprise you in the best way. You believe him, but you also need some time to think. But with some bad news on the horizon, when he tells you that he trusts you with Noah more than he trusts anyone else, you don't doubt him at all.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, and age gap (18+)

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

"Just stay in bed," Bradley rasped when his alarm woke both of you on Thursday morning. You'd spent a good portion of Wednesday night telling him that you needed to go home, get used to your own space again. And then he had spent a few minutes listing all the reasons he wanted you to stay. 

Your favorite reason was that he and Noah needed you with them. He was insistent. 

"Daddy," you groaned, reaching for him, trying to keep him in bed. He rolled his big body on top of yours, propping himself up with his elbows to keep from crushing you. "I need to finish my school assignments by next week so I can graduate."

"I'll help you get them ready to submit," he promised as he kissed your lips. "Now you just stay put, Princess. I'm taking the day off from work. I'll drop Noah at daycare, try to get him back on his normal routine since he missed yesterday. And then I'll be back to spend the day with you."

"Really?" you asked as he got out of bed on your side. You had a side of the bed. You had a specific side of the bed that was yours in Bradley's bedroom in his beautiful house. You sank back against the pillows in contentment, so cozy in Bradley's sweatshirt.

"Yes," he promised. "I'll get him up and out the door, and I'll be back soon." You watched him get dressed in some jeans and a soft tee shirt. He shoved his phone and wallet into his pockets before kissing you on the forehead and saying, "I love you," like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

And then he was gone, and you were thinking about what Meredith might be doing right now. You hoped she was crying over the fact that you had outsmarted her, since she had been trying to manipulate you as much as she had Bradley. You rolled onto your side with a smile. Bradley already seemed so much more relaxed now that he and Noah were free and clear of Meredith. He'd briefly mentioned getting restraining orders, citing the desire to never hear that you saw Meredith in public again as his main reason for looking into it. He said he'd talk to Tracy about everything. 

You were just about to doze off again when Bradley walked back in with Noah in his arms. "He wouldn't leave without saying goodbye to you," he rasped, setting his son on the bed. You supposed that meant he didn't mind if Noah saw where you had slept last night. 

"Come here, sweet Noah," you whispered, pulling him in for a big hug and kissing his chubby cheek. I love you. Have fun at daycare."

"Love you," he said in his soft, little voice before Bradley scooped him up again and left the room. 

When you heard the front door close, you knew you wouldn't be able to fall asleep again, so you stretched and then got out of bed for the day. You wanted to grab a shower, but you thought it might be fun to wait until Bradley got back to do that. Instead you changed into one of his floral print shirts and made your way to the kitchen. 

You really should have been working on something for school, but when you opened the refrigerator for the coffee creamer, you sighed. They were basically out of food again already. A few eggs left in the carton and some vegetables would make a decent enough breakfast, but you'd need to help Bradley go grocery shopping again soon. 

You had just finished your mug of coffee and the grocery list when you heard the front door. "Hi," you called out to Bradley, and he walked into the kitchen where he immediately froze. There were coffee cups in his hands, and you could already see where he'd written Princess on one of them. "I'm going to make you breakfast."

But he was too busy staring at you, his gaze trailing down your body. You were immediately reminded that the only article of clothing you were wearing was his shirt, completely unbuttoned. 

Bradley set down the coffees and smirked at you. "You're gonna make me breakfast, Princess?" he asked. He grabbed your purple crown from where it had been left overnight next to the toaster, and he carefully put it on your head. 

"Yes," you whispered. "I was going to make you an omelette."

He groaned as his fingers stroked down along your cheek, caressing the side of your neck before continuing down the front of your body. You shivered as your eyes closed when he said, "You're so sensitive."

His fingers lingered on your belly before he started stroking your pussy. "Daddy," you gasped, and then he was on his knees in front of you. 

"You're perfect," he crooned, looking up at you. "Everything I want." His voice and his eyes were so open and honest, and then you ran your fingers through his hair. 

"I knew you'd have a good day, Daddy," you whispered with a grin. "After yesterday, you deserve a relaxing one."

"You know what will help me relax?" he asked. 

"Tell me."

And then his mouth was on your pussy.

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

Bradley licked you up and down, loving the way you moaned softly every time his nose tapped your clit. When he ran his palm up and down the back of your thigh, you carefully put your leg over his shoulder, giving him even better access to your pretty pussy. And that purple paper crown on your head? All that did was make him feel like he and Noah had claimed you for their own. 

"Daddy?" you whispered breathlessly. "Are you going to make me squirt?"

Well. Now that was the only thing he wanted to do. "Is that what you need, Baby?" he asked, rubbing his mustache across your clit.

Your response was a bit incoherent, but it sounded like a yes. And Bradley was in the best mood he'd been in for weeks. Noah was his, and you were his, and he was going to meet up with Tracy next week to finalize everything that was important to him. So he'd gladly spend the whole day, right here on his knees with his mouth on your body until you came all over his face.

He smiled against you as he lapped up your wetness, but you really got loud when he added his fingers into the mix. You were leaning back against the counter, gripping the edge, and he knew he was going to have to get you to the edge of overstimulation. Just like last time in his bed. And just like the first time on the couch. 

So he changed up his pace, sometimes languid and sometimes frantic. And he changed up the pressure, sometimes feather soft and sometimes rough. His knees were starting to ache from how they were digging into the kitchen floor, but he didn't dare move. Because you were starting to get loud. Your head was tipped back, and your perfect breasts were on display as his colorful shirt fell open even more on your body. 

You were so young and flawless, and he never even tried to kid himself about the way that turned him on. But now you were his, and he would love you and take care of you well so that you'd want to stay. 

"Bradley!" you cried out, leg tightening against his back. "Oh!"

He grunted and rubbed his fingertips back and forth across your clit as the little bud tightened for him. He smiled as he changed his tempo. A little slower, and you were coming for him. A split second later, and you had pushed the back of his head closer as you squirted onto his mustache and lips. 

"Princess," he moaned as you sagged against him a little bit. You were still reeling as he cleaned you up with his tongue, eliciting little gasps from your softly parted lips. When he stood with a soft groan, he palmed himself through his jeans. He was rock hard as he pressed himself against you and stroked your tits. You were wrung out, biting your lip as your eyes fluttered open and closed, but he couldn't help himself. He wanted it so badly. "Will you let me fuck you, Baby?"

You nodded and turned your back to him. "Yes," you sighed, leaning down on the counter with your cheek pressed to your crossed arms. "Yes."

Bradley gingerly unzipped his jeans and pulled himself free, and when he buried his cock in your warmth he hissed in pleasure. You were mewling and whining softly, seemingly still exhausted from soaking his face, and Bradley couldn't believe you were letting him get off like this. He grabbed you by your hips, the hem of his shirt you were wearing brushing his wrists. Then he fucked you hard and thought about how you should wear his clothes all the time.

He wasn't going to last long in this state, palming and squeezing your hips and ass as he got you whining his name softly. He went a little harder, but as soon as you looked up at him and smiled softly, he was filling you with his cum. His loud groans filled the kitchen as his movements became jerky. And then he collapsed against your back with his lips on your neck. 

"You want me to make you an omelette, Daddy?" you asked softly while he was still inside you. 

"Yeah," he replied, wrapping you up in his arms. "Then I'm taking you out to lunch. We're going on a real date."

He watched you preen as his cum dripped down your legs. But you did nothing to clean it up as you washed your hands and started cracking eggs into a bowl. You added what was left of the cheese that was in the refrigerator along with some onions and peppers. After you made two omelettes, you settled onto his lap at the table

When you looked at the coffee cups, you hopped up again and started to dig in one of the drawers near the sink. "What's wrong, Baby?"

"Nothing," you murmured, returning to his lap a moment later with a permanent marker. Bradley watched you scribble over the word peasant on his cup and write Knight in your tidy handwriting. 

"That's flattering coming from a Princess," he whispered next to your ear. 

"It's true," you told him, taking his chin in your hand and kissing his lips. "You saved me and then you fought for Noah."

He closed his eyes as you stroked his chin with your thumb. The fact that he had his son all to himself meant he could share him with you. And he was working on a restraining order against Meredith to keep everyone a little safer. So maybe he was capable of more than he originally thought.

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

Shower time with Bradley ended up being more sweet than anything else as you and he got each other all soapy. He brought his phone in to play some music, and he sang along softly as his big hands glided along your slick skin. 

Once you were all dried off and in Bradley's bedroom, you just stood there naked. "I need to go back to my place. I hardly have any clothes here, and I need to do laundry."

He just grunted and said, "You should just move in with us."

You started to pull on your denim shorts and one of your tops as you rolled your eyes. "You're not serious."

But it didn't seem like he was joking at all, actually. He paused and looked at you as he put on some deodorant, his brown eyes sincere. "I'm serious," he said, his voice sounding a little more vulnerable than you expected it to. 

"I'll...think about it." But you already had. And the idea of it was too exciting for you to finish processing in front of him right now. He'd just been awarded sole custody of Noah yesterday. Both of you were probably feeling a little high on adrenaline and elation. 

But he just nodded and reached for your hand. "Let's stop at your place later after I take you out for lunch. If you want me to drop you off, I will."

You were already considering how it would be if you didn't get to make dinner for Noah and give him a kiss before Bradley tucked him into bed for the night, and you didn't like it one bit. You knew what your decision would end up being. You loved being here too much. Maybe you'd just stop home and get more of your stuff and your car.

As Bradley closed the passenger door for you after you climbed into the Bronco, you couldn't help but smile. "Is this our first date?" you asked him as he started the engine and backed out of his driveway. 

"No way," he replied. "Gotta count all the nights we watched movies on the couch with Noah. Oh, and the night I fed you the dinner that my date didn't stick around to eat," he said, smiling at you as he drove to one of the cute shopping districts in the city. "And just yesterday I took you to my custody hearing. That was a pretty romantic day out, yeah?"

You bit your lip and sighed. "So romantic. You really dial it up to eleven, Daddy."

"Only the best for a Princess," he insisted with a grin as he parallel parked in front of a cute bookshop. "I made a reservation for the cafe across the street."

Your eye bugged out. It was an expensive French bistrot. You were wearing cutoff shorts. "I'm underdressed!"

"You're fine," he insisted, leaning over to kiss your lips before he took the keys from the ignition. "But we have half an to kill. Bookshop?"

"Absolutely," you agreed. A few minutes later, you were running your fingers along the spines of some mystery novels while Bradley followed you so closely, you could feel his body heat. When you stopped to pick up a hardback, his lips found your neck, and his hands found your waist.

"Daddy," you scolded in a whisper.

"Can't help it."

Then you headed for the children's area, and your eyes lit up. "Noah would love this one!" You held up a picture book of dinosaurs, and Bradley let you hand it to him. 

"What else?" he asked, smiling as he followed you down the next aisle. 

"Outer space. Farm animals. Opposites. Cars. Fairy Tales." You handed him four more books and then picked up a fifth. "Airplanes."

"Well, he really needs that one," Bradley said, adding it to the pile as well.

"They have coloring books!" You knelt in front of the rack and chose three that he didn't already have, and Bradley took them before helping you to your feet. "Which one would he like the most besides the airplanes? I want to get him two."

Bradley shrugged. "We can get all of them."

"I can't afford all of them."

His eyebrows went up. "Baby, I don't want you spending your money on us. I'll buy them."

"But-"

"They can still be from you," he promised. "But I'll pay for them."

"Okay," you whispered, suddenly reminded that you and Bradley were not at the same points in life. He had a thriving career. You were going to be scrambling to finish your assignments in time to graduate and look for a job. And now, because of Meredith, you knew he had money. 

But you let him take you by the hand and lead you toward the register. You knew these books were going to cost nearly a hundred dollars. Then Bradley stopped short in front of a display of baby books. You felt his arm slip around your waist as he leaned down so his lips grazed your temple. 

"Been meaning to ask you, Princess," he said softly, and you turned to look up at him. His face was calm as his gaze dipped down to your lips. "Were you really buying a pregnancy test when you saw Meredith? You think you could be pregnant?"

"No!" you replied with a startled laugh. "Her lawyer just said that to get me upset! I'm not!"

"Okay," he said with a shrug. "Just checking to see if we should be buying any baby books."

You just shook your head as he set the books for Noah down near the registers. "Absolutely not! That would be a disaster."

"Nah," he whispered, taking out his wallet. "It would be okay. Well...maybe not quite yet, since you're just graduating now. But...later."

You were silent as he paid for the books, but you laced your fingers through his. You weren't sure quite what to say, as you and he walked across the street, so you just let your mind race with possibilities. 

And then you were seated at the adorable cafe table with him for lunch. The restaurant was all pastel colors, floral arrangements and expensive desserts. He ordered a bottle of champagne to share, and you were a little bit tipsy as you giggled and bit into a lemon macaron when the bill arrived. Your eyes bugged out when you saw it. Three hundred dollars. 

"Bradley," you gasped. "How much was the champagne?" 

"Don't worry about it," he said, giving you a funny look. 

But as you walked back toward the Bronco with his arm around your waist and a head full of champagne bubbles, you blurted out, "I'm not interested in you for your money."

"Never thought you were," he replied casually, opening the passenger door for you with a kiss. "Let's go stop by your place."

As he walked around to the driver's door, you knew you should insist that he drop you off at home. But when he climbed in, he turned to you and said, "I kind of miss Noah. Mind if we pick him up early after we stop to get you more clothing?"

And then your love for both of them felt so palpable all you could say was, "I miss him, too."

"It's settled then."

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

Later that evening, after the three of you went grocery shopping, Bradley watched you teach Noah how to play Go Fish on the living room floor with a forgotten bowl of popcorn next to you. He was essentially just your servant for the night, bringing both of you snacks and drinks while you played. Not that he minded at all. 

The fact that you tried to let him know you weren't into him just because he had a job and some money was pretty humorous. But then again, you'd just witnessed Meredith trying to fleece him. So while he didn't need you to say anything about it at all, he did appreciate that you had. 

Bradley had also surprised himself. When he considered that you might be pregnant? Well, he didn't hate the idea of it one bit. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted Noah to have a younger sibling or two. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to raise said children with you. But you were young. There would be time to plan for that in the future.

He sat on the couch and sorted his mail from the past few days. He'd been so preoccupied with Meredith and Tracy and everything going on, he realized he needed to catch up on chores. "Almost time for bed, Bub," he said, smiling as you let Noah win at the card game. Then his hand froze before opening the envelope that arrived today. 

Deployment papers. 

If he hadn't skipped out on work again today, he would have been informed in person. Shit. Six weeks away from home. He watched you laughing as you ate a few pieces of popcorn. And then Noah was climbing into your lap and asking you to read another one of the books you'd picked out for him. 

"Okay, but your dad said it's almost bedtime. How about we go brush your teeth and get pajamas on? And then I'll read the outer space book before you do goodnight kisses?"

Noah readily agreed, and then you were leading him from the room. Bradley took the opportunity to email Tracy as well as send a text to Nat. His best friend had been bugging him to elaborate about yesterday, but she also knew he needed a little bit of time to process things and take a little break after all the worrying. 

"Daddy?" you called out, and Bradley smiled as he stood. "We're ready for bed."

"I'm coming." He sat on Noah's floor and listened to you read the book about solar systems and space exploration while Noah looked at the pictures. And when it was time for goodnight kisses, Noah gave you one and then Bradley leaned down to smother his face with a dozen. He giggled and then yawned, and as Bradley took your hand and pulled you out of the room, Noah's eyes were drifting closed. 

You started to pull Bradley toward his bedroom with a smirk, but he shook his head. The startled look on your face reminded him that you were only accustomed to getting what you wanted around here now. And he loved that. "I need to show you something first," he insisted, kissing your forehead. 

"Okay, but why do you sound so reserved?"

"Just come here, please." He picked up the mail from where he left it, and then he sat down on the couch. You eased yourself down next to him, taking the papers when he handed them to you. "You know what that is?"

"No." But as soon as you scanned the header, your eyes went wide. You read for a few seconds before whispering, "You're being deployed?"

"Yes," he replied, but you had returned to the document in your hands, your eyes moving quickly down the page before you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

"Who's going to care for Noah?! Bradley, he needs to be on a schedule with daycare. And someone needs to make sure he eats healthy dinners and snacks. And he needs bedtime stories and coloring books." You looked panicked, and then tears filled your eyes. "And I don't want you to go away. I'll miss you too much."

He collected you onto his lap and swiped your tears away as they fell, but he couldn't help but smile. Your concern for Noah, ever since the very first day, made him feel so calm. And he knew you loved his son. "Well, I'm kind of hoping you'll care for Noah while I'm gone."

"Me?" you squeaked, lips parted in surprise. "You'd trust me with Noah by myself for six weeks?"

"More than I'd trust anyone else."

You threw your arms around his neck again and sobbed against him. "I'll do it. I'll stay with Noah. I'll take expert care of him."

"You already do."

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

Oh, Daddy! We don't want you to leave! But the way he trusts Princess is everything. Hope you enjoy your fic, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 27

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[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 9, Guess who's back

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Author's note: Now that you've all had a nice portion of smut, here's some more angst <3

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, alcohol, mentions of domestic abuse, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Mature content under the cut.

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

It's early in the morning but you feel like heaven is being bestowed upon you by God's favorite angel. You try to squeeze your thighs together as you stretch your body in your sleepy state, but they are held down.  

When you look down, you see your angel. A perfect picture of worship, pleasure, and sex. Just as he had promised when he offered you a free trial. His eyes are almost screwed shut, completely lost in the sweet nectar between your thighs. 

A rumbling feeling of pleasure builds up in you stomach as he splays his hand over top and pressed you down a little. You hadn't even noticed you started grinding against his face. His eyes are open now, wide awake, taking in every little detail of your body, your face, your movements. 

You untangle underneath him, thighs squeezing together but it does not matter. Sylus is far too strong to let himself be crushed by your thighs. Though he has tried to get you to do so in the past few weeks. 

The waves of pleasure subside, and he lays down next to you, pulling your body against him to cuddle. His thick cock is half hard, but you can feel his release against your skin. For some reason, that never wore off. He's always excited to eat you out. So much so that he comes himself nearly every time. 

When he does not wake you like this, you wake him the same way. Only difference is that he doesn't let himself finish until he's inside you. Or at least, he tries to. 

'Morning sweetie,' he grumbles against your neck, leaving adoring kisses littered over you skin. A smile spreads across your face as you press a kiss to his forehead. 

'Morning love.' 

'Do we have any plans today?' 

'I have to get packing for my trip with Zayne.' He groans in disagreement. 'Don't be like that. I told you you could join.' 

'Too many memories,' he says, his voice barely audible. You grab his chin and lift his face so that he's looking at you. 

'I know you don't want to talk about it and I know that you are healing, but we are going to have to talk about it one of these days,' you tell him in the gentlest voice you can manage. He nods and presses a kiss on you lips. 

'Then let me take this weekend to collect my thoughts. I'll be ready to talk to you after your trip.' 

'No,' you reply sternly, 'if this thing is as bad as I feel it is, you are not going to ponder over it all on your own for a whole weekend. Just tell me when you're ready.' 

'Okay.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Your annual trip with Zayne once started just a few months after he moved in on complete accident. The trip was supposed to be with Tara, but she got terrible food poisoning the day before you two were supposed to leave. At that point, everything you two booked was nonrefundable. In a moment of despair, you went to Zayne and asked him if he'd like to go with you. This was just a few days after he started dropping off leftovers at your door. You figured it wouldn't be a terrible idea. 

If only you had known back then that it would lead to the most valuable friendship you have, you would've done it even sooner. 

The annual trip is always a weekend. A few things you two decided at the start is that it should be doable by car so that you two could leave Friday morning and return Sunday evening, only having to take one day of annual leave.  

Friday evening is always Zayne's turn to pick the restaurant because he likes to plan ahead. You pick on Saturday after strolling through the city all day. Surprisingly, both choices have never turned out all that terrible. 

When getting to the hotel on Friday, there is a mandatory one-hour nap. After that, it's time to explore the city. Then it's dinner, drinks at the hotel bar, reading together in the same room, going to sleep in separate rooms. 

On Saturday, Zayne has usually chosen a short nature hike in some nice scenery nearby. Then it's showering, going out to have lunch at some mom-and-pop shop, a little shopping, museum visits, and then dinner. After the whole Saturday you two usually retire to your own rooms right away, but sometimes there's some cuddling while one reads to the other. 

Then Sunday morning is "free time." Each does whatever and you meet up for lunch. After that is the drive home. 

It's truly not all that thrilling but you enjoy it majorly. You just love being around Zayne. 

Despite all that, you do have a strange iffy feeling about leaving Sylus behind. Maybe one day, when Zayne also has a partner, you could all go together. But right now, something just doesn't feel right. You have no clue what it is. Sylus was fine when you left, the house was fine, you checked your luggage three times. Still, it keeps nagging at the back of your head. 

'Are you alright?' Zayne's voice snaps you out of it. 

'Oh, yeah,' you hum in response, 'just a little worried about Sylus. I have this weird underbelly feeling I can't shake.' 

'Why don't you call him when we get to the hotel?' 

'I will,' you say with a smile, 'thank you for understanding.' You notice that strangely empathetic look in Zayne's face again. He knows something you don't and you know it's not his place to tell you, but you feel like you're out of the loop and it stings. 

'Did you two talk already?' You shake your head and cross your arms, leaning back in the passenger seat of his car. 

'He isn't ready to tell me yet. I get it, but it stings sometimes.' Zayne nods. 

'He'll tell you soon. I'm sure.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

Being alone in his apartment shouldn't be strange to Sylus, but without your laughter it suddenly feels empty. He put on some music, but without you dancing around his living room it's not quite what he's used to.  

It's so strange. It has only been a few weeks, two months maybe, but he can't shake this feeling that he cannot go without you. You had given him your house key a few days back. Back than you explained that he would come over anyway, so what would it matter if he let himself in? Would that offer still stand now, when you're not there? 

He turns off his music and goes out into the hallway. It's just a few steps to your apartment but he gets interrupted. 

'Would you look at that. Long time no see, Sylus.' That voice. It scrapes it his head like nails on a chalkboard. His whole body tenses up as he looks down the hallway. It's her. She looks smug, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she looks Sylus up and down. Every inch of hair he has is standing straight up. 

'What are you doing here?' She pushes off the wall and saunters a few steps closer. Sylus doesn't want to take a step back, he doesn't want to be under her thumb again. It seems she's considering what to tell him, as if she hasn't quite thought of what she's doing here yet. 

'Visiting a friend,' she decides, 'you?' 

'Same,' he chooses to answer. After all, she was the first to leak his address. Better to be safe than sorry. She looks him up and down again and he realizes he's still wearing his house slippers and clearly coming from the last apartment with a key in his hand. She's always been very observant, so he doesn't doubt she knows exactly what he's doing here. 

'Hm,' she huffs, running her tongue across her lower teeth, 'doesn't look like it.' She takes another step closer, clearly liking how nervous he looks. 

'I don't have to explain myself to you.' 

'No, of course not,' her lips pull into an evil grin, 'but I can tell you want to.' The hallway feels ice cold, Sylus can feel himself shiver. With a slight quirk of her lips, she relaxes her body. 'Okay, don't tell me. I know you're probably hooking up with some girl for your little porn videos.' Her tone is so demeaning, it feels like a punch to the gut. Sylus has to keep himself from physically doubling over. 'I guess I'll see you around.' 

'I'd rather not,' he manages to say, his voice luckily keeping a steady tone. She pushes out her bottom lip, trying so hard to look hurt but her eyes are dead. There's no soul behind them, just a shell of a human with evil intent. 

'Ouch, I'm hurt darling. We had some fun.' She tries to reach out for him, but he flinches back. Her grin reappears. She got exactly what she wanted. 'See you soon, Sylus.' 

He watches her turn on her heel and walk down the hallway to the other end. Near the end of the hallway, she pulls out a key and sticks it in the lock. She turns her head to Sylus and sends him a wink. 

When she disappears into the apartment, Sylus feels physically sick. He runs into your apartment and bents over the toilet but nothing comes out. There he sits, a weak, pathetic man still under the thumb of his ex. A million questions run through his mind. 

"Why is she here?" 

"Did she know I live here?" 

"Is she really living here or is she visiting?" 

"Why does this have to happen now? Things were so good." 

"What do I do now?" 

The sound of his phone ringing pulls him out of it. He leans against the cold tile wall of your bathroom as he takes his phone out of his pocket, still feeling queasy. It's you. For a second he considers not picking up, but he knows he can't. He takes a second to breathe before picking up. 

'Hey sweetie, how was the ride?' It stays silent for a little bit. The nerves from just now have not yet subsided and a whole new wave washes over him when you don't talk. 'Sweetie?' 

"Are you okay?" Shit, his voice has betrayed him. 

'Of course. Why do you ask?' 

"You sound weird, and I've been having this weird feeling that something happened." Thank fuck for your superstition. He can get out of this without making you want to return from your trip early. 

'I just worked out and-' 

"You didn't," you say, cutting him off, "you never work out on Fridays. I know you better than that." It's his turn to fall silent. He wipes his cheek with the back of his hand to wipe off something itchy. When he pulls his hand back, he sees a wet spot. He's crying. 

'I'm fine.' 

"You're not. Please don't lie to me." He hates how you know him so well already, hates that you can tell he's not alright, hate that you care so much for him. At this moment he just wants you to take his words for truth. "Alright, I'm going back." 

'No, please don't,' his voice trembles. 'I want you to enjoy your time. Please.' 

"Fine, but then you're driving up here. Something clearly happened and I don't want you to be alone." 

'No, this is your time with Doctor Zayne. I wouldn't want to-' 

"Zayne! Can Sylus join us tomorrow?" "Of course." Doctor Zayne speaks without hesitation. Sylus can't quite wrap his head around why he would be so kind to him. It doesn't matter though. You've made up your mind, so: "You're coming." 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

After dinner, you and Zayne sit down with your books but neither of you is in a mood to read. He places his book on his lap and turns to you. 'So what happened with Sylus?' 

'I don't know. He wouldn't tell me, but he sounded terrified.' 

∘₊✧───────────────────────────────────────✧₊∘ 

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[bountycancelled]

Black and White

(bada x reader)

requested: yes! @badasgirlfriend this one's for my babygirl

content: fem!reader, jealous! bada(she lowkey gives possesive alpha vibes in this and im sorry, but its still hot cuz its her), kind of smut? like they don't smash but close enough, HOWL (I know and im sorry)

warnings: supa suggestive like I'm dying at what I just typed (in my defense I was listening to I was never there by the weeknd so blame him) mentions of alcohol, that's it I think.

a/n: once again, i apologise. my innner whore jumped out. also eli if you wanted it to be fluffy pls lemme know and I'll wip something else up, but I still hope you like this, I love you mwah!

"how do I look?"

your words were met with a long, bordering on uncomfortable silence. this confused you, since you were asking out of genuine curiosity and had expected a quick answer from bada, but nothing came.

you turned away from the mirror and faced her, your eyes narrowing as you waited for her reply with crossed arms. "that bad, huh?" you said sarcastically.

sure, this dress was a bit more... revealing than the clothing you tended towards in your everyday, but in your defense, it wasn't everyday that you went to a gala dinner.

seeing as you and bada were both respected and accoladed dancers respectively, you had both gotten invites, so going as each others dates seemed like a no brainer.

you had settled on a sleek white number with the back completely open, and a slit (for mobility's sake, you swear) you looked really good, or, so you thought, but bada's reaction however, was making you second guess yourself.

she was in black silk gown, and she looked drop dead gorgeous. you were surprised that you weren't actually frothing at the mouth like some starved animal. hell, you wondered how you could make it through the whole night without your attraction to her being exposed.

"not bad at all." she finally clarified in an abrupt manner, as if she had been taken out a daze. "you look amazing. it's just different, but good different, I promise."

you nodded, though you weren't fully convinced by her efforts. in any case, it was a little too late to turn your back on the dress, seeing as your ride for the evening was parked in front of bada's place.

the ride to the venue was filled with a strange sort of tension, one that you couldn't quiet place. you weren't upset, or at least, you tried not be upset at the fact the bada wasn't the biggest fan of your dress, its not like she was actively berating you or anything harsh like that. but there was clear energy occurring between you and her, you could feel it in the way she gazed at you.

you really did try to get her reaction out of your mind, conversing with your dancing peers, eating foods you couldn't even pronounce at the table, but nevertheless, it kept knawing at you, forming a pit in your stomach. (you guessed that it also didn't really help that bada was sat right next to you, with her gaze fixed on your every move, even if she was talking to other people.)

as bada excused herself to the bathroom, giving you a much needed break from her stare, you decided that the only way to fill the pit in your stomach was through a drink.

you successfully made your way to the bar, careful not to trip on your own two feet, before ordering your usual and raking a seat, waiting for said drink to arrive.

you thanked the bartender, looking around the room to make sure no eyes were on you before downing the glass in an instant, relishing in the burn. you were right, this would definitely distract you.

"rough night?" a familiar voice asked as you ordered a second drink.

"how could you tell? the slumped shoulders or the fact that my drink only lasted about two seconds in my hand?" your reply was met with a laugh, as the owner of the voice, who you had recognised as howl, took to the seat next to yours.

"obviously I have no idea what's got you so shaken up, but if its any conciliation..." he trailed off, leaning just a bit closer to you, his voice a low whisper.

"you look stunning tonight." you grimaced internally, howl wasn't a bad looking man by any means, but you weren't really interested in him, or any man, or anyone that wasn't bada. you were about to respond, brushing off his attempt at flirting without it being too awkward, but you were cut off before you could even open your mouth.

"there you are, can we go outside for a sec? I wanna talk to you." thank the lord for bada, who had given you the perfect excuse to slip away from howl without even needing to entertain him for a moment longer.

you feigned a woeful expression, almost as if to convey that you didn't want to leave him alone, all the while letting bada lead you with a hand on your wrist all the way outside.

you finally paused when you made it behind the venue, and when you turned to bada, she was already looking at you. the expression on her face was nothing short of... silently seething.

you furrowed your brows, determined not to back away from this impromptu staredown you had suddenly entered. "you know, you've been acting weird ever since I asked you about my dress back at your place, so just tell me what your fucking problem is, bada."

she smirked at your outburst, and that only made you even more annoyed, what about you was so fucking amusing to her tonight? she stepped closer to you, effectively trapping you between the wall and herself, and you broke eye contact with her despite yourself. she was too close for you to think straight.

"my problem..." she paused, trailing her finger along your collarbone, her gaze fixated on your chest, rapidly rising and falling. "...is that everyone gets to see you look so fucking sexy, when I'm the only one who really deserves it." your eyes widened at her words, and you were suddenly extremely glad that the wall was behind you to give your body support.

her hand moved even further, her large hand cupping your breast through your dress, and her thumb grazing your nipple, making your head tip back automatically. "and then, fucking howl has the nerve to flirt with you?" she chuckled bitterly, cutting her laugh off with a quiet groan as your hand went over hers, keeping it on your chest.

"it made realise that people don't get it. that you're mine. so why don't I make you mine right here, so that people don't get confused anymore, hmm? you'd like it, wouldn't you? I know I would." her voice was breathy now, and you nearly moaned as she trailed her other hand along your upper thigh, using the slit to get to your underwear, which you had surely soaked through by now.

it goes without saying that you would like her to take you then too.

another a/n: this was also my second time writing something kinda smutty ever, so pls practice kindness in the comments😀

[synamartia]

I promise I haven't forgotten about this! Things have been a bit hectic in my personal life, and it feels like the hits just keep coming. But as a sign of good faith, I'll leave you all with another little snippet! Hopefully, it'll be the last one before I release the full story. On another note, as much as I LOVE the title Smutmus, I don't think that it's a fitting title anymore with the direction the story is taking - it's becoming a fully fledged fic with plot (which is one of the biggest reasons it's release has been delayed). So I will be renaming it in the future; just not sure what, yet. If you have any ideas, I would love to hear them! 🥰

Content Warnings: Again, none really. Afab!Reader ; No pronouns used ; Suggestive situations ; Nudity ; More light banter. If there's a warning anyone feels should be listed, please let me know!

Divider © cafekitsune

“Alastor, is that a tail?” you blurted out without thinking, immediately slapping both of your hands over your mouth right after. “Oh- that,” he said nonchalantly, moving to stand between your legs once more. Your body tensed as you awaited his reaction, so sure that you had just earned yourself a good scolding for such an impolite question. You hadn’t meant to be so bold or outright, but you’ve come to find that your body and your brain hadn’t been on the same page since the moment all of this began. “Yes, it’s a tail,” Alastor responded and turned slightly, swishing the puff of fur side to side a couple of times to amuse you before turning back. “I’m sorry, that was rude- …!?” you tried to apologize, but a surprised squeal interrupted your speech when his sharpened claws sunk into your posterior and he hoisted you up off the desk, your legs wrapping around his waist in the process.

“It’s alright, darling,” Alastor reassured you, spinning around and taking a few long strides to the rarely used bed. “While I’m not particularly fond of it, my tail isn’t something that I’ve ever gone out of my way to hide,” he explained, dropping you onto the mattress and climbing on top of you soon after, nestling himself in between your legs as you breathed a sigh of relief - albeit a short-lived one. He leaned down to whisper in your ear, causing your body to tense right back up with each word that left his mouth. “Although, you are correct - it was rude to ask such a thing,” he clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, his pointed teeth nipping at the shell of your ear then tugging on the lobe. “Perhaps I should give you a lesson in proper etiquette, hm?” Alastor mused, rolling his bare hips against yours and sending a shiver down your spine, not missing the flash of panic in your eyes when his words finally registered in your brain. 

‘Shit. Shit, shit, shit- fucking hell, fuck my life!’ you thought, trying to reel yourself back in and failing miserably. If this ‘lesson’ of his was anything like the punishment he had doled out earlier, you knew you were in for a rough night - one that would leave you physically incapable of walking out of his room come morning. “No- …! Al, no, no… i-it was just a slip of the tongue, I swear!” your pleas fell on deaf ears, his lips ghosting over the carotid artery in your neck, then over your collar bone and traveling further down to your breasts. “I’m sorry, please- …!” you spoke, only to be interrupted by Alastor’s stern gaze, looking up at you while he placed butterfly kisses to your chest and his teeth grazed your erect nipple. “I know you are, dear,” Alastor started, kissing further down to your navel, not breaking eye contact for even a millisecond. “But if ‘sorry’ fixed everything, there would be no hell, no demons, and we certainly would not be in this hotel,” he smiled wickedly, knowing that you couldn’t argue with the point he had just made - your silence proved as much.

Alastor continued to move south, soon reaching the delicious mound between your thighs which he had not known could be so fun, so intoxicating. But, as much as he wanted to devour you and everything you had to offer him, he was on a self-imposed mission now and couldn’t let himself get distracted. Heated breath fanning over your soaked core, Alastor lightly kissed and nipped at the insides of your thighs, past your knees and down your calves - stopping momentarily for a taste of your blood that was still seeping from your self-inflicted wound. He groaned as his tongue was coated in the coppery flavor of his new favorite thing, one hand wrapping around your ankle, his deft digits unclasping the strap of your heel and pulling it off, repeating the process with the other one and discarding both seconds later. 

Sighing softly, you wiggled your freed toes while Alastor began to kiss his way back up to your face. “W-well then… what would this lesson entail?” you asked nervously, resigning yourself over to your fate. Alastor chuckled darkly at your question, not bothering to answer you as he pressed his lips against yours harshly and pinched one of your pert nipples. “Mmph-phh!” you whined, your body flinching at the pain his digits were causing as he twisted the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. Alastor pulled back, his teeth dragging your bottom lip with him as far as it would go, releasing it and your nipple a few seconds later.

"On your knees."

[mytheoristavenue]

Tokoyami simps yall come get yall's lunch!!

Villian!Tokoyami x Villian!Reader who is infertile but still gets baby fever so he brings home orphaned children for you to car for. He knows your quirk pours too much love in your heart than even he can claim so he gives you something else to share it with.

You long to one day have a normal life with him where you care for your children and keep the house while he, your husband, works. But you know it isn't possible until he changes the world order to favor creatures of the night like yourselves. He promises that one day, this dingy old warehouse will be a proper home for you and his children.

Until then, he's perfectly happy to keep you content by robbing chain baby supply stores and bringing home anything and everything he can find to make your nest feel more full. 🖤

"'Yomi..." You whine, laying your head on his chest.

"Yes, my sweet?" He replies, looking over blueprints of an downtown orphanage in an impoverished neighborhood, rumored to treat heteromorphs especially cruelly.

"Can we cuddle? My love is overflowing and I need to share it with you..." you pout, ignoring his open arm, dropping to the floor and resting your head on his knee, nuzzling into his touch as he pets your hair. "Am I bothering you, raven?"

"Never, my pet." He answers, still neglecting to look at you. "I'm working on a suprise for you."

You perk up at the prospect of a gift. "A suprise? What is it?" You mutter the last bit "An engagement ring would be nice..."

He chuckles at your guess. "Not this time, lover. I know you get lonely sitting here all by yourself when I'm gone...how would you like it if I gave you something else to love in my place?"

Your heart sinks and you cling to his shirt. "Is my love suffocating you, darling?" You asked, worried.

"Never," he repeats, pulling you up into his lap. "I just mean..." He gestures to his plans. "Maybe you'd like someone to take care of..."

"A baby?!" You shriek happily. "You're going to give me a child?!

"I intend to," he confirmed, his hand slipping over your tummy. "And if I can't put one inside here," he takes his hand from you, planting it on the pile of pages. "I'll find you one here."

You squealed happily, standing up and dancing in place. "I-I'm gonna be a mother!"

"And a wonderful one at that, my dove." He praised, pulling you back into his lap, presenting you with a file. "Now, choose which one you want and I'll do my best. You have to help me make this place a safe home for a child first, though, alright?"

"Yes, of course!" You beam, skin beginning to glow as your heart swelled and you threw your arms around him, your love energizing him. "Thank you, nightingale!"

"Anything for my lark. I'd move heaven and earth to give you what you want. I know what you truly want is to bare my child but I hope this will keep you content until I find away around your quirks side effects."

"More than happy..." You sniffle. "I'm overjoyed, Fumikage..."

His eyes soften as you utter his given name, not his alias, not his family name, not a pet name. His first name. It was something you only reserved for special moments like these.

"I'll make an honest woman of you one day, I swear," He promised, nuzzling your cheek with his beak. "But until then, we will have a family, you have my word."

After sitting for a moment, letting you let out your happy tears he spoke again. "But don't think for a moment we're going to stop practicing for when I find a cure to your infertility..." he smirked. "We'll try everything in the book until your body accepts my seed... no matter how taboo it may be."

[luvyeni]

10 DAYS TO FALL IN LOVE — chapter 6. dates and apologies !

word count. 0.8k+ content warning. none just angst and fluff

You clutched the stuffed animal in your hand that heeseung had won for you as you walked through the park per his request. “You’re really happy about that stuffed toy.” He said. “Be careful people might think you’re crazy and on a date with that thing instead of me.” You rolled your eyes pouting. “don’t call my child a thing, he has a name.” You said, the boy laughed. “yeah, what is it?” you thought for a while, before shrugging. “well I won him, why can’t he be named after me?”

You shook your head no, smirking menacingly, looking back at him. “I like the name sunghoon.” His face dropped. “That’s not funny.” He said flatly. “It’s a little funny.” You said. “not even remotely.” He tried to walk a head of you. “yah! Don’t leave me.”

“Stop walking so fast.” You grabbed his arm. “say your sorry and i'll slow down.” You whined, and he started speeding up again. “okay! Okay.” You shouted. “im sorry.” You said , and he stopped turning to you. “I won’t name him after sunghoon.” You said. “and?”

“And we can name him heeseung.” He smiled. “thank you,  that’s all I ask.” You rolled your eyes. “can we sit, I tired from chasing after you?” he nodded , finding a bench to sit on near the water. “here lets sit here.”

“did you have fun.” He asked — his eyes filled with so much nerves. “i won’t give you so much credit.” He frowned. “but I had a lot of fun.” You said, lightly punching his shoulder. “you remembered how much I love amusement parks.”

“of course! We used to go all the time after classes.” He said — remembering how you’d drag him whenever you had the chance, riding all the rides you could and eating the food until it was time to go home. “we had so much fun back then.”

You smiled — quickly frowning, it was fun hanging out with heeseung — but you couldn’t help but remembered why you stopped doing those things in the first place. “we did have fun back then didn’t we?”

He saw the change in your mood. “you okay?” you nodded, he kissed the back of his teeth. “it’s been 5 years since we hung out , not 50, I can still tell when you’re upset and lying about it.”

“Why are you doing this?” you said. “doing what?” He questioned. “this ,being nice to me, wanting to go on a date — I mean even as high schoolers you didn’t want to be anything more than friends, now all of a sudden you want to flirt and date me, even after that situation.”

He knew this was gonna come up and he thought he was ready , but he suddenly couldn’t speak. “I want to forgive you, I really do, but I need at least an explanation, is this just a joke between your friends because — it’s not I promise.”

“Then tell me what it is.” You said. “I’ve always liked you yn, even when were in high school.” He said. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t think you’d like me back , I mean we both what I looked in 9th grade.” You dry laughed. “but then things changed, I didn’t mean for them to, they just got out of hand.”

“you really hurt me heeseung, you were my only friend, I stood by you for everything.” You felt tears welding in your eyes. “and for you to say all those horrible things, and that our friendship meant nothing.” He wrapped his arms around your body. “im sorry.”

It was silent — both of you didn’t say anything as you say on the bench. He finally spoke up. “im so sorry I hurt you.” He whispered into your hair. “I'm so fuckin stupid yn.” He wiped your wet cheeks. “I’ve been waiting for the longest time to tell you that.” He said. “for the past 5 years that’s all I wanted to tell you.”

It felt like a weight had been lifted off both your shoulders. “please forgive me.” He said , squeezing your hand. “I’ll try my best to quit, I swear.” You wanted to believe him — it was only 5 days, but it was longer than you’ve ever seen him in 5 years. “you’d really quit?” you asked. “for you? Of course I would.”

You both began to get cold , so you found your way back to his car — making your way back to your dorm. He parked outside your building, not really wanting to let you out. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow and take you to school.” He said , you nodded. “good night heeseung.”

You undid your seat belt opening the door. “Let’s go baby heeseung.” He laughed. “are you really gonna call it that?” you nodded. “of course , he’s our child.” You said , quickly reaching over to kiss his cheek his eyes widening. “wh-what—” before he fully say something you got out of the car.

“yah! You can’t just run away after doing that.” you turned waving. “goodnight!” you shouted, he watched you go into the building , before driving off a big dopey smile plastered on his face.

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— ( TAGLIST: CLOSED ) @en-happiness @leep0ems @wonwoos-wineparty @deobitifull @yeonboy @jiaant11 @heelee-01 @yer1-lvr @luvvsnae @mochimchimo @thefangirloncrack @shxhhsjs @lostwonderwall @yyayobhb @yvesgfss @ni-kimura09 @herversus @adeoluhh @astrokeisuke @hwnggyu @nycapartmentsworld @txtlyn @soulsbbg @troublemaker02 @darlingz99 @jayhoonvroom @darly6n @boutyouwonu @seungjiseyo @velvtcherie @laylasmother @dimplewonie @wonhoishot @rodygr @wonyofile @y4wnjunz @icantpickabiasugh @ne0c0r3 @wooziswife @certified-niki-lover @eleanorheartschishiya @yunjinsbbg @haechansbbg @pockyyasii @aishigrey @kpophosblog @midmourn @miumiusme @l0vee-l3tters @soomelon

©️LUVYENI

[ddejavvu]

So I finally use makeup and i feel like i unlocked a new part of the store (im 19 sad ik ) and i might have spent my whole paycheck on makeup (didnt mean to ) and while I was doing that i kept getting thoughts of Bradley looking at the price of makeup and being flabbergasted (I was looking for a highlighter and i found one and was gonna get it BUT it 17 dollars for a SMALL AND I MEAN SMALL highlighter stick so I got a new one ) i just know Bradley would be so stunned. But he try to help but he would lose his mind at the prices

Bradley's mostly content to wander behind you with the basket when you shop, but as your hand reaches for a lip gloss tube, his eyes widen.

"Baby," He hisses, "That's- twenty-nine dollars? Isn't that lip gloss?"

"It's a celebrity's brand," You point at the label, "That makes it more expensive."

"Jesus. Well don't get that one," He scoffs, "Isn't there shit by the counter for cheaper?"

"I want this one!" You retort indignantly, "It's my money, Brad, I can do whatever I want."

"I'm not trying to control you," He swears, "I'm trying to save you money! I saw a color just like that at CVS for six bucks."

"Is Rihanna the one selling it?" You raise a brow at him, "Makeup's expensive, that's just how it is."

"I guess. Twenty-nine dollars for lip gloss," He grumbles as you toss it into the cart, "That's, like, a meal out, baby. I could buy a new pair of shoes for that much money. And- Forty dollars?!" You're surprised his jaw doesn't drop through the floor like a cartoon, "Babe! That little jar is forty dollars!"

"Keep your voice down," You round on him in a fit of giggles, covering his mouth so as not to draw attention to yourself in the bustling store, "I know, baby. Like I said, makeup's just expensive. Let me just grab what I need, and then we can go, okay? I'll make us something for lunch, we won't spend any more money."

"I don't know if I can financially support this hobby of yours," He regretfully informs you as soon as you remove your hand from his mouth, "Baby, I mean it, I'm happy you like this stuff, but this is gonna break the bank."

"I said I'd use my own money," You promise, though you're certain he'll slide his card through the reader before you can even get yours out of your purse; he always does. "It's okay, baby, it lasts for a while. It's worth it."

"I hope so," His shoulders slump, and you know he's not going to cause another scene, "I just can't believe they're allowed to charge you that much for a tiny little tube. I mean, my shampoo is five dollars, and it comes in, like, a gallon."

"I know, honey," You placate him, looping your arm through his own. You neglect to mention the fact that you're fairly certain his shampoo is also technically body wash and conditioner, and how that might be why it's so cheap, "I know, it's okay. Next time I'll come by myself, I promise."

[love-jelly]

PROBLEM.

sypnosis: you've always had a problem with shutting your mouth but toji has never had a problem with helping you.

contents: implied breathplay, manhandling, messy, toji can't take a joke, using you (sort of??), & face fucking

word count: 650+

a/n: my first work! hopefully, i'll improve a lot very soon but until then, you can send constructive criticism in my asks! hope you enjoy!! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

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you've been here before. with toji, you mean. in this predicament, in this situation. tears running down your cheeks, mixing with the drool that sticks to the lower half of your face and some of his thighs. red welts upon your pretty and otherwise unblemished skin. and it started hours ago.

it started at a company dinner, where you got mouthy and started telling people toji couldn't get you off (an obvious lie). you honestly didn't expect people to believe you because you thought it was a funny, easy joke that everyone thought was fake.

what you didn't expect was that toji would hear about it and come to you directly.

"toji, this is so unnecessary, it was just a joke!"

he stops and stares with you, still holding onto your wrist that he had been holding since he dragged you out of the party.

"unnecessary? you wanna act like you don't whine and moan just from fucking yourself on my thigh, baby? you wanna act like just having the tip of my cock in you doesn't make you a mess, begging for more?"

"it was just a joke! i thought it was funny!" you argue with a sweet pout, eyebrows furrowed and a blush lightly covering your face from the lewd descriptions of your rather intimate moments together. "it is funny!" a clearly wrong answer judging from the way he clenches his jaw, continuing to drag you home.

and now. you're at the foot of the bed, knees red from kneeling too long and pussy dripping slick onto the floor, making the floor filthy, just like your mouth.

"cat got your tongue, huh?" he roughly pats your face with one hand. the other is occupied, holding your hair in a messy ponytail, keeping your mouth attached to his cock. "what you can't talk? you were so mouthy earlier, baby" he laughs condescendingly as he finally pulls you off his cock, finally letting you breathe.

"'m sorry, i promise" you weakly whimper. "'m sorry, toji, i swear!" the big droplets tears from your eyes dropping onto your breasts and toji can't recall a time you've ever looked prettier than this. big red lips swollen from being used, your big eyes gazing up at him, begging for forgiveness because that's right, he's in charge, never you. your perfectly molded body (by him) that's just so perfect for him because you belong to him.

"are you really sorry? if you were really sorry, you would've thought beforehand and wouldn't have pulled that shit in the first place," he laughs down at you, as if he didn't, couldn't, wouldn't believe you.

you pout, eyes impossible big with desperation for him to believe you as you start pawing at his thigh desperately. "no! i promise i really won't do it again! i promise! jus' lemme cum, please, toji."

he clicks his tongue in his mouth and pushes you back onto his cock "how am i supposed to believe you, huh? you always end up fucking- embarrassing- me- and you never- fucking- learn-" he emphasizes words through the rough snaps of his hips, filling your throat with more of him.

he feels you whine and cry around him, making vibrations that feed into his pleasure. feeling the tiniest bit of sympathy, he asks in a faux sweet voice, "do you promise this time? really really promise me?"

he pulls you off his cock for a second to allow you to answer him "yesyesyes, please, i'll be good, i'll be so good, promise, toji! just wanna feel you in me" sobs racking your smaller frame, desperate for the relief you’ve been searching for.

he sadistically smirks and you already know you're not gonna get what you really, desperately want. "ride me, then, baby. see if you can make yourself cum on me all on your own. see if this is still funny."

it's not that he can't make you orgasm, he just won't.

(wherein reader always needs toji's help to get her off, whether it be his rough fingers rubbing her clit or him using his knowledge of all your sweet spots to his (or rather your) advantage)

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if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: honestly, i wrote this with gojo in mind but changed it to toji because i can't really imagine gojo being super physically rough during intimacy on purpose 😭 anyway, thank you for reading! my asks are open for any reqs :')

[small-sinclair]

Dada

Bo Sinclair x mother fem!reader

@zaras-really-dreamless... you wanted some "Take me Instead" content, yeah? Well, it's not the next two parts, but I hope it quiches a thirst :3 . A dabble based off my Bo x preg!reader au. I promise I'll make a master list for this au and give it a name I swear--

"Can you say 'Bo'?" You asked in your mother voice, a smile on your face. "Come on, Jazzy, say 'Bo'!"

"Shouldn't encorage to hav' 'er say my name, darlin'," Bo said glancing over his shoulder. "Have 'er say 'mama' or somethin' like that." He started working on the car you and Todd came. "When did ya last get 'is thin' an oil change?"

You shrugged as you bounced Jasmine on your hip, smiling at her happily. "Todd always took care of that." You heard an audible sigh and the hood slamming. "Is it that bad, Bo?"

"Well, ain't gonna lie, darlin', but your car," he thumbed behind him and threw his rag, "is done. Never drive ‘at heep o’ shit again."

You lifted a brow before looking at Jasmine. "Well... that sucks, huh, Jazzy? There goes out escape plan," you joked. "Trapped here forever."

Bo shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I'll have Lester bring the trailer down an' scrap it. Make more money than fixin' it." He placed a hand on his hip and fixed his hat. "Sorry, Mama, but it ain't drivin' no more." His eyes flickered down at Jasmine and watched her bright eyes looking back at him. "She seems lost."

"Jasmine’s just looking around, Bo," you answered, smiling. "She was always a wanderer just like my mother." You gave her an Eskimo kiss and smiled at her giggle. To Bo, it melted his heart. "She's just trying to figure the world out."

He takes a deep breath in and motioned you to follow him out. "Le'me close up an' we c'n get home-"

"Hello?" Your head snapped to the front door and saw young man walk in with two of his friends. "Anyone here?"

Bo gave you a look then led the way to the front of the shop. He puts on a fake smile and says, "Yeah, jus' caught me." He sounded cheerful when he said, "Was gonna close up soon."

"Would it trouble you to replace our spark plugs?" The man asked. "Me and my buddies have the slightest on what to do an--" his face was caught off when his green eyes landed on you. He straightens up and nods his head. "Ma'am," he said.

"Gentlemen," you replied. You stood between him and Bo before turning to look at Bo, saying, "I'll head up to the house and start dinner."

"I won't be long, sugar," Bo said, leaning down to kiss your head. "Promise."

They boys by the door parted and let you pass throw.

******************

Jasmine played on the floor with little horse stuffies while you cooked dinner. Bo dropped hints of cooking pot roast and green beans with potatoes. Besides, he’s been working hard in the shop the past couple of nights along with making sure you and Jasmine are fitting in well.

Ever since you started living freely with the Sinclair Brothers, you were left with the house keeping and cooking job. Thought it's not the best picture of how you wanted to spend your life, but you had the freedom to move around within the house and around the dead town. Though you were watched with careful eyes, the fear you had with them would fade over time. Yes, the murdering and blood shed scares you, but tried their best to keep that away from you and from Jasmine.

Living with the brothers felt like you were living in a strange home. Lester brought you along to the store for baby shopping, and he always stopped after the trip to get your drink order at Starbucks. Vincent was a natural at rocking Jasmine to sleep when you were busy, and he enjoyed feeding her when you were tired or needed to rest. Bo found himself looking over you and her as time went on, and you would wake up to him some times at night with him looking into the crib, his hand holding Jasmine's fingers. When you saw the high chairs and baby photos, you learned why they made sure to keep Jasmine happy, to keep her away from them, to keep loving on her until their hearts give out.

If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to burn Bo’s high chair.

When you asked Lester why it’s there, he shakes his head. “Bo doesn’t know how to heal,” he answered as he nodded to his brother working in the shop. “This is the only way he can.”

Even if he doesn't show it, you knew Bo was in love with Jasmine. Besides seeing him with her at night, you would catch some glances of him holding her on his hip while he shows her the inside of a car, telling her all about the engine of a '68 Dodge. He would call her little star, sunshine, lady bug, sweetheart-- you kept seeing the shine in his eyes when he was around her. Of course, things weren't always calm and sunshine, but he never yelled at her like Todd did. Never once has he called her dumb or stupid.

Maybe you agreeing to stay in this town was good for the three of you.

Humming to the radio by the stove, you started cooking the potatoes when he came home. You glanced over your shoulder to greet him but your face fell once you saw him limping in with his hand holding his thigh.

“What happened?” You asked as you met him in the hall, taking a towel and the first-aid. After being here for two months, you learned that it's best to keep the first-aid within reach.

“Got stabbed,” Bo hissed, breathing through his teeth. “One of ‘em got brave and headed towards the house, too.” He then looks at Jasmine, who still played with her toys. “He was gunnin’ fer ‘at lil’ one.”

“How do you know?”

He bit the corner of his lips. “Just knew. Didn’t lik’ the way he was lookin’ at ya an’ ‘er.” His drawl was heavier than normal. “Should’ve said nothin’, girl, an’ snuck out in the tunnels.”

“I’m sorry.”

Bo grumbles to himself as he lets you tend to his leg. His eyes linger from you towards Jasmine. For a moment, the anger burning in his irises dimmed when Jasmine showed off her stuffed pink horse to him before playing again. Once her gaze was gone, his anger sparked again.

"Never do 'at again, woman," he warned, as he leaned back in the chair. "Men are dangerous 'round children."

"Are you dangerous?" He didn't mean to ask him, but as soon as those words left, he glared at you. "Sorry."

"I'll let it pass just once," he murmurs, "but don' say 'at shit again."

Bo leans back and closes his eyes, taping his fingers on the arm rest. As he felt the pain start to fade, his eyes linger over Jasmine as she plays with her horse. His relaxed his shoulders against the wood and watched her little horse wiggle in the air as of it was flying, grinning slightly at her movements.

"Dinner's almost ready," you say as you came back with water and two pain killers. "Just cooking the potatoes now."

"Yeah?" He asked, lifting a brow. He takes the pills and gulps down the water. "That's awful kind 'o ya."

As you two started talking about dinner, Jasmine sat and watched the both of you with curious eyes. She uses the couch to help her stand, dropping her horse, and pulled herself up. Once she was standing up, she takes shaky steps forward, her mind competly forgettign the horse under her feet. Tripping, she falls down, looks around, and opens her mouth, crying loudly.

Bo jolted as he heard her started to cry. He watched you scoop up your child and kisses her head as you tried to calm her. Her little hands reached out towards Bo, bright eyes burning through tears as she cried out, "Dada!"

It's like time froze and the world stopped spinning. Bo's eyes grew wide as he looked at you and back at Jasmine. "What... what did she just--"

"Dada!” Her little hands reached for him, tearfully crying out, “Bo!”

Just like that, Bo's heart shattered in two million pieces. Her little hands reached for him still as she wiggling in your grasp. With his hands still bloodied, Bo opened his arms and nodded at you, reassuring that it's okay for you to leave him, but you can't... not while he's covered in someone else's blood.

Though the pain was still there, Bo moved quickly from the den to the kitchen. He scrubbed and washed up as best as he could, took off his work uniform shirt and tossed it aside, and dried off as well as he could. He heard the basement door opening and Vincent entering from downstairs.

Before Bo could fill him in, Jasmine cried out, "Bo! Dada!"

Vincent felt his stomach drop as he looked at you and Jasmine. His lone eye looks back at Bo and pointed, eye wide in shock, signing, 'Did she just say your name? Or am I really dehydrated?'

"Ya heard right," Bo breathed. He limps away from Vincent and headed back into the living room. He held out his hands, motioning that he was reader, and you gave her to Bo.

This was his first time holding her since the day he got you away from Todd. Truly holding her close, not like when he has her on his hip while working on a car.

As soon as you place her in his arms, something clicked in his brain. The way she looked at her with tearful eyes and her hands reached for him to hug, Bo’s world rocked. He heldJasmine so close and protectively as he rocked back and forth, hushing her gently. Feeling her again in his arms felt almost right, but he’s not her dad. He’ll be a good enough father, he knows, but…

“You’re okay, star shine,” he whispered as he felt her calming. “Ya just bummed yer knee. Nothin’ to cry about.” He walked away from you as he paced in the other room with the pool table. He nodded at you to take care of the food while he takes care of Jasmine. “Yer okay. You’ll be alright.”

“Dada,” she whines as her little hands gripped his shirt. “Bo.”

How fast can a heart shatter and build up again? Is there a study out there that could answer Bo’s question?

He rested her head against his heart as he took shaky breaths. He’s not ready. He’ll never be ready. “Shh, star shine,” he whispers. “Rest ‘at lil’ head. I’m here. Bo’ll always be here.”

From the kitchen, Vincent started the potatoes and had you watch from the doorway. Were you in love with him, or did you just see him as a father figure? As much as you tried an answer, you couldn’t make since of it yet. Todd was her dad, but any boy can be a dad. Bo was a man; he was a better father than Todd. You just can’t tell him yet.

So, you watched as Bo swayed back and forth with Jasmine in his arms, murmuring a song only for her to hear. Slowly, he leaned against the pool table. His eyes was filled with so much warmth and carefulness when he looked down at Jasmine. You had to admit he knew what he was doing, and Jasmine fell asleep right away in his arms. He leaned down and rested his forehead against hers. The walls that he built and the lies he believed fell so fast to let her in.

Dada. Bo.

He squeezed his eyes shut as a sigh escaped. He’ll kill a thousand men just to keep Jasmine safe, to keep you happy and well, to keep what lever type of… family? Relationship? What is the best word to say? But he looked down at Jasmine as if she was his own, and a grin formed. Bo will fight off every and any monster that dare comes near his home.

***********

Later that night, you woke to the sound of your bedroom door opening and feet shuffling across the floor. Turning, you found Bo in sleeping pants, shirtless, and holding Jasmine in his arms. Her head rested against his shoulder as he swayed slightly back and forth with his eyes closed. You heard him hum a lullaby low and soft just for her. When his eyes parted, he made eyes contact with you, smiled, and laid her back down ever so slowly and gently.

Bo turned his heels and tucked you back in. “Rest, Mama,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on your temple. “It’ll be a long day tomorrow.” Then Bo turned and left the room, closing the door silently.

What a beautiful mess that’s unraveling right in front of you.

[vanishingcherry]

Hi! I see the requests are open so can I get social media au for Ollie Bearman with camille pidoux as the y/n face claim? (I'll drop the detail of request and the face claim's intagram on the next one)

based on this request. hii! thank you sooo much for your request, i absolutely loved the details and tried to make it as perfect as possible.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

(EXTRA)ORDINARY LOVE

liked by yourusername, mickschumacher and 84,975 others

olliebearman date nights with my love

view all 9,850 comments

olliefan1 this is like a hair appreciation post

formula1forever its the way we dont even know what she looks like but everyone is already simping over her

↳ olliefan2 its her vibes... theyre captivatingly powerful

olliefan3 I JUST WANNA KNOW HER NAME PLS OLLIE

olliesmysterygf we love someone who loves books

For as long as you could remember, Ollie Bearman had been in your life. Your parents claimed that the two of you met in 4th grade, but you could swear you had known him much longer. It was as though your brain was engraved with images and stories from his childhood, his old picture-books being your main source of entertainment at his home.

The two of you were inseparable growing up. Everyone gave up at some point, your parents, teachers and even friends. You came as a set, and that didn't change when you started dating.

Admittedly, you had been hesitant at first. You loved him, there was no doubt of that. It was clear as day to the both of you as well as everyone else. He loved you too, more than he thought possible. But his career prospects meant he would be far away from home majority of the year. Quite simply, you were afraid he would forget about you one day, leaving you behind, heartbroken and alone. Even as friends you found it hard when he left, it felt like the other piece of you was no longer there.

However, in classic Ollie fashion, he managed to convince you. Alongside a plethora of gifts and little notes, he made a promise to never do anything to hurt you or let you forget your worth. Till date he had kept that promise, not once giving you reason to worry.

The two of you were older now, no longer little kids running around in the backyard after school, but the intensity of your love was the same. Although you couldn't be with him in person all the time, you cherished the moments you could. You went on dates all the time, simple and quiet ones, but they were incredible nonetheless.

Ollie would regularly take you to bookstores, feeding into your love of reading. He didn't read much himself, and was perfectly content sitting back and watching you pick out things to read, looking over the back cover before bringing them back for him to hold. He didn't mind, he'd do anything for you. You were perhaps one of the few people in his life who had never used him for his fame, never befriended him with the sole purpose of scoring passes to a race. It was why he had vowed to himself to never lose you, he understood how rare it was to find someone who cared as much as you did.

Another sign of Ollie being perfect was the fact that your cat absolutely adored him. The moment Ollie entered a room, your cat would forget about everything else entirely, although you understood why, you sometimes wished you could do the same as well.

You loved him, and he loved you. That was all you knew, and all you needed to know.

liked by yourfriend, olliebearman and 234 others

yourusername a little bearman appreciation post (because no matter what, ill always love you)

view all 56 comments

yourbff HIS HAIR IN THE SECOND PICTURE

↳ olliebearman ITS HELMET HAIR LEAVE ME ALONE

olliebearman thank you my love ❤️

↳ yourusername ❤️

yourfriend you guys are so cute together!

liked by yourfriend, arthurleclerc, kimiantonelli and 23,985 others

olliebearman so, so proud and so delighted to tell you that the love of my life got into cambridge! shes the genius out of the two of us, if you couldn't tell... i love you so much darling! ❤️

view all 8,475 comments

olliefan4 CAMBRIDGE? DAMN RIGHT SHES A GENIUS

f2fan ollie is a genius too, he was smart enough to get the prettiest person ive ever seen

↳ olliefan5 yes bcs i want that pink sweater so bad

olliefan6 he brings her flowers that so sweet

↳ bearboy and the way the flowers match her outfit too like this man thought of everything

liked by yourusername, arthurleclerc, f2 and 205,987 others

olliebearman it seems you have found her... so i present to you the most wonderful person in the world- my girlfriend yn.

view all 9,857 comments

olliefan7 not the emphasis on "my girlfriend" like that man knows were gonna try and steal her

yourusername thank you bebe

↳ olliebearman ❤️

↳ olliefan8 SHES COMMENTING ON HIS POSTS NOW

↳ olliefan9 yes cause we know who she is now

olliefan10 SHES SO PRETTY NO WAY

olliefan11 watch this account become a yn fanpage now bcs honestly i would do the same

[lil-elle]

Girl queen I NEED the hickey imagine thing I pinky promise I’ll do the full ones well 😭😞

FINEEEE

XIKERS Hyung line when you give them a Hickey

pairs: bf!xikers x fem!reader

genre: established relationship, fluff, suggestive

word count: 697

content: marking, kisses

a/n: idk if i'll so maknae line for this...but if anyone wants it, lemme know i guess 🤕

Minjae:

Wouldn't even notice it at first until he's trying to put his contacts in while getting ready for work the next morning

Wide eyed shock at first, his fingers rubbing at it to try and get it off like it’s a stain and not a bruise

Mega blushes when he finally fully processes what it is, his mind going back to the night before and remembering the exact moment you gave it to him, face only getting redder

Would walk up to you awkwardly holding his hand against it, before showing you and asking for concealer

You'd apologetically cover it up for him, feeling guilty, but right before he leaves he'd whisper “even though you covered it up…I like being marked by you.” and then he'd run out before seeing your reaction

-

Junmin:

You wouldn't even realise you'd done it until you two are sleepy cuddling up to each other after waking up the next morning

You'd bury into his neck, coming face to face with a purple bruise. Your “Oh…oh…” would grab his attention and he'd grab his phone to look, his mouth falling open when he sees it

You’d hide away into the pillow, embarrassed and thinking he thought it was weird or was upset at you but he'd suddenly put his phone down and pull you into an embrace

His body would be so hot and you'd barely hear him whisper “I'm all yours…” making your heart go crazy

Whenever you make out again, he'd be pushing your head down towards his neck, wanting you to leave marks, and you'd happily oblige

-

Sumin:

Notices after taking a shower in the morning and can only chuckle, unable to tease you for it since he leaves your neck looking like a Jackson Pollock painting

They type to keep them uncovered in front of the guys to show off and make you feel embarrassed, loving how your shy face looks

“I've taught you well” he'd tease, watching your face go red. You'd swear you'll never do it ever again but it's a promise made to be broken and he knows that

Would suggest you to leave more on other places on his body but you'd cut him off telling him to shush because you're already way too flustered and he just smirks down at you

He'd eventually regret encouraging you when he ends up covered in bruises practically impossible to cover before he needs to go to work or visit family (payback)

-

Jinsik:

Wouldn't notice until someone else pointed it out to him, immediately going bright red upon hearing the word “hickey” (he's a shy baby, give him a break 💔)

He'd immediately run to you, frantically questioning if it was true, to which you'd nod as your face goes red

He'd pretty much die, just sink to the floor flustered and embarrassed, especially embarrassed that someone else noticed before he did

Once he finally sees himself in the mirror, he'd be surprised about how much he likes the look of it on him, once again feeling flustered

You doing it to him Would prompt him to want to try it with you. He'd definitely get carried away, giving you way too many and forcing you to wear a scarf out the next day even if it's summer

-

Hyunwoo:

Before he's even had the chance to rub the tiredness from his eyes, his jaw is dropped, brain too fuzzy to even remember you doing that to him last night

Way too flustered for no reason, despite the fact he gives them to you all the time, perhaps he's not used to the idea of you giving one to him

Locks the bathroom door and tries to cover it up himself, inevitably making a mess and wasting a lot of your make-up (forgive him)

You'd eventually question what the ruckus is, and he'd defeatedly let you in to see the mess. You wouldn't be able to hold back a laugh at his horrible foundation application job

You'd help him clean up and apologise but he'd explain in a hurried tone that he actually likes it but he's just embarrassed. He's so endearing 🥹

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed @ihyeokzu @cake1box @chiiyuuvv

[nariism]

chaos makes the muse

pair. hayakawa aki x gn!reader

content: enemies to lovers, fluff, mentions of addiction and smoking cigarettes (negatively, i'm sorry smokers pls look away), reader is a little shit and aki is sick and tired, swearing

synopsis. aki's life is defined by bad decisions and terrible habits. it culminated in you. he's screwed.

wc. 6.2k (oops)

a/n: this is my preemptive apology for all the smokers out there who i just slandered !! i am so sorry i love you. this fic was meant to be experimental with tropes and dynamics i've never tried before, sorry if it's not entirely up to standard :') i really tried my best guys... enjoy!

it started as a challenge.

it always starts as a challenge for aki — from the lit end of his cigarette to the place where it sits dangerously between his teeth. he picked it up as a bad habit from himeno. that was his first challenge; the way he'd adamantly refused to smoke but ultimately caved over a lukewarm bowl of ramen. what a depressing tale.

it wasn't meant to be anything more than a "why the hell not?" sort of defiance against the universe.

he hadn't been broken in by devil hunting yet and didn't need it as something to take the edge off. oh, how he wishes he could go back in time and slap himself silly.

day by day he found his reliance grew. an unpleasant itch in his throat, an insatiable craving that would slam into his chest and leave him breathless at the most inconvenient times. sometimes he would start muttering to himself in irritation when he got that familiar itch right after brushing his teeth.

as he got older and worked a little longer as a devil hunter, he grew less and less sane the longer he went without a smoke.

that was the second challenge; trying to focus on his jobs when his brain was buzzing with need. it was hard to stay sharp when he could feel the box sitting in his front pocket — agonizing, teasing, mocking him.

it's probably the reason he ended up in this mess in the first place, standing across from makima while she lists off all the ways he messed up on his last job. and the list is long. he must have really needed a dart.

so here he is, back turned to the door as he faces makima head-on. his fingers instinctively drum against the pocket of his pants, along the box sitting there, and all he can think is "i can't wait to get out of here for a smoke."

then the door swings open. a chill runs down his spine before he even turns around, because there's a certain air that enters the room unlike any he's felt before.

he's encountered the scariest devils out there. his whole family was taken out by a gargantuan gun-infested lovecraftian monster. but for some reason, aki gets an unfamiliar wave of horror that washes over him when he finally turns around.

"this is your new temporary partner until i'm sure you can be trusted alone on another mission."

and there you are. his third challenge.

you seem too relaxed to have been in this business for long, though it looks like you could only be a year or two younger than him. there's something about you that ticks him off. you're not a fiend — definitely not with how plain you are, but the way you're scowling at him as if he's a disease on this earth makes him second guess it.

aki can't even hear what makima is talking about anymore, too busy melting into a puddle under your heavy, judgemental glare. silence fills the room and aki is acutely aware that he's supposed to introduce himself, but you're too quick to speak and beat him to the punch.

"you smoke," is your deadpan and rather uncalled for observation.

"yes i do. and?"

you scrutinize him with a sneer, clearly disgusted.

"i don't like the smell of smoke. or smokers."

his jaw nearly drops at your bluntness. for the sake of keeping his cool exterior intact, he steels himself and takes a deep breath. it's fine. he knew how to deal with handfuls like you, like denji, like power. trouble kids. this would be easy–

"i promise you, i'll be uncooperative and keep you as a hostage in lower paying jobs until you quit."

"you... can't be serious?"

"dead serious."

"... and who the hell are you again?"

"i don't tell people my name."

"this whole mysterious act sucks. and your attitude sucks, too."

your glare sharpens at his words and you huff like a child throwing a tantrum. he almost wants to laugh at how your expression has changed. instead, he holds out his hand with a resigned sigh. "alright, alright. i'm sorry. my name is hay-"

you slap his hand away; a wordless warning accompanied by another look that makes him shrink back.

"don't care. didn't ask."

makima smiles, cruel and knowing. "i'm glad to see the two of you getting along. you're dismissed."

aki knows he shouldn't be mad at makima. it was his fault in the first place that the devil got away, and only because he was so distracted. this was a fair punishment for such a severe mess up. if this was her way of teaching him a lesson, he would just have to grit his teeth and bear through it.

he stares you down with disdain sitting under his tongue, bitter and unforgiving like the aftertaste of his black coffee in the morning; like having a mouthful of power and denji's burnt breakfast; like the tar that coats his lungs.

"fine then, be that way. nice to meet you, partner."

aki's mornings start slow.

they always have, for as long as he can remember. he wakes up just after the crack of dawn, to which denji has called him sick in the head multiple times for, and spends his time unwinding before he inevitably has to go into work and be on high alert for ten hours straight.

it's a peaceful morning like any other. he's on his balcony overlooking the quiet streets of tokyo. denji and power haven't woken up yet, so he has at least a few moments of solitude (which he so desperately needs, by the way).

he cracks open a new box of cigarettes and shakes one into his hand. he's two seconds away from flicking open his lighter to start his morning smoke when–

"i told you i don't like smokers."

aki nearly falls off the balcony in surprise, whipping around to see the intruder. you're standing there with another frown on your face. he has to wonder if you can smile at all.

"how did you get into my apartment?!"

"huh? the front door. are you stupid?"

"but–" aki's head tilts so that he can peer over your shoulder. there's no sign of anyone else being awake to let you in, which means you must have just taken the liberty of waltzing on in here unannounced. "don't sneak up on me like that. i could have hurt you."

"why would you do that?"

"excuse me? because you just broke into my apartment, for fuck's sake."

"i didn't!" you argue back defensively, fumbling in your pocket to pull out a key. and in that moment, aki realizes something deeply, deeply terrible. just as makima had sprung the role of babysitter onto him with denji and power, she has now bestowed upon him possibly the most irritating human being ever born.

this can’t be happening. he couldn’t possibly get stuck with a third unbearable roommate. what kind of shitty karma does he have?

"i... i need a minute."

your tongue clicks in annoyance. "hurry up. i want to leave for work asap."

"just go in yourself. i can meet you there later."

"i don't have a car."

it's as if thunder claps in his ears. "you... don't... have a car..." he repeats back to you slowly, utterly defeated. "at least let me finish getting ready."

you eye the cigarette still held between his fingers with nothing but contempt. "i don't like–"

"yes, yes, i get it! you don't like the smell of smoke. you don't like me."

your face scrunches slightly as you fall silent. if he didn't think you were being such a pest right now, he might have thought you looked a little cute.

"it hurts my nose."

"you have a sensitive nose or something?"

"or something."

his eye twitches.

aki very quicky learns that when you don't like how things are done, you're very vocal about it. and not only are you vocal, if he ever decided to be stubborn you would take actions into your own hands.

he can't count how many times you've stomped up to him in the middle of a job just to slap the cigarette straight out of his mouth and snuff it out with your heel. he's starting to get antsy because of it.

you're a menace. sometimes he even finds that a box of cigarettes he had purchased the night before has mysteriously ended up drenched at the bottom of the bath. it's infuriating.

he doesn't understand how someone could be so intolerant to a scent. he knew it was unpleasant, but he would like to think that he has impeccable enough hygiene to at least be passable. hell, even denji and power don't seem to notice or care.

(not that it's a very high bar to clear when it comes to them. denji once ate a kid's half-chewed leftovers off the table at mcdonalds and said it was a waste of food. aki was not pleased.)

it's not until he's known you for exactly sixty-two days that he learns the truth. two agonizing months of taking a single drag before you come over to him and snatch the cancer stick right out from under his nose.

aki isn't sure how he never noticed — the minute twitch of your nose when you were drawing closer to a devil. the way your shoulders stilled as you held your breath around denji and power.

he thought you were just a regular human being. he should have known makima wouldn't have paired him with someone normal. you were makima's personal devil tracker.

"it's this way," you tell him as you lead him further into the tunnel. it's almost pitch black. aki can't get a read on anything around him.

"how do you know?"

you look at him with an brow raised, like he just asked a really dumb question. "i can smell it."

"you can smell it?"

"i can smell it,” you repeat in confirmation.

"you're insane. there's nothing down here. let's just go back and regroup with–"

you suddenly swivel around, the flashlight in your hand beaming into his face. he has to cover them with a hand as he scowls at you for temporarily blinding him.

"no! it's here! it would just be easier to find if someone wasn't masking up its scent!"

aki's eyes roll into the back of his head at your little jab. "don't waste my time. i have better things to be doing than babysitting you down here."

he gestures dramatically for you to continue walking, shuffling around in his pocket before pulling out a dart. you glower at him distastefully.

"are you for real right now? you can't go 5 minutes without a smoke?"

he just shrugs, lighting it as he trails behind you. "if i need one then i need one."

"i can't believe you. you're seriously so childish," you sputter out, turning around to glare at him.

aki just sighs tiredly, blowing smoke into your face.

he can't wrap his head around why denji and power have taken such a liking to you.

you're rude and blunt and shameless with your remarks. if he was irrational he might have knocked you out by now for constantly swiping darts out of his mouth.

your relationship is purely obligatory. there's a level of mutual trust between you and him; there has to be for the two of you to be a partially functioning team of hunters — but even then, you bicker. and as soon as you're home, you rush into your room in a flurry of curse words and bites that leave aki grumbling to himself.

he doesn't get it. there's not an ounce of appeal.

you have a plain style and an even less exciting personality. he also thinks you have an ugly attitude problem and act like a brat when you want something from him. he always caves, too, which is the worst part — it's some unawakened big brother instinct that he never got to feel as a kid.

he spoils you too much for your own good. 

don't want carrots in your curry tonight? fine. he doesn't want to hear you complaining about it, or worse, flinging them around the room with power. again.

saw something at the hundred yen store on the way home? whatever. it's just a hundred yen. if you want it then he'll buy it even if it's something as stupid as a charm for your keychain.

and he hates that you find it all so sentimental, the cheap little trinkets he gets for you. he absolutely loathes the fact that you lug them all around with you. they clink and jingle as you walk around, a clear dead giveaway when you're trying to be stealthy during a job.

(the kicker? it's so endearing that he can't even find it in himself to scold you for it. he despises you for making him even consider calling you cute.)

he should have grown a stronger resolve about this sort of thing. otherwise, he would have been coming home unscathed tonight.

he exhales in exhaustion as he watches you retreat into your room again for the night before he shuffles over into the bathroom and sits at the edge of the tub. he had just bought you a little bracelet with a bell charm on it, jingling with every step you took. it was a grave mistake to bring it into enemy territory.

as much as he would love to place the blame on you, he can't. not when you're so much less experienced out in the field than he is, and not when you were so reserved the entire ride home.

it was his fault. he should have known better.

you were eerily silent as you drove (he was in no condition to drive, so despite his reluctance handing you his car keys, he really had no choice). there was a look on you that was unrecognizable — something morphed between guilt and worry.

he usually doesn't smoke in the confines of his apartment, taking his cigarettes outside where it'll smell less. but he needs one badly right now, and who are you to stop him in his own home?

he catches his reflection in the mirror above the sink. it hits him then how much of a mess he is right now; hair disheveled and masking his vision, blood staining his white button-up, sweat sticking to his forehead and smoke rising to veil half of his face.

aki doesn't get paid enough for this.

"you look like shit."

his eyes flutter closed at the sound of your voice from the door. you invite yourself in, standing a few feet away from him with a hand covering your nose.

"smell like it, too."

"yeah, i bet," he mumbles, pulling the dart from between his teeth to blow smoke in your direction like he always does when you’re pissing him off. you wave it away with a scowl.

"that was rude."

"speak for yourself."

"you suck."

"did you come in here just to be a bother?"

your face twists and he almost bursts out laughing at the constipated expression you give him. you fumble a little with your sleeves, gaze falling to the floor as you stand there like a kid who just threw up and needs their mom to come clean it up.

"do you need help?" you ask him, voice nearly inaudible.

he considers it for a second before his eyes drift to the cigarette still lit between his fingers. "no. it's fine. it's probably better if you're not in here with me right now."

"but you're hurt."

"i've been through worse. i'm fine, really," aki raises a brow at you and your strange behaviour, "don't worry about it."

you're silent again for a moment as his words sink in. "i feel bad. i feel like it's my fault." you sound earnest about it, chewing on your bottom lip guiltily.

he exhales loudly in response, shifting his weight a little on the tub so he can unbutton his shirt. "okay, okay. quit making that face. it's creeping me out."

you huff at his words but surprisingly offer no rebuttal. you waddle over to him slowly, brows furrowing further with each drag of your feet against the tile floor. he watches you curiously as you rummage through the sink cabinet and kneel in front of him, body resting between his thighs.

if you can feel how warm he gets from the action, you don't bother teasing him about it.

your nose is entirely scrunched up now, though you do your best to hide your clear disdain for the scent of smoke filling your nose.

"you really don't have to do this. i promise i'm okay."

you leer at him stubbornly and he immediately relents, not in the mood for a petty argument. you work quickly and delicately, wrapping his wound in gauze. it's then that he realizes there's no tiny jingle of a bell filling the air as you move, and he looks down to see your empty wrist.

"for the record, it wasn't your fault," he says quietly, hand stopping yours. you don't try and slap it away this time, but falter a bit.

"... you don't have to try to be nice to me."

"i'm not trying to be nice. i'm just telling you how it is."

"but–"

"no buts."

your eyes meet his as you peer up at him. you stay still for just a beat before you're wrapping him again, careful not to nick his wound.

are you... crying?

it's subtle, the little tears gathering on your lashes. he might not have realized if it wasn't accompanied by the tiniest of sniffles (which makes you recoil back slightly with the intrusion of smoke filling your lungs).

oh no. he's growing a soft spot for you because of this. the most irritating human on the planet, and he wants to give you a hug so you'll stop crying. what the hell is wrong with him.

aki's hand plops onto the top of your head before either of you realize it's happening. he awkwardly averts his stare.

"don't cry. it's ugly on you."

and it really is, because why else would his heart be having such a violent reaction to it?

for a second he anticipates the sharp sting of your hand smacking his away again, or maybe you'll even be so angry that you'll tilt your head up and sink your teeth into him like a rabid animal. 

but you don't. you laugh — a real genuine laugh that makes him dizzy.

he's never been able to picture you with a smile on your face before. you always look feral, like you're about to launch at him and tear his skin off, or so tired that you can't even keep your eyes open anymore.

he sucks in a deep breath as he watches you laugh, blinking the tears out and wiping them up with your sleeve.

you don't say anything to him in response, instead giggling to yourself as you bandage him up the rest of the way. and he doesn't say anything either, not wanting to ruin something so special.

aki realizes that there's still a cigarette he's unconsciously rolling between his fingers. he hasn't taken a drag in so long that it's starting to extinguish itself. and despite the smell of smoke filling the room, you haven't stopped cleaning his wound and wrapping him.

he crushes it up in his hand and drops the ashes into the tub behind him.

he really should quit.

there's a shift in aki in the following weeks.

it's almost palpable — the way he speaks a little softer. a little more tender. kinder. and you can smell it, too; the scent of smoke slowly disappearing over time (not entirely, mind you, but it's the thought that counts).

you first noticed it when you came home from mcdonalds with denji, fries stuffed into your cheeks as you blinked down at aki who was on his hands and knees wiping down every square inch of the apartment.

"come on man, we're not that messy for you to be doing all that..." denji complained while scratching his balls. but aki didn't dignify him with a response, dutifully using a sponge and warm soapy water to scrub at the walls.

you observed him in secrecy later that night, peering into the bathroom as he dumped out the bucket of brown water. he was scrubbing the apartment clean of two years worth of smoke.

it didn't end there. as the months passed, you started smelling it on aki less, too.

once he smoked he would shower right away, even going so far as to pull over on the way home one night and use a public bathhouse. when he could he would change his clothes, too. his sudden change in lifestyle made it significantly more tolerable to linger around him. no longer were you holding your breath until your lungs ached in your ribcage.

aki also took notice of your change in behaviour in response. it was easier to be around you when you weren't constantly whining about his smell.

he didn't think he was being so obvious in the way he was starting to enjoy your company day by day. you still gave him migraines like no other, and he couldn't stand your attitude. but he couldn't help but find your quirks a little charming, at least a bit funny if nothing else.

he wasn't aware that a very watchful (and perverted) pair of eyes was picking up on his signs.

it's a quiet morning with the fan blowing. you and power are still dead to the world and aki has just settled down to have his breakfast.

"so like, what's the deal with you two anyways?"

he glances up from his food with a tilt of the head.

"what are you talking–"

"cause i mean, i totally saw you checking out their ass yesterday." at denji's remark, aki almost chokes on his rice.

"what? i absolutely was not." he guffaws at the blond as if he's ludicrous.

"riiiight... so, you're not into each other then? what's with the looks?"

"what looks?"

denji makes it a point to be theatrical in his renditions of the previous night, sighing dreamily and fluttering his lashes.

"like that."

"... just eat your breakfast, man. you're imagining things."

"nah, but i'm not. c'mon, you don't like them even a little?"

"no."

"liar."

"denji..." aki strains the name out through grit teeth — a warning.

"what'cha guys talkin' about?"

god no. aki can't do this today. not right now. it's too early in the morning.

"we were just talking about how lovey-dovey aki's been lately."

"ohoho, so he finally admits it?" power sits across the table, suddenly interested in conversation.

"i didn't admit anything..." aki puts his chopsticks down with a frustrated sigh, "and what the hell do you mean finally?"

"he totally did admit it. and you should have seen the two of them yesterday—"

"dude, i'm going to kick you in the balls."

"let me have a turn!"

"will you two stop already? i'm getting a headache."

it's a horrible conversation, honestly. a terrible, horrific, unforgiving realization that they might be even a small fraction correct. 

this whole household is the bane of his existence.

this thought sticks with him all day; they're going to be the death of me. why me, universe? why me? it doesn't stop until he finally settles into bed at the end of his long day and lets his eyes slide shut for some well-deserved sleep.

there's laughter echoing in his ears, nothing more than a dreamy hallucination as he drifts in and out of sleep. it's sweet and rare and beautiful — he wants to capture it in a bottle and get drunk off of it.

just as aki is about to fall asleep, there's a gentle knock at the door. he stirs awake again with a soft groan, sitting up in bed.

"come in."

in you walk, hands clasped in front of you as you stare at your feet. "i had a nightmare."

he scoffs, but he's climbing out of bed and trodding over to you anyways. "what are you, a child? what'd you come to me about that for?"

"jerk."

he considers you quietly, focusing on the bags under your eyes and the way you shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze.

"well what do you want me to do?"

you chew on your lip for a moment. "can i sleep in here?"

"with me?"

"with you."

aki looks at you like you've lost your mind. "no," he says immediately. you wouldn't get a very restful sleep if you were suffocating in the lingering smell of smoke.

he expects you to put up a fight like you always do when things don't go your way. he even braces himself for the onslaught of names you'll call him.

it never comes. instead:

"okay."

quiet and resigned and tired. and he hates that it makes his stomach drop, because next thing he knows his hand is shooting forward to capture your wrist as you retreat.

"god, quit looking so sad. you're the worst," he tells you as he drags you back into the room and unceremoniously tosses you onto his bed.

"dickwad," you bite back weakly. aki can only roll his eyes in response as he takes half his pillows and blankets to make a temporary bed on the floor for himself. you watch him curiously.

"you're not sleeping in the bed?"

"you wouldn't be able to sleep if you were that close to me."

"... right."

"goodnight," he huffs, settling onto the uncomfortably hard wooden floor. a hush settles over the room and he assumes you've either fallen asleep or are trying to, until you start shuffling around for a couple seconds. he can hear your mouth opening and closing, as if you’re deciding whether or not to say something.

"what is it now?" aki sighs, rolling onto his side to peek at you. you're already facing him, balled up into the blanket.

"can i hold your hand at least?"

he gawks at you for a second before recomposing himself. it's just hand holding, who cares? not him. not even a bit.

(liar.)

"fine," he mumbles, slowly reaching up to offer his hand. you take it tentatively, fingers gently curling around his. his brain almost explodes into malfunctioning, heart stopping in his chest.

you blink at each other, gazes steady and unwavering. then your eyes flutter closed as you pull the blanket up and over the bottom half of your face.

"hayakawa?"

"what?" he studies you, watching the way your expression changes ever so slightly.

soft, relaxed.

"thank you."

some part of aki knows he shouldn't be trying to memorize every part of you like this, but he does it anyways.

devil hunters don't get attached to others. they don't, and they can't. but aki can't help it. it was his worst habit — worse than smoking, actually.

he was always getting emotionally involved when it came to his partners. he couldn't go to sleep anymore thinking about the fact that you would have to go in the next day and face whatever horrible devil got assigned to you. there was a sickness that gurgled in his stomach when he pictured your ragged corpse, unmoving and lifeless at his feet.

it stresses him out beyond reason, even though you're in the next room over perfectly alive and breathing. and when aki is stressed, he reaches for a cigarette.

he thinks he's being quiet, and since you should be asleep he figures just one wouldn't hurt. so he sneaks out onto his balcony for a smoke, leaning over the edge of the railing so that he can observe the empty streets below.

for some reason, he hesitates for a moment as he brings it to his lips. he doesn't even get to light it before he's once again rudely interrupted.

"you're smoking."

it's as if you have a secret sense for when he's about to smoke. or maybe you can just smell them when he taps them out of the box. either way, it irks him.

aki sighs, hand slowly lowering and dangling over the railing. he doesn't even try to deny it as he glances over his shoulder at you. you're leaning against the door frame with your arms crossed. you don't seem as irritated as you usually do, instead regarding him steadily in slight defeat.

it makes his heart ache, so he flicks the unlit dart off the balcony and watches it disappear into the darkness of the street below.

"it's unhealthy, you know."

"i know."

"so why?"

"you think i chose to be this way?" in some ways he did, but he'd never tell you that.

silence befalls you as you join his side, resting your elbows on the railing. it's a calm night; a gentle breeze blows the hair from your face when you turn to look at him.

you wordlessly examine him, and he does the same. you’re more exhausted than usual, wilted like a flower starved for water. he knows it must be draining trying to keep up with someone in a special division — especially since you don't seem to be anything more than a bomb dog for makima, sniffing out where devils are hiding. he doesn't blame you for being so tired.

"hey," he frowns at you.

"what?"

"are you ever going to tell me your name?"

"no."

"seriously?"

"seriously."

he lets out a tiny groan of annoyance before he gets an idea. "if i quit smoking, would you tell me?"

you survey him cautiously. "i'd consider it."

aki runs a hand through his long hair in contemplation, looking out toward the complex across from his. "i don't get how people just quit on a whim. doesn't seem possible."

"they have stuff for that. like, chewing gum or nicotine patches or whatever." he huffs as you continue, "you just need to find something to take your mind off of it. something that satisfies your craving."

"yeah? way easier said than done. also, i don't know if i like being lectured by the likes of–"

"you'd be too irritating if you were addicted to anything else, anyways," you dismiss your own idea, completely ignoring the glare you're receiving from aki.

"you're annoying, you know that? worse than denji. worse than power, somehow." but he wants to take care of you anyways.

"am i?" you challenge defiantly, turning to face him completely.

"the worst. honest to god, i've considered quitting my job because of you." but he hasn't, has he?

"have you now?"

"what the hell was makima thinking, trying to get me to quit smoking by sending her tracker after me?" he should be thanking her, really.

you answer him honestly, voice quiet as you allow him to unconsciously enter your personal space in his rant of frustration. "i don't know."

he only realizes he's standing too close to you when your nose twitches slightly and your brows furrow — indicators that the faint but lingering smell of smoke on him is giving you a headache.

"sorry."

he starts to pull back with a defeated noise, but then your hands shoot forward and gently cling to his sweater. he looks at you inquisitively. you seem surprised by your own actions, too.

aki is forced to reconcile with the fact that he doesn’t want to take his eyes off of you. in his almost twenty-one years alive, he's never stood so close to someone before. it's taking a real toll on him.

a heavy fog of tension settles between you as you stand there, having a stare down both out of stubbornness and curiosity as to why the other hasn't pulled away yet.

"i don't know what's wrong with me... i don't think i want you to go inside yet. stop making me feel stupid," you complain, admitting your words shamelessly.

you watch as aki blinks at you before he shakes his head in exasperation. 

"what am i going to do with you?"

there's a smile on his face as he says it, tiny and subtle. you would have missed it if he wasn't slowly inching closer and closer to you. and you let him despite the suffocating smell of smoke invading your senses again.

it occurs to him that the only things he has ever kissed are his wounds as he dresses them in bandages, himeno when she was wasted once, and the papery end of a cigarette.

you taste much sweeter than any of them.

maybe it was just easy for aki to fall into addictions. he was weak-willed in that sense. always has been.

and he always chose the absolute worst things in the world to get addicted to; revenge, smoking, and now you. he couldn't stand being in the same room as you anymore. not when he so desperately craved your lips on his.

it started as a casual thing; a small peck here, a sneaky kiss there, nothing jaw dropping. and you didn't seem to mind it all too much, allowing him to linger a little longer every time he leaned back in.

it was becoming a problem. a very serious one. he couldn't focus anymore. it was worse than smoking, so much so that everytime he wanted to reach for a box of cigarettes, he would end up coming to you instead.

there was something about you he wanted to preserve. a fondness grew in his heart, replacing the scream of annoyance that would fill his lungs and threaten to spill out every time he laid eyes on you.

you were something he wanted to keep. something to protect. someone to fill the silence when no one else would.

aki liked bickering with you. he found normalcy in it, as if he'd spent his whole life doing it. and sometimes it really did feel that way — as if he'd spent lifetimes before this one by your side.

it's why he clings to you so tightly when he almost loses you.

you're perched in his lap as he holds you, slowly running your fingers through his untied hair. the driver's seat of the car wasn't built for two people to sit; his legs are far too cramped to be comfortable and your knees are pressed harshly into his thighs.

he doesn't care. aki has never cared so much until he met you.

he's robbing you of air, clinging to you so tightly that you can barely move. he can hear you complaining against his lips, but he can't bring himself to stop.

"stop doing this to me," he hisses, knocking his forehead into yours so that he can stare into your soul. "it's ridiculous. i hate you. i hate you."

he kisses you again to bury the familiar lump growing in his throat.

"i told you to fucking stay put. why can't you just listen to me? you could have died. what would i have done then, huh?" you don't answer him, instead cupping his cheeks to try and calm him down.

"you're stupid and reckless and fuck — what would i do without you?" he closes his eyes when your nose brushes against his; a silent apology.

"i hate how much you mean to me, i hate your stupid laugh and your voice and how awful it makes me feel when you look sad. i hate that you keep all the worthless shit i buy you on the way home from work and i hate that you stand so close even after a smoke–" aki's jaw tenses to try and dam the outburst spilling out of him, but he can’t.

"–i hate that i love you. i hate it. i hate you. fuck! i love you–"

he's out of breath by the time he finishes getting his words out, his fingers digging into your hips almost painfully. you blink down at him as you brush the hair from his face.

he’s always so composed, even when he's being mean to you. it's rare to see him worked up like this. you can't help but smile.

"... don't just smile at me, idiot. say something," he pleads quietly, head falling against your shoulder as he keeps you in place.

he squeezes his eyes shut when your fingers thread carefully through his undone hair once again, raking the knots out smoothly. he melts in your touch until your hands leave his scalp and gather up his face again so you can look at him.

there's no tiny twitch of your nose. no furrowing of your brows. no stilling of your chest as you hold your breath. actually, he's never seen you so openly inviting.

"can i kiss you?" aki asks this time, voice hoarse.

you nod, and his whole world comes apart. he takes his time memorizing every curve of your lips against his, the taste of you, the little gasps of air you suck in as he seals his claim on you with his mouth.

"aki..." you murmur his given name against his lips, over and over and over. you whisper it between kisses that leave you breathless. and he swallows your voice, allowing himself to revel in the way his name sounds on your tongue.

he didn't smell of smoke anymore. he didn't taste like death and ash, either — he was just aki.

hayakawa aki, 20, professional devil hunter and resident cynic, who you're hopelessly in love with.

“aki?”

“yeah?”

"do you still want to learn my name?"

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

🏷️ @k0z3me @aanobrain (bye ily hope you enjoy this one art)

crossposted to ao3!