#the color profile kept fucking up
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two freshly graduated girls moving across the world to the big city! What will they do....maybe they'll fall in love someday.....
Closer look on baby Naz and Nina's passports! And here's the template if you're interested (thank you @crescents-sims for it, it's so cool!!!)
#puffer legacy extras#the sims 4#ts4#ts4 edit#sims 4 edit#simblr#maxis match#nina azuma#naz terzi#i literally fought for my life to upload the on the table edit#the color profile kept fucking up#it would desaturate when i put it in the post#anyways if you have this problem export as in photoshop and check imbed color profile#dont care about posting this late i fought for this#i want my victory lap#like and subsrcibve
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So JJK is over and my LMK brainrot is back , added with the fact i am playing a MOBA game and am being blessed with delicious illustrations
it prompted me to make this
Now i am going to ramble about this because this is the first time in forever where i kinda pushed myself to make a FULL art piece-
I will be standing for this-
Let me tell you, i had no confidence in this and the composition was supposed to be way different, but this still happened.
This took two days because i kept procrastinating , walking around my room dreading drawing the background
BIG ADVICE FOR BEGINNER ARTISTS
Watch speedpaints. You will learn so much by watching the process and that was this for me
I have the tendency to kinda burn myself out and finish everything in a day and then never actually finishing. Tried something different for this and made a cheap silhouette of a sketch, then drew over that and used greys and whites fort the shadows. Then i think i colored everything in a base color (and i finally used a palette) and then i tried to find the lighting and shadow colours. It was weird. And what im saying is that i planned most of it instead of diving head in withour a plan.
Crazy i know-
I also just learned about dpi PROPERLY and unfortunately made my piece so big that it kept stalling paint tool sai-
let me just post the progress shots
I also fucked up macaques reference and fixed it in a whim somewhere. You can see it here. I honestly wasn't planning to follow the lmk at style but that kinda happens when you're starring too much at the references.
There's still a mess and i wanted to render it a bit better ,the way i normally do but i didn't. Anyways i did enjoy the process and i actually miss them so much and i might watch LMK all over again
Especially Wukong and MK
Btw this was supposed to be a moving illustration and i just didn't
I have Live2D but no
(Btw please check out my profile if you have the chance and thank you for reading this! Love you-)
#lmk art#lmk sun wukong#lmk fanart#lmk macaque#lego monkey kid fanart#lego monkie kid#lmk monkey king#lmk shadowpeach#shadowpeach#six eared macaque#lego monkie king#OK BUT I FOUND OUT HOW TO DO THE EFFECT IN THE FIRST AND I FELT LIKE A KID ON CHRISTMAS#btw im sorry i dont ever post anything for any holidays#it will be the same for the chinese new year and valentines day
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Brother (Part 2)
When you start dating Yuuji, you don't know that your sweet sunshine boy has an evil twin who wants to have his brother's girl, too.
Part 1 ++ Halloween Masterlist 2023
Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) + Yuuji x Reader
Genre: Horror, smut
Word Count: 6k
Warnings: 18+, dark content, consensual sex with Yuuji + noncon with Sukuna. Rough sex, degradation, humiliation, getting called slut, whore, cheater. Forced orgasms, pussy spanking, squirting, cumshots, creampie, kind of forced breeding. Sukuna isn't a nice guy in this story. Sukuna and Yuuji look completely alike. Sukuna doesn't have his tattoos. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.
The flashbacks of that night haunt your every thought. The memories of being forced to watch yourself in that dirty bathroom mirror and Sukuna standing behind you with his hands all over your body. His sneer, his mocking laugh. The helplessness you felt. The humiliation of cumming against your will and getting taunted for it.
Sukuna broke you that night. And maybe you would have stayed there on the bathroom floor lying in a puddle of squirt and cum after he was finished with you, waiting for someone to walk in and find you. But there was one thought that kept repeating in your mind over and over again: Yuuji must never find out!
You knew he would blame himself for what his brother had done to you out of jealousy.
And so you scrambled to your feet and hastily cleaned yourself before you stumbled back to the party with a fake smile plastered onto your face. When you spotted Yuuji in the hallway, all your instincts screamed at you to run the other way. He looked too much like his brother.
But you forced yourself to stay and smile as he walked towards you and smiled that big sunshine smile and pulled you into his strong arms.
"Cutie! I was wondering where you went. Did you meet some friends? Oh, why are your clothes wet?"
You forced yourself to lie to him when his gaze trailed over you with a worried expression on his pretty face.
"Oh, I knocked into someone, and she accidentally poured her drink over me. It's ok, baby, don't worry."
You forced yourself to go home with him after the party and sleep in his arms. Arms that felt exactly like the ones that had held you captive.
And since that night, you keep forcing yourself to act like everything is fine. You do it to protect Yuuji from a knowledge that will hurt him.
It's been three days since the party. Three days since you met the evil twin. And the shame and disgust still cling to you.
And the fact that the man who did this to you has the same face as your boyfriend makes this whole thing even more fucked up. Anytime you look at Yuuji, you now also see his brother.
And another thing bothers you: Yuuji lied to you.
You remember your first date very clearly. The typical small talk the two of you exchanged to get to know each other. What are your hobbies? What is your favorite color? Do you have any siblings?
You remember loud and clear that Yuuji said he has no siblings.
You are currently sitting on Yuuji's bed, watching a movie, but all you can do is stare at his side profile, watching him with narrowed eyes. Was it a misunderstanding? You can't stop yourself from blurting out,
"Yuuji? Do you have a brother?"
"Huh?"
Big golden eyes blink at you in surprise, and Yuuji shakes his head,
"I only have my grandpa. Didn't I tell you?"
Your heart is beating too fast. He is doing it again!
"I thought maybe you have a sibling who lives somewhere else....goes to college in another town or something, and you forgot to mention them."
"Oh, I see! But no. I am an only child."
He grins at you, that cute big boyish grin, and stretches, causing his hoodie to ride up and expose some of his firm tan abs before he laughs softly and lunges towards you to wrap you in his strong arms and pull you into one of his bear hugs.
You feel irritation well up in you. Why is he lying to you? Yuuji is such a sweet guy. Always smiling, always helping others, always so sweet and fun to be around. He always seems so genuine. And yet. He is keeping a dark secret from everyone. But why?
Is he worried you will leave him if you find out there is another guy who looks like Yuuji but is a violent and cruel sadist? You blink. Maybe that is it.
It must be hell for Yuuji to have a twin like that. Sukuna said he is the family curse. Now that you think about it, you realize that this is true. He is Yuuji's curse. Anytime Yuuji looks in the mirror, he sees the face of his evil twin. No wonder he doesn't want to talk about Sukuna! No wonder he moved far away from his hometown to attend college here!
But what was Sukuna doing at that party? Did he travel here to visit his brother and then see the two of you at the party? Is he gone again now? Or is he still somewhere near? Is he lurking in the shadows? Is he watching his brother's every move?
You gulp hard. It scares you to think Sukuna might be here, stalking you and Yuuji.
Instinctively, you snuggle closer to your boyfriend, seeking comfort, seeking his protection. And Yuuji reacts to it immediately, cuddling you tightly and pressing a tender kiss to your forehead, sighing softly before he tells you how happy he is to have you and how much he loves you. His lips find yours and kiss you sweetly before they wander down your body, kissing, licking oh so tenderly, the complete opposite of his brother's touch.
Your anger at him has dissipated. Yuuji is a victim, too, cursed with a twin like Sukuna. And so you let Yuuji touch you. You caress his soft pink hair and moan his name as you spread your legs for him willingly when he asks you in that sweet, low voice if he can please eat you out.
And when he is lying on top of you later that night, fucking you into the mattress with deep but loving thrusts, you find yourself digging your nails into the buff muscles of his back, clinging to him, scratching his skin, as if you want to make sure he will never leave again.
You need him here with you. As long as Yuuji is here, you are safe from Sukuna. You wrap your legs tightly around his hips, arching your back to meet his horny thrusts, begging him for a second round, begging him to fuck you again and again and stay inside you all night.
He doesn't know it, but you need him to claim you back. You need the good twin to overwrite what the evil twin did to you.
You feel guilty the next morning when Yuuji gets up and stands before the bed with his back to you, and you see the deep red scratches your nails left on his muscular back.
But he just shrugs and grins that cute sheepish grin at you,
"Don't worry, cutie. It doesn't hurt, and I really loved how you didn't want to let go of me. That was so cute! I love knowing that I made my girl feel good."
It's party time again on Saturday, but you go there with an uneasy feeling. You cannot stop the shudder running down your back. You cannot stop your gaze from wandering restlessly through the room, watching, waiting, worrying.
Is Sukuna somewhere near?
You cling to Yuuji desperately, holding his hand the whole time, hugging him, burying your face in his broad chest, unwilling to let go.
He thinks it's cute that you are so clingy and kisses you sweetly, smiling at you so innocent and sweet. It breaks your heart. You need to protect this smile, this innocence.
You realize with horror that Sukuna isn't just Yuuji's dark secret anymore. He is also yours.
He managed to force his way into your life, into your relationship, into your body, and into your mind.
Yuuji gently pries his hand out of your grasp, smiling apologetically before he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and tells you that he has to use the bathroom real quick.
"I'll be back in a second, cutie!"
You feel like an idiot at how terrified you feel when your boyfriend leaves the room. You stare after him, watching him make his way through the crowd, taller than most of them, his pink hair standing out. Your gaze stays glued to that flash of pink, watching him walk further and further away from you, and with him, the safety you felt leaves you too.
You grab the cold bottle of coke from the table next to you, holding on to it as if it is your lifeline. You feel your breath speed up, and your hands cramp from how tightly you clutch the bottle while your gaze is fixed on the open doorway, heart hammering fearfully in your chest as you count the seconds waiting for Yuuji to come back. This time, you won't leave your spot. You won't wander around alone.
A flash of pink appears in the doorway, and you slump against the wall as a relieved smile lifts your lips. Until your mind provides a disturbing thought. Is that Yuuji? Or is that the wrong twin? How can you be sure this is Yuuji and not Sukuna, who is walking towards you? Isn't that gaze too devilish? Isn't that a smirk instead of a smile?
The relief you felt a moment ago is replaced by panic. Your heart is racing, your vision dancing with black spots. The bottle you were clutching so desperately slips out of your hand and lands on the floor.
You are frozen in place, watching an Itadori twin walk toward you without knowing which one it is. You stare at him like a deer trapped in the headlights, eyes wide, heart hammering wildly.
But then he blinks, and his lips lift in the typical broad smile. You can hear his happy laughter, even across the loud mix of voices.
You exhale loudly and shake your head to clear your thoughts. Stupid. You are so stupid! Of course, this is Yuuji! You curse yourself for being so paranoid and confusing your sweet, loving boyfriend with his evil twin.
Yuuji reaches you and leans down to peck your lips sweetly. He pulls away, and worry washes over his handsome face.
"Are you ok, baby? You look a bit sick. Do you need some cold water? Or some fresh air? Do you want us to leave?"
You smile at him weakly, shaking your head, still feeling shaken but refusing to let the memory of Sukuna ruin your evening.
"No, I'm fine, baby."
You step closer and wrap your arms around him, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him deeply, trying to chase every trace of his twin away. You just have to keep kissing Yuuji. When he kisses you, you know who he is. You know that this is the right twin. That this is your sweet Yuuji.
Your left foot steps in the small puddle of coke, soaking through the canvas of your Converse, dampening your sock uncomfortably, but your lips keep moving against Yuuji's desperately.
You spend the night at Yuuji's, falling asleep in his strong arms, spooned by his warm buff body, finally feeling at ease here in his bed with his body pressing so reassuringly against your back.
But your dreams aren't that comforting.
You dream of a black hallway with hundreds of mirrors lining its walls. On the other end of the hallway stand two men. They both have the same pink hair and undercut. They have the same face and the same build. And they watch you with the same eyes as they both lift a hand, reaching out for you, silently beckoning you over. Come here, come to your boyfriend.
You wake up with a gasp. The red neon digits on the alarm clock tell you it's still the middle of the night. Yuuji's strong arms are still wrapped around you, his body is still pressing against your back, his warm breath is on your neck.
Warm lips close around your skin and suck. You moan softly, pushing your ass against the warm body behind you, rubbing it over the growing bulge in those boxer briefs. Maybe a good fuck with Yuuji will chase away the lingering uneasiness from the bad dream.
The lips on your neck become bolder, sucking roughly on your skin. The arms around you tighten, making you squeak because it's painful. Large, strong hands dig firmly into the soft flesh of your belly.
Your eyes widen, your body turning rigid as fear crashes over you. Cold dread fills your every fiber as you realize this isn't Yuuji behind you.
"Missed me, brat?"
Sukuna's low, mocking laugh fills your ears, and you spiral into the dark again. You tumble from one nightmare into the next. But this time, you can't wake up from it.
How did Sukuna get into Yuuji's apartment? Does he have a key? Or did he break in? And most importantly...
"Wh.. where is Yuuji?"
Sukuna's nails dig painfully into your skin. His voice sounds rough, angry,
"I don't like it when you talk about him while I am with you! You have no manners, brat!"
His hands grab your tits firmly, kneading them roughly through Yuuji's shirt that you wear for the night. The huge hard bulge of his erect cock is rutting firmly against you, letting you know what he will do to you.
And you know there is no escape.
You are once again trapped in the evil twin's arms. You cannot run from him, and you can't even scream, or you will alert Yuuji. Yuuji, who is probably in the kitchen or bathroom, and if he comes in here and sees you with his twin... You must protect him! He must not know!
And that leaves you here in the arms of this monster.
Sukuna shoves one hand under your shirt, groping your tits roughly, squeezing them possessively, and pinching your nipples between his fingers until they sting from a mix of pain and pleasure.
His other hand pushes between your thighs, forcing them apart so he can yank your panties to the side and expose your pussy to him, giving it a mean, hard slap from behind that makes you gasp.
Sukuna's mocking laughter fills your ear.
"Gotta remind that pathetic little cunt again what it feels like to get fucked right."
His unrelenting fingers slip between your pussy lips and push inside you, making tears well up in your eyes. Sukuna doesn't give you time to adjust but starts fingering you instantly, fucking you with two long fingers, hard and fast, making your whole body tremble from fear and pleasure. To your horror, you can hear the filthy squelching noises of your wet cunt, creaming up against your will.
"Oh, do you hear that? Your slutty little cunt is weeping for me. You thought about my cock every day, didn't you? Don't be shy, tell me all about it, slut! Tell me how much you missed getting fucked by me!"
Against your better judgment, you try to beg for his mercy,
"S...Sukuna, please just stop..."
A long finger curls brutally inside your cunt, pressing against your g-spot and massaging it with firm, rough circles, making your thighs press together and your body shake.
"Uh uh, what did I tell you?"
Of course, you should have known there is no mercy in him. You know his game by now, know what he wants. Sukuna fingers you brutally, torturing your g-spot, laughing when your hips jerk uncontrollably. Your resistance breaks, and you sob softly as tears of shame run down your face, and you tell him what he wants to hear,
"I'm sorry... I missed your cock so much, Sukuna. Please fuck me. Please let me cum on your cock again."
He laughs, opening his mouth and letting his canines graze over your neck,
"Bet you thought about me anytime my brother fucked you. A naughty cunt like yours isn't satisfied with a guy like my brother. You cheating little slut need my cock to fuck you right."
Your breath hitches, and your body goes rigid because you know what will come when Sukuna pulls his fingers out of you.
For a moment, your pussy flutters around nothing, but then Sukuna rams his thick hard cock deep into your wet heat, impaling you on his fat length with one brutal thrust.
Long fingers get shoved into your mouth, stuffing it with them, muffling your cries, filling your mouth with the taste of your own juices. You choke around them, but Sukuna just presses them firmer into your mouth, forcing you to take him from two sides, stuffing your cunt and your mouth as he uses you for his sick pleasure.
He humps you like a rabid animal, fucks you with brutal hard snaps of his hips while he groans in your ear, voice filled with glee and arousal,
"Ah yeah, that feels good. My brother fucked that little cunt so often that it molded to our cocks. You're such a dirty little cock slut, so insatiable, huh? Wanting every Itadori dick to fuck you stupid. Good thing you have two of us to fuck that greedy cunt."
His pace is brutal and unrelenting. His fat mushroom head hammers against your g-spot, torturing you with his cock, making your body react to the stimulation against your will, pussy creaming up for him, body jerking from pleasure in his violent hold.
Sukuna growls in your ear as one large hand grabs your wet pussy, keeping you in place, pulling you back against him. You keen around his fingers when he pinches your swollen clit meanly between two fingers, making your hips buck wildly.
"Take my cock, you slut!"
His taut balls slap heavily against your cunt with every rough thrust. Sukuna's fat cockhead is pressed against your g-spot, hitting it brutally, while his fingers attack your clit with rough strokes, rubbing hard, fast circles around it.
It's too much, too intense. The pleasure is hot and red, making your whole body jerk uncontrollably as you cry and sob around Sukuna's fingers. Your cunt shudders and pulses hotly around his brutal cock.
Heat floods your body as an intense orgasm gets forced out of you. Hot and wild, making you cum so hard that you think you will black out from it.
Your body is shaking from the intensity of your orgasm, pussy twitching hard around Sukuna's fat cock, which doesn't go unnoticed by him, of course,
"You little slut. Milking my cock so eagerly. You want more, huh? Want my cum this time? Was the greedy little cockslut sad that I didn't fuck her full last time, hm? Want to have your pussy fucked full like a big girl? Yeah, tonight you're gonna take my cum. I'm gonna fuck that greedy cunt full of it."
He growls, wrapping his arms around you and manhandling you into another position, on your belly, your face pressed into the pillow as Sukuna mounts you from behind. One of his hands is in your hair, grabbing it painfully and pushing your face down, keeping you firmly in place. But you couldn't go anywhere anyways. Not with his heavy body on top of you, fucking you brutally into the mattress.
He fucks his cock into your tight heat with erratic wild thrusts, giving himself over to pure primal need, punishing you with every hard thrust, chasing his orgasm with rough horny thrusts until you feel him cum in you, flooding your pussy with his hot seed.
"Yeah, take all of it, you greedy slut! I hope you get pregnant and have to carry my brat!"
He groans and growls as he leans down, cock still deep in your pussy, as if he wants to plug you up. His voice is amused when his lips brush over your ear,
"Now say thank you, you little slut."
You sob softly, hiding your face in the pillow, crying from the humiliation you feel as you mumble,
"Th... Thank you..."
But Sukuna's fingers twist painfully in your hair and yank your head up, forcing you to look at his sneering face. You hiccup as you stare at him with wide, tear-stained eyes. His mocking smirk looks even more evil here in the dim red glow of the alarm clock's light.
"Where are your manners, brat? Look at me while you thank me."
You sob weakly but force yourself to do as he commands,
"Th.. thank you, Sukuna. Thank you for f... fucking me.. and for g... giving me your cum."
He chuckles at your words, a sound full of mocking and triumph. One of his large hands grabs your chin, strong fingers pressing into your skin as he leans closer to lick over your cheek, licking up your hot tears,
"See, you can be a good girl if you want. It's a shame that I have to leave already, but my brother will be back any second now. 'Til next time, princess. Can't wait to make you cry with my cock again."
He leaves you lying there, pussy throbbing and full of his cum. You feel dirty, debauched, crying softly into the pillow.
You hate Sukuna so much, and you hate yourself, you hate your body, for reacting that way to him. How can you do this to Yuuji? Cumming on his brother's cock right here in Yuuji's bed? Lying here with your pussy filled to the brim with Sukuna's cum, while sweet Yuuji has no clue. Maybe Sukuna is right, and you are really a slut.
The door opens, and your body goes rigid. Which brother is it now? Sukuna or Yuuji? Somehow, both options sound terrifying at the moment. You are scared of Sukuna, but you feel guilty when you think of Yuuji.
You hastily wipe your tears off and force yourself to calm your breathing as you roll onto your side, pretending to be asleep.
The heavy weight of an Itadori man makes the mattress dip as he gets in bed behind you. You gulp hard. You don't dare breathe as a pair of muscular arms slips around you and a warm, buff body presses against your back.
But then a soft kiss is breathed on your neck, and a happy sigh exhaled against your ear.
Yuuji.
Sweet, strong Yuuji.
You snuggle against his buff body instinctively, needing him, needing his love and strength, even while you are drowning in shame and guilt.
Yuuji chuckles happily,
"Aww, hey, cutie, did I wake you up? I'm so sorry. I got hungry and had to make a sandwich. Come here. I'll cuddle you so my princess can sleep again. Or maybe we can do something else that will make you sleepy..."
His voice turns into a low, raspy whisper, making your pussy flutter even in this situation, as if you are conditioned to react with arousal to the sexy sound of his voice when he gets horny.
Yuuji's strong, muscular arms tighten around you as he nuzzles his face against your neck. You can feel his smile, and it makes things better and worse at the same time.
The guilt makes you feel sick. Here you are, lying in your sweet and loving boyfriend's arms, with your pussy still leaking his brother's cum.
Yuuji's lips trail tender kisses up and down your neck while he hums softly, oblivious to your inner turmoil. His large hands start wandering over your body. But it's such a different touch from Sukuna's. Yuuji's hands are gentle, loving when they slip under the old t-shirt he gave you, caressing your tits sweetly, circling your nipples tenderly until they are stiff and pleasure throbs in your lower belly.
Yuuji moans softly against your skin,
"I love you, baby. You feel so soft and sweet. I wanna spoil my pretty girl."
You can feel his fat cock hardening and pressing hotly against your ass through his boxers, so needy for you. But Yuuji is sweet about it, not demanding, not aggressive. He slips a hand into your panties to lovingly caress your clit with gentle slow flicks, pampering your pussy with his tender caresses.
Your head is spinning, lust pulsing hotly in your clit, making you spread your legs eagerly for Yuuji, pushing your throbbing cunt needily against his loving fingers, wanting to feel him, wanting him to chase away every trace of his brother.
He moans loudly when he feels more of your hot wet cunt, voice so sweet and sexy,
"Fuck, cutie. You are already so wet. That's so hot."
And your eyes fill with tears. You are choking on the guilt and shame. Knowing that most of the wetness is from the orgasm, Sukuna forced out of you and from his cum that's seeping out of you and coating your pussy lips so obscenely.
Suddenly, you see red. You can't take it anymore. You can't just lie here and spread your legs and let Yuuji pamper you as if you deserve it. As if everything is ok.
Nothing is ok! And it's all because of that monster, Sukuna! You hate him! You hate him for doing this to you and to his brother! You hate him for driving this wedge between you and Yuuji! But you won't let him destroy what you and Yuuji have! You won't let him win! Yuuji is the only Itadori brother you want to belong to, and you will prove it tonight!
You turn around in Yuuji's arms, making him gasp in surprise when you attack his lips with a fierce kiss, your hands running roughly through his pink hair, tugging on it and biting his bottom lip as you moan his name.
"Yuuji... I want to fuck, you baby. Let me ride you."
He moans in answer and rolls onto his back, pulling you with him eagerly while he licks into your mouth. You climb on top of him, straddling his lap, taking his fat cock in your hand and giving it slow, firm strokes that make him throw his head back and moan loudly.
Your mouth falls open as you watch him in the dim light. He looks just like his brother, just like Sukuna, but the difference is that you are the one in control now.
Yuuji is just as strong as Sukuna. He could manhandle you and use you just like his twin, but he isn't like that. He is so sweet for you, such a good boy, obediently giving himself to you. You are the one who can do anything you want with him.
It sends a thrill through you, making your skin tingle with excitement and pleasure.
You are breathing heavily, grunting and gasping, lost in a feral need. You hastily pull your soaked panties to the side, not bothering to take them off, too lost in this primal need to get your man's cock into your wet needy cunt.
Yuuji moans loudly when you bring his fat mushroom tip to your puffy wet clit, rubbing it against your little bud, using Yuuji's cock to pleasure you.
Hot waves of pleasure shoot through your whole body, your clit pulsing hotly as you rub it against Yuuji, almost in a frenzy now in your need to fuck him and fuck every thought of Sukuna away.
You feel exhilarated by the power you have. Rubbing your wet messy pussy over Yuuji's twitching fat cock, hearing him moan and gasp. You're teasing his fat cock, basking in what you can do to him, how you can reduce an Itadori brother to a whimpering needy mess.
You watch that pretty face as he moans and whimpers, so openly showing you his pleasure. So submissive and good for you. His lips open in a loud, strangled moan, and then he starts begging you,
"Fuck... ah ah baby! Oh, cutie, please fuck me. Fuck me, baby, please. I need you, please wanna feel you. Please let me feel your pretty pussy around my cock!"
Your cunt is twitching hornily at his words. The power surge almost makes you cum all over Yuuji's swollen tip. But you need more. You need all of him. You finally sink down on his fat length, taking him in you in one eager motion until you sit completely on Yuuji's muscular thighs, his cock buried all the way in you, and your feral groan fills the small bedroom.
You feel dizzy with lust, dizzy with power, unable to hold back now that your boyfriend's cock kisses your g-spot and fills you so fully. You cry out softly, cumming just from sitting on Yuuji's fat cock.
You dig your nails into his buff pecs as you let him feel your pussy twitch around his cock, watching his pretty eyes roll back when he feels your orgasm around his cock.
"Yuuji! Ah, baby, you feel that? That's what you do to me, baby! I love you so much! I love you and your pretty cock, oh god!"
Sukuna could never do this to you! He can break and humiliate you, force you to cum on his cock. But he can never make you want him! You clench your teeth, not giving yourself or Yuuji a break, and start bucking your hips against him, riding his cock eagerly.
Soon you are bouncing wildly on Yuuji's fat cock with your head thrown back, moaning and screaming his name as you ride him hard, not holding back. And he lets you use him, lets you fuck him while his large hands knead your ass. His hips buck needily fucking his cock even deeper into you, so eager, so horny. And so sweet with his loud, needy moans and mewls, with his moaned love confessions and sweet praises.
Your sweet Yuuji.
He doesn't know he is fucking his brother's cum deeper into you with each deep horny thrust of his cock. He doesn't know he is mixing two Itadori seeds in your greedy pussy when he cums with a loud cry and fills you to the brim with his hot seed.
You won't let Sukuna win! You won't let him spoil what you have with Yuuji! Yuuji is the one you love. Yuuji is the one who deserves to cum in you and who deserves your pussy, and who deserves your orgasms. You will give him that! You will be his girl! You will fuck him even harder and cum even more for him than you do for his brother!
You moan Yuuji's name, not stopping but going for another orgasm, smiling when Yuuji lets you, even though he is mewling from how overstimulated his cock is.
And you slide up and down on him feverishly, letting his fat girth drag over your swollen clit until the pleasure peaks again and you feel your next orgasm wash over you in hot waves.
And this time, you finally squirt on him, feeling your hot creamy wetness gush over Yuuji's fat cock and his heavy balls, giving him your all.
He moans loudly when he feels it, his large hands kneading your ass firmly, guiding you up and down on his cock, letting you cum and cum and cum.
"Fuck, baby!! Yeah, make a mess on me, cutie. Fuck!"
Your pussy is overstimulated and puffy from how hard you fucked yourself on Yuuji's gorgeous cock. But you don't stop but keep riding him wildly. It's messy, slippery, and wet from your combined fluids, your cream and squirt, and Yuuji's hot cum that is seeping out of your cunt.
But you need more! You are in a frenzy, driven by the urge to cum on him again and again, making sure Sukuna loses this fucking game!
Yuuji is mewling under you, overstimulated, but letting you use him regardless, so eager to give you pleasure. And you ride yourself to orgasm after orgasm on his gorgeous fat cock, while moaning and screaming his name over and over again.
"Fuck! Yuujiii! Yes yes!! You're gonna make me squirt again, baby!"
You almost black out when the next orgasm rips through you. Your body is shaking uncontrollably, so weak that you just slump on Yuuji's lap, moaning even louder when his fat tip presses even firmer against your g-spot.
But Yuuji's strong hands catch you and hold you, lifting you up and down on his fat cock, letting you ride your orgasm out on him, his golden eyes watching the spot where your pussy and his cock are connected. The spot where you squirt all over him again, making a sticky mess on his cock and his abs, showing him how good his cock makes you feel.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, Yuuji!! Oh, baby!! I love you! No one could ever fuck me as good as you!"
I hope you are still here somewhere, Sukuna. I hope you hear me fuck your brother and how much I love it. I hope you hear me scream his name like I will never scream yours.
You spend the following week being a clingy girlfriend to Yuuji. Always hugging him, always snuggling against him, following him from room to room. He notices it but doesn't mind. He wears a bright, sunny smile on his pretty face, happy that his girl loves him so much. And he moans so sweetly for you when you keep him up every night for hours, fucking him almost desperately until the bed is a mess from your combined cum.
You try to keep Sukuna away by always being by Yuuji's side, telling yourself that the evil twin will not dare approach you while his brother is by your side.
But it is hard at times.
Yuuji, Sukuna. Sukuna, Yuuji. They look the same, and it fucks with your mind. Sometimes, you get scared. Sometimes, you think Yuuji's fingers dig too firmly into your flesh. Sometimes, you think he is smirking at you. Sometimes you shudder when he fucks you from behind with hard, fast thrusts, and his low voice growls in your ear, sounding too similar to his brother.
You hate that the evil twin has that effect on you. That Sukuna somehow always seems to be with you, even when you are with Yuuji. But you have to make the best of this. You will love and fuck Yuuji even harder. You will spend even more time with him. Maybe this way, you can chase Sukuna completely away from your mind.
Maybe after college, you and Yuuji can move far away, making sure Sukuna will never find you again.
An old friend of Yuuji visits for the weekend. A guy with tousled black hair and dark blue eyes who watches his surroundings with a cool, intelligent gaze.
Fushiguro Megumi. He grew up with Yuuji. Went to school with him. They played together as little kids.
You wait until you are alone with him before you ask,
"Megumi?"
"Yeah?"
"Have you ever met Yuuji's twin brother, Sukuna?"
Megumi's head whips around, and he frowns at you. His gaze is surprisingly hostile. Blue eyes narrow as he looks at you and answers in a cold voice,
"What do you mean? What sick game are you playing? Of course, I haven't met him. Sukuna died in the womb! Yuuji consumed his brother before he could be born. It's something that bothers him a lot. That's why he doesn't talk about it!"
The world around you seems to crumble away. You stare at Megumi, eyes wide, fingers tingling. For a long moment, a heavy silence fills the room. And then hysterical laughter bubbles out of your mouth. You can feel your mouth lift, stretching your cheeks in a horribly grotesque shape as your loud, hysterical laughter carries through the apartment, sounding shrill and insane.
And deep inside Yuuji, his evil twin throws his head back and laughs, too.
Do you understand it now, you stupid girl? There is no running from me. He is I, and I am he.
Thank you so much for reading the last part of "Brother"!! I hope you enjoyed it!! I had a lot of fun planning and writing this story. I love the horror elements, and I hope it could give you an uneasy feeling too lmaooo. It's so terrifying to me to imagine that the guy you love has the same face as the guy who does all those horrible things to you.
And how did you like the ending?? Ahhahaa, I am laughing with Sukuna. So much for running away together with Yuuji to escape his evil twin ;)
The smut part with Yuuji affected me A LOT. I hope my fellow Yuuji lovers had a feast with this!!
I hope you enjoyed this horror mini-series! Thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs would be sweet.
#sukuna x reader#sukuna#sukuna smut#yuuji x reader#yuuji smut#itadori x reader#itadori smut#yuji x reader#yuji smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#tw dark content#tw noncon
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The Younger Kind Part 3 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: Bradley goes on another unremarkable date before heading home early. You stay and have a drink with him while you fix up his dating profile. Maybe now he will find some more compatible matches.
Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (eventually 18+)
Length: 4300 words
Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader
Check out my masterlist for more!
Bradley started his Friday morning the same way he always did; by running around the house in a complete disarray.
"Noah, eat your waffles. We're going to be late," he said, his flight suit hanging halfway off his torso.
"I want cereal," he whined, and Bradley ran his hands over his face and sighed. Then he got a bowl of cereal ready and finished eating the waffles himself.
After burning his tongue on coffee that was way too hot and eating a handful of sour blueberries, Bradley was hauling Noah out to the Bronco and buckling him in.
"Is my babysitter coming again?" Noah asked on the way to daycare. He had been asking Bradley that all week.
"You had a lot of fun with her?" he asked as he pulled into the parking lot. "You liked her?"
"Yeah. Bring her back."
Bradley smiled and then he cringed. He liked you, too. And he'd made a complete ass of himself, flirting with you like you and he were the same age. You'd been sweet about it though. He wouldn't do it again.
"She's going to come over again tonight," Bradley told his son as they walked into the daycare. "You can play with her all you want."
At least Noah looked happy about it. Bradley had mixed feelings about the way he would be spending his evening. He was going out with a woman from the app, his first foray into online dating. Her photos looked nice, and she was a thirty-four year old publicist. He had no idea what he was going to talk to her about, but he was meeting her at a sleek martini bar at her suggestion. He didn't even like martinis.
"Bye, bub," Bradley said, kissing Noah and dashing back out to make it to base on time.
And of course he was already starving again. He kept meaning to leave some snacks in the car since he was always running all over town. The first person he saw as his stomach growled was Nat.
"Did you not eat breakfast?" she asked as they walked across the tarmac.
"I don't have any food at my house, and I don't have time to go grocery shopping," he growled, grabbing a smashed granola bar out of his helmet bag. "And I can't go tonight, because I have a date from that fucking app you put on my phone!"
Bradley was absolutely not in the mood to go on this date. However, Nat looked delighted.
"That's great!"
"Is it? Is it really? Because I'm meeting her at a fancy martini bar. I don't like martinis, and I don't like getting dressed up."
Nat rolled her eyes. "It's your first date using the app. It'll be fine."
Bradley headed straight for his F/A-18 and started to climb into the cockpit. He had the fleeting thought that he would rather be at home all evening, coloring and eating those peanut butter covered carrot sticks with you and Noah.
-----------------------
You woke up late on Greyson's couch with a stiff neck and a growling stomach. As you walked into the kitchen to get a drink of water before leaving for your first class, you found Greyson, hungover and eating Cheetos.
"Hey," he groaned, holding his head. "You coming back over tonight."
"No," you told him, reaching for a glass. "I'm babysitting later."
He pouted in a way that you used to think was adorable when you and he were in a relationship. "But we didn't even get to mess around last night," he whispered, wrapping his arms around you.
You managed to slip out of his grip before he got Cheeto gunk all over you. "Don't ask me to come over anymore if you're just planning on playing video games."
He just looked at you like you had two heads. "Isn't our arrangement to have fun together? You could have played too."
You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. "I'll text you when I'm free, Greyson. Maybe we can hang out then."
You ducked into his bathroom to get changed and get ready to go, and you just knew stopping for coffee wasn't going to be an option. You would have to hope like hell that you'd have time to get coffee and something to eat when you left campus and headed to Bradley's house later.
You already really liked it there. None of his mugs matched. The area rug in the living room had a snag in it. Noah had colored on the wall in the hallway. It was cozy, cluttered and lived in. And you liked the way Bradley and Noah filled the space.
"Stop thinking about him," you mumbled as you drove yourself to class.
Your day went by in a blur. You'd managed to get a snack and some coffee around lunchtime, but your last lecture ran late. You had the choice to stop for food or get yourself cleaned up a bit before heading to Bradley's house.
"Stop thinking about him!" you mumbled again as you stopped in a bathroom to fix your lipgloss and your hair. Surprisingly, you didn't actually look too bad for having slept on a couch. And now you could just make yourself some coffee in Bradley's kitchen using one of his silly mugs.
-----------------------
Bradley ran through the locker room like it was a race.
"What's your problem, Rooster?" Hangman asked him, looking like he had whiplash as Bradley dashed past.
"I've got more than one, I can assure you," Bradley grumbled, pulling on clean underwear, gym shorts and a tank. "I need to stop for groceries and get Noah and be home by 6. See you on Monday."
He only had time to stop at the store he didn't like, but it was on his way to get Noah. He grabbed some fruit, macaroni and cheese, a few frozen meals, pasta sauce, and French vanilla coffee creamer. Then he picked up Noah, out of breath by the time he was buckling him into his carseat.
"Can we see the babysitter now?" Noah asked with a smile.
Bradley kissed his forehead. "Yeah, bub. We can go see her now." Bradley was almost as excited about the idea as Noah was.
Your car was already there when he pulled into his driveway at 6:15. Shit, he had told you he would have dinner ready for you. Fuck, he was supposed to meet his date in less than an hour.
"Let's go inside," Bradley said, scooping Noah up with one arm and carrying the groceries and his flight suit in the other. You must have let yourself in, because the door was unlocked. "It's just us," he called out, and you poked your head out of the kitchen. Bradley was already grinning as you smiled at both of them and came to get Noah from him.
"Hey, Noah. Ready to color again?" you asked, taking the child in your arms. Bradley's heart skipped around awkwardly as you smiled at him over your shoulder on your way back to the kitchen. That lipgloss was like a beacon, and he followed right behind you.
"I started making dinner," you told him. "I hope you don't mind."
Mind? Bradley couldn't think of anything better than you, coloring with Noah and making dinner.
"I'm sorry. I was supposed to have done that."
You just shrugged and set Noah down on one of the kitchen chairs. There was an assortment of coloring and craft supplies in front of him, and he got right to work.
"I figured you two got held up. I'm just making spaghetti, nothing crazy." Bradley watched you stir the noodles. Usually when he did that, they ended up in a gigantic clump.
"Well, thanks. I did get some pasta sauce. And I think there are some meatballs in the freezer. Oh, and this is for you."
He watched you turn to face him, and your eyes lit up when he handed you the coffee creamer. It was as if he'd just handed you a bouquet of flowers or twenty bucks.
"Thank you," you sighed softly. "I didn't get enough coffee today."
Bradley turned on the coffee maker for you. "That's pretty much the only thing I always have here. Drink as much as you want, please." He ran his hand through his messy hair. "I could use some too, I think."
"What time is your date?" you asked, turning toward Noah and finding him coloring the page with the hippos on it.
Bradley's eyes went wide. "I have to be there in thirty minutes," he said, grimacing as you strained the pasta.
You laughed. "Guys have it so easy. You can throw on some jeans and a nice shirt. Run your fingers through your hair, and bam, you're ready to go out."
He watched you work from behind, taking in your jean shorts and tee shirt. He should really be getting ready to go, but he didn't want to move away from you. "Nah, women have it easier."
You looked up at him over your shoulder again, something that already made Bradley smile.
"Now this reasoning, I've just got to hear," you said, raising one eyebrow.
"Guys don't need a lot to work with. Makeup and all that stuff? Don't need it. Is it nice sometimes? Sure, I guess. But just hanging out at home, eating popcorn in my pajamas with the right girl sounds pretty good right now."
"Yeah," you agreed, scooping spaghetti into three bowls. "It does. Maybe that's what Noah and I will do later."
And now Bradley was jealous of his three year old child.
-----------------------
You watched Bradley inhale a bowl of plain spaghetti in his fitted jeans and blue dress shirt. He looked like any woman's dream date, and you were sure he would end up scoring a second date if he wanted one.
"Bye, bub. Be good," he said, kissing Noah on his forehead. And when he took a step closer to you, a brief flash of him kissing you on your forehead crossed your mind. You bit your lip to keep from gasping, and his eyes tracked the motion.
When Bradley's lips parted before he swallowed hard, you had to reach behind you for the edge of the counter.
"I'll have my phone on. Not sure how long I'll be out. Should be home by ten?"
"Sounds good," you told him in a soft breathy voice. "No rush."
As he was turning to leave he reminded you, "Seriously, you're welcome to eat or drink anything you find."
You just nodded as he strolled through the living room and left to go make some other woman feel like she just won the lottery.
"Hey Noah, wanna sing some songs while I do some meal prepping for you guys?" you asked.
He was now sitting in the middle of the floor with his blocks out. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star!"
"Good choice." You sang song after song, occasionally stopping to help him with his building projects. You sipped your coffee out of a mug that said My best friend went to Glacier Bay and only bought me this stupid mug while you portioned out spaghetti and meatballs. At least this way Noah and Bradley would have something to get them through the weekend.
You found some frozen chicken, and next time you could make them some fajitas or something with it. But this was the saddest kitchen you had ever seen. Well maybe besides Greyson's.
And that was the first time you had thought about him all day. You hadn't stopped thinking about Bradley and Noah.
"Another song!" Noah exclaimed, and you started Old MacDonald for him. You put the containers of spaghetti into the refrigerator and sat on the floor with your mug of coffee. After building a few towers, you got Noah to agree to make some construction paper crafts.
"Can you make me a dog?" he asked, and you made him a sad looking red dog. That was followed by a weird looking yellow cat and a blue moose.
"Let's make you a crown so you can be Prince Noah," you said, pushing his dark hair back from his forehead. He looked a lot like Bradley. He was so cute, you wondered what his mom looked like. You wondered what happened to her. She didn't seem to be involved at all, and Bradley never talked about her.
"And you can be a Princess!" he shouted.
"Sure," you said with a laugh. And half an hour later, there was a mess of construction paper all over the floor and a giggling child in your arms.
"We can watch one short cartoon, and then it's your bedtime," you told him. He already looked sleepy, and he couldn't stop yawning. He sat next to you on the couch with his yellow crown crooked on his head. Your own purple crown was a little crooked too, but you didn't want to take it off yet.
You didn't want to bother Bradley on his date, but you snapped a quick photo of Noah in his crown and texted it to him. You got an immediate text back.
Bradley Bradshaw: He looks cute. Where's your crown?
You pressed your lips together. Should you send him a selfie while he was on a date? Before you could change your mind, you took one and checked it before sending it to him as well.
Bradley Bradshaw: A crown fit for a princess.
You led Noah into the bathroom to get ready for bed with a gigantic smile on your face. You helped him brush his teeth and get changed into pajamas. You read him three books and got him a sip of water, but you were still smiling.
"Let's leave your crown on your dresser," you told Noah, gently taking it off his head as he sank back onto his pillow. "Good night," you whispered, but he was already falling asleep.
You felt soft and warm inside as you cleaned up the mess on the kitchen floor. You emptied the dishwasher and cleaned the counters. You picked up the toys on the living room floor. When you opened up a bag of Skittles and just started to settle in with a textbook, you got another message.
Bradley Bradshaw: I'll be home soon. Didn't want to scare you again.
It wasn't even 9 o'clock yet! Why was he already coming home? You weren't going to complain. The idea of him kissing his date goodnight or bringing her back here left a weird taste in your mouth. You popped a few Skittles to try to make it go away.
A couple minutes later, when the front door opened, you nearly choked on your candy. God, he was so hot. He was carrying a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine, and you couldn't help but wish he'd invite you to hang out longer.
"You're home so early," you said from your spot on the couch, and his eyes met yours immediately. "Was your date awful? Or did she take one look at you and bail?" you asked, barely able to contain your laughter as you adjusted your paper crown.
His lips parted as he huffed out a laugh. Then he glared at you as he headed your way. "Okay, Princess. First of all, yes, she was awful."
You were about to ask what happened, but he continued on.
"And second, no woman has ever taken a look at me and decided not to come back for a second one." He was staring down at you on the couch, and now you couldn't remember what you were going to say.
You pressed your lips together as heat flared through your body. "You know, I believe that," you said softly, making him chuckle. "What was wrong with her?"
He just shook his head and heaved a sigh. "Doesn't like kids."
You scoffed. "Well she'd like Noah if she gave him a chance. He's an angel."
Bradley smiled down at you before taking a seat on the couch so that his thigh was rubbing yours.
"Was he good tonight? No tears at bedtime?"
"Mmm, he was perfect," you managed to say as his body heat radiated through his pant leg.
"That's good. Hey, I need a drink. Do you want something?" he asked, holding up the wine and the beer. "I wasn't sure what you liked, but I sure as hell wasn't about to drink a thirty dollar martini."
He had thought about you when his date ended. He had thought about coming back here and having a drink with you. He had thought about what you might like. You needed to catch your breath. "Sure. I'll go grab some glasses." When you started to move, Bradley pressed the wine bottle against your leg.
"No, I'll go. You stay here."
You watched him walk away, and then you buried your face in your hands. You'd never make it out of here with your dignity intact if he kept being so sweet.
"You cleaned the kitchen," he called from the next room. He returned with two mismatched glasses and a corkscrew. "You didn't have to do that."
"I made you some meals, too. Your refrigerator reminds me of my ex-boyfriend's fraternity house," you said, pretending to shudder as he looked at you.
"Ex-boyfriend, huh? Is there a current one?"
You were going to melt. You were going to slide onto the floor and pass out. "No." You were surprised your voice came out as steady as it did. He looked pleased. He was smiling as he sat down next to you again.
"That's good. Wouldn't want to keep you here in the evenings and make him miss you. Wine or beer?"
It took you a second to realize he was asking you a question. "Um, wine." Your mouth felt dry as you watched him open the bottle and pour some for you. "So did you just ditch your date and stop at the liquor store?"
Bradley snorted as he poured himself some wine as well. "Pretty much. I should have known it would be bad from the get go, you know?" he asked, setting the bottle down and clinking his glass to yours. "She likes the opera and martini bars, and I... don't. Not that I can't hang, but I would just rather-"
"Eat popcorn on your couch in your pajamas. Yeah, I know," you said with a smirk. He just looked at you again like he couldn't quite make sense of you. "So where did you meet her anyway?" You picked up your bag of Skittles and ate a few before handing them to him.
"On an app," he said before he dumped a few directly into his mouth.
"You're on a dating app?" You were surprised.
"Yep. My friend hijacked my phone and downloaded it. I don't even know what all she put in my profile."
"Gimme your phone," you said, holding out your hand. "I want to see it."
He just entered his passcode and groaned. "Fine, but I get to finish the Skittles." He handed over his phone and then dumped all of the remaining candy into his mouth. You watched him chew for a moment before you looked down at his phone.
"Holy shit," you whispered.
"What's wrong?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you.
"Nothing, it's just your photo."
"Is it bad? Nat said all my photos were terrible."
You laughed right at him. "No. It's very good."
----------------------
Bradley was not going to be able to keep his cool for much longer. He just sipped his wine, wishing there was more candy for him to stuff into his mouth.
"It's good?" he asked you as you scrolled through his profile.
"Oh yeah. Both of them are. But you need more photos than just the two. Wait, golden retriever energy?" You burst out laughing and let your eyes wander all over his face. "Yeah, I can see that."
"I still don't understand what that means," he grumbled, leaning closer again as you opened the tab for his matches.
"You have almost three hundred women trying to chat you up!"
He just scratched his mustache. "I do? Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure. Look," you said, holding the phone up. "That's insane. Didn't you set any filters?"
"Huh?"
"Filters," you mumbled. "There's gotta be... oh, here we go. You need filters. Otherwise you look desperate. Or like you just want to hook up." You met his eyes, seemingly searching for an answer.
"I'm not desperate. And I don't want to just hookup," he promised, leaning back against the couch and watching you work.
You leaned back too, nearly resting your face against his shoulder. He wished he could just match with you on the app and call it a day.
"Okay, what's the age range you're into?" you asked softly, your purple crown sliding down a little bit on your forehead as you juggled his phone and your glass of wine.
"Um, I guess my age?"
You rolled your eyes at him. "You're only interested in women who are specifically thirty-six years old?"
"Well, no. I guess broader than that," he replied. He was about to say twenty-five to forty, but he changed his mind at the last second. "How about twenty-four to forty?"
You looked at him and smiled. "Okay," you murmured, typing something into the app. "Now there's a little checklist where you can make different selections. Would you date someone with kids?"
"Yes."
"How about a smoker?"
"No."
"What about...."
Bradley listened to you ask him each question, and he answered all of them for you. But he couldn't stop looking at you, curling up closer and closer to him. Your face was so cute and animated. Your eyes were so expressive.
"And now," you said, grinning at him. "It's time for some more pictures. You don't have any other photos saved to your phone?"
"You can look. But it's all just pictures of Noah," he said, realizing too late that when you opened his photo gallery, his most recent one was the selfie you sent him.
"Oh," you whispered, grinning down at his phone before pressing your lips together. Bradley was too embarrassed to say anything, so he just let you swipe through his photos. "Mostly Noah," you said softly, still smiling at all of them. "Looks like I'll just have to take some."
You held up his phone and took a picture of him before he could stop you. "Oh, please don't post that," he told you, reaching for his phone, but you held it up over your head in an effort to keep it away from him.
"What? You looked okay," you said, glancing up at the screen. "It needs a little something extra though." Carefully, you removed your paper crown and set it on his head, your fingers brushing through his hair. They were gone in an instant, but now he was craving your touch. It was insane how close you were to him. You shouldn't be this close.
"How's it look?" he whispered.
"So cute," you said with a laugh, and he let you snap a photo. "We could post this one and say A Prince looking for his Princess."
"Absolutely not."
"Come on! I'm sure anyone would jump at the chance for a second or third date with that!"
Your whole face was lit up when you talked, and Bradley just wanted to play along. "Nope," he said. "It's your crown anyway. Maybe I'll just stick with calling you Princess." He gently set it on your head again, letting his fingers graze your hair.
You sucked in a deep breath. "Only for you and Noah. He did tell me I was a pretty Princess earlier."
Bradley wanted to kiss you. He really thought you would let him if he tried it. He let his knuckles brush against your cheek before he pulled his hand away, causing your eyes to flutter closed while your lips parted.
"Looks better on you anyway," he whispered, memorizing the way your eyelashes brushed your cheek where his hand had just been.
Why couldn't he feel even a fraction of this attraction to either of the women he'd gone on a proper date with? Women who were his age. What was he even thinking here?
It was as if you could read his mind when you opened your eyes. "Well, if you'd just sit nicely for me, I could take an additional photo for the app. That plus the filters should have you matching with people who you're more compatible with."
Bradley swallowed hard. "Fine," he agreed, and you were smiling so much, he couldn't help smiling too. When you showed him the photo, he had to agree that he looked pretty good, and then you were adding it to his profile.
"There," you said, finally handing back his phone as you stood and stretched in front of him. Your arms were high over your head, and your back was arched like some sort of depraved ballerina from his fantasies. Jesus, he knew he could get hard for you instantly, and that thought terrified him.
"Thanks," he mumbled, his voice so deep and raspy.
"Now, instead of a million pointless messages and matches, hopefully you'll have a handful of good ones."
Your words made sense, and he mulled over them as you gathered up your things and headed to the front door.
"You'll text me when you want me again?" you asked softly, and Bradley nearly moaned.
"I will," he agreed, closing and locking the door behind you with a soft groan.
-----------------------
Good job, Princess. You just made him more likely to find a match online. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 4
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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster fanfic#rooster x female reader#rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#bradley bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley rooster x reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x female reader#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun imagine#rooster bradshaw x female reader
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NSFW ex bf actor heeseung x actress reader // you meet heeseung during met gala and he fucks you in the bathroom // a lot of teasing, mirror sex, bathroom sex, public sex kinda // 1.3k words
pt.2 here!! & pt.3 here!!
you sat at the beautifully decorated table, next to other beautifully decorated tables. more and more people started entering the hall and taking their seats. thankfully the chairs at your table were still empty, it gives you some time to check the nameplates and, if you come across an unknown surname, look up the person's instagram profile.
you looked to your right, the small paper read "rina sawayama". great, you like her music. it might be like last year when you were the only actress at your table.
you looked to your left, moved the card to see its front, and– "FUCK!" you exclaimed, probably too loud which granted you a few glances from other celebrities.
fucking lee heeseung will be fucking sitting next to you. who assigned those fucking tables?
actors are all sorts of people - rude, kind, bossy, hardworking, or totally insufferable to work with. heeseung was the last type.
the thing is, he wasn't a bad actor. if he was, your paths wouldn't cross so often. it was his attitude, his cockiness that angered you so much. there was this one movie you both starred in where you had to kiss, and he kept making up excuses to reshoot the scene because he knew how much you hate kissing him, given your dating history from high school.
"happy to see me?" you heard a whisper in your ear. it didn't shock you, you knew that voice too well. you would be lying if you said it didn't send a shiver down your spine, though.
"wish i didn't have to," you took a sip of wine from your glass, "this is your doing, am i right?"
"oh, don't think so lowly of me."
"this isn't the lowest i have thought of you." you turned back to him and gave him a proper look.
his shirt perfectly ironed, broad shoulders emphasized by the navy blue suit. the color of his lips perfectly matched with the strawberry you just ate while waiting for the main dish. the dangly earrings you liked so much. not on him, you just like this type of jewelry. even his hair was flawless, his stylists must have spent a good hour on him.
after every seat at your table was taken, the gala had rightfully started. surprisingly heeseung was behaving himself, talking with other guests, not really paying attention to you. it was your behavior that was questionable.
because of your tight dress, your knees kept drifting to the left, occasionally touching heeseung's leg, after which he proceeded to brush your thigh with his thumb, saying "excuse me," as if he bumped into you. whenever that happened you jumped back to sitting straight, but then your legs started moving to the other side, and you didn't want to bother the woman on your right, so you just excused yourself from the table and went to the bathroom.
because of the banquet just starting, the toilet room was empty. you stood in front of the mirror, wanting to reapply your lipstick when it struck you that you had left your purse on your seat, "fuck."
"forgot this?" you heard the annoying voice. you didn't even notice him following you here.
"it's a women's bathroom, heeseung."
"it's not."
you looked around only to see a display of luxurious men's fragrances for guests to try, "shit."
you wanted to walk past him and leave the room, but he was blocking the door.
"you look so beautiful today, i can't keep my eyes off of you." you knew that tone, he was playing.
"move."
"ah, isn't it just like in moonlight?" he pretended to have a conversation with you, "the bathroom scene, do you remember?" he looked down at you and smirked.
oh you wish you didn't. it was the first sex scene you've ever filmed. of course you weren't having actual intercourse, but it was pretty intimate. you remembered it too well, him delicately touching your skin to make sure you're comfortable, breathing into your lips, looking at you with so much desire.
his face started moving closer to you, calmly, so you could back away if you wanted to, but you couldn't force yourself to.
your lips met his and, shit, they not only look good together on camera but feel amazing too, as if they were carved specifically for each other. it was like two magnets finally connecting. it was a matter of seconds for heeseung to have you bent over the counter.
he moved your dress up carefully, slowly so you can have all the time you want to regret your decision. oh you hated how easily he could read your mind, "hurry up," you rushed him.
"are you this needy for me?" he pushed onto you harder and you could feel the bulge in his pants.
"i don't want anyone to walk in."
"why? it wouldn't be the first time when people see you like this for me," he said, still referencing the movie.
honestly, you wanted to turn around and slap him on the face, which he expected and so firmly grabbed your hips, unabling you to move. then he unzipped his pants and swiftly put his dick inside you, not wasting any more seconds.
without a doubt your body still knew his, he entered you so easily only for you to clench on him immediately after, causing a gasp even from him.
you both looked at each other in the mirror, a smirk appearing on his face once he saw how hard you were trying to keep your lips pressed together.
he was thrusting into you deeply, not leaving any space between you and the sink. his warm body pressing onto you from behind and you rubbing on the stone-cold porcelain from the front really fucked you up. it was difficult for you to hold yourself up, which heeseung noticed and helped you by grabing your neck and pulling you back, closer to him.
a strap holding your dress fell off your shoulder, exposing your right breast. you wanted to bring it back, but he stopped your hand, "i want to watch."
it drove you mad how he kept whispering into your ear, how you melted because of it, how he perfectly caressed your spot, how hot you were getting, how you wanted him to watch.
"why is it that you always come back to me?" he looked your reflection in the eyes while kissing the side of your neck.
"not to you," you paused because of the moan escaping your lips, "to this."
"to this?" he moved his hand up to your jaw, his fingers brushing over your lips, oh you had to tighten your legs together, "i know you want me to put my fingers into your mouth. it always made you cum."
it was so hard to not break eye contact with him because of the filth he said to you, but you were already so red on your face, tears slowly had started to build up in your eyes, you couldn't give him more satisfaction. he can't know how good he's making you feel, even though it's not difficult to tell from the wet sounds you're making.
"come for me. i want to know that you're still mine," the more he talks the closer you feel to your release, but you can't give up so easily. not that you want him to fuck you longer, you just don't want him to think that you're so easy for him.
but you are. no matter how hard you tried to stop your orgasm, it came. you coated his dick with your sweet, glistening liquid. a single tear ran down your cheek, finishing the scene.
"you did so well, baby." he kissed your exposed back.
"don't call me that," you moved his hands away from you.
pt. 2 here!! pt.3 here!!
after hotel.
#enhypen smut#enhypen hard thoughts#enhypen hard hours#heeseung smut#heeseung hard thoughts#heeseung hard hours#heeseung x reader#heeseung x you#after hotel.
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day 12: hyunjin + marking
©straykeedz
tw: mention of masturbation (m); oral sex (f receiving); fingering (f receiving); hints at cheating (reader); unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home 🤨); ♡
wc: 2,1k;
not too kinky lol sorry - but honestly as i was writing this i came up with an idea for a future fic 👀
this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡
🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡
to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡
smut below the cut, minors dni.
✐
Hyunjin liked to think of the human body as a canvas.
A big, blank canvas ready to be used, decorated, customized, adorned in every way possible. Personally, he loved to decorate his in a less drastic and permanent way than with tattoos or piercings - even though he found it extremely attractive and badass on others. He loved to personalize his body using all kinds of jewelry - necklaces, chains, rings, bracelets, sometimes chokers. Then, he loved to put makeup on - just a plain dark brown eye-shadow on his lid, messily blended with a black eye-pencil using the pads of his fingers to give his look a smudge effect; finally, he loved to paint his nails, usually opting for a dark brown or a pitch black color.
However, since he met you, he found out he also liked another type of decoration on his skin - the signs you’d leave on his back with your nails when he’d fuck you.
He discovered it casually.
It happened one day when he was looking at his naked figure through the mirror right before taking a hot shower - and he saw them. Faint pink on his chest and abdomen, bright red on his shoulders and back. Irregular shapes drawn by your fingernails on his skin while you were under him - although the ones on his spine vaguely resembled of a heart in his eyes, but he might’ve been biased. He got hard once again when he noticed the marks, and had to relieve himself in the shower, imagining your fingers on his skin once again.
Memories of what had happened moments before underneath his sheets, when you begged him to fuck you harder, to don’t stop, to keep thrusting like that kept running through his head, and he found himself getting hard once again, despite the two orgasms he’d had between your legs.
To him, it was like having proof, directly on his skin, therefore clearly visible - that what you had was true, and not just a projection of his own imagination. It was real - you had been under him, him all over you, inside of you, your nails on the skin of his back, scratching it as he thrusted relentlessly, body pressed tightly against yours.
Then, as soon as you both finished, it was all gone. You were gone.
That’s all he was left with - an empty bed and a few marks on his pale skin.
But the marks on his skin made everything real even though you weren’t there with him, and from that moment on, he never wanted them to fade away. The next time you fucked, he practically begged you to scratch his back with your nails - begged you to do it hard.
You thought it was because he liked pain during sex when really - all he wanted was for them to last longer on his skin.
Right now, he was giving you oral. Kissing your pussy with passionate reverence, dragging his plump lips all over the surface of your cunt, brushing you skin so delicately it made you shiver, nose bumping sweetly on your sensitive clit each time. And then he licked your lips, those lips, placing his tongue flat on you before he started lapping at it before closing his lips around your clit.
Hyunjin was good at many things, but never the best at anything - that’s how he felt about himself. However, he firmly believed his oral giving skills were pretty much incomparable, not to brag - and he was confident you’d never find anyone else who’d appreciate your pussy more than him. And it wasn’t really because he loved pussy - which he did -, it was more because he was crazy about you and he had no other way to show you except for sex.
Hyunjin kept sucking on your clit as he brought his fingers to your pussy, ready to slip two of them inside of you, and as his digits slowly made their way inside of you, your fingernails ended up on his shoulder, making him whimper.
“Hyunjin…”, your nails felt like claws on his skin, and he was sure you were going to leave marks on his shoulders, and he couldn’t wait to see them reflected on his bathroom mirror, see which irregular, abstract shapes you’d drawn on his body this time.
Maybe it was the artistic side of his personality that made him do it - but he’d snap a couple of pictures of the signs you’d leave on his body every time, and kept them in a secret folder on his phone.
He sucked harder on your clit, swirling his hot, wet tongue around it as he moved his fingers inside of you just how he knew you liked it. With his other hand, with which he was making sure your legs’d stay spread out for him, he parted your labia, exposing your clit even more to make sure he’d reach every single spot with his tongue.
“I’m so close, Hyunjin.”, you moaned, moving your hand from his shoulder to his hair, running your fingers through it.
It took him a few more sucks on your sensitive spot to make you reach your high, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you clenched around his fingers, toes curling as you tugged at his hair. He took his time with cleaning you up, licking your orgasm off of your skin, swallowing it and humming at the taste - he could never get enough of it.
Then, something inside of his head snapped. He moved his lips from your pussy to your groin, not wanting to overstimulate you and wanting you to give you the time to come off from your high properly, and placed a delicate, wet kiss on the soft flesh. Then, he sucked and added his teeth to the mix.
He wanted to give you something to remember him from, too. He knew he could never do something like that on any other part of your body, knowing you’d get in trouble if anyone noticed the signs on your skin, so he had no other choice than to leave them there.
“Hyunjin, what are you-“, you stopped yourself mid-sentence before realizing what he had in mind. “Hyunjin, you can’t.”
He detached his mouth from your skin, then looked at you through his eyelids - eyes absolutely dark with lust and pussy drunk. “Just a couple.”, he pleaded, leaving a chaste kiss on the faint mark that had appeared on your skin. A shiver ran through his body at the sight. “They’re easier to hide here.”, he caressed your inner thigh with his knuckles.
“But what if he…”, you didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew what you meant to say anyway.
The thought pained Hyunjin, but he knew he couldn’t really say anything. He nodded, chest heavy, but he knew he had to respect your decision. He wanted to think you were his and only his, that no other people were involved, and that what you had was real and went beyond pure sexual satisfaction, but he couldn’t. You could - leave marks on his body, in any place you wanted, scratch him, bite him, anything you wanted. He couldn’t.
“Maybe just… a couple.”, you whispered after a few instants, twisting one lock of his hair around your finger.
His head snapped in your direction, and he looked absolutely caught off-guard. “Are you sure?”, he wanted to make sure you wanted it too and weren’t just agreeing on this because you felt pressured.
“Mh-hm.”, you hummed, nodding. “Just- don’t bite too hard. They’ll be easier to cover.”, you explained.
He nodded, and then his lips were on you once again. Lips brushing softly against you, before he latched his mouth on the soft flesh. He sucked lightly, not using his teeth yet, only his tongue to wet your skin to ease the friction. He hummed against your skin when his teeth gently scraped your skin, not properly biting your flesh - just like you asked him, but it was enough to make you moan. He pulled away to look at the work of art he’d left on your skin - the mark was much more visible now, but nothing that a good concealer and some powder wouldn’t hide. He really wished you wouldn’t, tho. If it were for him, if you were his, he’d mark you all over your skin and wouldn’t even want you to hide them. In fact, he’d make you show them off proudly, so it’d be crystal clear to anyone that you were his.
“Mine.”, he grunted under his breath, the adjective slipping out of his mouth automatically, before he could stop himself as he latched his mouth on your groin once again, this time a bit higher. He hoped you hadn’t heard him.
You had, but you didn’t say anything.
Those hickeys looked insanely good on you, Hyunjin thought once he pulled away to admire the two marks on your skin. He wished he could leave more, but he was already grateful enough you’d let him leave those two.
“They look good on you.”, he whispered, brushing them with his fingers, not tearing his eyes off of them.
“Mh, they do.”, you agreed. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, making him snap his head in your direction to look you in the eyes. “Maybe if you fuck me right, just how I like it, I’ll let you leave more next time.”, you whispered sensually, biting your lip.
The thought make his cock twitch for two reasons. Firstly, because the eventuality of sucking another hickey on your skin was nearly enough to make him come untouched; secondly, because of the implication in what you’d said - that he’d get to be with you again, that he’d get to have you once more.
“I fuck you right every time, tho, don’t I?” Hyunjin chuckled, positioning himself between your legs, aligning the tip of his cock to your entrance as he pressed his body on yours.
“You’re right, you do.”, you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. “You always fuck me so well.”, you whispered on his lips, and his cock throbbed once again.
Slowly, he started to push inside, closing his eyes and parting his lips as he bottomed out. Then, once he made sure you’d adjusted to the feeling, he started to rock his hips to meet yours - slowly at first and then faster and faster. Panting, he hooked one arm under one of your legs, the new position allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you.
Now it was your turn to latch your mouth on the skin of his neck. Even though you’d left plenty of marks on his back, this was new, but you could tell Hyunjin definitely liked it. You sucked on his skin, biting and licking his soft flesh for a few seconds before pulling away - the mark was much brighter than the ones he left on you. You bit your lip at the sight, and decided to leave another one, this time on his collarbone, as your hands found their way to his shoulders and back.
Hyunjin let out an embarrassingly deep sound when he felt your nails on his skin, and snapped his hips faster, hitting the right spot every time.
“Harder.”, he moaned when you scratched his back. He wanted those marks not to fade, he wanted them to stay on his skin for as long as possible, until he saw you again. He wanted something to remember, something to prove that it wasn’t just a fantasy.
Each time you scratched his skin, practically sticking your nails in his flesh, he thrusted harder inside of you.
“Hyunjin.”, you moaned, kicking your head back, exposing your neck and collarbone. Oh, how he wished he could suck a beautiful, red mark right there, for everyone to see… “Close.”
You came with a high pitched sound, and he followed you not too long after, with an animalistic grunt and your nails on his skin, releasing inside of you.
That night, when he went to take a shower - he wasn’t imagining it. As he looked over his shoulder to see your marks on his skin, he couldn’t believe his eyes, and bit his lip at the sight, because this time there really was a heart on his skin. A big, deep red heart shape right in the middle of his spine, and he could clearly tell the trace of your nails. And then, the two hickeys on his neck.
Hyunjin liked to think of his own body as a canvas, too - and he liked to think of you as the only artist allowed to draw on his skin using whichever tools you wanted, as the only person allowed to use his body it whichever you preferred.
✐
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Wednesday
joel miller x fem!reader
Summary of the fic: For the last 5 years, every Wednesday you watched a handsome man walk by your street with a lilac bouquet in hands. Except he doesn't stroll on your street this Wednesday, he shows up at your grief support group. 🐾
read on AO3 | masterlist | previous chapter
Warnings: No outbreak AU, Grief and its implications, Reader lost her mom, Reader's mom has a name (but no physical description), Group therapy, Grief support group, Parent grief, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Fluff, No use of y/n
Word count of the chapter: 3,7k
A/N: For the longest time I've thought "What if Joel lost Sarah anyway?" and this became the answer to this question. I have no clue about how big this series will be, but I do know I want to explore grief and loss with these two in the most delicate way possible. Hope you enjoy it 🐾
I. LILAC
Coffee. Sketchbook. Balcony. Five years of waking up early on Wednesdays, grabbing a cup of coffee, and sitting near the railings to wait for him. Like a clock, at 8 am sharp he appears by the street corner with a lilac bouquet under his arm.
His strong profile will be the only thing in your vision for a few minutes as he walks by. You drew it so many times that you could do it with your eyes closed. The man will walk by at a steady pace without looking around (brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t fuck with me” kind of sign), focused on his way down the street.
Tall, dark hair and a patchy beard with a square jaw… He is dreamy, but also out of reach. Where is he going? Why the lilacs? Are they for a woman, his wife maybe? Every Wednesday at 8 am, never a minute late, both he and you.
As you took a sip of your coffee, you glanced over the watch marking 7:58 am, he would be here any minute. You prepared the table in expectancy, what outfit would he be wearing today? You hoped for the green shirt, but the blue one wouldn’t be as bad.
7:59 am. His hair is a little overgrown now, but you like the way his curls frame his face. The broadness of his shoulders and how tall he looks next to the other pedestrians. You aren’t sure of the color of his eyes from afar, maybe green or brown.
8:01 am and no signal of him. This is a first. Maybe you mistook the day of the week, check your phone, and… No, Wednesday still. You squirm in your seat, impatiently looking for him. 8:07 am, he never got so late. Should you keep waiting? You don’t even know his name.
At 8:30 am you give up. A wave of melancholy fills the air. Oh god, be for fucking real, are you really sad because a strange man and his stupid lilacs didn’t walk down your street?
“Don’t forget: 9 am at the gate”, you reread your grandpa's text.
You couldn’t be able to forget it, but deep down wish you could avoid it. Cemeteries aren’t your thing, the constant reminder of the death surrounding you. However, they are Grandpa’s way of dealing with it and who are you to judge?
The sketchbook is opened at the last page you drew, with the man staring in front of him fully angered. How did you end up with over 200+ drawings of a man you never met? The doctor said finding a hobby would help and so you did: drawing. “You see what no one else sees”, your mom used to say and you decided to take a test. Too bad your eyes landed on a strange man walking down the street, holding on tightly to a lilac bouquet. Even worse he had been doing the same path for five years right in front of your balcony. The only things in your sketchbook are his face, his hands, and the bouquet. This is your third one since you kept running out of pages.
As you put the sketchbook away, your mind drifted away to your mother’s (possible) commentary. “Don’t be silly, he will come by later, I’m sure something happened” and she, most likely, would be right. She was always right. 8:50 am and with your chest tightened from “talking” to her inside your mind, your feet landed at the cemetery’s gate.
“No flowers? Really? Who raised you, pigs?”, your grandpa said narrowing his eyes at you.
He, of course, was an impeccable mess in his hat, black coat, thin-framed glasses that gave him a Bond villainesque look. In his rugged hands a white rose bouquet, carefully made and held by.
“If I remember right, and I do remember it, we are talking about the same woman who said that flowers are for the living, not the dead.” He rolled his eyes in response but in good fun. “Why the flowers then?”
“My biggest mistake was to raise a woman a little too avant-garde, wasn’t it? C’mon, we don’t have the whole day,” he deep sighed while showing you the way.
You knew the path, but your feet seemed to avoid getting there, that’s why you followed Grandpa’s steps in the hope of not turning around and leave. It was a little ritualistic if you were honest: Grandpa would have some kind of gift in his hands that he would leave at the tombstone, and you would pretend to do not care as you deeply cared about it. She wasn’t there anymore, she hadn’t been for a long time.
Behind his glasses, you could see a lost man driven by grief. His hands shaking as he cleaned her name at the tombstone, the gaze avoiding yours. He would always wear black on cemetery days, as if the time never passed and it was the first visit yet.
“Want to go first?” He asked, you sighed in response. “Don’t know why I still ask.”
“It’s… Fine. You know she was a Buddhist, right? She believed in reincarnation. I feel a little silly talking to her,” you confessed while chewing the lip corners.
“Oh, trust me: I knew her the same amount as you, maybe even more. She was my daughter, for fuck’s sake.” Startled, you looked at him in shock at the rare occasion he would curse. Shit. “I’m not here because of her beliefs or lifestyle. Do you quote her inside your head? Because I do too, I too remember every small detail of her. I’m here because it’s how I tell myself she isn’t fully gone. So sorry if I’m too old-fashioned and feel like talking a few words at my daughter's tombstone with my grandaughter who, honestly? Could show a little more love towards her right now. I want to talk with her like we used to at the kitchen table on Sundays, I want to bring her flowers just like I did on her birthday and there is no Buddha, Allah, or a flying horse that can stop me. Now, can you open your fucking mouth and say something nice to your mom about your week?”
Silence took the space for a second before you simply replied with, “Better?”
“Yes, a lot. Thank you for asking, now go on, please.” He adjusted his hat and cleared his throat. You hummed, getting a little courage to look directly at the tombstone.
“Hum. I got a new couch last week, a velvety green one. A little too sexy, if I might, but you would probably say I need something sexy to attract someone even sexier. Am I rambling?” You asked, raising your eyes from the stone, but he made a motion for you to continue it. “Let me think, oh, the cat hunted a pigeon. It was somewhat disgusting because of the amount of feathers in my apartment…”
“Did the pigeon survive?” He asked, in his eyes with a slight curiosity.
“Yes, but by a thread. It was her cat, a little savage just like her!”
The conversation went on easily after it. Grandpa had found some old notebooks of your mom, including one with a cake recipe he would later send to you. You wouldn’t tell him, it did feel better not because you were speaking to her, but because you could watch him relax in his uptight perpetual state. In the blink of an eye, your mind wandered to the strange man and if he ever relaxed like that.
Grief is a strange thing. It took a little encouragement from your therapist and the need to move on, but you had started to go to weekly meetings of a grief support group at the local church (the only thing that made you enter that space). The first months were awkward, you went but avoided it at the same time. Slowly, it grew on you. Five years of not missing a single Wednesday, even on vacation.
Your grandpa tried once, but it just wasn’t for him. He didn’t want to move on or find a meaning for it, he needed to feel his grief as second skin. You needed it to stop suffocating you, to scream and shout about that weight in the hope of someone taking it from your back.
This Wednesday wasn’t any different. You entered the church's back door with some cookies in hand, even if you were well aware that most people couldn’t eat as they exposed their pain, it was more of a sweet gesture than a necessity. The white walls and the cross in front of you completed the scenario.
“Cookies? You never eat anything,” Henry questioned while taking a bite. His dark eyes staring suspiciously at you.
“My grandpa found an old cookie recipe from my mom. How does it taste?” You replied as you watched him bite. You couldn’t bear to try it first, too anxious about it.
“Your mom was definitely a writer, not a chef. Taste like an old sock.” His face contorted as he spat out the cookie. Well, you tried something new.
“Yeah, no wonder I survived out of Lucky Charms and BTLs.” Henry laughed as you let go of your shoulder’s tension a bit.
The grief support group had grown and shrunk over the years. Sometimes people would feel good enough to leave the support, those were the lucky ones: grief was a period of their life, not an everyday thing. In other cases, they would get too depressed and leave before making some actual change in their being. You, unfortunately, were addicted to bond with the pain part of it.
Well, you and them. Henry was the first you met, totally wrecked after losing his little brother, Sam, to leukemia. He almost left college due to the weight of grief but kept it together, you even went to his graduation a few years back.
Tess came later. First, her kid died and then, in a stroke of bad luck, she found out she had a terminal disease that would, eventually, kill her. She wasn’t there to deal with the death of others, but her own. She was slowly dying and it was scary as shit. Not that you would know it from the outside, she had more strength (both physically and mentally) than most.
Frank was the group leader, conducting the discussion and creating the safe spaces. Everything you had said while hugging him, no matter how bad, never came back to hunt you. Which was odd on its own, but even odder considering his grumpy husband, Bill, was the exact opposite. Everything you did said in Bill’s direction came back to hunt you right after it came out of your mouth.
People come and go, but you stay there. Grabbing your regular place at the circle, putting the name tag on your shirt, and drinking some water just in case you cry. Except today you have someone new seated across you.
His strong nose and patchy beard hint someone you do know. His square jaw tensed up, brows deeply furrowed in a “don’t talk to me, I want to go home” that you could draw with eyes closed. The name tag reads “Joel”. You were right, his eyes are brown.
It feels weird to look at him without a pen and paper in hand, but it feels just right to see his features up close. Tess brings him coffee - black, you noticed - and gives him an eye silently saying “Don’t fuck it up”.
The meeting starts, Frank asks who is there for the first time. Joel and a woman, Hannah, raise their hands.
“It’s tradition to introduce ourselves at our first meeting. You don’t need to tell the details of why you are here or who you are, just simple information that people can distinguish you from the rest of the group.” Frank explains to a tired Joel, who sighs in response while Hannah overshares who she is.
Of course he doesn’t want to be there. Nobody wants to. You wish you could leave every time you cross the door, but know that the moment the meeting starts to develop you will want to continue in that deep state of pouring your heart out.
“I’m Joel, my friend Tess convinced me to come. That’s it.” He simply states, loud and straight. You catch Frank laughing.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to push you a little on it. Why did you accept to come here?” Joel furrows even deeper at the provocation.
“I didn’t. She trapped me.” Tess raises her very blonde eyebrows at him, who snaps. “You did trap me. Call me saying it was an emergency, I go to your house expecting the worst and you lock me inside there until the time to come here after I said I wouldn’t go to a grief support group.”
“See? He is an asshole, he needs this.” She answers Frank, making sure he gets her points. Your mom was right, something had happened to him.
“So, Joel, why are you here still?” Frank subtly asks.
“I beg your pardon?” Joel’s eyes are softer now, getting caught off guard. He doesn’t have any argument for it.
“Yes Joel, why are you still here? I’m not trapping you in this char, nobody is holding you down.” Tess retorts her mouth in his direction, that scoffs and looks around the room. When his eyes look into yours, you smile coyly unable to retain yourself.
“Sir, please continue.” Accepting defeat, Joel crosses his arms around his chest, fully ignoring Tess's triumphant smile.
“You are free to leave at any point, no need to tell us why. But I guarantee that if you stay, you might learn we aren’t that bad.” Frank nods in his direction, gaining a hard sigh. “Let’s start. Before every meeting, we say out loud the names of those who have gone to allow ourselves to think about them without shame, remorse, or guilt. You know the drill, Henry?”
“Sam,” Henry says firmly.
“Abigail,” you speak loudly.
Another silly little gesture, but you do allow yourself to think about her after it. Every single time. It’s almost as if the weight of her, the one that you carry around all day and pretend isn’t there suffocating you, comes to sit by you, not on you.
“Teresa,” Tess points at her.
“Sarah,” Joel almost murmurs looking at the ground. His hands are fidgeting, his mind in another place.
You have been there, you know how strange it is to say it for the first time out loud after a while, sounds forbidden and partly awkward. You aren’t supposed to say it to strangers, it’s sacred just for you, and yet, here you are saying it to whoever wants to share this pain with you.
You wonder if Sarah liked lilac flowers.
Some people speak about how they dealt with grief during the week until Frank asks you how the cemetery visit went. The group knows that meeting your grandpa there gives you a chill up the spine.
“I think I forget that he is allowed to grieve as he needs. I know all these little parts of her, how she lived her life. I’m quick to fight because she isn’t here to defend herself. I’m not even sure she would like for me to defend the memory of who she is… Sorry, was. Of who she was.” You swallow dryly, trying to ignore the miswording. “He bought her flowers. She always said that flowers were for the living, not the dead, and yet, he bought her a bouquet. I got frustrated, felt like he was trying to put her in a box of who he wanted her to be.
“He put me in my place quickly, even said fuck.” Henry makes some noise in surprise, you nod agreeing. “Exactly, it dawned on me: the flowers are for him, not for her. Just like his grief and how he needs to express it is only for himself, not for me to judge. I think he misses her more than he tells me. If I could go back in time, I would have implored him to cremate her and stop this nonsense of going to her grave, checking her tombstone, giving her damn flowers.”
“Maybe the flowers are his way of saying out loud that he cares too. She was his daughter before being your mother.” Joel speaks out loud, getting your full attention. His arms are still crossed, but now his eyes are lost in thought, almost as if he didn’t want you to hear it.
“Maybe. I just wish he allowed himself to stop pretending she is still here. I want to think of her without feeling guilty that she isn’t. He is too busy missing her to notice that I’m missing him.” You answer locking eyes with Joel, who chews the corners of his mouth, once again deep in thought.
“Maybe he doesn’t know how to do it, need help.” His voice soft, just like his eyes.
“Maybe.” You give in, feeling that Joel isn’t speaking about your grandpa. You swallow as you remember the lilacs.
The meeting runs smoothly. The group finishes by drinking coffee before parting ways. Frank is chatting by the corner with Joel, who is running a hand by the nape of his neck. Curiosity gets the best of you and, before you can stop, you question Tess.
“Who is Sarah?”
“A million-dollar question, huh?” She teases as she sips her sugary coffee. Henry looks between you two, waiting for a response. “You both haven’t heard from me, I’ll deny til death that I’ve ever said it. His daughter, she died a few years back. He hasn’t been the same since. That motherfucker goes to her grave every fucking Wednesday.”
“He visits her every Wednesday?” The number of drawings of Joel walking down your street early in the morning with a lilac bouquet makes more sense. His face, his fast speed, how he ignored everyone that walked by, how he never noticed you at your balcony.
“Yes, she died on a Wednesday, he relives that event every week since.”
Frank walks in your direction, Joel right behind him looking everywhere, except your face. If he only knew how much you have looked at his face before.
“I recall you haven’t been a mentor yet, right?” Frank starts and you nod, curious about where he is going. “Amazing! You’ll have your first newbie. Joel, you’re in good hands.”
He leaves before you can say anything, whether yes or no. Fuck. Joel is confused as well, still looking like he would rather leave. You open your mouth and go grab your phone.
“Sooooo… How was your first meeting?” Flipping through your phone until find your own number isn’t a good move to show that you are smart, trustful and worthy but right now you only want to avoid his brown eyes.
“Pass.” You blink at him. “I won’t keep chit-chatting. Cut to the chase.”
“Oh damn, I thought you had softened a little with time.” He fights the urge to roll his eyes and you smirk at him, reading him like a book. “I’ll give you my number in case you need someone to talk to. And yes, you can call me anytime you want to. And no, I won’t get your number. You come to me or I won’t come to you.”
That entertains him a little. It was the first rule of your mentor, she made sure you would look for her and not the other way so you could understand when and what triggered you. Joel just nods as he saves your contact.
“When did you first contact your mentor?” He questions, sounding genuine in his curiosity.
“Diet Coke, couldn’t drink.” The furrowed brows are back, so you continue. “My mom would mostly only drink Diet Coke, after she passed away I would buy canes just to open and hear the sizzling. Couldn’t drink otherwise would vomit from stress. It was really hot and I craved one, made that call and drank it.”
“And you drank the whole thing?” His soft eyes are back and you feel a little foolish for thinking that he could have green eyes, not when the dark brown suits him so much.
“Yes and vomited right away. Still, it was worth the shot.” You smile and for a fraction of time, he smiles too.
He doesn’t call right after and neither shows up at the grief support group. You still draw him, but from memory, the last time you watched as he strolled your street it was three months ago. Something about his grief seems too personal and you feel awkward invading that space, instead, every Wednesday at 8 am you find another thing to do. It isn’t as easy as it sounds, ignoring his handsome profile and the lilacs on his hands, but you allow his privacy.
The only reminder of your favorite habit is the sketchbook at the table and the fresh lilacs decorating your balcony.
Time goes by slowly and too fast, the weight of your mom still at your back as the life surrounding you goes on its course. You almost forget about him until a Wednesday morning, 8 am sharp, your phone chimes and you pick up at the first beep.
“I can’t eat pancakes. I hate pancakes, but she loved it.” He softly says and you stop everything to listen.
“You made from scratch or store-bought?” You phrased it like it is an important question. He hums back on the phone.
“Store-bought, don’t know how to make the batch. She straight up bought only the mix.”
“Would you eat with her, despite not liking it?” Your hand slides the paper, creating his silhouette line after line.
“Yes.” He simply answered, as if it was the most common question in the world.
“What are you waiting for? Take a bite.”
And he does. The chewing sound from the other side fills the phone, your hand keeps drawing him in his overgrown hair, almost as if you could see the scene right before your eyes.
“So, was it worthed?” You ask looking at the draw as he finishes his plate.
“Still taste disgusting.” He soft replies after a second, you snort and he laughs. The sound is the most delicious thing you’ve ever heard.
next chapter
#joel miller#tlou fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller x original character#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x you#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfic#the last of us#the last of us hbo#wednesday series
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NAH CUZ THIS ONE CAME OUTTA NOWHERE BUT-
painter!Onyankopon 🧐🧐🧐🧐wat do we thinkkkkkkkk
who wanna paint his pretty lil girlfriend up as a bday gift but thingz start escalating-
you ATEEEEE
“you done?” you asked excitedly as you laid naked on the bed. ony sitting in front of you with a chair and painting set while he gave you a petty eye roll. “mama you only been sitting here for ten minutes. what you think?” he sighed, pencil in hand as he sketched your pretty body onto his cavas. your boyfriend was a very talented and well known artist. he’s had his work shown in many different art museums around the world and you couldn’t be any prouder of him.
people have paid unbelievable prices for his beautiful paintings and even more for customs. you’ve been with him through it all and even though you never said it, ony could always see how entranced you’d look when he’d bring you with him as his “assistant” and decided there was no better time to finally let you shine than your birthday.
“m’almost done wit the first part sexy. just need you to stay still f’me so i get get it done and start mixing my colors for your pretty skin ‘kay?” you nodded your head, apologizing for the movement as you sat as still as you could on your knees. back facing him as you kept your head to the side so he could get your side profile. another ten minutes when by and ony was finally done with the sketch. quietly pulling his paints out to mix them together for your beautiful complexion. “red? maybe lighter like orange? ma you know the color of your undertones?” he asked, while holding up the red and orange paint bottles.
you turned your head a little more so he could see your face, quizzical look already telling him everything he needed to know. “can you put on some music tho? if ima be sitting here like this, i wanna at least have sum playing” ony nodded his head before opening your phone and going to the first playlist he saw, but you already know what he chose when poison by brent faiyaz began to play through the speaker on the bed. the sex playlist.
you didn’t mind it though, humming along to the music as ony continued to work behind his large canvas.
as your music played it was suddenly getting harder for your man to focus. hands beginning to sweat at just the slightest glance of your oiled back. ‘wonder if she oiled the front of her body too’ dirty thoughts clouded ony’s brain as he watched you mindlessly move your hips to the music. “stay still mama. you making this hard f’me” he mumbled as he eyed your neck, then your beautiful shoulders down to your smooth back, stopping at the sight of your beautifully brown ass.
before he knew it, ony was slowly walking up behind you. lightly pushing your back down before rubbing with the swell of your ass. “you changed your mind againnn? now how long is it gon take for you to sketch thissss?” you whined, not thinking anything of his actions until you felt his print brush against your bare pussy. “you so pretty mama” his hands rubbed all over your back, letting the oil spread to his fingers and clothes as he leaned down to kiss from your back to your neck. “wanna put my dick in you, jus the tip ‘cause i still got work t’do”
you nodded your head, already in a lust filled daze as you felt him continue to rub against you with his clothed dick. ony lifted you off the bed slightly by the front of your neck. “can i mama? you gon let me make you feel good?” his whispers went straight to your core. legs already growing weak as you moaned out a weak “yes”. with that ony lightly bent you back over, freeing his dick from his sweats before lining up with your wet entrance.
“j-just the tip right?” your voice was small as you looked back at him. a small smirk made its way to his face as he watched your pretty face contort, dick sinking deep into you before he started thrusting at a steady pace. “you know better than to be believing shit like that ma. pussy too good for me to only let my tip fuck” ony chuckled as he listened to you whine into the sheets. hips already moving hungrily so you can fuck him back.
“seems like you agree wit me, don’t you baby? pussy so fucking wet” his pace quickened, making your moans become louder and more frequent as you reached your arm back. not for him to stop, but for him to hold to keep you grounded while he pounded away at your pretty pussy. “feel so good daddyyy…fuck go harder” ony smiled at the action, eagerly holding your hand in his while he started fucking into you deeper.
the both of your voices harmonized with each other as you continued to fuck each other the way you liked. bodies working together so both of you can reach the orgasms you’ve been wanting since you laid your naked body on the bed. “you so fucking sexy mama. got the most beautiful body i swear” his inked hands ran all over your back, thighs and neck. massaging you as he gave you words of love. “no painting can ever be enough to portray how beautiful you are baby. so glad you mine.”
his dick curved just right, hitting all the places you needed to make you a blabbering mess below him. “l-love you so much…so much daddy. happy t’be yours��.yours forever” ony couldn’t help but smile as he listened to you run your pretty mouth. your walls sucking him in as you spoke, like the fact that you were saying you were his turned you on even more. “love you more, h-happy..fuck…happy birthday princess. sorry i can’t finish your painting.”
your body was getting to him. strong arm pushing your back down as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. “want you to fill me up daddy” you moaned, the feeling of his dick twitching already telling you that he was going to cum. ony’s brown eyes rolled to the back of his head, hips pistonning into you even harder as he felt his release on the tip of his tongue.
“gotta show you how much i love you right now”
#aot x black reader#onyankopon x black reader#aot onyankopon#onyankopon x reader#onyankopon x black!reader#aot smut#onyankopon aot#onyankopon smut#onyankopon x black y/n#onyankopon x y/n#aot onyankopon x black reader#aot onyankopon x black!reader#aot onyankopon x black y/n
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ohhhhh bestie The Bear & The Fox got me GOOD, more please!!!
The Bear & The Fox (Carmy Berzatto x Fem!Reader)
Chapter 2: Like a fox caught in the headlights
Words: 5.7k
Summary: After four weeks at The Beef, you've learnt some valuable lessons. Finding Carmy adorable is the most dangerous one.
a/n: Because I am nothing if not a people pleaser, here's the second chapter for that one person that asked lol Enjoooy xx
P.S. Reader is Latina in this, so there will be some spanish lessons.
After a full four weeks at The Beef, you had realized a couple of valuable lessons. Subs and sandwiches were not the same, and Richie had a very strong opinion about the “uncultured jackasses” that confused them, Tina was nicer than everyone gave her credit for (though it probably helped that both your mother and her had gone to the same high school together) and lastly; Carmy being a decent person would be more counter effective than you anticipated. Especially when you learned that your building was about four blocks away from his and that he drove Richie’s car, because the other had his license suspended for parking on a handicap spot while buying cigs.
It had been completely accidental and not at all your intention, but on your sixth day after closing and when your idiot brother had forgotten to pick you up, you naively thought it would be fine to walk thirty three minutes to get home. The L was not an option as the last time you had taken it, someone stole your access card and it would take at least a month to get a new one. So you and your uncomfortable platform sneakers were stuck for at least another half hour until you could make it home. Or so you thought.
Ten minutes after leaving The Beef, with your jacket zipped all the way up to avoid the harsh late March wind, you had fallen into a comfortable pace. You’d normally wear your headphones to tune out the city sounds, but it was almost 11pm and the fear of getting jumped was enough to keep you alerted of your surroundings. The last thing you needed right now was a shiv to the throat. However, for a Sunday night, the streets were livelier than you had expected. People congregated outside bars and the family owned pizzerias that remained open past midnight to feed the night owls, stoners and drunks. You admired the checkered table cloths they used and added the image to the folder in your mind under ‘shit to make the beef less sad’ as you made your way down the blocks.
As you reached the crosswalk and waited for your turn, a dusty black car slowed its pace then stopped fully beside you. You brazed yourself for the usual catcalls or hollering while you kept your head forward, though the sweaty hand around your strap gave another impression.
“Hey!” You heard from the car once the window was down and you did your best to hold your tongue and not tell the asshole to just fuck right off, but when you heard him call your name, this time you turned surprised.
Carmy sat staring up at you through the cracked window, right hand already pushing the passenger door open and waiting for you to get in. There was a slight frown on his brow as you stood motionless looking at him because he was the last person you expected to see and also holy fuck, did that blue jacket bring out the already magnificent color in his eyes. The sound of a horn blaring from behind you brought you back from the ridiculous turn your thoughts were taking and you cleared your throat climbing into the warm vehicle. He sat staring at your profile as you took your bag off and placed it between your feet on the car floor, then pushed your hair behind both ears to clear your face and smile towards him.
A small ‘Hey’ was thrown in his direction and the warmth in your skin subsided once his gaze was no longer resting on you.
“You weren’t planning on walking, were you?” He asked, concerned.
“Would it be so bad if I say yes?” You ask back a bit ashamed. “It’s not that far.” you try to justify, playing with your fingers.
He asked you where you lived and when you told him the location, the car stopped in its tracks almost comically, although it would have been if he hadn’t stared at you with such a bewildered expression.
“That’s like an hour by foot!” He scolded, putting the car back in motion and merging successfully into the main road.
“No, it's like.. thirty minutes at most!” You fought back. “Besides, it’s not like I do it daily, my fucking brother just forgot to pick me up tonight.”
“Your brother the carrot?” He asked, now smiling softly.
A breathy almost giggle left your mouth as you turned to him. “Yeah, the carrot.”
That’s when he told you that it was fine if you ever needed a ride back because he lived in the same area anyway. ‘You can ask for help, you know’ He said, ‘It’s better than putting yourself in danger’. And you could have just left it at that, your boss being a decent human being. But the warmth of the car, the lowness of his voice and the sweet humming of a folk song playing in the radio, had your head swimming with scenarios that grew too quickly for you to stop them, even though you knew you had to.
He dropped you at the door of your building with a ‘Goodnight.’ and ‘Sleep well’, and as you climbed every step towards the fifth floor, you were reminded of the unspoken rule you had with yourself: No in-work relationships. No dating coworkers. No messing around.
No matter how funny, how nice, how hot or how lost you could get in the pool in their eyes.
That’s how your routine came to be. At least until Richie got his license back, which you secretly hoped was not anytime soon. You’d finish closing up front, take your bag from the office and wait for Carmy out back until he was done scrubbing clean every surface of the stainless steel kitchen. Sometimes you’d wait inside too, disguising it behind wanting to keep him company but in actuality you were just afraid someone would creep on you from the dark while alone outside. The car ride would consist of meaningless chatter on music, movies and on who won the prize to “Shitty customer of the day”, and on your way up home you’d repeat the same mantra for each step. As many times as it took for your beating heart to slow and for your skin to cool down before reaching your door.
***********
Carmy hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was evident from afar how accustomed he had become to your presence, enough that it affected him on your day off. It was ridiculous really, how off his game he was. Calling out wrong orders, oversalting the broth and even burning his hand with a metal handle he had forgotten over the fire. Tina snickered when she heard a ‘Fuck!’ behind her, followed by the clinging of metal falling to the ground.
“You good, Jeff?” She asked teasingly, looking over her shoulder at the chef running his hand under the faucet. “She’ll be back tomorrow, you know?”
He didn’t answer, he knew better than to do so because everything in that place could be used against him. She was right though, you’d be back tomorrow, you always were. On your first day off after being hired, he had spent the whole day doubting if you would be back the next, thinking about having to put the help wanted sign up again made his already unstable stomach worse. Then you showed up unexpectedly during the small break with a box of pastries you had made as a thank you for the team, each decorated with little edible flowers and colorful glossy coats. He had secretly snapped a picture of his, before biting into the heated crust, his stomach had welcomed the delicious warmth of food for the first time all day and the feeling followed him around during the rest of his shift.
On your third day off, you had brought your mother for dinner on a slow night. Your cheeks had gone up in flames when she let him know just how much you talked about the mouthwatering food served at The Beef and the wonderful people working there, before yelling something in spanish to Tina and leaving you both alone in comfortable silence.
“So you think our food’s delicious?” He asked with a teasing smile and bumping his shoulder against yours. You stood side by side while watching the two older women catch up in the kitchen like a sort of family reunion. Carmy normally didn’t let strangers into his kitchen, he was protective like that, but strangely for you, he was glad to make an exception.
“Of course I do!” you said with an embarrassed laugh. “You’re a great cook, chef,” You said sincerely and his eyes shone brighter than ever under the fluorescent lights. “You’re just too busy noticing your own faults to see it.”
Your mother had called for you and a part of him was glad she did, because he did not know how he would have resisted leaning down into your soft lips after such a beautiful confession. They didn’t charge for dinner, and no matter who you tried to give the bill to, no one would take it. ‘Orders from the boss’ they’d say grinning, and when you turned to the office, you saw a messy head of golden hair hide behind the door frame.
Now on your fifth day off, he wondered if you’d show up. He allowed himself a bit of delusion as he ran his injured hand under the tap, and imagined you arriving in one of those flared high waisted jeans you liked to wear. He stared at his hand and thought of what it would feel like to caress your cheek with it, your soft skin against his calloused one, doe eyes staring lovingly up at his as he held you closely between his arms… Fuck, okay,no this is weird, he thought. He should not be thinking of you like this and if they had anything similar to an HR department, this would definitely be a violation of some sort. And that’s not even talking about the wild scenarios his mind would make up late at night when he couldn’t get any sleep.
Even though it was just in his mind and no one else could see inside his little fucked up brain, it was still wrong. Especially when he knew you couldn’t feel the same. You were just being nice, he’d remind himself. That’s who you were. And he was being a pervert and a terrible boss by assuming otherwise. He had to get his shit right and his priorities straight, saving the fucking Beef from ruin was the first. He had to leave his stupid lovesick scenarios for when he could finally give his tired body a rest.
He pulled himself out from the rubble of his thoughts, turned the water off and dried his hands on the white rag hanging from his surprisingly clean apron. Then he made his way back to the station and continued on dinner prep with the usual automated performance he had trained so hard to cultivate. This he knew, this was familiar and precise and gave no space for errors or misinterpretations. This was his. Him. No doubt, insecurity or fear of reciprocation. A vegetable was still a vegetable no matter how he felt towards it, and he still had to be your superior no matter how he felt towards you.
************
“I don’t know which one to get!” You hummed through the phone resting between your shoulder and cheek as your hands were busy comparing the very similar fabrics in front of you.
You hear Sydney groan exasperated through the line and you can clearly picture her rolling her eyes at you.
“Just pick whichever! It’s not like anyone will notice the difference anyway.” She answered, and you can hear a light buzz of noise from her side.
“I’ll notice.” You mumbled back.
In your defense and to your well color-trained eye, they were very different. While the design was the same, checkered style pattern with white, they both had negative spaces of different shades of blue, one slightly darker than the other. You were leaning towards the softer baby blue, but it wasn’t the right shade. It was the third craft store you visited and none seemed to carry the specific type of blue you were in search for. It was a stretch because you were sure that shade’s only purpose was to exist between tired eyelids and golden lashes, but you were too stubborn and you had to at least try to find something similar.
“I’m sure people will just be happy to not eat directly on the plastic tables. Bring the one you like best.” Syd said after a moment of silence.
“Ugh, I guess.” You finished, finally deciding on the baby blue material.
You walked around the art supply section and picked out the things you were there for originally, a few tubes of oil paints, paint sealant, a detailing brush and a new spatula were what you checked from your list. It wasn’t your intention to buy more than that, but the sight of the shiny fabric at the end of the aisle had you dialing Syd’s number and asking if she thought Carmy would mind if you bought things for the restaurant with your own money. You were planning to anyway, but the reassurance was nice. ‘Anything that comes from you is okay with him’ she had said and a fuzzy feeling bloomed in your chest.
“We’re still on for drinks later, right?” She asked while you scanned everything through the self checkout.
“Yeah, I’m just gonna drop all this shit off today, go home and change and meet you outside after closing.” You mentally groaned at all the back and forth you’d have to do but it was better than carrying everything home then back to The Beef the next day.
Also, you had secretly taken a liking to dropping by unexpectedly to “say hi”. You were never the kind of person to go to your place of work on your off day, you never understood those people because, why be there six days of the week then go back on your off when you could literally go anywhere else? But The Beef had felt more like a home than a job ever had for you. It was warm and inviting, and you understood why there were so many regulars who still bought their daily sandwich after so many years. It felt nice to work for a place that was more for the people than the prestige. It was a breath of fresh air in a world surrounded by how ridiculous you could make a dish and still have it be considered food.
“You sure it’s not just cause you wanna see a certain broody someone?” Syd asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts.
You stayed silent on the line and that was enough of a confirmation for Sydney to burst into laughter from the other side.
You spat a ‘Shut up.’ and hung up on her mid laugh, cheeks ablaze.
After leaving the store, you walked the fifteen minutes to The Beef with your headphones on and carrying your bag of supplies in blissful peace. You liked days like these, the sun shining softly through the clouds, the air fresh and crisp and your heart light in your chest. The beat of the music coordinated with your steps on the sidewalk as you made your way through the industrial looking streets, letting your mind roam to its recent favorite topic of wild messy hair and freckle dusted skin. Syd’s words were still fresh in your mind, but also was the rule you had been repeating to yourself more than usual.
Each time he did something nice, you had to convince yourself that that’s just the way he was and to stop reading into something that wasn’t there. Every time you caught him looking was justified by him just spacing out and you being in the general direction of his gaze. The free dinner was him being kind, the rides home were him being decent and the sweet smiles as you crossed the kitchen towards the steward section were… Your doom, honestly.
Every time you made your way across with empty plates, even if it was only for a brief second, he snuck a peek from his bowed position over the expo, then smiled loosely back down. The first time you had caught his stare, you had carelessly dropped the dishes on Angel and into the muddy water then rushed out the back door because the space around you had become insufferably hot. The image had replayed like a broken record all day, rewinding in the exact moment his ocean eyes bore into yours like waves crashing against a rocky coast. It was criminal. And you would take to your grave how the memory had fueled the fire in your lower belly on the nights when you couldn’t get any sleep. Just remembering brought back the familiar ache between your thighs and you quickened your steps to relieve the sensation. Fucking hell, had it really been that long? It probably had been because you couldn’t remember the last time you got laid, or even been kissed for that matter. No wonder you were so wound up over a simple look.
‘That's it’, you thought. ‘I’m just hormonal and it’s causing my stupid brain to confuse horniness with like. Nothing more’ So on the last block to The Beef you made up your mind: you were going to find a stranger to sleep with that night, then this whole Carmy situation would die down and you would see it with clear eyes for what it really was, Carmy just existing and you being a pervert for misinterpreting anything he did.
You took a deep breath as you pushed the glass door to find an empty restaurant and you assumed everyone was taking a well needed break in the back before the dinner rush. You pulled your headphones off and made your way into the familiar hallway that led from the front, past the walk in and into the office. Your plan was to drop the bag off and head right out, you'd see everyone after closing anyway, but just as you left everything by the foot of the crowded desk and turned to leave, a tall shadow standing by the door made you jump back startled.
“Jesus fuck, Carmy!” You yelled at him with a hand against your thumping chest. He stared at you with a contained smile and it was hard not to smile back. “Was that payback?!” You asked, still trying to control your breathing.
“For what?” He asked innocently and entered the small office space. In the reduced area, his broad shoulders looked bigger and the thumping in your ears was no longer from the fright. “What's that?” He asked, pointing to the bag you had discarded on the ground.
“Oh, um…” God, why are you so nervous? “It's just some stuff I got for the front. Tablecloths and napkins and… stuff.” You answered by playing with your hands. You didn’t want him to be upset even though Syd had assured you it would be fine.
He crouched down towards the bag and rummaged around inspecting the insides.
“I was planning on putting it on the tables in the dining area… I hope that’s okay?” You added after what felt like minutes of silence.
“No, that- that’s really nice of you. Thank you, chef.” He said, looking up at you.” You bought this with your own cash?”
“Yeah.. but it’s no problem, truly. I just really fuckin’ hate those Starbucks napkins.” You joked and he sniggered while straightening up.
He scanned you with amused brows and for the first time all day you felt self conscious of your choice in clothing, or lack of choice.
You had been home all day working on a panting in the makeshift studio you had created in your living room. Your grandfather had helped you set up an easel and some drawers near the windows with the most natural lighting as a fun hobby at sixteen, and almost ten years later, the space had become a sort of sanctuary during stressing times or just when you needed to clear your head. Half the house was now covered with your creations, mostly paintings, but also a few sculptures from that time you tried to experiment with clay and almost blew up your mother’s oven.
That morning, you had been working on a piece centered around a stormy sea and a boat adrift, headphones on and too far gone into your own head, when you realized you had squeezed out the last drop of teal paint from the little tube. You could have just mixed and matched until the shade was correct, but your back protested when you finally unhooked your left leg from under you and that was a loud enough sign that you needed to move from the uncomfortable wooden stool you had spent hours on. So without changing from the paint covered overalls, cliche sure but cute, you thought, you pulled your sneakers on then kissed your grandpa goodbye and closed the door behind you.
Now as you stood in front of Carmy, a baggy mess of dried colors, trying to rack your brain for an explanation, you noticed just how bad of an idea it had been. You felt like a kindergartener’s discarded art project, and fuck’s sake, the two space buns at the bottom of your neck were certainly not helping. You scratched the back of your head nervously, trying to avoid his teasing gaze, then rested your hand flat on the desk to turn fully towards him.
“I was painting, okay?” You mumbled and for a second you felt like a kid getting caught doing something bad. It also didn’t help that he was older than you and a dark part of your screwed up brain searched for his approval.
“I would hope so.” He answered between a breathy laugh.
It was an involuntary move from his part, down right impertinent. Something he would never do in a million years, especially to a woman while they stood alone in a closed space with less than a foot between their chests. But his hand was already half way up when he realized what his body was doing, his gaze too caught on the light strip of cyan paint above your brow to realize how your breath had gotten stuck in your throat and your pupils had swallowed your irises whole. His cold fingers feathered away the slight bangs that framed your face and as his skin made contact with yours for the very first time since you met, an electrified chill ran from the base of your neck, down through every nerve ending exposed to the air and causing bumps to rise along your skin. It was completely innocent, but the contrast in temperature, combined with the close proximity and the emotions you had tried to sweep under the rug, had your heart in a whirlpool dropping down to the depths of your stomach. The bubble of air in your throat didn’t know whether to go up or down, so you simply stayed still as he gently rubbed his forefinger against your temple. Your mouth felt dry and your eyebrows were screwed together in a mixture of angst and anticipation. You felt like a fox caught in the headlights, treading carefully around the hunter.
Your eyes drooped mindlessly to his parted lips and the voice in the back of your head whispered how easy it would be to stand on your toes and close the small distance separating you. The hand resting on the desk had curled around the edge and you knew your knuckles had turned white from the force of your grip. It felt like time had stopped altogether, only your echoing heartbeat was the telltale of the seconds passed. You dragged your eyes slowly back up his features until they stuck to the warm icy blue and you could feel his thumb unconsciously rubbing slow circles.
‘It would be so easy.’ you both thought.
His face was a whisper away, yet it felt like a dessert separated you from the only body of water you wanted to desperately bathe in. Just one swim wouldn’t hurt, right? No one would know it happened. A one and done situation. ‘Just to get you out my system.’ you thought. Or rather whispered.
“What?” Carmy mumbled confused.
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
You pulled back, blinking rapidly to control the panic beginning to bubble in your veins. Fuck! You tried to settle your eyes anywhere except on him while you struggled to decipher what the actual hell you were going to let happen. From your peripheral vision, you could tell he was also disoriented by the way he pulled his hand down his face, stopping to cup his mouth with strength as if not trusting what could come out of it.
“I-I” Your voice sounded foreign, barely above a whisper. “I’m gonna go…um-” You swallowed the bubble of air and wrapped your arms around yourself with your eyes trained on the ground, trying to pass by Carmy without touching, as if the simple contact could sting your already sensitive skin.
He reached his hand towards you and called your name. “No- shit, wait I-”
“Hi, mija!” You heard and both of you instantly turned to where Tina stood by the door to the walk in.
She made her way to you and you tried your best to swallow the batch of tick saliva that comes before the bile and smiled. You pulled her into a hug and kissed her left cheek out of tradition.
“Hey, just came to drop off some things.” You spoke as nonchalantly as one can when you’re on the verge of a breakdown.
“Good, then you can save me the trip and give your mom this.” She said while handing you a small roll of five dollar bills. “It’s for the tanda. Tell her my number’s up next week, eh?” She caressed your cheek softly then turned to Carmy with a doubtful look. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I’ll give it to her.” You interrupted and threw the money without care inside your tote bag, turned to Carmy one last time, then marched through the hallway and out the glass door.
You didn’t stop until you knew you were at a distance safe enough to crash. You leaned against the bricks of a nearby flower shop and closed your eyes because, even though you had never fainted before, this felt very much how people describe it could feel. Your whole head was on the edge of explosion along with your ribcage and throat. Your mouth was dry and wet at the same time, and the simple feeling of saliva on your tongue was enough to have you gagging with your forehead against the wall.
“Okay, get your shit together.” You whispered to yourself between heavy sniffles.
Breathe. Hold. Release. Again. Breathe. Hold. Release. Again. With as much strength as you could manage, you pulled on the long sleeves of your shirt and wiped the trail of salty water beginning to slide past your cheeks. Breathe. The last thing you needed was to have a panic attack in the middle of the street, so even as your vision blurred at the edges and your chest heaved from the lack of air, you did your best to hail a cab. With the first strike of luck in the past ten minutes, a yellow car pulled by your side and you wasted no time in getting in. With little control left, you told him your address and as he drove in the direction of your house, the grimy restaurant street sign grew smaller in the rear view mirror and the single thread that kept your fumbling heart together finally tore.
You arrived home in a numbed state, your body felt drained after going through so many emotions in a short period of time and you were glad everyone was out because how could you explain the absolute shitshow you had stupidly put yourself through the last hour? You dragged your feet across the wooden floor of the hallway that led into the living room, dropped your bag over the island in the kitchen and headed straight into your bedroom. As soon as the soft fabric of the covers wrapped around you like a protective cocoon, the dam in your chest broke open and a nasty sob left your lips.
God, how could you ruin this so catastrophically?! How were you going to show your face at work after this? You could just imagine Carmy telling everyone how you had come onto him in his office and a new wave of tears rushed to your eyes. The first job you actually liked in years and you ruin it by almost kissing your fucking boss! ‘What the hell is wrong with me?!’
‘In our defense, he came onto us first’, the voice in your head tried to rationalize.
The intimate clip played back in your mind’s eye from a third’s perspective, like a movie scene you’ve watched a thousand times in the past half hour. ‘It can’t be completely my fault, right?’ You ask yourself, analyzing his expression through your memories. It had to mean something, you don’t just look at anyone like that.
“Fuck!” You yelled exasperated and rubbed the palm of your hands against your tired eyes.
You pulled your phone from your pocket and opened up Syd’s contact on the message app, ready to write an excuse as to why you needed to cancel. But as your fingers hovered over the keyboard, a part of your brain wondered if you really wanted to. It would make no use to brood in your own self pity for the rest of the day, and maybe the therapeutic process of getting ready to go out would help clear your head and let you see the situation in a better light. Also, you still had a plan to see through and after the day’s events, your skin had been left itching for contact, no matter where it came from.
So instead of canceling, you texted Sydney that you’d meet them at the bar instead, then spent the next ten minutes looking for a playlist that would inspire you for as long as your ritual would last.
**********
The hellscape of a day was finally over and Carmy had never been more grateful. After the last order had been served, he retreated into the office without a word to anyone and had been sitting staring at the same spot since. Thankfully no one knew what had him in such a distasteful mood and he was sure as hell that it was going to stay that way. They didn’t need to know how he had scared you away with his impulsive actions or that he was to blame if you stopped showing up without explanation. The team had barely started to respect him and knowing that he had borderline harassed everyone’s favorite waitress would have him catching a punch or two.
‘Just to get you out my system.’
Your voice repeated like an echo bouncing off the walls in his skull as he tried to make sense of the words, but no matter how many times he flipped them around and rearranged them, he still didn't know what they meant. Was he in your system? Was he really so dense, that he hadn’t noticed you felt something for him, or was he reading too much into an inexistent situation?
His fingers tingled at the memory of your soft warm skin against them, the way your eyebrows had knit together while you stared at him with the most wide eyes he had ever seen and how you had unconsciously parted your lips when your eyes flickered towards his. Fuck, he really was an idiot. You were probably the first woman he had looked at with such adoration and he had to go and screw it up with his lack of control and stupidness.
He layed back in his chair and ran his cold hands through his hair, eyes trained on the dimly lit ceiling above him. An exasperated breath left his chest and he closed his eyes, scanning his brain for a solution to what should be the least of his worries in an office surrounded by expired bills and accounts that made zero sense. ‘What’s one more thing to worry about, right?’ He breathed out a laugh.
He heard a knock from the slightly opened door and turned to see Marcus staring down at him.
“Yo, chef?”
“Yo” He answered back.
“We’re all done with housekeeping’. Some of us are gonna go grab drinks and we wanna know if you wanna hang.” He stayed silent for a second. “You kinda look like you had a shitty day.” He sniggered.
He could always trust Marcus to tell the truth.
Carmy suppressed a laugh and leaned into his desk, taking a pen in his hand and playing with it. “Nah, thanks chef. I’m gonna catch up on some stuff here. You have fun though.”
Marcus nodded slowly, looking around the desk until his eyes landed on the bag of fabric laying on the ground. “Bet.” He said then smiled slowly. “She’s gonna be there. Jus’ so y’know.” And with a pat on the doorframe, he signaled his exit.
He leaned against his chair again and stared at the space Marcus had stood in, contemplating his options. If he went, there was a high possibility you didn’t wanna see him. But this could also be his only chance to get things cleared out and maybe convince you to not quit because of his actions. Granted, a bar was not the place to talk and definitely not his scene, but if that’s what he had to do to convince you to stay then so be it. He took a couple calming breaths to ease his heart at the idea of possibly even telling you how he felt, if you were gonna leave, might as well take the info with you, right? It’s not rejection if you were already gonna split.
“Fuck it.” He threw the pen at the mess of papers and the old chair creaked as he stood forcefully, then pulled his jacket from the back along with his keys from their hook by the entrance and followed the rowdy chanting of his youngest employees walking in a line out the busted back door and into the night.
Chapter 3.
#carmen berzatto x reader#the bear & the fox#carmen berzatto x you#the bear fx#carmy berzatto#carmy the bear#carmy x reader#carmy smut#the bear tv#carmy berzatto headcanon#the bear headcanon#carmy berzatto imagines#carmy berzatto fluff#carmen berzatto smut#carmy berzatto smut#carmen 'carmy' berzatto#carmy x poc reader
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Dont ask just read, this is what a bored and horny mind can come up with. Yes, this woman needs a name so for now we will call her LSM. What does that stand for? Lets find out together. Completely UNEDITED.
Lesbian Sugar Mommy
You had a daily schedule, a routine. You followed this routine everyday for years. For years. So you being poor as hell at only 24, being barely able to afford food and rent. It was an all time low for you, and an embarrassing one at that.
Recently your friend recommends you try a sugar dating app. At first you thought it was stupid, but mulled it over and remembered how broke you were. You made a profile and it took a couple days before you matched with a woman.
At first you were incredibly awkward when texting and felt embarrassed. She seemed like the kindest woman you've ever met. She understood you and was better than any man or woman you had previously dated.
You were honestly pretty enamored with her, she has dark green eyes. Like a forest green, god they're beautiful, and you swear they change color depending on what she's wearing. Her hair is long and dark, contrasting her lightly tan skin. Her hair is slightly curly, definitely not straight. In the many pictures she's sent you, you notice all her nails are perfect manicured, but two on each finger have been cut down completely. You didn't bother asking, weren't a virgin or stupid, simply poor.
You two began talking a bit more about finances after a couple weeks. She listened to you talk about your financial situation, how you could barely keep a roof over your head. By the end of your two and a half hour conversation, you found yourself being wired $10,000.
It wasn't as if it was out of nowhere considering what the conversation was, but it was surprising. LSM had said she wanted to give you a bit of money to keep you going for the month. She had not said she was give 10,000 fucking dollars! You didn't know what to do with the money. Other than pay your bills and let the rest sit.
For a couple days you were worried she'd want it all back, but no, instead she asked if you wanted more.
"Well I didn't give you that much...so I'm just making sure it's enough. I can give you plenty more, sugar."
You had reassured her it was enough, much more than enough. In the following days you were finding her flirting with you more, being more straightforward. You blushed everytime she made a crude joke, but you almost wished it was a statement.
When LSM had asked if you wanted to have dinner at her place you agreed. You wondered how the night would go, if you would fuck up and she'd be mad. You hoped the night went as well as possible, and if not, that she'd at least tell you.
The night went a lot of different ways. At first she was playing the kind and gracious host, then she was flirting with you. Finally you had both drank a little too much of her expensive red wine, and she fucked you against her king size bed.
You dont remember the first little bit, but you certainly remember how your night ended. Well not all of it, that woman has the sex drive of a beast. She continued until she couldn't, until you couldn't walk and she couldn't see straight. If nothing else; your legs will remember this until you die.
"Good morning sugar, how are you feeling? I hope I wasn't too rough on you, although I can't say it was entirely my fault. You kept begging me to keep going, and who am I to deny you?"
You whined, talking hurt, and you couldn't move without some part of your body below your waist hurting. You sit up just a enough and look at yourself in your phone mirror. Oh she knew exactly what she was doing, theres a massive bite mark on your shoulder. Everywhere else there's hickeys, like they're changing color.
"Before you get mad- please look at my back!"
She turned and you saw large scratch marks running down her back. From her shoulders to her ass, you can also see quite the array of bites on her shoulder. One looks like it was actually bleeding. Your reaction must be funny because she's laughing like crazy. She gently cups your face and kisses your lips.
"So pretty. My girl is so pretty arent you? Mommy's little girl."
You just laid in her arms for a while, letting her talk about whatever she wanted. You were tired and her touch made you weak. You began thinking about your job, did you have to call in to work today? Were you working today? You asked LSM, but she just smiled and shook her head.
"You wont need your job anymore, at least not this one. I've already sent your monthly allowance over to you. You can quit that job anytime, it'll give you more time for me."
Monthly allowance? You pulled away to check your bank account. Sure enough she had transferred over $40,000.
You stared at the number for a moment a then looked back at her. You assumed she was some sort of big millionaire, but now that you're looking around. Really looking. You dont want to know what this woman does for a living.
"Pay no mind sugar, now come here. I'll have someone bring breakfast and we can stay in bed all day!"
#wlw#lesbian#im bad at this#women are hot#i cant write#sugar mommy#lesbian sugar mommy#lesbian sugar mommy x reader#rich#unedited#i tried#she might be in the mafia but i am not confirming nor denying that#maybe shes a mafia boss#maybe she is just really really rich#i dont see this as smut
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CW: past child abuse, past parricide
Special inspector Hob Gadling hates his job. Well, it's actually not true - he loves his job, but today specifically, he hates it. First, he was hoping for a bonus, and now he got assigned to a years-old cold case 'just to ensure that no new details emerged, and the investigation needs not to be reopened.' Second, he'll have to deal with some filthy rich weirdos.
Destiny Endless is a top-tier consulting risk manager, his services costing more than Hob's yearly paycheck. Death is the founder of a successful chain of funeral homes - after all, people always die, and rumor has it that Death is the best in her line of work. Dream is a famous writer who's able to write it all: whatever genre he sets his eyes - and pen - on, the book becomes a bestseller. Desire Endless is a porn star; the only mention of their name makes armies of fans go hard, wet, and horny. Despair founded a pharmaceutical corporation and revolutionized the world by introducing new, highly effective antidepressants. Destruction seems like the only normal person in that fucked-up family of masterminds: he had made a career in the military and then fucked off to travel the world. Last but not least, there is Delirium, an artist. Personally, Hob thinks that one needs to be constantly high to come up with such colors and forms, but hey, it's not him who's paid six figures to install some mind fuckery in amusement parks, so he doesn't get to judge.
Hob wouldn't come close to any of these freaks, but he has to verify that nothing was missed during the investigation, and so, here he goes. Mama and Papa of the Endless disappeared almost twenty years ago with no trace. Their bodies were never found, and there was no evidence of foul play. They just vanished into thin air, voilà. It was presumed that they had got bored, bought themselves new personalities, and left to live someplace else. To Hob, this seems strange yet plausible: looking at their kids, it's obvious that insanity runs in the family.
Still, Hob shows up to do his job, examine old records, and talk once again with all the Endless heirs. All goes very smoothly - there's nothing suspicious, all the kids' testimonies match. Hob would gladly close the check, but there is one tiny problem: he fell head over heels in love with Dream. Now in his thirties, he's unconventionally beautiful, insanely talented, and he's got Hob wrapped around his slender finger. Dream keeps his distance at first, but eventually, they begin dating. Hob finally closes the check for good - it's as clear as day that Endless parents must be chilling on some private island - and plunges into the relationship with Dream, learning him from the other side, as someone vulnerable, insecure, and kind-hearted. There's only one strange thing: Dream is inexperienced in bed for his age, and he's always somewhat tense during sex. Hob tries to talk to him, but Dream shuts the conversation down. Hob guiltily googles his bf and finds out that despite his high profile, there are no mentions of his exes in the media. At all.
Hob is puzzled, but it all falls into place when, one night, his lover has a nightmare. Hob wakes up from his screams and, with horror, realizes that this is more than a nightmare - it's a memory. He wakes Dream up and holds him while he cries. On the periphery of his mind, Dream's screams and pleas create a terrifying story of the siblings being abused by their parents for years.
'You killed them together, didn't you? Each of you thought you were the only one who suffered and thus kept the others safe. But once you all learned the truth…' Hob whispers into Dream's hair and holds him tighter. 'It's alright, my sweetling. I'd have killed them myself for you if they had been still alive.'
They stay like that through the night. In the morning, Hob makes Dream breakfast like nothing happened and goes to work. He's got no reason to worry about the case ever being reopened: there's no evidence, and he's determined to be the only one who sleeps by Dream's side till the end and holds him through his dreams and nightmares.
I love this so much. Poor, poor Dream. And the rest of the siblings too!
Hob doesn't want to draw further attention to the case of course, but he does all he can at work to make sure that files are carelessly "lost" or at least buried so deep in the archive no one will find it for a century. It even occurs him to frame someone else for the crime to make sure that the siblings are thoroughly safe, but... its better left forgotten. God knows Hob will spend the rest of his career making sure that no one ever goes sniffing around the Endless siblings ever again.
What's more he'll spend the rest of his life helping Dream in his recovery. He makes sure that he has private, confidential access to resources that a survivor should have - none of the siblings ever told anyone about the abuse or went to therapy because they're terrified to look like they had a "motive" to get rid of their parents. Hob changes that. He persuades as many of the siblings as he can to visit trusted therapists. Not all of them go for it, but at least someone is finally advocating for them and offering a little bit of support.
Hob loves Dream most of all of course, but he considers all the siblings as his family. He hates what happened to them. He can't fix it. But he can protect and love them as they deserve. Maybe all of them can finally breathe a little easier, with a friend on their side.
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Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)
Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy!
Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love?
ao3
Chapter Eleven: Lucky
It's the last night of vacation. Or should you say, 'conference'. You and Levi have kept from touching each other for both of your sanities. He only had one nightmare within the last couple of days when he had his arms around you.
"I can't believe we have to go home tomorrow morning." You zip up your luggage and prop it up against the wall. "I'm gonna miss the sun."
"We can always come back." Levi sipped his 3rd tea of the day. "Besides, our client has been happy with our work so far so I don't see the deal falling through."
You nod, sitting on the edge of the bed. You've been able to be a completely different person here. Soon, you'll be back in reality. Back to being the assistant to CEO Levi Ackerman.
"Hey." Levi waved his hand in front of your eyes. "What's wrong with you?"
"Sorry." You snap out of whatever trance you were in. "I'm just not looking forward to going back to New York."
"You act like I give you a ton of work." Levi sat next to you, his thigh touching yours.
"Not at all." You giggle, your head leaning back. "It's not like you don't pile on enough work for me to be busy for 2 weeks."
"You must have a different boss then. That doesn't sound like me at all." Levi's voice vibrated from his throat.
"Yeah, he's a lot hotter than you." You turn your head to look at his face. His side profile was carved by Renaissance artists. His skin supple from the moisturizer he just put on.
"Damn." He chuckled, watching your face as you lean back. "He's lucky he gets to look at you all day."
Your eyes find his as you sit up, holding each others gaze. You held your breath as Levi inched closer to you, his hand resting on your cheek. His hands felt hot on your skin - like his touch was taking your breath from your throat.
"What color is the light?" Levi's lips ghosted in front of yours.
"Green." You whisper, your eyes fixated on his mouth. "Green light."
Levi's minty breath kissed your lips before his lips did. He kept his left hand on your cheek, moving his thumb back and forth softly. You lean forward, letting the straps of your tank top fall off your shoulders, your full breasts now on full display.
Levi's other hand snakes to your waist, his large hands pulling you into him. You moan at his touch which gives Levi the perfect in for his tongue. You press your hand on his thigh, letting your nails drag against the fabric of his sweatpants.
You feel the palm of his hand slide up your body - pasts your breasts, to your neck. As he kisses you, he wraps his hand around the front of your neck - squeezing gently. You moan softly as he squeezes, your tongue dancing with his. He then moves his hand to the back of your neck, pulling you into him. "God, I've been thinking about that mouth of yours for days."
"What about it?" You whisper, moving your hips to straddle Levi's waist. This is the first time you took charge while being intimate since Levi always seems like the more dominant one. "Tell me what you love about my mouth, Levi."
"I love how swollen your lips look after kissing you. I imagine them wrapped-fuck," He says as your mouth wraps around his tongue, sucking on it gently. "I imagine how those lips feel wrapped around my cock."
"Is that so?" You feel wetness in your core. You can't help but be turned on by him fantasizing about you. "Well, let me make that your reality." You push your right hand on his chest gently, letting his body fall onto the plush bed.
You hook your fingers on the elastic of his sweatpants and pull them down to his ankles. Next, you slide his briefs down, revealing his long, girthy cock. You hear it slap against his stomach as your eyes watch in amazement. You've never seen a dick like his before. You're not sure if he could even fit inside of you.
Levi's breath hitches as your fingertips touch the base of his cock. You're now on your knees, your doe eyes boring into his half-lidded ones. He watches as you grab the base of his cock, leading the tip to your lips. You give it a quick kiss before sliding your tongue along the slit.
"Fuck." Levi's breath is shaky as he watches you pump his cock with your dainty hand. You don't break eye contact as you take his cock inch by inch into your mouth. His hands travel to your hair, gripping it roughly as you take more of him, quickening your pace. You close your eyes as you start to feel tears in them. But his cock feels so good in your mouth, and the look on Levi's face as you suck his soul out of his dick is so rewarding.
"Just like that, take my cock in your pretty little mouth." Levi peered through his eyes, watching you drag your tongue along his length, massaging his balls with your other hand. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth before he pulls out of you quickly.
"Why did you stop?" You watch Levi as he sits up, patting the comforter, seemingly looking for something.
"Do you have a condom?" Levi says with a low tone.
"I don't. Usually men keep those around."
"Let me check my bag." Levi got up, grabbing his backpack. To be honest, you want to feel all of Levi. But this is the first time he'll be fucking you, he'll be inside you, so it's better to be safe.
At least that's what you tell yourself.
Levi sits on the bed, a condom between his index finger and middle finger. "Found one. I brought only one, just in case. And for self control."
"I haven't slept with anyone else." You look down at the wrapper.
"I believe you. But, lets be safe."
"You have way more clothes on than I do." Levi said huskily, throwing his t-shirt on the floor.
"Let's fix that." You grab the bottom hem of your shirt, sliding it over your head and revealing your plump breasts. You kick your shorts to the side, crawling towards Levi on the bed.
"I like the view from here." Levi's voice is low, his mouth curved into a half smile. "I like when you crawl to me."
You glance at Levi, then his mouth, then his cock. Your core is throbbing with need. You watch his hand slide the condom on his length as he pulls your arms closer to him.
"Light?" He whispered.
"It's green. Green as in go." You press a kiss to his lips as his arms wrap around you tightly, flipping you on your back.
You stare at Levi as he lines his cock at your entrance. His eyes are locked on yours as he caresses your cheek with his index finger. "You are so beautiful, you know that?" Levi smiles.
"You're beautiful, too." You kiss his nose, trying to distract yourself from your throbbing core. "I need you, Levi."
"Impatient are we?" Levi plans kisses down your ear to your neck. "We talked about that, didn't we?" He growled.
"Levi, please." You wrap your arms around his neck, bringing his body closer to yours.
"I really created a spoiled brat." Levi pressed his tip against your soaked pussy. He almost slid right in, but he stopped himself. His hand dipped to your slit, your arousal coating his fingers. "So wet for me already, princess?"
"Yes." You moan, digging your nails into his skin. "I want you inside of me, Levi."
"How can I say no to that?" Levi pushes his entire cock into you, a loud moan escaping your lips. Levi watches as his cock disappears inside of you as he thrusts in and out of you.
"You feel so fucking good." Levi cages your head between his arms. "This pussy was made for me."
"Just for you, baby." Almost inaudible noises leave your mouth. You didn't mean to call him baby, but it just... came out. Levi liked the sound of it though because he started thrusting faster. You felt his bicep against the side of your face as his dick reaches places in your pussy that you didn't know existed.
"Right there, Levi." You moan as he hits that spot. "Keep going." You press your palm to the back of his head, your fingers lacing in his jet black hair. You cradle his head in your palm, gently caressing his scalp. Even while he's fucking your brains out, you want to take care of him.
"Fuck, princess." Levi's pacing got quicker, and sloppier. You felt your walls pulsate around his cock and your eyesight going blurry. "I want you to come first. Can you do that for me?"
You close your eyes and nod as you feel yourself come undone under him. The lining of your eyes went white and you saw spurts of rainbow as you reached your high. Levi pounded into you as you came, his own high coming soon. You pull Levis bare chest down to yours as he reaches euphoria, a moan of your name leaving his lips.
You're both panting as you come back down to earth, not wanting to move. Levi is still on top of you, the sweat sticking you together. You open your eyes and see Levi is already staring at you, his hand caressing your hair. "Are you okay? Was that okay?"
"It was more than okay." You nod, kissing his nose. "I've never came like that. So fast."
Levi only nods, lifting himself off of you. "Go shower." His tone was back to being cold as his back is to you. You sigh and get up to the bathroom, your legs slightly shaking. You turn around and watch Levi stretch, his back covered with marks of your nails dragging on his skin. You watch the muscles contract before he turns to look at you. "You really have a bad staring problem."
#levi ackerman#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi x reader#levi ackerman fanfic#levi ackerman smut#attack on titan#aot#levi ackerman attack on titan#levi x you#levi ackerman x you#ceo levi ackerman
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swathed in the purple glow | bob floyd
description: in which he desperately seeks a way to relieve the tension he carries
warnings: 18+ only, mentions of a plane crash (aftermath of the bird strike), dom/sub dynamic, sub!bob, spanking, pegging, bob has a thing for sucking on titties, crying, subspace, aftercare
pairing: bob floyd x wife!reader (i tried to keep it gn but there's a possibility that i slipped up)
wanna be added to my taglist? go here
He’d never been so fucking tense before.
His entire body was as rigid as a board, and he feared that he might snap at any moment, like a rubberband biting at exposed skin.
He supposed that hurtling toward the ground at full speed might do that to a person. He remembered so clearly the way his body had locked up, bracing for the impact. Amazingly, he seemed to be sore from his head down to his feet.
He was bruised in odd places. There was a cut on his arm from where a jagged rock had sliced into his flight suit when he landed. But those things weren’t nearly as uncomfortable as the tension he couldn’t seem to alleviate.
He’d considered going for a massage. But he really didn’t have time within the day to schedule such a thing, certainly not with the most high-profile mission of his career on the horizon. There was, however, one solution that could potentially ease that unbearable tension.
That solution just so happened to also share his last name. And what was that solution? Why, his wife, of course.
He knew that all he had to do was say the word and you would take care of him. The only problem was, he didn’t have much time. Between leaving early in the morning, and coming home exhausted in the evenings, he could hardly muster up the energy to ask for it.
However, one afternoon he was released from work a little earlier than normal. Likely from Captain Mitchell feeling benevolent and giving his pilots a few extra minutes to breathe before it really got down to the nitty-gritty.
Bob knew you’d be home. He’d texted you to make sure of it. You weren’t sure why he’d asked, but you had a feeling. And sure enough, that feeling was confirmed when he practically burst through the door of your rental, eyes slightly wild, normally perfect hair mussed and curling against his sweat-glimmering forehead.
You knew. He didn’t even have to say anything.
“Oh, Bobby,” you cooed, and he quite literally whimpered. His knees almost buckled. You had to usher him to the nearest chair so he wouldn’t collapse. “What do you need, honeybun?”
“I-I need…I can’t…oh, I’m so sore and tense and I…”
You took his face in your hand, reaching up to lovingly brush his hair back, fully revealing his handsome face. “You need to be fucked. Is that it?”
His bottom lip quivered. The cobalt in his eyes went dark, almost navy blue in color. “Yes.”
That was all he had to say for you to know exactly what to do. You nodded, standing upright. “Okay. I’ll go get set up. Wait for me to call you upstairs, alright?”
When he nodded, you turned and made your way upstairs. The first thing you did was head into your bedroom and draw the blackout curtains, swathing the room in darkness. It was necessary to set the tone for what was about to follow.
Then, you went about lighting a few candles and setting the mood lighting, turning the room a comforting purple. Once you were satisfied, you continued on to gather everything you would need. The chest you kept under the bed, full of different types of toys. The bag you kept in the closet, containing things you would need during aftercare, such as snacks, wet wipes, water bottles, soothing lotions, and the like.
You finished by stripping down to just your bra and underwear before you finally made your way to the top of the steps and called for Bob. Once you heard the creak of the floor signifying that he was on his way up, you went back to the bedroom and perched on the edge of the bed.
Moments later, Bob stepped into the room. He stood in the doorway, taking in the sight. You had the lowlights on, keeping the atmosphere calming, free of harsh light. He could already feel himself relaxing, a certain calmness washing over him, even more so when you beckoned him forth.
He knelt before you, and you ran your fingers through his honeyed tresses. "Do you want to talk about it, precious boy?" you asked, but Bob shook his head.
"I just want to forget about the last few days for a little while," he confessed.
You hummed in understanding, and then leaned in close, fingers resting on his jaw as you turned his face toward yours. "Undress for me then.”
You released him, and Bob made quick work of stripping from his uniform, his belly alight with anticipation. He neatly placed his uniform over the chair that sat in the corner. Then, he moved toward the bed, but he didn't sit upon it. Instead, he lowered himself, entirely naked, to his knees before you for a second time.
"Good boy," you praised, reaching down to stroke his cheek. He nuzzled into your hand, realizing how desperate for your touch he was.
All too soon, you stood, slipping away toward the chest of toys. Bob watched intently as you began rummaging through it and gathering items. He saw you get the harness for your strapon out, and he shivered at the thought of what you were going to do to him. His cock had already begun to harden.
"Get on the bed," you instructed, and he obeyed immediately, rising to take a seat on its plush surface. You joined him, carrying a black paddle in your hand along with your harness. He knew what came next, so he quickly turned over onto his stomach, without prompting.
You trailed your hand over his round ass, admiring how it looked in the dim mood lighting. "I'm going to ruin this cute little bottom tonight," you promised. Bob moaned at your words. He hoped you would.
"Now, instead of laying on your stomach, I want you on your hands and knees," you commanded further.
He complied, immediately righting himself and waiting for your next move. You brushed the paddle over his ass, dipping it down between his legs and gently trailing it over his balls, at which he took in a whimpered gasp. It made you smile.
“Before I start, what do you say if you need a break, or you can’t handle it?”
He took in a breath and said, “Palomino,” with confidence.
“We can take as many breaks as you want if you need them.”
“Yes ma’am.”
That response sent a shudder through you.
"Stay still," you commanded, and he braced himself, knowing what was coming. He gritted his teeth as the paddle came in contact with his bare skin. The swat wasn't that hard, but the smack still sent a jolt through him. He knew you were starting out easy, and it would soon grow more intense. But that was what he needed. He wanted to be rendered to tears by the end of it. It was the only way to release the tension he held.
Another whack! landed across his ass. Then another, and another. Bob counted them in his head, wondering when you'd decide to stop. He hoped you wouldn't anytime soon.
You watched him as you administered his punishment, noting the way he responded to it. He was desperate for this, you could tell.
You couldn't help but admire his skin as it began to flush pink from the welts left by the wooden paddle. However, the sounds he was making were even prettier. He gasped and whimpered each time the paddle came in contact with him, body jolting.
"What do you say for your punishment?" You asked, offering another harsh swat.
"Th-thank you, ma’am," he moaned.
"Good boy." You rested a gentle hand against his lower back as you continued, watching as he came unraveled beneath you. “What’s your color?”
“Green,” he sighed blissfully.
He was beginning to melt already. He let himself slip into a state of vulnerability that only you were given the privilege to see. Right there, before you, he'd already begun to succumb to his brewing emotions. The pain rippled through him, heating his skin like a flame. He clutched at the bed covers, writhing against them. You coaxed it all out of him, wringing him out like a damp cloth.
It happened faster than you were anticipating. Halfway through the spanking, the tears began to spill forth, and Bob collapsed against the bed, wracked with sobs. You ceased the punishment then, setting the paddle aside. Quickly, you climbed onto the bed beside him, pulling him into your arms. He buried his face against your chest, crying openly.
You ran your fingers through his soft hair, quietly soothing him. "My precious boy," you cooed, "you took that so well. I'm so proud of you."
You lay there for a long while, as Bob let it all out. He didn't have to feel ashamed of his emotions here. There was no judgment from you, none in the least. You were there to comfort him when he fell apart, and you somehow put him back together again in the process.
After a while, he slowly lifted his head, teary eyes gazing into your own. You smiled, stroking his cheek with your fingertips. "Feel better?" You asked.
He nodded. "Y-yeah," he whispered, lowering his head again, and resting it upon your soft breast. "Thank you."
"Of course, honeybun."
Again, you settled, with your hand in his hair and his head against your chest. But Bob was growing antsy, shifting in your arms. You knew why, and you could soon feel the evidence of it against your thigh. You glanced down, humming softly.
"Oh, sweet boy. That spanking made you so hard, didn't it?" You taunted, and Bob whined deep in his throat.
"Yes ma’am."
You brought your hand down between your bodies, wrapping it around his cock. He gasped at the feeling, hips jolting against you. "Poor thing, I bet you're just aching to come." You began to stroke him slowly, and he watched through hazy eyes.
But he soon grew preoccupied with something else. His hands came up to tug at your bra, and before you knew it, he'd pulled it down, exposing your breasts. He nuzzled his face against the soft flesh, searching for a form of pacification.
You pushed your chest towards him so he could have better access, and soon, his lips were wrapped around a hardened bud, suckling softly. You hummed in pleasure, pressing your body closer to his own.
You remained like that for a while, as you languidly stroked his cock, and he nursed your breast. The heat of arousal warmed you both, deepening your need for each other. Bob whimpered softly when you applied more pressure, stroking him with purpose, and he pulled his mouth away from you to speak.
"If you keep doing that 'm gonna come," he whispered.
"Oh, we can't have that now, can we? When you come tonight, it's going to be with my cock buried inside you, and only then. Do you understand me?" You spoke. Bob nodded, his eyes still glassy from the tears he'd shed.
But you weren't satisfied with just a nod. You gave a warning squeeze to his balls, and he gasped. "What do you say?"
"Yes ma’am," he hissed, and you loosened your grip.
You kissed him, and he melted into it, clearly in need of tenderness tonight. "Don't worry, sweet boy. I'll take good care of you."
You slipped away then, much to his dismay, but you soothed him, informing him that you were just getting things ready. You stood, pulling on the strapon you'd laid out. Bob watched through heavy-lidded eyes as you fastened it in place, and your eyes locked with his as you reached down, stroking the toy as if it were part of your body.
"Get into position. I want you on your back."
Bob obeyed without hesitation while you retrieved a bottle of lube. As you approached, he spread his legs for you, and your gaze fell to his cock resting heavy on his lower abdomen, swollen and pink, dribbling precum onto his skin, aching for attention. You'd give it to him, all in due time.
He seemed to have a pavlovian response to the bottle of lube being opened, and he moaned softly, watching you slick it all over the strapon before you proceeded to prepare his entrance. He shivered at the feeling of your fingers swirling around the sensitive spot before you slipped them inside, prepping him to take you.
Bob sighed softly, and he gazed at you with pleading eyes. "May I please touch myself?" He softly asked.
You considered it for a moment, and nodded. "Go ahead."
He wrapped a large, elegant hand around his cock and began to stroke, never taking his eyes off you as he watched you situate yourself between his legs. Soft hands slid up his sensitive thighs before you pushed them a little further apart. Then you began to slowly inch into him, and Bob gritted his teeth at the feeling of being stretched.
You didn't stop until you were fully seated inside him, and he hissed softly. "Good boy," you praised, "I can tell you've been keeping this cute little ass prepped for me with the plug I told you to wear."
His cheeks tinged pink. "Y-yes. I, uh…I slipped one inside to wear on the drive home. I-I took it out before I came up. Left it in the sink downstairs."
You smiled, ducking down to kiss him. "Such an obedient boy."
Bob moaned at the praise, arching his body into yours. You began slowly working your hips into him, building a steady rhythm that soon had him writhing against the bed. His body was gorgeous in the low, purple-tinged light. You admired the rise and fall of his chest as he gasped, the roll of his sharp pelvis as you pushed into him. There was something almost ethereal about him.
Through it all, he continued to touch himself, palming his hard, leaking cock as his you fucked him. In that very moment, as you offered a particularly deep thrust, you brushed against that deliciously pleasurable spot within him, and he let out a strangled cry.
"Oh! Right there!" he gasped in a high-pitched whine, shivering beneath you.
His encouragement had you quickening your movements, and soon, you'd pushed his hand out of the way, taking over pleasuring him. You reached over, grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring some into your hand before you resumed your stimulation, massaging that big, beautiful cock of his.
Bob gripped the sheets, needing something to hold on to. He didn't care how needy and desperate he got. With other sexual partners, he would have cared. But with you, he could let that submissive part of himself shine through.
He'd never been able to do that with anyone before. No one understood him enough to be able to take care of him in the way only you could. Not that he’d had many sexual partners before you. His first had been his high school girlfriend, when they were young and dumb. His second had been another girl before you. He’d never been able to relax and fully enjoy sex with her. It felt so…impersonal.
But then, he'd met you. You were everything he’d ever dreamed of. You didn’t treat him like he was a fragile, shy wallflower. You knew that he was capable of greatness. That he was incredibly skilled, wickedly smart, and sharp as a tack.
You also knew what he needed. Knew how to bring him to his knees and make him submit. He found himself melting into a puddle at your feet, submitting to you in a way he'd never done with anyone before.
It had blossomed into so much more. You'd introduced him to the world of the dominant and submissive dynamic. Bob knew of such dynamics. He was a reader, and he read up on many things he was curious about. Including BDSM and the word surrounding it. But he’d never fully delved into it. It was so much more to it than simply being called mommy or daddy.
There was a special level of trust involved. And what Bob hadn't been expecting was the intimate bond that came with it. He had a connection with you he'd never experienced before in his life. He experienced safety and security and a fulfilling emotional intimacy that changed everything for him.
He willingly gave himself to you, and you cherished his submission. Just as you were now.
From above, you smiled down at him, softness showing in your eyes. "You're taking my cock so well, darling boy," you cooed, and he whimpered softly.
"F-feels so good." Tears were threatening to spill from his eyes again.
Your hand around his cock stroked him with purpose, syncing with your thrusts, and you could tell that he was beginning to lose himself. He bit his lip to hold back a squeal as you went deeper, but that just wouldn't do. "You let those pretty sounds out," you commanded.
He threw his head back, wailing loudly. It was useless to mask his pleasure. He was in ecstasy, and he let it show. You were in awe, watching as he let himself succumb to it all. You pulled your hand away from his cock then, wanting to watch as it twitched with each brush against his prostate.
Bob looked at you, desperation in his eyes. "Please touch me again," he pleaded.
But you wanted him to feel a different form of pleasure. "No, I want you to squirt for me. No hands, my cock is all you need."
At that, his eyes widened, and he nearly sobbed, because he could feel the intensity creeping up on him. You leaned closer then, taking his face in your hands and kissing him deeply, breaking the kiss only to place your forehead against his own so you could watch him fall apart.
His eyes glimmered with tears of pleasure, and they soon began to trail down his cheeks. You encouraged him to let it all out, to feel the emotions, the pleasure, every sensation in that very moment.
He began to grow overwhelmed, breath quickening, chest heaving. "You're okay, Bobby," you assured him. You slipped two fingers into his mouth, and that soothed him instantly, his oral fixation satiated.
You let him suck on your fingers for a while, and he pulled back only to let out moans and whimpers. You could tell that he was nearing his end, just by the way his body responded.
He shuddered and arched off the bed to meet your thrusts, and suddenly, he pulled his mouth from your fingers, letting out a broken cry. "Oh! I-I'm gonna come!"
"It's okay, baby. Go ahead, make a mess for me."
A few more thrusts and he was done for, careening up off the mattress as he was overwhelmed by an orgasm that spread from his toes to the top of his head. Just as you'd said, he made a mess, seed spilling thick and white all over his abdomen in seemingly copious amounts.
Finally, he fell limp against the mattress, completely breathless and trembling from the aftershocks. "Good boy," you praised, "such a good boy."
Oh so slowly, you began to ease out of him, and he whined at the empty feeling once you'd pulled away completely. He was knocked out of his afterglow for a brief moment, glancing down and realizing how much of a mess he had made.
"It's all over," he whined, "s’ messy. G-gotta clean it up."
"Hush. I’ll take care of it." You kissed him gently, soothing him before you slipped away briefly to grab a towel and a pack of wipes from your aftercare bag. You warmed a couple of wipes in your hands before you gently wiped his release from his skin. You moved away only to throw the wipes in the trash.
You were with him again in an instant, and he immediately reached for you, wrapping two long arms around your waist as you settled beside him.
He rested his head against your chest again, and you placed one hand on his head, fingers threading through his hair. The other rested on his shoulder. He moved to look into your face, and you noticed his bottom lip was quivering. "Was I a good boy for you?" He asked.
"Of course you were, Bobby. You took that so well, I'm so proud of you." You kissed his forehead, and he melted into you. He'd clearly slipped into a gloriously small headspace, and you wanted to encourage it for as long as he would remain that way.
His brow furrowed with worry for a moment, and he attempted to pull away. "I have to make you feel good," he said, but you placed a hand on his chest.
"No, what I want you to do is lay here for a little while with me. Don't worry about a thing."
Then he relaxed against you, letting out a soft sigh. You knew he wasn't in the right headspace to pleasure you. He needed to be taken care of, and would likely get overwhelmed if he tried to make you feel good.
Again, he sought out your breast, and you allowed him to have it, stroking his hair as he wrapped his lips around a hardened bud. Your chest warmed with love for him in that moment. Here was this beautiful man, so used to working a dangerous, intense job, putting his life on the line every day, reduced to a state of gentleness and docility. He needed to be taken care of, and you were there to provide that care.
It seemed that the horrible tension he’d been holding had finally melted away from his tired body. He let out a sigh of contentment, and his eyes fluttered shut, long lashes casting shadows over his cheeks.
As Bob drifted to sleep in your arms, his mouth still at your chest, you cradled him close, humming a soothing tune. He was safe here, body pressed close to yours. The harshness of the world couldn't touch him. And if it tried, you would protect him from it, because that was what you had promised him you'd do.
You thought you heard him murmur a soft “thank you,” into your chest.
"I'll always take care of you, sweet boy. Always,” you pledged.
He’d never doubted you would.
-
taglist:
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#bob floyd x reader#bob floyd fanfiction#bob floyd smut#robert bob floyd x reader#robert floyd fanfiction
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“Be Still, Just for Me” Bakugo x Fem!Reader, Ch. 46
First Chapter
Previous Chapter
(all chapters are available in my masterlist!)
Summary: Bakugo Katsuki, a Pro Hero in Japan, is used to the routine: wake up, kick villain ass, rinse and repeat. He’s living his dream, soaking in all he’s ever wanted and worked for.
During the brief moment he lets his guard down, everything changes.
Tossed into a world without quirks with nothing but the clothes on his back, he’s forced to accept the help of someone who knows exactly who he is: a manga character who should definitely not exist.
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Chapter length: 26k (HIGHLY recommend reading on ao3, wattpad, or quotev if you are a mobile Tumblr user and don't use Tumblr desktop because you will have a hard time with lag or app crashing trying to read this fucking long post)
Warnings: M+ for language, Katsuki-typical threats of violence, mentions of panic attack, sexual content (nothing super explicit)
Reminder that the A03, Wattpad, and Quotev links will be in a reblog so this post shows up in search results! They’re also in my profile header! <3
Co-written and plot mapped by @rose-sparks13
thanks to all my beta readers!!! @birinboom
@bananabossbitch, @dellappatca and @jems-all-in-a-wood and a few others who prefer to remain anonymous. NOTE: please ignore and forgive anytime i might’ve misspelled “Yaoyorozu” because I'll never learn how to spell her name correctly
Chapter Title: The Night We Met, Part II
_____________________________
The celebration on the other side of the outside garden grew quiet and eventually vanished as though muffled by a growing mound of indiscernible cotton. Bushes and creeping vines paused their benign swaying. As the world surrounding Katsuki gradually came to a halt, its energy seemed to seep into his bones and beneath his skin, buzzing and oscillating tortuously.
This isn’t real, he thought in desperation as his mouth went dry, eyes bulged, and chest tightened in disbelief. There, barely three meters away from him, stood a ghost shivering under the moonlight in a dress the deep red color of blood. Katsuki blinked, expecting you to vanish like you always did… yet you remained statue-still and staring stunned right back at him.
The glass in his hand slipped out of his trembling fingers, clattering onto the floor. Neither of you flinched as ice and alcohol stained the wood grain underfoot.
He remembered waking up this morning. Going on patrol with Mar. Arguing with Kirishima in the agency hallway. Feeding his cat. Riding his bike over here for his stupid birthday party… No, there was no way that the entire day's events and memories could have been more than an illusory dream.
…Then what kind of sick trick caused a hallucination of you to appear before Katsuki as if taunting him ceaselessly for six months wasn’t enough?
Voice hoarse, arid, and strained, he attempted to speak as if hearing his own voice might jolt him out of this mirage. “Are you a nightmare?”
Could you hear him? Would you answer? No, of course not. You never did; spirits couldn’t speak.
You winced at his words, his voice uncharacteristically brittle compared to the strong, unwavering tenor you were used to, the sound you dreamed of hearing just one more time. All you wanted to do was run to him and bury your face in his skin and bathe in his warmth and sob in his arms. But cinder blocks tied your feet to the ground. He looked almost scared, as if reaching out to touch him would splinter the tension and he’d crack beneath your fingertips; the fear and anxiety kept you immobile as the device in your shaking hands translated his words.
Peeling your tongue from the roof of your mouth, you dared not blink as you managed to weakly shake your head in denial. “No, Katsuki… I’m not.”
More than anything you wanted to capture him, hold onto him, keep him close like a fragile treasure, but tension hung like tepid puddles after a thick rain - the kind that filled your nose and lungs with stale air and upended rot. Don’t cry, don’t cry yet. If you do, you’ll never stop. “W-why a nightmare?”
A bead of sweat rolled down the back of his neck and disappeared into the collar of his pressed shirt. He quickly glanced at your hands gripped tightly around the device that somehow far exceeded the accuracy of your phone with its robotic Japanese inflection. But… your voice. It pierced between his ribs like a spear aimed with deadly accuracy to strike with poisonous memories dripping from the sharpened edge.
Commemorating you through the keepsakes was easy; everything observed months ago, he saw again behind closed eyes or whenever he took out his hidden gifts when waves of longing nostalgia washed over him. However, sight was just a single sense out of five. The language barrier became less noticeable and cumbersome over time as he focused on the tone and inflection of your voice. Though your singing and laughter stuck with him, Katsuki lamented that they became harder to recall with every passing day.
Dreams were satisfying and light, or comically nonsensical. The ones with you always began happily enough, and often alluded to memories he fought to remember and forget and remember and forget in a never ending cycle. But when morning came and Katsuki awoke, he knew that none of it was real and would never be real again; it might as well have been a nightmare. A looping display that haunted and taunted him knowing all that really remained of you, was just in his imagination.
Waiting for you to disappear just as he had six months prior, Katsuki stood staring, unmoving despite the wretched hum screaming under his skin.
“Because,” he started, “I always wake up."
Not understanding the connection between you and nightmares, you managed to force your feet to move a single step towards him. "I… no. Katsuki, I'm not a dream or nightmare or anything imaginary. I… I'm real and I'm here and-"
"You're not supposed to be here," he abruptly interrupted. The shock written across his face slowly morphed into that familiar grimace of frustration he wore like a shield.
Your fear of rejection seemed like it might come true.
Back inside the house, a line of people with their ears pressed up against the wall stood tense and impatient while those who had no fucking clue what was happening lingered in confusion.
Kirishima went first, trying to see if he could hear the conversation happening outside with his face smooshed against the off-white wall. He needed to know if all their planning would actually pay off or if Bakugo was going to somehow blow his second chance at love. Midoriya followed right behind him and Kaminari, hating feeling left out, did the same even though he was only halfway in the know.
"Jirooooouuuuu, pleeeeease? This is actually super important!" Ashido's black eyes glistened as she begged Jirou to use her earphone jacks to listen to the tense conversation happening on the other side of the sliding door.
Raising an eyebrow, Jirou said, "I don't even know what's going on? Who was that lady that went outside?"
However, Yaoyorozu came up behind her girlfriend and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You don't have to do as she says, Kyoka. It isn't really our story to tell; that's up to Bakugo-san. The conversation happening outside is private and we shouldn't eavesdrop.”
Ashido pursed her lips and huffed. "Spoilsport. I know you're just as curious as the rest of us," she claimed before marching over to the wall and lining herself up with the others.
Deflating, Momo nibbled on her bottom lip as she stared at her friends’ backs. It was true - she did want to know what was happening between you and Bakugo, especially after seeing with her own eyes how much you cared about him and all the trouble the others went through to get you here in the first place. A gentle, familiar hand on hers eased Momo’s worry as Kyoka met her eyes.
“I definitely wanna know what’s going on because I’m so lost… but if you say it’s not our business, then I’ll just wait for you to tell me later,” she conceded with a knowing smile.
“It… is a very interesting story, that’s for sure.”
Towards the back of the room, Sero stood next to Todoroki who loudly sipped from his cup while Uraraka worriedly twisted the hem of her shirt in her hands on his other side. “Hey dude, you know what’s goin’ on? Is this all part of the party…?”
If it were anyone else, the ice in his cup would’ve melted into shards by now, but Todoroki held it in his left hand, a fine mist of frost keeping the mostly-empty cup perfectly chilled. “Yeah. Sort of. I’m just going to watch and see what happens. Uraraka, you shouldn’t worry, especially when you’re pregnant. I think Bakugo will be fine.”
Uraraka let the breath she was holding tumble out while absentmindedly rubbing her stomach. “I know, I know. He’s just so bullheaded sometimes; I don’t want Bakugo-kun to do something else he’ll regret…”
Off in a far corner of the main living space, the remaining guests - Shinsou, Tokoyami, and Camie - lingered around the speakers and the snack table, all just equally as confused about what was happening, both inside and outside.
“Should we-“
“Nope.”
“… Yes, it's probably for the best.” Tokoyami closed his eyes in agreement within Shinsou, but peeked his left one open after a moment when he heard Camie giggle. "And can you tell me why you're so enamored with Dark Shadow?"
The sentient shadow attached to Tokiyami was laughing, too, while Camie was trying to feed it a snack. "Huh? It's like, kinda cute, ya know? Like one of those little pocket monster things except like, real and stuff. Does it like brownies?" Although she had a high alcohol tolerance, it was obvious the spiked juice was beginning to affect her much to Dark Shadow's amusement.
While party guests bickered or wrung their hands together with worry, your staring contest with Katsuki wore on. Confusion, tension, and agitation evident in his posture rolled off him like mist. You told Uraraka that keeping their plan a secret probably wouldn't end well, and you hoped she had convinced her other cohorts to come clean… but they didn't, and now you were paying the price.
Opening your mouth, you tried to find the words to assuage his frustration and save the night from total ruin and heartbreak. "I… Katsuki, I know I'm not supposed to be here. That we both knew that when you left, that was it. That would be the end." Although you tried to keep your voice even and strong, it cracked like brittle china faced with an angry bull ready to charge. "Your friends… Uraraka and Kirishima and some others found a way to bring me here. They wanted… they thought you might want to see me again… I wanted to see you again."
This wasn't right. None of it was right. He'd ached and wallowed in his own pathetic misery for months before finally managing to get a hold of himself and return to a life of relative normalcy and routine. Coming to terms with the brutal truth of his inability to just be fucking honest with himself, with you, was just as exhausting and difficult as any big villain he'd faced.
It had to be some screwed up joke to cement him in the past he'd fought to leave behind. That's what you would've wanted. That's what Katsuki wanted. Right?
But for the first time, you answered him. You didn't just fade away like every other instance. You claimed his friends helped you get here, but that just shoved more questions into his sweaty, trembling hands.
Maybe this really was a nightmare… or possibly some elaborate illusion based on his knowledge and memories to leave him fumbling and vulnerable. Only the two of you stood outside, but for all he knew someone unseen could be pulling the strings with Black Hole as the resurrected puppet master.
She'd wanted him to suffer, after all.
The sad, worried look in your eyes, however… did he trust his own senses that rarely led him astray, or was there a way to know if you were truly who you claimed to be? She isn’t. She couldn’t be.
Unsure of what to do because his so-called friends left you on your own rather than explain to Katsuki what the hell was happening and why, you began to step closer to him, but stopped when he interrupted.
“Don’t move,” he ordered. Hearing Katsuki so uncharacteristically wary reminded you dismally of his first few days in your home: distrustful, tense, and exasperated. After everything the two of you experienced together, it hurt. Oh, it stung bitterly. “Tell me something only the real (y/n) would know. Something no one else would know.”
Frowning, you should’ve expected something like this. Rather than come here and be welcomed warmly by the man you fell in love with months ago, you were forced to prove you were really who you claimed to be through some time-wasting test. If by some miracle this actually worked and Katsuki eventually believed you, Midoriya and the others were going to catch a nasty earful for making this already stressful situation so much harder than it needed to be.
Ignoring that impending argument for now, you focused on remembering everything only privy to you and Katsuki. While you had no idea exactly what he’d revealed to his friends about his time with you, it didn’t really matter; you knew Katsuki in the most intimate of ways; convincing him was - hopefully - only a matter of choosing something that struck a sensitive chord.
The bear incident was too grandiose and at least a handful of other people knew about it. You recalled the flowers you’d managed to keep alive in your apartment, but you’d told Uraraka where they came from. While the karaoke date was something you’d never forget, it didn’t strike you as the correct choice, either. The amusement park, scheduling his haircut, running into your ex… All of these flashbacks resembled down-facing cards spread out on a table with your hand hovering between them. Every card except one meant permanent defeat.
Then, it hit you. Something you were positive he kept to himself considering he almost didn't admit it to you at all; and Katsuki gave you a hint without even realizing.
"The nightmare," you blurted out as if worried an invisible timer would run out and yank you back into your own world at the ringing of a jarring game show buzzer. Katsuki's brows furrowed, his face still written with apprehension, but you continued. "I don't remember the exact day… but I remember waking up in the middle of the night. You were sitting up next to me and I could tell something was wrong… I just… held you and hoped I was giving you some comfort. Like you helped me after the whole bear incident. I didn't know until the next day that you had a nightmare…"
He remembered. Whenever painful memories tortured him while he slept, Katsuki always remembered, even if he'd much rather forget. It was the first and only time someone had been there when he awoke in a cold sweat with visions of failure and blood far too vibrant whenever he closed his eyes.
And he'd never told anyone else about it.
Back inside the house, it felt like an hour as time and tension serenaded each other despite only a few minutes passing. More people had joined in the group pressed against the wall trying to overhear what was happening outside.
"It's too quiet; I feel like he's blowing it." Kirishima groaned at the thought of his best friend making the same dumb mistake twice which, for someone like Bakugo Katsuki who prioritized a perfect victory every single time, was unheard of.
Bored after doing nothing for all of thirty seconds, Kaminari had left his place against the wall and was currently leaning on Shinsou's shoulder who played off the close contact like it was no big deal despite having a spike of internal bisexual panic.
"C'moooon guys! Just go outside and tell him he's being dumb or something-"
"You do it then," Todoroki suggested nonchalantly.
Grimacing, Kaminari shook his head and latched onto Shinsou's arm. "If this was less serious, then, yeah, maybe! I don't wanna piss him off again; especially on his birthday."
Shinsou still wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but distinctly remembered Bakugo's embarrassing outburst at the bar months ago. He couldn't really blame Kaminari for his avoidance of a potential repeat. "Can someone at least tell me what all this drama is about? Ignoring it is getting tough with everyone acting weird and I'm too sober to tune it out."
"It's… a long story, Shinsou-kun," Midoriya answered as he rubbed the back of his neck and stood next to Uraraka. "Depending on what happens tonight, maybe Kacchan can tell you himself in his own words."
And judging by the strained and hushed conversation happening in the garden things were not exactly going how they all expected.
The silence between you stretched on far too long for comfort after you answered Katsuki's demand. What else were you supposed to do when all of this apparently rested on your shoulders alone?
"If… if you really don't believe me or actually want me here… then I'm not going to keep trying to convince y-you." The last word came out as more of a whimper, your throat swelling with strain as you fought back bursting into tears on the spot. All those months of waiting… just to have your heart crushed all over again because of his fucking bullheadedness. I was so stupid to think this was a good idea…
It took a monumental effort to take a step back from him when all you wished for was to be as close as you used to be. Just for a while. Just for tonight.
As you began to swivel on your heel, pain evident in your glassy eyes and stammering speech, an image he'd hoped to forget sprang forward like a memory resurfaced from the drowned, dark depths.
That awful day culminated into a horrible night as Katsuki watched you cry and scream before disappearing out the door in a whirlwind of his own doing. He hadn't stopped you then, too stunned to react as you spat his own words right back in his face. The fear and guilt attempting to swallow him back then… it all could've ended so much worse.
But you took him back. He didn't deserve it, but you did anyway. You allowed his effort at making amends with barely any time left to see the fruits of his redemption begin to ripen into something sweet and filling.
If this were real… if you were real, there was no way in hell he'd make the same mistake twice. Letting you walk away once was difficult enough, but if Katsuki stood by and accepted watching you disappear, then he deserved whatever sisyphean punishment fate shackled to him for the remainder of his days; but you didn't.
As if Medusa's paralyzing grip on him suddenly vanished, Katsuki lurched forward, his hand outstretched in desperation to keep this illusion from slipping through his fingers. And true enough, he was surprised to find that he didn't phase through your wrist.
Warmth. Soft skin. Racing pulse. He felt it all through his hardened calluses. "Wait… please."
The sudden grip on your arm tugged your shoulder back, but turning around to face him after resigning that this once in a lifetime opportunity ended in rejection was too much. Pressure behind your eyes swelled as you continued to fight off crumpling in a crying heap on the ground when he asked - no, pleaded - for you to stay.
Just like before… Except this time, Katsuki didn't let you run away. You stared at a vine crawling up the side of the house while trying to avoid focusing on the familiar warmth of his hand, the strength of his grip, and even the damp sweat slowly soaking into your skin. But he felt unsteady, something Katsuki never was, his fingers shivering as if freezing despite the comfortable warmth outside.
So, two distrustful people waited for proof that this second chance would not slip away, one desperate for truth while the other pleaded for patience. All you had to do was turn around and face him. And you did.
To anyone that didn’t know him, Katsuki looked exactly like you remember him. His ash-blonde hair. Those damn eyes of his that caught light like rubies. The sharp, strong jaw that framed his sharper tongue. The past six months apart just melted away as aching familiarity came bursting through the door. But, just like when he found you at the park, his face and body language betrayed his normal composure: unsure, shaken, disbelieving, desperate… everything you also felt and knew he was seeing mirrored right back.
Without tearing his eyes away, Katsuki reluctantly let your wrist fall from his hand before cupping your face with his sweaty palms. Warm. They didn’t pass through. He was close enough to smell some faint but recognizable aroma that he’d forgotten with time. Your perfume. Only detectable when you were close enough to touch. You looked like you wanted to cry.
“I don’t know what the fuck is going on… but I don’t really care.” Logic and reason be damned on his birthday; if you hadn’t disappeared by this point, then he wasn’t going to waste his time fighting against it anymore. “If you’re really here, then- hell even if you’re not, just listen to what I have to say.”
No repeated mistakes.
“I don’t have a lot of regrets in life. I’m doing exactly what I set out to do since I was a bratty kid. And even though I’ve screwed up a lot, I’ve tried to pinpoint those flaws and fix ‘em.” You’ve rehearsed this a thousand times. “But I made a huge fucking mistake months ago, and I’ve been driving myself crazy trying to live with it while knowing I couldn’t make it right.”
No more hiding.
You knew him too well. He wished he hated that about you - how you managed to find shelter in his exposed remains after peeling through layers he didn’t even know existed - but he didn’t.
Words gummed up his throat when the simplest answer was right here. With his clammy hands still preciously cupping your face, Katsuki leaned his forehead against yours and felt your shaky breath on his lips.
The kiss was real. You didn’t disappear. Just…
“(Y/n)… Aishiteru.”
Barely audible. Fiercely soft. Perfectly understood. Your lip quivered and eyes screwed shut as the buildup finally overflowed. Katsuki returned your love even now, and nothing else was going to keep you apart tonight.
The translator device bounced across the ground as you lurched forward and draped your arms around his neck, clinging to his hair, shirt, skin, anything you could reach, terrified of letting him go again. Choking out a guttural sob muffled by his shoulder, your body went limp as the compounding burdens of the day finally disappeared. You didn’t have to hold yourself up anymore; Katsuki was there to support you.
The sudden noise outside caused Uraraka to chance a peek around the corner to make sure she didn’t need to break up any unfortunate disasters, but whipped back around quickly when she saw the two of you in a tender and intimate embrace on the ground. “Ooh! You g- ow!”
Ashido had come up right behind her to also eavesdrop and earned them both potential head bruises as a result. “Owwww, sorry, sorry! What’s happening?!”
Ignoring the pain, Uraraka yelled and whispered simultaneously that you and Katsuki were kissing.
“Ohmygod, really?!”
“YES!”
Kirishima and the others nearby heard this and broke out of their hiding spots against the wall to celebrate their hard-won victory. Kirishima threw a fist in the air, Midoriya slumped against the wall with flooded eyes, and Todoroki nodded in approval with a sincere smile.
At this point, most of the other guests had wandered into other rooms of the house to enjoy a party with an absent birthday boy, though a few remained behind to observe the inevitable end of this secretive drama.
“… And then he said they went to karaoke I think, so- oh, are they done now?” Kaminari turned towards the back door to see his friends were no longer acting all sad and weird.
“Keep going.” Shinsou tugged at Kaminari’s shirt collar to pull his attention back to him. The alcohol was making him stupid and bold and the blonde extra attractive. “It was just getting good.”
Cocking his head to the side, Kaminari smirked with half-lidded eyes. “Yes, sir, whatever you say.”
The noisy guests indoors barely registered as you let Katsuki hold you. He kept your relief grounded while you tried and failed to stop crying. His warm, shaky breath on your neck and his arms tangled around your chest reminded you of the final embrace on your couch before he vanished and left you pressed against nothing but air. Only this time, you didn't have the last word; and oh, the bursting elation building in your chest at his words was altogether cathartic.
He loves me. It's not unrequited.
Telling the truth never felt so fucking rewarding as it did right then. The reality that none of this made one iota of sense left his mind completely as he buried his face in your skin as his eyes and throat ached with pressure. He saw you, felt you, smelled you, tasted you, every tiny thing he'd craved for six goddamn months.
"Moushi wake nai," he mumbled while turning his head to see messy tear tracks on your cheek that he gently tried to wipe away.
Sorry for being a coward.
"Moushi wake nai…" He pressed chapped lips to your jaw and tasted salt.
Sorry for leaving you unanswered.
"Moushi wake nai." Your noses brushed as you sniffled, meeting his glassy gaze briefly with bloodshot eyes before properly returning his kiss, albeit weakly as though your energy and strength was completely spent.
Sorry for making you cry again.
“Aishiteru,” you echoed before kissing him again as if the words themselves reinvigorated you. Hearing it again in your own voice and inflection and accent rather than the embarrassing imitation from his dreams left Katsuki nearly breathless before you shifted in his lap, gripped the collar of his shirt, hands trembling, and glared at him with adoration and frustration in equal measure. Fuck, you were beautiful.
“Baka ńe,” you bit out, your voice squeaking at the end from strain despite trying your best to rightfully insult him after six months of holding it in. All Katsuki could do was stare dumbfounded with lips parted in a foggy haze before you yanked him forward like old times’ sake to try and kiss some sense back into him, but you didn’t have to; he would’ve met you halfway. Would’ve fought off a hundred bears to hear you call him stupid every fucking day for the rest of his life.
God, you’d shared many kisses over those last few weeks - some soft, some sloppy, some heart-poundingly passionate - but none of them compared to the satisfaction billowing through him right then. Or maybe it had something to do with the six months he survived on nothing but his own memories. Maybe they were all equally important in their own ways and trying to weigh one over the other was beyond pointless. Didn’t matter. Reveling in the desperation, his mouth chasing you like a starved man presented with a mouth-watering buffet, was more than satisfying.
Alcohol, fire, and musky cologne. One second you were crying on Katsuki’s shoulder and the next his skin was marked with red trails left by your nails under his shirt collar while you knelt between his legs and a hand slithered under the hem of your dress to grip your thigh. The way your heart raced as your tongues fought for dominance made you forget about wanting to headbutt him for being an emotionally-constipated dumbass.
This was like the real life version of those stupid Hallmark-esque movies with the tragically separated couple spotting each other from across an airport terminal, running through a bustling crowd, and leaping into each other’s arms in the middle with ear-to-ear grins. Except they never fucked in those movies, and if you weren’t in Uraraka’s backyard with Katsuki’s main friend group inside, then the Hallmark channel would’ve absolutely deemed this heated encounter inappropriate for their prudish audience.
However, Katsuki seemed absolutely unbothered by potential voyeurism as he practically growled in your mouth and pulled you flush against him as if daring any higher powers watching to rip him away from you again.
Straddling his lap, you reluctantly pulled away causing him to practically whine while trying to keep you right where he wanted you. But there were things you needed to explain and answers he no doubt wanted judging from the disbelieving comments and interrogation just minutes before. Smothering his mouth with one of your palms, you managed to keep him steady while wiping at your eyes that were still damp from the emotional deluge.
You sat back on your heels and looked from side to side before spotting the translator you’d dropped. Leaning over to grab it across one of Katsuki’s legs, you really hoped it wasn’t busted from the couple of new scratches on the screen and one of the corners. “Shit…”
Huffing through his nose at you interrupting your own makeout session, Katsuki took a deep breath to try and calm himself down. As he pulled your hand away from his face, he glanced up just in time to see familiar red hair and eyes peeking around the corner of the back door before quickly retreating back inside after being caught peeping. Only a small part of him was embarrassed, though. If he could finally tell you that he loved you and apologize for his past faults, then dealing with PDA witnesses was a walk in the park by comparison.
He saw you fiddling with the device in your hand before slipping his fingers between yours and pressing a tender kiss to your palm, resting it against his cheek. Grounding. Warm. Real. The longing ache that had weighed him down for months seemed to vanish at your touch. Zoning out for a second, still pushing away all of the questions he had about how all of this happened, you kissed his other cheek before resting your forehead against his and stared lovingly into his eyes.
If he said it once, he could say it again. So he did. Telling you he loved you was easier the second time, but no less impactful as you bit your lip and smiled sheepishly but oh so earnest and bright. Enough to rival those park fireworks. To put them to shame. He couldn’t help but smile, too.
Feeling tired of sitting on the hard ground, Katsuki stood up and brushed dirt off the back of his pants before extending a hand to help you up, too.
“C’mon… Please don’t be broken. Does this thing still work?” He watched you press a few buttons on the thing in your hand while The same voice from before came through just fine and you let out a relieved sigh. Right as you turned back to him, Katsuki grabbed your chin and stared down into your eyes before glancing at the device.
“Tell me again for my own sanity that this isn’t a dream or illusion or anything, because that kiss seemed real as hell to me, and if it wasn’t, then I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”
The tension dropped along with your shoulders as you pulled his hand away, but didn’t let go. “Yes, Katsuki. I really am here, just like I said. None of this is fake or anything. You can thank your friends for setting all of this up, but also blame them for not telling you I was coming in the first place.”
OK. Alright. So he wasn’t crazy after all. Now that he’d had a minute to readjust and most of the shock had finally worn off, your answer sealed the deal. His gut instinct to protect himself through vehement denial of the unbelievable twisted in opposition, but he forced himself to ignore the discomfort.
Then it hit him and he scowled while running his free hand down his face.
“Those fuckers,” he cursed, eyeing the now-closed door that led back into the house. “I knew Todoroki wasn’t telling me everything! Who all is in on it? Who do I-“
Before his annoyance levels rose too high, you shut him up with a simple gesture that he rejected from just about everyone else: a hug. You tugged on his hand and pressed against him like a shield. God, he missed this, just burying his nose in your hair and shutting his eyes to savor feeling close and wanted.
"I don't want you to fight on your birthday," you said. "Oh, right. Happy birthday, Katsuki."
"They started it," he retorted, his eyes still closed as his hands came up to wrap around your waist. "Mm. Are you my gift?"
Even though you couldn't see his face, you knew he was smiling. "If you want me to be, then yes." Although him calling you a gift was sweet in its own way, it reminded you sorely of his friends back inside and how they seemed to pass you around from one person to the next. You were a person, not a present, and chose to come here of your own volition.
"Katsuki," you said, gripping his hand tighter in your own. It was heavenly being able to say his name and actually hear him answer you, again. "Why didn't you tell me back then?"
He knew what you meant without explanation and you swore you felt the pace of his heartbeat quicken through his chest. "I was stupid. I didn't think things would go the way they did, that we'd keep growing closer, and by the time I realized what I was feeling, I didn't know what to do. It…" Katsuki hesitated and you squeezed his hand reassuringly to keep going. "It scared me. I'd never been in love before, especially not to someone I couldn't be with in the end. I could always train and learn and evolve to prepare for whatever the future held as a Hero… but I wasn't prepared for you."
Your breath hitched as he revealed insecurities you knew were difficult to explain. Of all the things that could scare someone like Katsuki… but thinking back to everything that happened during those last few days together, it all made sense.
"I was a coward," he stated bluntly. You knew he was frowning just from his tone. "I was angry. Back on the ferris wheel, I knew. It hit me and I knew. I was happy and you were beautiful and I just…"
"...You panicked." Finishing his thought for him, all the pieces finally clicked together. Katsuki didn't want to leave and you didn't want him to leave, but there was nothing either of you could do about it. Fighting against the unbeatable and coming out on top was something Katsuki excelled at. Something he couldn't overcome… no wonder he lashed out. "You dummy." The annoyingly familiar pressure began building behind your eyes again. "It's OK to be scared or unsure of things. Talking it out can help, though. You're supposed to be smart…" The weak laugh at your own words hopefully obscured him from hearing you sniffle.
His lips and warm breath caressed your forehead; the tiniest gesture was going to make you cry again from how much you missed it, missed him. "I know that now. And I won't make the same mistake again."
I know you won't… because my time here is limited. But you refused to think about going back home without him, not when you had so much catching up to do. "You know, I was going to tell you I loved you back on the ferris wheel. I'd known for a while how I felt… but was waiting for the right moment. It was so cliché and romantic… then all the drama happened and I didn't want to make things worse with just one day left." You loosened your arm wrapped around his chest to look up at him; even under the pale moonlight, his eyes glistened like the beautiful red rubies you remembered. "So I waited until the last possible moment. I guess I was a coward, too."
Back then, he knew. It was noticeable from the way you looked at him fondly with a coy smile that was just for show but also completely earnest. How you reached for him without hesitation. The darkness in the ferris wheel carriage couldn’t obscure what he saw backlit by city lights and fireworks. Katsuki knew, and he’d chosen to run instead.
“Don’t,” he warned while shaking his head and holding his ground to stare down what he was so terrified of seeing six months ago. “I ran from my problems even though I would’ve called out anyone else for the same thing. There’s way more to strength and resolve than just how hard you can punch or how much you can take before going down. You did what I couldn’t.” He wasn’t afraid of your truth, anymore, nor his own. “So you better not call yourself a coward while I’m around, got it, Clumsy-chan?”
Your eyes widened and brows rose while the corners of his lips tugged into a grin. “Really? Even now, you’re stuck on that nickname?” The way you smiled through your words gave you away.
“I’ve changed, but not that much. You’re stuck with it unless I find one I think suits you better.” He felt you attempt to tug your hand free from his pitiful rebellion, but his hands and arms were far stronger than the average person’s; it was a fight you’d never win, but the outcome wasn’t the point, anyway.
Only now with most of his brain fog finally gone did he finally take in your appearance. Your hair was styled in an unfamiliar way, but it more than suited you. Matching earrings and a necklace that sparkled from the backyard light attached to the house. Smeared makeup circled your eyes, but Katsuki didn’t give a damn about that. And the rest…
Blinking in realization, he stepped back - hand never leaving yours - to look at the whole package. Confusion written on your face, he answered you before you had a chance to ask what the hell he was doing. “You’re wearing the red dress.”
Yeah, he’d been right: you did look good in it. Brain dead idiot of an ex-boyfriend had as much taste as he did sense when he said it didn’t suit you. Red was always a striking color and stood out among a crowd, but you wore it well. When you realized exactly why he was staring, your posture shifted as if trying to appear more flattering to him than you already did.
“Oh… yeah, I am. I mean, I’d only worn it once before… and I wanted to look nice for tonight. I thought about what you said about not letting anyone else decide what I should or shouldn’t do or wear. I'm guessing it was a good choice, then?" You managed a slow twirl in the uwabaki that didn't match your dress at all, the fabric flowing out from your thighs before settling back down as you stopped to face him expectantly.
Deku's house slippers and tear-stained makeup be damned. Katsuki yanked you back towards him with little effort, catching you with an arm securely around your waist as he leaned down and caught you in a surprise kiss. The tiny squeak you let out had him smiling as you pressed against his chest and stood on your tiptoes to try and gain back some leverage, but he pulled away before you ensnared him in a willing trap.
"You don't just look nice." The desiring glint in your eyes shifted to perplexed, but he was ready this time. "You look fucking beautiful. No extra can compare." No repeat of the "what the fuck are you wearing?" situation.
His lack of hesitation in complimenting you must've come as a mild shock judging from the bashful way you tried to hide your smile, lips sucked in between your teeth; that, or you were still bashful about his praise. "Thank you… have you been practicing flirting this whole time Mr. I'm Bad With Words?"
This back and forth banter was yet another thing he desperately missed; it was the small, prosaic interactions rather than grandiose displays that stuck with him the most. "No, but I've had six months to consider things I wish I'd said or done. I don't hold back with anything else, and this - you - shouldn't be an exception."
"Glad you finally learned your lesson on that one," you concurred before leaning back and drinking him in from head to toe. "You clean up nicely, yourself. I'd almost forgotten you had other clothes besides black tank tops and jeans." Humming to yourself, you traced your fingertips lightly across the stiff collar of his shirt before trailing down his bicep. Touch-starved for close contact and affection, the small but sensual movement sent goosebumps across his skin. "Hmm, yes… very handsome, indeed. I like the jewelry, too. And… are you wearing eyeliner?"
While you and Katsuki traded words, a small group had formed behind Jirou who had her earphone jack pressed up against the wall separating them from their friend outside. After Kirishima got caught peeking around the corner, even Jirou couldn’t hold back her curiosity as to what was going on after piecing together a rough idea through the whispered discussion of her friends.
However, it didn’t take long before her cheeks flushed and she quickly turned to disappear towards the snack table. “O-okay, their flirting really isn’t our business-“
“Flirting?! No way… but I guess he must have some game if he managed to get a girlfriend…” Ashido pondered mischievously about what in the world Bakugo’s flirting would entail as Jirou reached for her girlfriend’s hand.
Yaoyozoru sighed. “I warned you, dear…”
“But you totally wanted to know, too!”
Her free hand flew to her cheek in exaggerated shame. “Oh, I know I did! I just wanted to see how Bakugo-san and Y/N-san were doing… but eavesdropping isn’t the answer. How impolite of me…”
Midoriya stood between Todoroki and Kirishima who all glanced sidelong at each other. “Do you think they’ll come back in, eventually?”
“I would think so, Todoroki-kun. They have a lot to catch up on. At least nothing bad happened…” His relieved chuckle contrasted with Kirishima’s annoyed groan.
“Yeah, I mean I get that, but we still planned this whole party thing, y’know? And you still have Sato’s cake to bring out!”
Humming to himself, Todoroki pondered while Midoriya and Kirishima talked about cake. "But… I doubt staying at the party means more than spending quality time with his true love."
The line made Kirishima snort. "Sounds so cheesy saying it like that, especially for someone like Bakugo, but it's also super manly to love who you love without caring what anyone else thinks! I mean, I'm not gonna cockblock my best bro-"
"K-Kirishima-kun!" Even now as a married man with a kid on the way, Midoriya never fully overcame talking publicly about anything even mildly salacious. Searching around frantically before spotting Ochako, he decided it was the perfect time to check on his wife who was eating mochi while giggling at Dark Shadow acting like a puppy while Camie remained fixated on treating it as such. "They'll come inside when they want to and wecanhavecakethen!!"
The redhead laughed. “I guess he’ll never outgrow talking about embarrassing stuff… but man, am I glad Bakugo didn’t totally blow it with… you alright, Todoroki?”
Still deep in thought over inconsequential details, he said, “I suppose with your quirk, you would be the best at cockblocking… like a shield…” He only came out of his trance when Kirishima doubled over with laughter.
Calming relief replaced anxious uncertainty both inside and outside, although the current tempo of Katsuki’s heart begged to disagree.
“... Can’t believe I almost blew it.”
Rather than stand around fawning over each other, you and Katsuki sat on a swinging porch bench situated at the furthest corner at the back of the house. You tried not to gush too much when you recognized that the earrings he wore were eerily similar to the Fantasy AU art that everyone always fawned over. They suited him well alongside the thin chain of silver around his neck and expensive-looking watch on his wrist.
It was evident he’d picked up a few pointers from his fashion designer parents when he had more to choose from than t-shirts and tank tops.
You had finally noticed his hearing aid, as well as the newly-healed scar on his left ear. He'd reassured you that he was fine and the hearing aid was more of a safety net than necessity. It was only a matter of time before his quirk affected his hearing, but something like this would never keep Katsuki down.
“Hm? Blew what?” You leaned against Katsuki's side while he gently rocked the swing with the heel of his foot and stretched his arms across the back of the sun-bleached wood.
Without glancing your way, he said, "I almost let you run. Half a year trying to move on and find some normalcy in my routine again. Come to terms with everything. My own mistakes. I didn't think it would be as hard as it was."
"Relationships aren't easy," you reassured. "Especially breakups… including ones that have to happen even if no one wants them to. It was hard for me, too." Katsuki pressed his cheek to the top of your head. The weight was grounding. "Like… a piece of me was missing, and time and distractions just didn't make it go away. I mean, if I was fully over you, then I wouldn’t be here right now.”
Katsuki remained silent as he continued to rock the bench back and forth. He knew why moving on was so difficult, thinking back to the pathetic state of self-wallowing he turned into after visiting Tartarus. Her second quirk… so, it affected both of you, then. You attributed it to intense heartbreak; and yes, while that definitely factored into it, Black Hole’s quirk complicated everything tenfold.
Should I tell her…? Katsuki wasn’t so sure it was something you needed to know, at least not yet.
“After months of trying to accept the mistakes I couldn’t fix and move forward with my life, you step back into it. If you were really here, then all that work I did would've vanished. Like I was back at square one, like your memory was taunting me. So, I almost let you run… but even if it seemed impossible that you were here, I didn’t want to let that chance slip away.”
You couldn’t help but frown at his words. “I told them to tell you what they were planning. Good intentions but stupid execution…”
Katsuki moved away so he could turn to face you, his expression sincere and his eyes sharp. “How long have you known about this whole thing? How long have they been planning it? How did you even get here?”
Ah, right… you knew he’d want to know the logistics of everything considering how this all came out as a literal birthday surprise. Sighing, you fiddled with the translator in your lap and hesitantly looked up at Katsuki. “I… you know how I said I didn’t want you to be upset on your birthday?”
“I’m not mad at you. It’s not like you could’ve told me what was going on, anyway.”
You shook your head. “No, I know that. What I mean is, you’re probably going to be upset at your friends, whether it’s me that tells you or them… “ Starting a yelling match between Katsuki and his friends seemed like an awful way to get on the good side of the people he was closest to, but he’d make them fess up either way. “I know I’m technically in the middle of all this, but I don’t… shit. Am I making any sense?”
“I see.” Why did it sound so ominous coming from him? "You don't have to tell me. But I'd rather know everything now while we're all together. If you say I'll be mad, then you're probably right. But I doubt anything they say will make you being here not worth it. They can't ruin that." The soft intensity he gave off was just as flustering now as it was back in your apartment. "And I'll try really fucking hard not to yell…" He hesitated before sighing and holding up his pinky, albeit reluctantly. "For you."
You could've cried all over again from how adorably sappy it was to know he remembered how you insisted on pinky promises; he didn't need to know you only liked them because of how embarrassed he always looked doing something so juvenile.
Holding up your own pinky, you twirled it around his and smiled. "I'll hold you to it. I love you, Katsuki."
The casual way you dropped love into the conversation made his eyes widen and the tips of his ears flush pink. You said it with complete confidence as easily as if discussing the weather. How you could ever call yourself cowardly was beyond him.
Scoffing and shaking his head, Katsuki snickered before invading your space, keeping you in place by your pinky while close enough to see his own reflection in your startled eyes. "Love you, too." Each time he said it was a little easier than the last. Besides, he couldn't let you outdo him, especially not on his own birthday.
On that note, while he wanted to pull away to tease you just the tiniest bit, you leaned in close enough for your lips to brush. "Otanjoubi omedetou, Kat-su-ki." The slow, slurred way you tugged at his name like you knew exactly how much slack to give and take to keep him from toppling over the edge made him briefly regret wanting to go back inside at all.
Over as soon as it began, the kiss was brief but had you smiling before hopping up from the bench, pulling him up by the hand to meet you. God, he was so fucking whipped.
As you neared the back door where you heard the party moving on without you or the birthday boy, you slowed to let Katsuki overtake you. This was his conversation to have, not yours. Sort of.
Katsuki paused, glanced back at you, and tugged his head towards the house before giving your hand a light squeeze of reassurance. Don't worry, I'm here. Even if they were all his friends, everyone except for Uraraka was, for the most part, a complete stranger… again, sort of.
With a final deep breath, you turned off the translator, slid it into your small purse, and let Katsuki slide open the door and lead you inside.
Almost immediately, you felt far too many pairs of eyes on you as the commotion and conversation died down leaving only the background music playing from the speakers. Even though you technically knew who all of them were, they didn't know you. Some were probably out of the loop completely as to what was going on judging by several confused or intrigued stares. Jaw clenched, body tense, and toes curled inside your slippers, you immediately regretted leaving the isolated safety of the backyard.
"Oi, stop staring, you weirdos," Katsuki demanded as he kept you close to his side and glared at anyone trying to make a spectacle of the two of you. He had nothing to hide, not anymore. "This is my girlfriend. Don't make a big deal out of it."
Scanning the various faces of everyone at that curt announcement - some shocked, some excited, some ambivalent - he stopped when he saw the four morons in charge of this so-called surprise.
Kirishima broke the awkward quiet by strutting through the crowd towards you and Katsuki with a satisfied grin plastered across his face. However, it gradually fell as he came closer and noticed Katsuki’s obvious irritation. Midoriya, Todoroki, and Uraraka stood behind Kirishima. “Uh… happy birthday? Again? You don’t look happy even though… “ Kirishima tried to glance your way, but Katsuki sidestepped to block you from view. “What’s wrong?”
Jabbing a finger in each of their directions, he barked out an order that left no room for debate. "You four. We need to talk in private. Now."
"What's like, happening? Is the party already over…? Bummer." A tipsy Camie squeezed past Sero and Ashido looking flushed and frustrated at the killed mood.
Scraping a hand down his face, Katsuki's eye twitched trying to keep his composure for your sake. Fucking pinky swear… "It's not over. This won't take long. Do whatever you want; it's not my house."
This immediately cheered up Camie who seemed oblivious to the drama unfolding before her like a soap opera. Kirishima, Midoriya, Todoroki, and Uraraka all shared a look before Uraraka cleared her throat. "Um, there's a spare bedroom down the hall we can use."
Reluctantly, the group filed into a messy line and began walking away from the rest of the party with Midoriya at the helm. Katsuki took one step before you pulled on his arm and beckoned him closer with your finger. Judging by the reluctance written in your body language, you wanted to do this even less than he did, which meant ripping off the bandaid now would hopefully ease the soreness for the rest of the night. "Eh?" He leaned down to let you whisper into his good ear. Gesturing with his thumb, Katsuki ignored the stares from everyone else left behind as he led you by the hand down the hallway after the others.
Once you’d disappeared, Ashido and Yaoyorozu shared a concerned glance. They’d listened to your story earlier today. The worry regarding how things would turn out in addition to this secretive surprise nonsense and being in a totally unfamiliar world with unfamiliar people was a lot to deal with. At least the Bakugo part of the equation appeared to turn out for the better…
Sero glanced around since he realized someone was missing. “Hey, where’d Kaminari go…?”
As Midoriya opened a door at the end of the hall, Katsuki pointed to one on the opposite wall leading to the bathroom. At least those Japanese lessons with Liviya were paying off a bit. And in all honesty, you kind of wanted to let them all have their back and forth without feeling like a third wheel in the corner; trying to keep up with five different people speaking over each other in Japanese was probably beyond the little translator’s capabilities, anyway.
Turning on the bathroom light, you took a deep breath before glancing at yourself in the mirror with a jolt. “Oh, god… I really walked back inside like this?” All that crying had smeared the makeup around your eyes and left dirty tear tracks down your cheeks. “Waterproof my ass,” you cursed while digging in your purse for the makeup wipes you rightfully assumed you’d need for some emergency cleanup.
The last in line, Katsuki closed the door to the spare office behind him as the others stood in front of a desk littered with Midoriya's unmistakable scribblings; a habit he never abandoned even into adulthood.
Honestly, Katsuki was glad to be alone with them for at least a few minutes because he didn't want you to observe him blowing a gasket. He rounded on the nervous group as Midoriya stepped forward with his palm out as if presenting an invisible peace offering. "Kacchan, I know you're probably confused-"
"What the hell is wrong with all of you?" His biting cadence shut Midoriya up with a squeak as he glared down at the rest of them. "I know you take pride in trying to solve my own problems without consulting me first, but why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to bring (y/n) here without telling me? How did you even get her here?!"
Katsuki was loud, always had been. Eventually, those that knew him best learned that he was actually most dangerous and serious when he was quiet, when he didn't hide behind roaring noise and bravado. And right now, with a deep set frown and shadowed eyes, the gravel in his voice was honed enough to cut glass.
Kirishima took up the mantle of attempting to calm him down. "What all did (y/n) say already? And I'm sorry we didn't tell you before now, but we weren't even sure this was all gonna work in the end. It was a huge gamble. Plus, y'know… birthday surprise and all that…" Sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck when Katsuki’s grimace didn’t budge.
“She didn’t tell me much of anything. Said it would probably piss me off, and she’s right even though you haven’t even begun explaining yet. Besides, it’s not her responsibility to fill me in because it wasn’t her plan to begin with.” He accusingly cut his eyes towards Midoriya who was the worst out of all of them when it came to acting without thinking. “So,” he continued while crossing his arms, “start talking before (y/n) comes back.”
It seemed like their plan for a happy reunion came to fruition, but good intentions didn’t excuse the underhanded tactics to get there.
While the group unenthusiastically took turns explaining the hoops they jumped through to get their friend and his long lost love back together - researching potential quirks, pulling favors, Uraraka paying you a visit - you were just about done cleaning yourself up in the bathroom when someone whispered your name outside the door.
“(Y/n)…? Daijoubu desuka?” It sounded like… Ashido, maybe?
Leaving your purse and makeup scattered on the counter, you unlocked the door and peeked outside to see a black and gold eye staring back at you. You opened the door to see Yaoyorozu standing behind Ashido, both with worried expressions.
“Oh, uh, daijoubu desu.” Before you could attempt to try and listen in on what was happening in the other room, Ashido pushed her way inside the small bathroom with Yaoyorozu in tow before closing the door behind her. Scrunching up her eyes as if you were under inspection, Ashido eventually nodded while Yaoyorozu picked up the translator on the sink and turned it on without much difficulty.
“I believe this is… there we go. Simple enough. Apologies for intruding, (y/n)-san, but we wanted to make sure you were all right.”
“We could tell you’d been crying outside,” Ashido explained. “Needed to make sure Bakugo didn’t say something dumb to our new friend.” Even though they’d only met you earlier today, the two of them came to make sure you were OK? “You did a pretty good job cleaning up your makeup, though.”
You couldn’t help but feel appreciative of their concern; Katsuki was lucky to form bonds with such strong-willed and considerate people. “Thanks, really. But they were happy tears. He almost screwed up, but quickly made up for it. I don't really blame him, though, since I think it would've been much smoother if it all wasn't, y'know, a secret."
Your reassurance that nothing terrible happened seemed to ease their concern before Ashido huffed and crossed her arms. "Thought so. Boys can be so dumb, sometimes. Don't worry, I gave Kirishima an earful when we got here. But I'll leave most of the finger-wagging to you and Bakugo."
"Speaking of," Yaoyorozu began while glancing at the bathroom door. "If you need to rejoin the others, we don't want to hold you up if there's nothing else you need from us."
As you started shoving makeup back into your purse, you paused. Surely they would know, right? "Actually… I have a question about certain Japanese words and phrases since I know they can be highly contextual."
The two women nodded confidently and said they could provide some translation help. "OK, well… what's the difference between 'dai suki da yo' and 'aishiteru'? I know the latter is generally more serious… what?"
Yaoyorozu flushed and covered her mouth with her hand while Ashido’s eyes sparkled mischievously as a pursed grin spread across her pink face. “For one,” Yaoyorozu hesitantly began, “using ‘aishiteru’ is um, very rare. It’s reserved for intense and serious situations such as a marriage proposal… It’s a term that cannot be misinterpreted and is used very intentionally.”
Keeping her sly expression, Ashido added onto Yaoyorozu's explanation. "Mm, yep, it's a super intense term for loooooove," she reiterated while batting her eyelashes. "It's not an everyday term, you know. And some people might never use it at all." It was like this kind of gossip directly fueled Ashido's excited energy.
All you could do was stand dumbfounded. You knew way back before Katsuki left that Japanese was highly contextual and, though simplistic, the dictionary touched on it briefly. So, for Katsuki - someone who knew full well what it meant and the implications behind it - to say it first… "Oh."
"... Oh?"
"Did we break her?"
At that exact moment, all three of you turned towards the unseen hallway as raised voices echoed past the doors. Remembering what was going on in the other room snapped you out of your stupor. So much for Katsuki staying calm. "Uh, guess I should get back and see what's going on," you said while picking up the rest of your things and checking yourself one last time in the mirror. "Thanks for checking in on me. Katsuki's lucky to have friends like you."
Yaoyorozu seemed to calm down from the aishiteru discussion and gave you a warm smile. "Of course, (y/n)-san. Hopefully, things turned out for the best even if we had a rocky start."
Ashido nodded before opening the bathroom door to find Sero trying to listen in while pressed against the wall. When the bathroom light illuminated him, he just grinned and shrugged to play it off as no big deal. "Oh, well. Was just trying to feel included is all," he joked. “So, Ashido, don’t you owe me some money?” You heard him chuckle as Ashido pushed him back down the hall through some incoherent grumbling followed by Yaoyorozu. That left just you standing in front of the door. The voices had died down by now, but you were still a little worried for whatever scene lay beyond it.
The tension in the office hung heavy as Katsuki glared at a squirming Midoriya. "I can't fucking-" Knock knock. Someone at the door cut him off. Before he could tell whoever it was to get lost, he heard his name on the other side.
"Katsuki?"
Taking a deep breath to calm himself after hearing the absolute bullshit excuse of a story they told him to try and explain away what almost turned into complete ruin, Katsuki turned on his heel, walked to the door, and flung it open.
No wonder you were in the bathroom for so long - you'd cleaned up your makeup and seemed less frazzled than before. He just figured you needed some time to yourself, but it also gave him the opportunity to hear out the morons standing on the opposite end of the room without feeling you side-eyeing his exasperation.
"Hey. You good?" Nodding, you let him lead you into the room before gently closing the door behind you. Although he appeared collected, the stiff way he carried himself and the vestige of various creases along his brow and around his mouth gave the truth away. Not to mention the four people now staring in your direction looking equally drained. You finally noticed Uraraka's belly, but said nothing as she looked especially apologetic before staring down at the floor.
The room, you observed, seemed like an ordinary spare bedroom that they turned into an office space. How often they actually used it was unclear, but a few framed posters of All Might and various shelves lined with books and Hero memorabilia made it feel less sterile. Of course, the room itself wasn't important; your eyes hesitantly drifted to Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, and Uraraka before Katsuki stomped up to them to presumably continue where they left off before you knocked.
"I was hoping this would be quick. Didn't think this story had a hundred different chapters to it," he bit out while crossing his arms. Katsuki glanced over his shoulder to see you leaning against the wall. The sooner he could get this over with, the sooner he could get back to what was actually important. "So, if I'm not missing anything, you," he emphasized with a glare in Midoriya's direction, "told Melissa personal shit that wasn't her damn business, then she went and told some extra that I don't even know because he had a teleportation quirk?"
"For the most part, yes," Todoroki answered. "We exhausted our own resources while searching, so Midoriya reached out on his own. If this didn't work, then we would've been out of options."
While the secrecy of it all was infuriating, Katsuki was honestly amazed, but not at all surprised, by the massive hoops they jumped through for his sake. No one here would dream of giving less than 150% when it came to helping each other out; he realized that back at Kamino all those years ago. "Right… and this guy-"
"Devin-san," Midoriya quickly corrected. Katsuki narrowed his eyes.
"Devin, whatever. Is he even a Hero? How does his quirk work? Why did he agree to help you all, anyway?" All four of them shared glances as if silently trying to figure out who would do the explaining. That didn't bode well, but Kirishima was the one who finally spoke up.
"Alright, so, one, he isn't a Hero, but his mom is or…?" Side-eyeing Midoriya, Kirishima continued when he saw a confirming nod. "His mom, yeah. She's a Hero over in America. That's how Melissa knew him since she or her dad probably worked on support items and tech over there. Apparently, Devin owed Melissa a favor, and she used it on this." Unimpressed, Katsuki stood silently and waited for the redhead to get to the point. "Uh, as for his quirk… it is a teleportation-type quirk, but it works differently than Kurogiri's."
Those types of powerful quirks were rare; not as uncommon as they used to be when quirks were overall simpler and less powerful, but still coveted all the same. What made this guy's quirk so special, then? "Well? Tell me how it works, Kirishima." He needed confirmation of something he was unsure of last year. Something that irked him, but he lacked proof for any kind of confrontation. And judging from how hesitant Kirishima appeared to let out the full extent of the truth, this was either going to close the case or leave it indefinitely unresolved.
Kirishima visibly deflated and seemed to resign himself to finally telling the truth. "It works by using important objects. The more emotional attachment the object has, the further Devin can teleport, including to places he'd never been before. But he had no idea if he could even go to a whole different world. The only way we could try and make it work was to have something… really meaningful."
Tightening his jaw while staring daggers at Kirishima's sinking frown, Katsuki took a single, measured step forward until they were almost nose-to-nose. His words held dangerously steady like a dagger pressed against a windpipe. “I want to hear you admit it.” Katsuki felt your eyes on the back of his neck, watching to see if he’d keep his promise.
At least Kirishima’s eyes looked as fearless as ever as he stared down at his long time friend with a mixture of determination and heavy guilt. “I’m really sorry, Bakugo… yeah, I took the note (y/n) wrote for you. I swear I only saw the first couple of lines before realizing what it was-“
“I should Howitzer you in the fucking mouth.”
It was one thing to defy teachers’ orders and go on a dangerous rescue mission to save his life. But it was something else entirely for them to just assume they knew what was best for him and steal his things. “I deserve it,” Kirishima admitted easily. Telling the truth seemed to dispel most of the strain he was holding in his neck and jaw.
Flaring his nostrils like a cartoon bull preparing to huff out a stream of angry smoke before charging at a taunting red cape, Katsuki let his hands fall to his sides and took a step back before cutting his eyes to the other three. “And you all just went along with everything? It’s obvious that his quirk did work, so why the hell didn’t you just tell me everything then, huh? And-“ Something Kirishima said struck him as odd. Creasing his brows, Katsuki turned on his heel to look at you with confusion before turning back to the group. “You put the note back,” he stated while pointing at Kirishima who nodded obediently. “Which means you didn’t use it to bring (y/n) here, today. So what the fuck was it for?”
This time, it was Uraraka’s turn to solemnly raise her hand. “Um… that’d be me. I sorta volunteered to test out Devin-san’s quirk to make sure it would be safe to go back and forth since he’d never done anything like this before…”
"Safe?" It was just one blow right after the other with this lot. Katsuki stomped over to stand in front of Uraraka, incredulity written across his face in bold lettering. "You mean to tell me you went to her world and presumably saw her and still didn't think to just fucking tell me what was going on?" Wiping a hand down his tired face, Katsuki breathed out a mirthless chuckle. Of course they had to have some kind of contact with you before this point to explain things and get you on board with their scheme, but everything compounded was just too much to take in right then and there. "Ya know what? I don't even wanna know the rest of it." Maybe he should've listened when you insisted that confronting this now would sour his mood, but he couldn't change it now. It would've eaten at him until he heard the truth, anyway.
He hated what he needed to do, but it was necessary. Holding out his hand to Kirishima, he said, "Gimme my spare apartment key back."
Kirishima appeared taken aback and hurt at the request, but handing over the key Katsuki gave him as a symbol of trust and friendship was just the natural consequence of his actions. Without complaint, he pulled out his keyring and slid the key off before wordlessly dropping it in Katsuki's waiting palm.
Avoiding looking at the others, he kept his back to them and trudged over to you with his hands jammed into the front pockets of his jeans. You looked about as tired as he felt, and you couldn't even understand most of what was being discussed. While there was more he could've pried into, salvaging the remainder of his birthday by spending time with you was far more important than wasting the rest of the night thinking about all this shit.
Katsuki angled his head towards the door that led back to the main hallway to signal he was done here, but to his surprise you weren't ready to head out just yet. You shook your head, whispered, "Chotto matte," and brushed past him to stand in his previous spot in front of Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, and Uraraka.
You didn't want to do this. You really didn't want to do this… but it was one of those unavoidable adult situations that needed to happen. So much discussion around regret and second chances forced you to confront your own anxieties about how the day didn’t exactly measure up to your expectations. Holding the translator up like a microphone, you nervously addressed the group.
“Um… hi,” you reluctantly began. Meeting Katsuki’s closest friends and some of your favorite characters from the series would’ve been so much more exciting if the circumstances weren’t so somber. “I think you all know who I am, but I really only know one of you.” Cutting your eyes to your right, Uraraka was already staring in your direction with mixed emotions. “I know that Katsuki just talked about some things…” Honestly, ‘talked’ was a much kinder word than how Katsuki would’ve described it, but you didn’t want to rub unnecessary salt in the wound. “Still, I wanted to say a few things while I have the opportunity.”
Deciding to start on a positive note, you brought your hands down and bent forward in a shallow bow. Staring down towards the floor, you saw Kirishima and Midoriya's feet shuffle awkwardly from your peripheral vision. "I wanted to thank you all for helping me get here to see Katsuki again. I know it must’ve taken a lot of work and planning. Me being grateful doesn’t dismiss some of the hurtful things you did, though.” Standing back up to your full height, you forced yourself to look everyone in the eyes; you wanted them to see you - truly see you - for who you were.
"In all honesty, today didn't go at all like I thought it would. I came here unsure of who or what might greet me. I didn't know anyone and was in an unfamiliar place." You noticed as realization finally seemed to spark in Midoriya's eyes as you tried to articulate your feelings regarding their treatment of you. "The only two people I did know weren't there, and almost as soon as I arrived I was practically pushed out the door-"
"You WHAT?!" Katsuki's raised voice would have startled you if you hadn’t expected at least one interruption. However, you didn’t need him fighting on your behalf, not when he had his own grievances to worry about.
You held up a hand to motion to Katsuki that you could handle yourself as you watched Uraraka quietly chastise her mortified husband. “I felt like more of a burden than a guest,” you continued as the room quieted down once again. “But I’m grateful to Yaoyorozu and Ashido for helping me out even though you didn’t tell them what was going on, either. By the time I was brought back here for the party, I felt like… you all just used me as a means to make Katsuki happy.”
At that, Midoriya wasn’t the only one appearing regretful as the consequences of their eagerness finally set in. Todoroki’s frown was small, but not insignificant if you took into account the usual calm control he exuded. Furthermore, it really pained you to see Kirishima, normally so bright and positive, looking like a kicked puppy. Even his signature spiked hair drooped as he hung his head in apparent shame.
“I’m not a gift to give to someone. I’m a person who has just as much stake in this whole thing as Katsuki.” Only when you finished speaking did you realize your hands were shaking. Still, explaining yourself lifted yet another weight from your chest as relief washed over you. “So… while I do appreciate everything you all did, I’d like an apology. And I think you owe one to Yaoyorozu and Ashido, too.”
Requesting an apology from Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, and Uraraka wasn’t exactly on your to-do list for the day, but you knew that ignoring your feelings was the perfect way to feel terrible and anxious when all you wanted to do was celebrate the remainder of Katsuki’s birthday.
Uraraka stepped forward first and it forced you to analyze her discomfort when you tried to avoid looking at her completely during your speech. You considered her a friend by the time she left, so knowing she’d gone along with keeping their plan a secret after you tried to convince her it was a bad idea made the hurt more personal. Wringing her hands together, she dipped into a shallow bow. “I’m so sorry, (y/n)-san. Both you and Bakugo-kun are right. We should’ve explained things once I returned, but then we found out about the baby and… n-not that it’s an excuse or anything. I will say I yelled at my husband when I realized he let you leave without telling me, first.”
Having someone bow to you was probably something you’d never get used to. They didn’t need to present some ostentatious apology for it to matter; they just needed to understand why you were upset in the first place and promise to be more considerate in the future. “Thank you. I-” Reflexively, you were about to give your own apology for dragging out this little drama party, but bit your lip to stop yourself. There was nothing to apologize for, but old habits were hard to break. "I appreciate it."
Uraraka straightened up, allowing you to really see how her rosy cheeks had rounded out even more as the baby grew from the last time you'd seen her. "And congratulations. Really, I'm happy for you." At the very least, you didn't want to add to her existing stress of, you know, being pregnant. Smiling softly, she folded her hands under her belly and uttered a soft, "arigatou."
Turning to look pointedly at her husband, Midoriya stepped forward with frantic speed before dipping into an excessively low bow. And another. And another. It was like he'd turned into one of those old drinking bird toys that bobbed perpetually up and down, except turned up to about one-hundred and the bird babbled out a long stream of strung-together apologies in Japanese.
You stumbled back at his sudden whirlwind of movement, but something wide and sturdy appeared at your back to help keep your balance. "Uh-"
"Don't make it weird. We got two more apologies to hear," Katsuki grunted out right above your head as he kept a grounding hand on your waist. So, he literally had your back on this; Comforting to know.
Uraraka tugged on her husband's shirt collar to pull him back in line as Todoroki took his place. While he didn't bow like the others, you knew his words were sincere. "Sorry about the mess we made. I suppose good intentions don't overshadow the problems they might cause. Oh, right. I never introduced myself. I'm Todoroki. Nice to meet you."
"You didn't even- fucking hopeless." You couldn't even argue with Katsuki's indignant grumbling. Even though you technically knew who Todoroki was, it was true that this was his first formal introduction. You kept it short and simple and thanked him for the apology. Just one more left until you could hopefully put this awkwardness beyond you…
Honestly, out of everyone you knew you might meet here, you were most excited about Kirishima. He was a fan favorite from the very beginning with his talk of manliness and friendly attitude. As the first person to really make an effort in befriending Katsuki, it was no wonder they were still close years later. Even though it wasn't technically your fault, it still hurt to see the current wedge driven between the two of them.
You felt Katsuki's grip on your waist tighten the tiniest amount as Kirishima sheepishly stood in front of you. He glanced up above your head, but even without seeing his face you knew Katsuki was giving the redhead a hardened glare. "If you didn't already know, I'm Kirishima Eijirou, but you can just call me Kirishima. And… I'm really sorry," he admitted before giving his own apologetic bow, his long red hair spreading across his shoulders. "It was all the opposite of manly. Everything you said was right and it took guts to speak your mind like that. If it's worth anything, I respect that a lot. I can see now why Bakugo likes you," he confessed while standing up to his full height which was just a bit taller than Katsuki's, excluding the hair.
Under different circumstances, you might've felt bashful at his words, but you were tired, annoyed, and your hospitality meter was almost running on empty. "You took something important that I gave Katsuki, right?"
Clearing his throat, Kirishima nodded. "Y-yea, I did."
"Mmhm," you hummed, wanting to make him sweat for a moment. "That was fucked up. Don't do something like that again. Understand?" At your demand, all he managed was a slow, purposeful nod. "Good," you sighed. "OK, I'm done chastising your friends.”
Katsuki took the hint and grabbed your hand to finally lead you out of this stifling room. But as he ushered you out the door, he turned around for a final glare over his shoulder and mouthed, “I’m still going to kick your asses,” before slamming the door behind him.
Kirishima, Todoroki, Midoriya, and Uraraka stood together in silence for a second before letting out a collective groan. Well, that didn’t go well…
“So much for the idea that she’d protect us from Bakugo… I guess we had it coming, though,” Kirishima admitted, still melancholy over making his best friend and his girlfriend so upset. "Didn't expect her to look so intimidating…" The way you held yourself had him convinced that, despite being quirkless and a good head and a half shorter than him, you could've put him in the ground if you tried. Or maybe that was what you wanted him to think. Either way, Kirishima had no plans to make things worse for his friends or himself from this point forward.
Once the two of you were in the hallway, you barely had time to glance back towards the living room before Katsuki grabbed your hand and tugged you in the opposite direction. He quickly rounded the corner at the end of the hall before you nearly bumped into him as he came to a dead stop in front of an unfamiliar door and wordlessly turned the knob.
What neither of you expected to see were two figures suddenly illuminated when Katsuki flipped the light switch.
“AGH!”
“Ow! You shocked me, Kami-”
“Ugh, gross.”
“Oooh… oops.”
Katsuki grimaced before turning the lights back off and shutting the door. All he wanted was an empty room, but those two idiots just had to be sucking face while half naked and- A dry retch escaped him before the cursed scene was complete. He glanced down at you, a hand clamped over your mouth to stifle a giggle before he pulled you further down the hall to hopefully find a room that was actually empty.
Luckily, the next door he opened that happened to be at the very end of the hallway fit the bill as Katsuki ushered the two of you inside before closing the door.
A light shade of green paint coated the walls while various pieces of an unfinished crib lay in the far corner. Ignoring all of the boxed-up decorations and lingering smell of paint for what would soon become a nursery, Katsuki leaned his forearm against the wall, putting you in shadow in front of him.
"What-"
"I'm sorry." You looked up at him in confusion as his jaw tensed. "I called you my gift earlier. I didn't know." Had he been aware of all the trouble you went through today, he would've chosen his words more carefully. To think that you'd been here all fucking day, passed around from one person to the next all for some stupid birthday surprise. The shit you put up with for his sake was frustratingly astounding.
"Shit, don't scare me like that," you remarked with a huff and light tap on his chest. "I thought something was actually wrong. But that's nothing to apologize for," you clarified. "They were the ones treating me that way, even if they didn't mean to. You can call me a present if you want, just for today."
It wasn't like he wanted to be irate on his birthday, not when he had you at arm's length again. He was about to switch the subject with a comment about unwrapping you to hopefully lighten the mood, but you cut him off as he opened his mouth.
"I'm sorry, though. Not for anything I said back there, but just… " You leaned your head against his arm, still pressed against the wall. "I didn't want to put a wedge between you and your friends. And I wanted your friends to like me after all the stories you told me…"
Putting an end to this shitty mood was his top priority at the moment, because if you were sad, then he was sad, and he'd been sad for six fucking months. "Listen," he said, leaning down close to make sure you looked him in the eyes. "Don't apologize for shit. You warned that I'd get pissed, and I did it anyway to get it over with. That whole conversation sucked, but I'm not gonna spend the rest of the night grinding my teeth over it. You shouldn't, either. And for your last point, they'll get over it. If I know them like I think I do, then you standing up and chewing 'em out made their respect for you shoot through the damn roof." It wasn't easy standing up to people you didn't know, but he expected nothing less from you at this point; it was one of the many things he loved about you.
You sucked your bottom lip between your teeth before pushing off the wall to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. When you pulled back, you were smiling. "Thank you, Katsuki. You're still number one at motivational speeches."
Katsuki snorted. "Of course I am." Dipping down, he smirked against your jaw before caressing your skin with his lips, feather-light and teasing. In all honesty, watching you act bossy was kind of hot if he didn’t think too hard about context. Too bad he didn't get very far before the door suddenly opened.
Todoroki poked his head inside the room, locked eyes with Katsuki who gave him a ferocious death glare, and shut it a second later. He could hear conversation in the hallway. One familiar, whiny voice was complaining about being "interrupted". Knowing he'd get no privacy while in someone else's house, Katsuki backed away from the wall and stuffed his hands into his pockets as you suppressed a snicker.
"Well, tell me what ya wanna do. We can stay here for a while longer, or we can leave and head to my place." He checked his watch: 9:47 PM. How the hell did it get so late? Wait- "How long are you here for? When do you have to go back?" With everything else coming to light, he'd forgotten to find out exactly how much time the two of you had together. If you only had a day and those idiots wasted it for some stupid surprise-
“I’m here for a week.” He visibly relaxed at hearing that. While a week was much better than only a day or two, it wasn’t long enough; it would never be enough. “If that works for you, that is. Honestly, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if things didn’t, y’know, go well.”
Thank fuck he came to his senses before you walked out of his life forever. Again. “Why would it be a problem?”
You shrugged. “I mean, we’re kinda in reversed positions. I’m here unexpectedly, interrupting your life, relying on you for stuff even though I brought clothes and things I need with me…”
"I guess so," he admitted. "But unlike you, I'm technically my own boss. Unless it's an emergency, the others can take care of things for a week. They did it for a whole month, after all. But we can talk about it more later. Answer the other question: what do you wanna do?" His apartment was a much quieter and more comfortable space to talk and catch up properly, so he hoped you chose to leave rather than stick around much later.
“I dunno why you’re asking me when it’s your birthday, but fine.” You glanced to your left at the closed door leading back to the hallway where you could hear faint voices and music. “While I definitely don’t want to stay super long, do you mind at least introducing me to your other friends first?” There was no way you were going to pass up an opportunity to meet some of the others. You’d spotted Jirou, Sero, and a few other semi-familiar faces; even if you didn’t get a chance to talk more with Kirishima or Todoroki, you wanted to be able to look back on some unforgettable memories with Katsuki’s other friends.
Even though you saw his eye twitch, Katsuki didn’t argue about wanting to stay. “Yeah, fine.” Maybe a bit of mingling could distract him from falling back into a sour mood. Opening the door for you, he led you back down the hallway where, unsurprisingly, a small group had been waiting for your reappearance. Another upside of introducing yourself was to hopefully diminish the amount of gawking aimed your way.
Wasting no time, Katsuki immediately honed in on Yaoyorozu and Jirou who were chatting off to the side. He steered you to stand in front of him as he quickly introduced you to Jirou and vice versa before guiding Yaoyorozu off to the side for some private conversation. Well, being personable wasn’t exactly his strong suit…
Luckily, Jirou took the lead and rolled through the initial awkwardness. Apparently, Yaoyorozu had filled her in on what was happening and who you were, so at least you didn’t have to recount all of that again. Rather than pry into your relationship with Katsuki, Jirou asked about what you did back home and your hobbies while you inquired about her quirk.
Talking with her was easy and comforting with her chill demeanor. When Katsuki and Yaoyorozu rejoined the conversation, he blurted out that you were a good singer which prompted a sudden urge to strangle him. It was one thing to sing for yourself or for Katsuki, but Jirou’s parents were professional musicians and she no doubt inherited a ton of their music-making talent. Luckily, Jirou didn’t ask for a demonstration of any kind, and instead, just encouraged you to keep practicing if it was something you enjoyed. You thanked her and, before you could say goodbye, Katsuki was already ushering you towards a different friend group.
“That was weird, but she’s nice,” Jirou commented once she and Yaoyorozu were alone again. “Seeing him hold hands with someone is kinda bizarre since I never thought it would happen, but I’m glad it did. Oh, what did he want to talk to you about?”
Yaoyorozu smiled softly. “Bakugo-san wanted to thank me for helping (y/n)-san earlier today. He said he owes me a favor whenever I may need it.” Jirou’s eyebrows shot up into her purple bangs and glanced over at the two of you now talking with Ashido, Sero, and Tokoyami. Getting a “thank you” out of Bakugo was rare, but having him admit to owing someone a favor was downright unheard of. “He really is a caring person. It’s unfortunate that she can’t stay with how happy he seems…” Yaoyorozu leaned down and gave her girlfriend a light, chaste kiss upon her hair, grateful for the joy by her side.
While it was one thing to grow accustomed to pink skin and minor edits to the human bodies you were used to, seeing Tokoyami and Dark Shadow up close was more jarring than you assumed it would be. You knew there was nothing to be nervous about, but trying to make sense of Dark Shadow's sketchy, ethereal appearance proved difficult. Reflexively, you kept Katsuki at arm's length while Sero chuckled at how sad Dark Shadow looked at your hesitation to touch it.
"C'mon, it isn't that scary-" A flick to his temple from Ashido cut off Sero's harmless mocking.
"Dummy, she said people don't have quirks where she's from," she chided. "I mean, they don't even have people with pink skin! Their loss, honestly."
Luckily, Tokoyami didn't appear insulted; maybe he was accustomed to people finding his quirk intimidating. "I see. There is nothing to fear. However, your comfort remains most important."
While you nodded and cautiously held out your right hand while gripping Katsuki's arm with your left, he reassured you that everything was fine. "Nothin' to be- ah shit." Seemingly out of nowhere stumbled a more-than-tipsy Camie who was looking around for "ghost doggy" whatever the hell that meant. If there was anyone here at this party with the potential to embarrass him in front you, it was Camie. And Kaminari. But he was hopefully too busy hooking up with Shinsou to cause any real damage.
"Like, found you," she declared before confidently patting Dark Shadow like someone might pet a- oh. Ghost doggy. Duh. "Hm? Who's this huh? New bestie?" Did she totally space out during his declaration earlier? "Why's this phone talking weird?" She pointed a nail at the translator in your hand as you stood by awkwardly.
"Go drink some water," Katsuki ordered while knowing damn well that Camie could down a staggering amount of alcohol before passing out on a toilet. "And since you have elevator music and emojis between your ears, I'll say again that this is my girlfriend."
It seemed to take Camie a good five seconds to process that information, but when she did, Katsuki swore he saw a twinkle in her eye. "OMG, for realsies? You're like, so brave and stuff," she remarked with complete sincerity towards you while Sero and Ashido were already cracking up. "Cute dress, tho. I'm Utsushimi Camie, but just Camie is chill.”
“Uh, hi.” The translator butchered Camie’s words, but at least you caught her name. “Nice to meet you. You can just call me (y/n).”
Camie smiled before pointing her pouting lips up at Katsuki while still holding tight to Dark Shadow; Surprisingly, Tokoyami didn’t seem to mind, at least not outwardly. “Bakugoooo, why didn’t you spill that you were off the market? I thought we were fam.”
“Why can you never talk normally?” He could already feel impending bullshit creeping nearer. "And I didn't even know she was gonna be here, so don't throw a damn fit." While that was true, there wasn't much of a point explaining your whole backstory if your stay here wasn't permanent or at least longer than a week.
Camie tilted her head with a blank stare before finally letting go of Dark Shadow and cocking her hip. She glanced down at you, winked, then held her hand up to her chin. “Don’t you fucking-”
Too late. A stream of opaque, light pink smoke poured out of her mouth and swirled into a tall cloud, effectively catching the attention of everyone else in the room. It only took a second for an image to appear in the smoke. A mirror copy of Katsuki now stood in front of you, albeit the fluttering sparkles surrounding him weren't exactly normal. Katsuki wanted to scream.
"Hey there, beautiful," the fake Katsuki purred with a wink. "You made my birthday wish come true by being here." Ashido and Sero sputtered with laughter; even Tokoyami couldn't hold back a low chuckle. The only one in the room who didn't seem to be laughing was the real Katsuki. However, before he could blow up Camie's cloud, you paused your shocked giggles to point at the imposter's face.
"Ahem… nice try, but he doesn't look right," you accused with squinted eyes. "The nose is off and his eyes aren't the right shade of red. Also, the real Katsuki has a way with romantic words that this fake just can't compete with." Accepting his defeat with mocking grace, the illusion huffed and shrugged with a smirk before the smoke dissipated, leaving only the smiling Camie behind.
"Wow, you're like, pretty cool. But I think the birthday boy is broken or something." Her eyes drifted up, causing you to turn and see a glowing-faced Katsuki who refused to look you in the eye. Oops, I'll make it up to him later.
Sero and Ashido took turns making kissy noises before being yelled at by Katsuki. "SHUT THE HELL UP! WHERE'S MY DAMN CAKE SO I CAN GET OUTTA HERE?!"
While you were being introduced to his friends, Midoriya and the other chewed-out friends hung back and out of the spotlight to give the two of you some space and reflect on their actions. Uraraka rested her swollen feet in a recliner they'd bought once the pregnancy was announced. Midoriya stood nearby with Todoroki before heading to the kitchen in silence to bring out the requested cake since Bakugo’s voice cut across everyone else in the room. The most forlorn of the bunch, Kirishima leaned against the wall while finishing off a drink that smelled of strong alcohol.
"Kirishima." Todoroki calling his name barely made him look up. "You should try to talk to him. Not tonight, but-"
"Nah," the redhead interrupted with a shake of his head. "I've pissed him off enough for one day. I'll let him come to me when he wants."
Uraraka and Todoroki shared a concerning look. While the earlier confrontation was far from pleasant and gave them much to think about, they knew Bakugo wouldn't be mad at them forever; they'd shared too much throughout the years to let this be the end of their friendship. Maybe Kirishima needed some time to accept his faults and mistakes just like the rest of them.
"Oi, about time." Midoriya had lit the candles and carried the cake into the main room before giving Katsuki some space while the other guests crowded around the faint orange glow. "Candles? I'm not a damn kid- wait, how many are on here?! I'm not that old!"
Kaminari poked his head out of the crowd. “Hey! You’re lucky I resisted eating some frosting before now! No one told me I had to do math today.”
Katsuki groaned. “Counting isn’t fucking math- whatever…” Standing behind him, you grabbed his shoulders and turned him back around to face the cake to keep him from arguing with Kaminari. Grimacing at the candles - there were at least thirty - the sudden sound of a few people beginning to actually sing him a happy birthday song forced him to wheel back around and shout, “You all got a death wish?!” Only two notes made it out before he blew out the candles in a single gust like the Big Bad Wolf; a few of them even toppled over into the icing.
You sat beside Katsuki on one of the couches in the living room, a plate piled high with a large cake slice in one hand and a fork in the other. Of course, he’d given himself the first and largest slice and you the second. He didn’t even bother with a fork, opting instead to just eat it with his fingers. “I thought you didn’t like sweets that much?”
“I don’t,” he answered before licking orange and white icing from the corner of his mouth. He missed a spot, but swatted your hand away before you could wipe it away yourself. "But one of my old classmates made it and he's a damn good baker because his quirk relies on sugar. He made most of the birthday cakes for us while we lived in dorms."
"So I guess he knows what you like, then," you murmured before taking another bite; by the large bites he took, you suspected Katsuki's vocal aversion to sweet things wasn't as authentic as he claimed. It really was delicious, though - not as sweet as a typical store-bought cake, but still flavorful and rich. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw someone approaching the two of you, but the moist cake in your mouth kept you from greeting him properly.
"Aren't ya gonna introduce me, Kacchan?" Hovering in front of the couch, Kaminari smirked down at Katsuki who barely acknowledged his longtime friend.
He stuffed another bite of cake in his mouth before retoring, "Only if you lock the door before you try and fuck in someone else's house." Kaminari sputtered and spun his head around to make sure no one overheard Katsuki's jab even though Uraraka chewing him out earlier was loud enough for most of the guests to hear. "Speaking of, where's the insomniac?"
You shielded your mouth to keep icing from flying out while you attempted to recover from choking on your laughter. "Keep your- what the hell, man?!" Katsuki snorted at his incredulous face, a rare sight for someone with so little shame. "Shinsou's probably in the bathroom or something. But don't make fun of me for shooting my shot when I just wanted to say 'hi' to the girl you've been simping over for months."
He opened his mouth, closed it, and shook his head. "Too easy," Katsuki sighed. "But one, shut up, and two, what the fuck is a 'simp'?" You had to set down your plate before it toppled to the floor as you struggled to catch your breath. Their dynamic seemed even more chaotic now than what you recalled from the anime. "Oi, you good? The hell's so funny?"
"She knows I'm right."
"About what?"
"That you're a major simp."
"Stop callin' me that! If it's short for 'simpleton', then that's definitely you, not me."
"Nope. Wrong," you managed to sputter while wiping tears from your eyes and a few final coughs as both Kaminari and Katsuki stared at you. "Katsuki, that's not what simp means. But you're not one, anyway. So, you're both wrong. Also, hi. Nice to meet you…?"
"Kaminari," he answered while a confused Katsuki pouted through his cake slice. "And same to you. But also, are you suuuuuuure…?"
You nodded before picking your cake back up and turning to Katsuki knowing what he was going to ask. Of course, you already knew Kaminari's name, but since you hadn't formally met yet, it was a good idea to exchange brief introductions. "I'll tell you what it means later, but being labeled a simp is an insult." He was more like a kept man mixed with a snarky house husband… boyfriend… yeah, something like that.
He licked the last of the icing from his fingers while staring daggers at Kaminari who by this point, knew the guy was mostly bark and only mildly bitey. "You're fuckin' lucky I'm in a good mood, because I'm giving you a head start. One."
"Head start for-"
"Two."
Pursing his lips, Kaminari understood and began moving away to a safe distance before bending down and whispering something in Katsuki's ear. Whatever it was sent sparks flying from his palms as he yelled and leaned over the arm of the couch trying to snatch the tail of Kaminari's shirt, but for once he wasn't quick enough and Kaminari escaped towards a very perplexed Shinsou hiding out in the shadows with Tokoyami.
It didn't take long before the whiplash of the day finally caught up to you. A single yawn had Katsuki asking if you were finally ready to go, to which you gave an affirmative nod. "Mmyeah. Just lemme ask Uraraka something first."
While you headed over to the recliner where Uraraka was sleepily chatting with Yaoyorozu, Katsuki scanned the room and zeroed in on the sullen redhead on the opposite side. Despite not wanting a repeat of everything that pissed him off earlier, just leaving Kirishima to simmer in his own self-pity felt… if things were switched, Katsuki knew what would happen.
A shadow poured across Kirishima's face, cheeks tinted pink from yet another drink as he looked up to see Katsuki standing over him.
"Huh-"
"Kirishima. Stop drinking and listen to me." He lowered his drink and winced as if bracing for round two of the harsh-but-deserved verbal barrage cage match. "I meant everything I said, and I bet (y/n) did, too. The way you guys went about all this was shitty." Kirishima frowned, but Katsuki continued. "One thing I didn't say, though… was thanks. 'Cause I know you idiots only did it to help me out with all this stuff." The love stuff, really. At that exact moment, Katsuki cut his eyes to find you standing in front of Uraraka, but you were looking at him, because of course you were. "But don't you ever do something so fuckin' stupid again, got it?"
To anyone who didn't know him, Kirishima's sudden blubbering could've been caused by all the alcohol he downed in the past hours. But Katsuki knew he wore his emotions, even the sappy ones, right on his sleeve. "Man, I'm still so -hic- soooooo sorry! And I super duper swear-"
"You already apologized. An' I'm still pissed at you and the others. I just didn't wanna leave without saying that your screwed up plan was worth it." He left those final words as he walked away to find his way back to you.
"Everything ok?" Your eyes flickered between Katsuki and Kirishima as you headed to the genkan to replace your house slippers with your heels.
"Mm, fine," he grunted while flicking a wave over his shoulder in a wordless goodbye to everyone. "What'd you need Uraraka for?"
You leaned against the wall for balance as you slid into your own shoes; even though you loved these shoes and appreciated how they made your legs look, walking around in them all night would have been tortuous. "Oh, I asked if this translator thing needed a charger or something, but she didn't have one? That the girl who made it didn't mention anything about charging it…" Four months of Japanese lessons weren't nearly enough for conversational edification despite how hardcore of a teacher Livia was, so this thing needed to supplement your gaps in grammar and knowledge since your phone didn't work here.
Without warning, Katsuki grabbed the translator out of your hand, turned around, and yelled over the entire room in his raspy Japanese to catch Uraraka’s attention while you fiddled with the buckle of your shoe. “Wh-?” All you caught through the barked Japanese back and forth between him and Uraraka was a name: Hatsume.
He dropped the device back into your hand with a, “Should be fine,” as you stood at your full height plus heels. Without moving his head, Katsuki gave you a not-so-quick up and down with his eyes, pausing as he stopped to meet your own. Though still shorter than him, it was nice not to have to crane your neck so far to see him. Either he appreciated that too, or admired how the shoes made your legs look. Maybe both. Probably both.
As he buckled his polished leather motorcycle boots, he called back around the corner to someone else, but you turned to open the door and hide a yawn. He placed a sturdy hand on your lower back while leading you outside into the warm spring air.
“Feels weird takin’ you back to my place for a change.” You felt his fingers trace a line from your waist to your hand, his fingers lacing with yours through muscle memory. He ignored the cars parked in the driveway and stopped next to his motorcycle. “My ride. Like it?”
You remembered how he stared at the stopped motorcycle all those months ago and smiled. “Looks nice; very you. Guess you decided to give into some self indulgence for once? And does this mean I get to ride back with you?”
After a second, both of you realized that, for different reasons, you could not ride back with him and said “shit,” at exactly the same time.
Your luggage was still in Yaoyorozu’s car, and Katsuki was not going to let you ride while wearing zero protective gear. "Not tonight. I gotta…" At that moment, Yaoyorozu and Jirou came outside, the latter holding a large slice of birthday cake in a clear reusable container. Perfect timing.
“Bakugo-san!” Yaoyorozu waved to the two of you. "Todoroki-san said you asked for some cake to take with you. And we still have (y/n)-san's suitcase in my car. We were about to head home as well and wanted to catch you before you left."
"Suitcase?" Ah fuck, right. You actually brought shit with you, so riding with him was out even if you had the right gear. "If you're heading out anyway, can she ride with you and just drop her and her stuff off at my building?" Yaoyorozu was smart enough to pick up on the unspoken addition to his growing list of owed favors.
She looked down at Jirou who nodded. "Sure, it's no trouble. I think I still have your address in my texts somewhere, but send it to me again."
"Ya fine with riding with them?" Katsuki asked, pulling out his phone. "We can take the bike out tomorrow. Show you the city, just like I promised."
That hypothetical "what if" scenario about how much he'd spoil you if he had the chance was about to come true. By the way your eyes lit up, you hadn't forgotten, either. "I'd like that."
Yaoyorozu glanced at her reflection in the rear view mirror as Jirou slid in beside her. "I figured today was gonna be busy, but not this much," Jirou joked while balancing the cake on her lap. "How does a relaxing bath sound when we get home? We can use that new tea blend you got the other day."
Her answered smile was tired, but fond. "That sounds perfect, Kyoka." Both women turned to see you presumably saying your goodbyes to Bakugo as he sat on his bike, his boots planted firmly on the driveway to keep his balance steady.
"Drive safe, OK?"
"What, think I'll crash? Not a damn chance."
"Just accept my concern, birthday boy." You tried to flick his forehead, but a quick hand swatted you away before easily sliding your wrist between his thumb and index finger and letting his hand slot with yours as gravity swayed it back and forth. Just a twenty minute separation was proving tough to swallow now that he had you back, temporary though it was. Like he'd speed off and arrive at his apartment only for you to never meet him there. But you knew his faraway looks by now and squeezed his fingers to make him feel just how real you were. "I'll see you there. Love you."
He was never gonna get used to that, but he didn't want to. Each repeat was like hearing it for the first time - minus all the miserable heartbreak. But now, he could say it back. "Mm. Love you, too."
"Aww, that's kinda cute," teased Jirou as she leaned across her girlfriend to mentally snapshot the two of you kissing. It reminded her of getting caught making out in the U.A. dorm kitchen by Sero and Ojiro. She was too embarrassed to look them in the eyes for a week.
"Kyoka! Don't stare!"
"You're staring too!"
"N-no I'm not! I'm just waiting for (y/n)-san," she argued before turning away right as Bakugo was adjusting his helmet, his gloved middle finger waving in the air towards Jirou who just laughed. The two women quickly composed themselves as you opened the car back door.
Buckling your seatbelt, you gave a small wave to Katsuki who revved his bike engine before pulling out of the driveway and disappearing down the lamplit street.
You took a deep breath and slumped into the car seat before seeing Yaoyorozu and Jirou staring at you over their shoulders. "Uh… thanks for driving me. And everything else, today. Again." Having strangers haul you around town and depend on them for everything… no wonder Katsuki's short temper was pushed to the limit during his first few weeks staying with you.
"It's no problem," Jirou reassured as Yaoyorozu pulled out of the driveway. "Bakugo's place isn't super out of the way. Considering we probably ask more of him than he does any of us, it's the least we can do."
Self-sufficient to a fault. At least you felt somewhat prepared with what you brought with you.
Most of the drive was silent. Yaoyoru and Jirou spoke in hushed voices over the phone directions as you gawked at the towering neon lights of late night Tokyo that closed in with the residential neighborhood left behind.
The main glow of the city centered around a tall building that you guessed was Tokyo Tower. Although you appeared to be within city limits, Yaoyorozu drove along the outskirts and avoided the condensed city core. Bright neon signs embellished shop windows and jumbo screens cycling through product ads were plastered on corners just high enough to catch in your peripheral vision as you passed. Sirens cried in the distance and you wondered if a villain was causing mayhem between the maze of claustrophobic structures. The clasp on your purse became the perfect fidget toy for your twitchy fingers.
As the car slowed to a stop at a red light, you looked out the window to see none other than Katsuki parked one lane over and one car ahead of you; the grenade on the back of his helmet made him easy to pinpoint. Somehow, Yaoyorozu had caught up with him which meant you'd probably arrive at about the same time. He must've noticed in his side mirror because he swiveled his head, headlights and neon reflecting off his helmet, to look right at the car. Even though the opaque visor, you felt his stare before the light turned green - no, blue? Either way, it wasn't long before you lost sight of him again as the bike sped off with practiced ease.
How the hell did they catch up to me? He wasn't a speed demon on the bike, but sitting behind some old hag who should've had her license taken away a decade ago would've dragged down anyone else when he could slip through shitty late night traffic. While he didn't want to keep you waiting, not after six agonizing months, there was something he needed to pick up before inviting you into his home for the next six days.
Rounding a familiar corner, his building stood a few blocks away on the left. All he needed to do was park in the garage, run into the konbini next door, and wait outside for you to pull up. Easy.
Was the garage door always this slow to open?! His knee bobbed impatiently before he slid under the creaking door while ducking his head. His spot, the one he always parked in, was predictably empty. None of them were assigned, but there was an unacknowledged, collective agreement between tenants not to take anyone else's space. Besides, no one was dumb enough to park near his bike, anyway.
Once parked, Katsuki slid off his helmet and shook his head like a wet dog to dislodge the flattened hair… then skidded back to check his appearance in the side mirror. Good enough.
With helmet in hand, he strode through the lot and shoved his wallet against the reader before shouldering open the door leading into the main lobby. Now, all he had to do was-
"Welcome back, Dynamight." The ever-present Takahata tossed out a greeting from his desk. Katsuki never saw anyone else watching over the building. Hell, did the guy ever leave that damn desk? Maybe it had to do with his quirk. Katsuki never bothered to ask.
Waving over his shoulder, he stomped across the polished tile to exit back out onto the street. But no sooner had he walked ten paces when Yaoyorozu's car pulled up next to the curb, Jirou spying him through the glass. So much for running a quick errand before you arrived; it wasn't a big deal if you accompanied him, anyway.
When the car door opened and your heels swung down to meet the sidewalk, it really, finally hit him that you'd switched places: he, totally unprepared, was letting you live with him. Share his space, his food, his routine… fuck, was his bathroom clean?!
A honking car blazing down the road made his eyes snap back to the present, landing on you digging in the trunk for something. Way to be a good host, Katsuki.
Before you could drag the suitcase out of the car, he leaned over you, picked it up by a handle on the side, and set it upright on the sidewalk. It wasn't heavy, but he'd packed smaller bags for longer trips in the past and wondered if you'd sat on it just to get it to zip.
You patted his arm before waving for Jirou to roll down her window so you could thank her and Yaoyorozu for a final time. Maybe you could ask Katsuki for a way to show your appreciation with more than just words. Of course, they brushed it off as no big deal - it was a big deal - as a hand came from behind to rest next to yours on the window opening.
He boxed you in and extended his own rare display of gratitude before Jirou held out the forgotten container of cake. Holding it close, you waved them off into the night with his chest at your back. It was just you and Katsuki now under the illuminated sidewalk. You turned to him with a tired smile, but the fancy-looking building behind him pulled your attention away. The flawless white exterior, covered balconies, and crystal clear glass entryway exuded luxury and comfort; it wasn't Yaoyorozu's mansion, but if he lived here, then his place was no doubt bigger and nicer than what you were used to back home.
"Hey." Before you could step towards the building, Katsuki slid an arm around your waist, his lips brushing against your hair before leading you away from the building. You grabbed your suitcase handle from him as you followed and wondered if your assumption was wrong before realizing he was headed towards an open shop on the corner with an orange, green, red, and white striped sign stretched across the top of the brick walls.
The sliding doors opened with a pleasant ding while you kept pace with Katsuki. Aisles and aisles lined with boxes, bags, bottles, and baked goods all crammed in a corner store that appeared deceptively compact from the outside. Even a common convenience store held novelty while visiting an unfamiliar country.
It was easy for Katsuki to find what was looking for considering he stopped by this konbini at least once a week since moving in next door. The last minute snacks before a long patrol or a fresh box of bandages before returning home made him a regular customer; after a while, the things he bought in regular rotation never seemed to be low in stock.
Behind him, the sound of your suitcase wheels rolling across the floor tiles in perfect repetition set him at ease. You were within reach. While in his world, it was his responsibility to keep you safe; lucky you, saving people was in his job description.
The late hour meant there were probably as many customers in the whole store as there were employees working. Four, maybe five, the two of you included. He only passed one person crouched in front of a display to restock a low shelf on his march down the personal hygiene aisle. Recalling the hellish embarrassment he'd felt when you'd tasked him with picking out condoms was as predictable as it was laughable. The last time he bought some was over three, maybe close to four years ago. Now, it only took him a few seconds to grab what he needed without distress - being able to read the fucking packaging did help, though.
With his helmet still tucked under one arm, he turned to find you looking every bit like the tourist you were. Eyes scanning across completely mundane items no doubt trying to decipher what they were if the packaging didn't make it obvious, you finally noticed him staring and smiled in that same pleased way you used to whenever he untwisted his tongue long enough to say something sincere. Those tiny, silent gestures were some of the most missed.
Heading towards the register with you at his side, Katsuki paused in front of a section of savory snacks and grabbed a small bag of his favorite extra spicy chips. He felt a tug on his arm as you hooked your elbows together, keeping him in place as you looked over the snacks, too. If you wanted one of everything just to try it, he'd hand you his platinum card and keep his mouth shut just to make you happy. But no, you didn't load your arms up with everything you could carry. Instead, you picked up a canister of chocolate and vanilla wafer cookies with little dancing pandas on the label. He snickered at how predictable you were before grabbing the tin and tugging you along towards the front of the store.
Lucky for Katsuki, the chatty older clerk that always held a one-way conversation with him wasn't around. You continued holding his arm as he tossed his things onto the counter. Condoms and snacks: the late night birthday essentials.
The cashier rang everything up while he dug in his back pocket for his phone. He didn't need his wallet half the time since most places took quick and easy payment through phones so long as you didn't carry around an outdated brick.
The air was crisp as he led you back outside to finally go home. All he had to do was make it past Takahata and he'd be fine.
The front doors opened for him with you close behind, your suitcase wheels skipping over the tile gaps in a quicker pattern compared to the konbini floor. Expectantly, no one was around except for Takahata who looked up to welcome him back like he always did. "Good to see you back, Dynamight- oh." Pause. "You have a guest?" Takahata was quick to slip back into his usual composed and polite self, smiling as the two of you approached the elevator past the front desk.
Still, his obvious surprise made Katsuki bite the meat of his cheek. "Yes," he grit out with you still close behind and none the wiser to their passing exchange. "Staying with me for a week. That fine?" It wasn't a question of permission, but one of formality.
"Of course," Takahata answered with a nod. There was no reason for him to interrogate you, not when Katsuki had been living here for years and never caused trouble… aside from those idiots busting down his door, but that was their fault, not his.
You waved your fingers in greeting to the man behind the front desk. The exchange between him and Katsuki must not have been important since he didn't stop to chat. No apartment you'd lived in had an on-duty security guard, so the upscale style wasn't just for show.
Katsuki punched the elevator call button with the side of his fist, causing the metal doors to slide open. You rolled your suitcase across the threshold, yawned, and let your head rest on his shoulder before the elegant lobby disappeared behind the closing doors.
Takahata, now alone, chuckled to himself. My, how unexpected. Quite an exciting night. Good for Dynamight-san. The Hero never had guests outside of other Heroes because Takahata had seen every single person that came in and out of the building for the past eight years without fail. So, anyone new - especially if they accompanied someone as busy and stern as the #2 Hero in Japan - stood out.
Waiting in the elevator, you felt his free arm snake around your waist and watched his nostrils flare through your lashes. After all these months, you still remembered how to read him. There was nothing for Katsuki to worry about; you weren't a dream or nightmare or anything else that would vanish before morning.
Only when the doors slid open did you glance at the panel to notice you were on the top floor. You wondered how the gleaming city must look from his window, envious of the imagined view compared to your own parking lot.
He nudged you out of the elevator while you dug in your purse for the translator. Carrying a small bag meant things never got lost at the very bottom. You balanced pulling your suitcase, carrying the birthday cake, and fiddling with the translator buttons as Katsuki slid a keyring out of his pocket. Maybe you'd expended all your nervous energy earlier, but being able to finally rest was higher on your priority list than snooping through all of Katsuki's things or judging his decoration preferences.
"Shit." As if realizing something for the first time, he hung his head with the key in the lock. "When you go in, do not wander around. Just gonna make sure it's not a fuckin' mess because I wasn't expecting guests," he said accusingly, to which you just stuck out your tongue and shrugged. "But I've got a roommate. Sorta. And she's a bitch when it comes to literally everyone who isn't me. And still hates me most of the time."
Confused, you looked to him for answers, but he was already pushing his way inside. A… roommate? He didn't mention it earlier, and most of his closest friends seemed to be at the party, so who could it be? And why would he live with someone who apparently hates his guts?
All your questions went unanswered as you traced his steps into the dark apartment. With the flick of a switch, the lights illuminated the genkan where he was already kicking off his boots. Well, shit. You knew his place would be nice, but it looked more like a display home set up for flattering photos than a lived-in space.
"Just," he started as he stepped further into the living room before turning right back around to grab your suitcase and hoist it over his shoulder with little effort. "Stay here. If she comes towards you, don't make any sudden movements. And-"
"Katsuki."
"What?"
"Calm the fuck down." For someone so self aware, he seemed oblivious to just how frazzled he was acting. "I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to make things perfect. I'm just here to spend time with you."
His nostrils flared again, but you got your point across. If you could survive him dropping in while you were asleep in your underwear, then there should be no issues having his girlfriend stay over for a week. You watched him suck on his teeth and just out his bottom lip that threatened to twist into a smirk. "Don't move."
God, you were so- You didn't even have to try to read him so easily and it drove him fucking crazy. But he loved it. Loved you. "Stupid," he growled through a grin as he stomped down the long hallway towards his bedroom.
He pushed open his door and swung your bag off his shoulder to sit against the wall. A moment passed as he stared into his shadowed closet, eyes cast down where he knew your other bag - the one he'd originally taken with him - lay neatly among pressed shirts and spare gear.
Tossing his helmet, convenience store bag, and leather jacket on the bed, he wondered briefly if his sheets were clean before remembering he'd changed them a few days prior because someone decided it was the perfect place to cough up a hairball. Next, he swiped up discarded clothes around the room to drop into his hamper. He knew you wouldn't care about something so trivial, but he cared, dammit! You were right that he was far too wound up when the hard part was in the past and all he needed to do was enjoy your company. But he was gonna enjoy it without feeling like a slob.
He listened down the hallway for any sign of trouble before moving onto the master bathroom. While it wasn't the absolute cleanest, it was acceptable considering there was no time to scrub the whole room since keeping it hygienic was essential to prevent mold and mildew.
Japanese bathrooms were far more elaborate than the average bathroom in other countries. Temperature-controlled soaking tubs, options for dehumidifying the room or drying your clothes, heated toilet seats, and digital touch pads for all of it. Of course, Katsuki's place had all of the modern comforts plus a few extras that he didn't even use. The bathroom was a big selling point for the apartment considering he needed somewhere to unwind and relax his muscles after rough days.
Scanning the room for anything worth hiding, he spotted an open bottle of lube on the counter. He snatched it with a curse and dropped it in the nightstand drawer next to his bed. Not that you'd care since sex wasn't the same worry it was in the beginning, but whatever; he was too accustomed to hiding all of his personal things for the sake of privacy, and Kirishima's earlier admission did little to assuage that reflex.
"Oh, Kaaaaaaaatsuki!"
Hearing you call his name had him realizing he hadn't seen Princess Explosion Murder since returning home. Shit. Katsuki stomped down the hallway and hoped he wasn't about to find you fighting off his-
"So, why didn't you tell me you got a cat? Hm?...What?" Just like he'd ordered, you hadn't moved from the genkan, but the whole scene made… no sense. You knelt down with your hand outstretched while his terror of a cat rubbed her face against your knuckles, her fluffy tail swishing back and forth in the air.
He ran the pad of his thumb against his bottom lip, totally baffled at what he was seeing. "... What'd you do to-? She hates everyone."
You just looked between the purring cat and Katsuki and shrugged. "I doubt that. I just did the slow blinking thing and let her come to me. You're so pretty and fluffy, yes you are! Such a sweet kitty… your dad is just making things up, yes he is."
To be honest, he should've seen this coming. You with your otherworldly ability to befriend the most ill-tempered person around: first him, now his demonic cat. The absurdity of it all made him snort out a laugh, but it switched to a hacking cough when you called him a "dad". "What the fuck. Do not call me her dad or any equivalent."
Ignoring him, you stood up and gestured down at Princess. "You still haven't told me her name- wait! Let me guess… mm, Snowball is too cliché. Knowing you, it must be something ridiculous and over the top."
"Tch. You'll never figure it out, but it fits this bratty cat perfectly." As if knowing she was being insulted, Princess leapt to the back of the couch and stared at him with what he could only describe as unfiltered disgust. He was used to it at this point, though, and sneered right back. "Gimme this," he said while taking the cake slice in your hand and walking it to the fridge.
"Your apartment is nice." You followed him into the kitchen and soaked up what you couldn't see from standing in the genkan. Just like he mentioned, it was much bigger than your own home and could've passed for a single story house from the living room and kitchen alone. "And such a big kitchen… oh, before I forget, did you like the hot sauce?"
With the cake put away, he closed the fridge with a shoulder lean and turned to you. "What're you talking about? What hot sauce?"
You reached across the counter to examine one of the many spice bottles lined up on a matte black floating shelf. Despite the organized minimalism evident in his personal design choices, little details made clear exactly who lived here. "The one Uraraka was supposed to give you during the holidays. Wait, don't tell me you never got it."
Poking out his bottom lip, Katsuki narrowed his eyes until they cut back to the fridge. He yanked it open, rattled some bottles and jars around until he pulled out a familiar bottle. "This? This hot sauce? Uraraka gave me some story about a fan wanting me to have this, but- damn, I knew something about the taste was familiar…You made this with the peppers that made me sick, didn't you?"
"I mean, yes," you admitted without shame while stepping closer to examine the bottle that now looked half empty. "I was worried you wouldn't like it, but glad to see I was wrong. And I tasted it before giving it to her, so I know how spicy it is. I think this was the… second batch I made."
He twirled the unlabeled bottle around to mix the settled contents while shaking his head. "You're ridiculous." His eyes flickered from the homemade hot sauce back up to you, tilted grin and all. "Was she right, though?"
You knew that tone, dipped in his own specialized brand of fiendish teasing paired with a small side of bashful consideration. Leaning back against the black marble counter, a flash of déjà vu tickled at your memory. "Right about what?"
One step, two, three. If you were a stranger, having a scarred man with burning eyes lock you against the counter between his arms might've been intimidating. But your composure remained steady. "Are you a fan?"
"Of the one and only Bakugo Katsuki," you began as you rested your arm against his and let your fingers fiddle with the fabric rolled snug around his forearms. "Or of you the Hero? Or both?"
You felt the muscle twitch under your palm while he hovered as if simmering on a low, steady heat. "I'm no different out there than I am in here. No fake persona. Me an' the Hero Dynamight are one and the same."
As you listened to the translator, something sounded unfamiliar. You tapped his forearm with a nail and said, "Dynamight? Dynamight, like the- wait, is that your Hero name?"
"Yeah? Technically, it's longer than that, but got shortened- whatever, you know that."
"No, I don't. You never told me."
Now, it was his turn to be confused. "I definitely did."
"Uh, no?" Incredulous, you poked him in the chest. "I would've definitely remembered considering how big a fan I am," you argued, tossing his words back in his face.
When it came to you, Katsuki was all bark and no bite. His lip curled as he squished your cheeks with his hand. Maybe he knew he was wrong and just didn't want to admit it because he missed the pointless bickering as much as you did. Whatever the reason, you didn't mind his softening glare rimmed with crisp eyeliner. "Dummy." The way his eyes lingered on your puckered lips lined with the faint tint of faded lipstick made his intention obvious.
Katsuki pressed his mouth to yours while he loosened his grip on your cheeks. The edge of the counter dug into your back as he stepped fully into your space, his breath tasting of mint flavored gum. You dug your fingertips into his tense forearm as your eyes closed and mouth opened invitingly.
Calloused fingers traced the profile of your jaw down your neck, goosebumps accompanying the shiver down your spine as his canines tugged at your bottom lip. To refamiliarize yourself with his taste and touch and smell, to open the map you'd drawn from traveling his peaks and valleys in what seemed both like a lifetime ago and no time at all meant everything. His heart was finally bare, ripe, and within reach.
Your pulse was warm and rapid between his lips and across his tongue as he pressed his hips to yours and fisted the cherry fabric of your dress. There was time for softness and patience, but that time wasn't now. Not when-
CLATTER
Both of you stilled. Katsuki ground his molars together and huffed through his nose before slowly craning his neck to glare over his shoulder with your fingers still gripping the top fastened button of his shirt.
A green plastic cup rolled across the kitchen floor before stopping at the edge of a growing puddle of water.
"Mrow."
The culprit sat staring at the two of you, the tip of her tail flicking over the edge of the counter. Katsuki sneered and you snickered in his ear. Getting cockblocked by his own fucking cat... I hate you.
"Oi," he snapped. "You know you're not allowed on the damn counter!" Twisting away from you, he hissed out a vulgar string of curses and slammed his palms down on the marble. The intimidating tactic worked, sending Princess Explosion Murder hopping to the floor with a chirp.
"Katsuki! Don't be mean." Coming up behind him, you lightly flicked him on the side of the head before picking the cup off the floor. "She's a cat. Cats knock things over if you leave them sitting out."
You didn't know that brat of a cat like he did. The cute and innocent act was just a front before she revealed her true nature when you least expected it. Sure, maybe she'd become more comfortable around him over time. And yes, maybe the scratches on his hands and arms had finally begun to fade. But deep down, she was still a menace, just like him.
Not wanting to start an argument over something so small, he huffed before snatching a dish towel and tossing it over the spill. "Anyway," he said while his foot led the towel in a circle. "It's still my birthday for about…forty minutes." For the first time in years, Katsuki wasn't eager for his birthday to end just yet. "Ya want a quick apartment tour or what?"
You swiveled on your heel and scanned the kitchen and living room. There were photos lined up on a bookshelf you wanted to ask him about. The minimalist, modern style coupled with specks of his life and personality begged to be studied. And of course, the still-unnamed cat who stared at you from a tall cat tree in the corner no doubt had an interesting backstory. But you had time; not a lot, but you could ask about all these things and more tomorrow.
"Lead on, Dynamight," you affirmed, holding out your hand for him to take. Without hesitating, Katsuki reached across the counter and seized your fingers to pull you behind him with a small, satisfied grin. A laugh bubbled out of you as he dragged you down the hallway in his cute little house slippers.
When he said quick, he meant it. Despite opening up just about every door leading directly to the hall, you had a generous thirty seconds to look around each room before he insisted on showing you the next. One was empty aside from one of those fancy robot litter boxes and some toys, another was an office covered in a thin layer of dust, and the most used room was filled with well-loved workout gear: a punching bag, a rowing machine, a rack of hand weights, etc.
Even his bathrooms were fancy; not quite as extravagant as Yaoyrozu's, but certainly the nicest apartment bathrooms you'd ever seen. "Unfair," you murmured, jealous of the simple advancements that appeared commonplace in most Japanese bathrooms. "What's it like having a tub big enough to actually relax in?"
Katsuki snorted. "Pretty damn nice. But I don't use this one much. The one attached to my bedroom is bigger.”
“Bigger?” Did he have a jacuzzi or hot tub or what? “Seeing all this, I’m kinda surprised you didn’t complain more about my cramped little apartment.”
He looked almost offended with matching slanted lips and brow. "I wasn't gonna complain about you givin’ me a place to stay. Maybe when I was a bratty teen, but not so much now.”
Aside from that first stressful week, he really didn’t comment at all on your mismatched furniture or lack of space. Honestly, your apartment was cleaner when he was there compared to when he wasn’t. “Fair. But really, your place is very nice. Kinda big for just you, though.”
You turned to find him leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, looking more solemn than you expected. He shrugged, the weight visible on his broad shoulders. "Shacked up with Kirishima after we graduated, and Kami was basically a roommate who didn't pay rent with how often he crashed there. But I like my own space."
So much left unsaid. You padded back across the cool, white floor to mirror him. Under the fluorescent lighting, his exhaustion was more apparent, like he'd aged at least a year rather than six months. "That's something I like about you. Loud quirk, loud opinions, loud mouth." He couldn't argue with the truth as he rolled his eyes. "And you're still fine just, y'know, sitting with silence. I could lay on the couch and read and you'd cook and– and I really missed it. You. All of it."
Katsuki's knee bounced as he pulled his lip between his teeth and stared, searching your face for something only he could see. "Yeah. And you're right. This place has more space than I need. Just didn't realize it 'til you came along."
The lump in your throat grew the longer his eyes lingered. "As much as I admire your guest bathroom, can we finish up the tour now?"
He hummed before backing out of the doorway with small, slow steps. You followed him down the hall while he ignored the rest of the unexplored rooms and pushed open a final door at the end of the hall on the right. "Here's my– hey! Little fucker."
Poking your head around the corner, you had little time to take in the one room you'd seen so far that actually looked lived-in before spotting the Unnamed Cat using your suitcase as a scratching post. "Hmm, well that's not nice." As Katsuki tried to shoo her away, she instead climbed on top of the bag and sat her fluffy butt down on the handle. "Alrighty, let's go Miss Troublemaker," you said before attempting to do the same, but even your gentle hand earned a swat that would have left a nice scratch had you not pulled away. "Wow, and I defended you earlier. I see how it is."
Rather than fight a cat to take back your bag, you bent down and pushed it across the floor with her still sitting on top before letting it coast right out of the doorway. "Sorry! Be nicer next time!" She meowed as you closed the door with a wave. "Maybe don’t scratch my things next- what?”
Katsuki stood with a shit-eating grin, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. “Told you she was a bitch," he bragged. "But if you leave your bag out there with her, she'll shred it out of spite."
"As long as she can't get inside it, then it's fine since the bag is old, anyway. And just tell me her name so I don't have to spend all night guessing," you conceded while plopping down on the end of his bed. Your palm slid across the plush, dark comforter as you cocked your head to the side.
"Give up on guessing after one name? Weak. But fine. Princess Explosion Murder. Don't fuckin' gimme that look! She's a spoiled brat filled with malice disguised as a cat."
Your shoulders shook as you heaved with laughter at how beautifully awful the name was; only Bakugo "Dynamight" Katsuki whose failed attempt at naming himself King Explosion Murder as a teenager would've carried on the legacy through his very first pet. "Y… you're the one who spoiled her!" Trying to talk through the giggling made your chest hurt, and his exasperated grimace just added to the hilarity. "Her collar has rhinestones on it! Princess Explosion Murder, oh my god… I love you so much."
As you tried to catch your breath, Katsuki's hand groped the wall behind him for the light switch and dimmed the bulbs low; one of those small quality of life things he never used, but was now grateful for. His steps were quiet as he made his way to the edge of the bed before digging one knee into the mattress and shading you from the ceiling glow, hands on either side of your head. It felt like no time had passed at all as he hovered, watching your eyes crinkle and cheeks swell. How easily he fell back into old routines of chatter and jabs that often ended in delighted silence. At last, you looked up at him, smile still wide and bright and full of-
"You swear you're real?" Despite everything, believing you were really here still seemed too good to be true. Too much of a dream for reality to uphold.
The corners of your lips dragged down into something more solemn, but your gaze remained steady with your hands on your chest gripping the translator. "Yeah, Katsuki. I'm real. Are you?"
His fingers clawed the sheets as he licked his bone-dry lips. "Yeah," was all he managed before you reached a hand forward with careful grace. Goosebumps pebbled his skin as you caressed his jaw, his cheek, his hair.
“Show me,” you implored with soft words and hard eyes.
So, he did.
While the last time the two of you were together was saturated with slow and memorable passion, you met his lustful fervor with hunger of your own. Six months of dreaming, imagining, and yearning for each other culminated in clawing hands and starving mouths hunting to whet their appetites. Knocking teeth went ignored in your fervor to grope every inch of warm, bare skin you could reach, but it wasn't enough. You swore you heard a button fly and hit the wall when he flung his shirt to the floor, desperation mixed with adrenaline to press heartbeat to heartbeat.
The bed was unfamiliar and big. The room, too. Everything was foreign, except for him. You knew him then and you know him now and you wish with everything - more than you could ever fathom - that you would know him in the future. Every lifetime, every universe where you and he may exist. Praying with blistered hands until your knees were raw and bloody to never forget the fiery salvation of loving Bakugo Katsuki.
Piece by piece, clothing piled onto the floor, save for your dress. He took care with the back zipper, fingers slowing to let the fabric fall away before folding it with deft hands and draping it across the back of a chair in the corner. You wouldn’t have cared much if it got a few wrinkles, but the sweetness of his consideration was endearing. The dress you hated before he came along now reminded you of his ruby eyes that you'd yearned to see one more time. He said you were beautiful in it, and now you felt beautiful out of it, too.
Katsuki found solace in your thighs, your hips, your ass, wherever his hands could grip after flipping you over to sit right on his face. Six months? No, it seemed more like a lifetime of waiting led the fervor that surged through him while you folded your arms against the headrest of his bed and whined into the crook of your elbow. He put that sharp tongue of his to work and left a trail of finger indents behind - evidence to find tomorrow that tonight was as real as any other.
Sweat pooled behind your knees as Katsuki kept you right where he wanted you. He countered every attempt at hovering with a breathy grunt, yanking you back down as if insulted at the miniscule distance you tried to create.
Katsuki was a sun: hot, searing, bright with energy and passion. A man made of starfire and kindling just itching to combust under ripe conditions. The way his mouth moved - without hesitation and burning with hunger - confirmed his piety. You were the idol of his worship. His devotion. His tongue pushed hymns from your lips, eyes closed in ecstatic prayer.
"A-ah Katsuki… fuck, I'm-!" To drown in your waves was holy bliss, holding you in place with sweaty palms while your thighs squeezed and back arched. Glancing down between your legs, he was already staring up at you, eyes dark and blown wide with lust as if committing your ecstasy to memory. Of course, he wouldn't be Katsuki if he didn't throw in a smug smirk, too, boastful even when his mouth was full and messy. Panting and whimpering through your teeth as you edged towards overstimulation, you reached down, grabbed a fistful of blonde hair, and tugged so you could lift yourself from his greedy mouth.
Eyes rolling back for only a moment, Katsuki groaned as the growing need between his legs throbbed. Even though the day had been long for him and even longer for you, the room sweltered with lecherous and passionate energy. With your hand still in his hair, you leveraged the headboard to straddle his hips and crash your mouth into his, lapping up the stickiness that covered the lower half of his face; he'd always been a messy eater, why would this be any different?
He hissed as you slid against his length, neglected from focusing on you and your pleasure. But the way you scraped his chest, skipping the teasing in favor of wordlessly begging for more, as much as he could give. You had his love, wrapped up like red silk shibari with all of its tidy knots and careful weaving. You could have his body, too.
Growling in your ear, he groped the crease where your ass met your thighs and decided a riposte was due, flipping your positions. You landed with a squeak as your head hit his pillow, but quickly recovered to wrap your arms around his back. He just needed-
Fuck, where is it?! Leaning up on his hands, Katsuki glanced around the bed looking for the konbini bag while you scraped along his skin, whining and trying to pull him back down. With reluctance, he untangled his legs from yours and almost dove over the side of the bed before spotting the bag and his helmet. Goddamn cat must’ve tried to score a late night snack without him noticing.
In one swift motion, he snatched the box of condoms out of the bag and tore it open with his teeth. The box and condoms scattered onto the floor as he destroyed the foil wrapping before finally getting the condom on. And despite putting up the bottle of lube barely an hour ago, he spaced out for a good two seconds trying to remember where the fuck he put it while you slid over and tugged on his arm, eyes pleading in the darkness to hurry the hell up, already!
When the neurons in his brain began firing properly, several things on his bedside table threatened to topple over when he yanked open the drawer to grab the bottle of lube. It dripped onto the floor and edge of the sheets before he tossed it somewhere unseen. He ran his tongue along the corner of his mouth as he lunged over you, slick hands pinning your wrists above your head.
Your chest heaved and mouth parted below him as he slotted between your legs hanging off the edge of the bed. He felt your pulse throbbing under his palms, fingers grasping at warm air circulating around the closed room. You were so fucking beautiful and just… here. Not an obscene daydream. If you were, this would immediately go from the best to worst birthday in recent memory. The way your hips shifted urged him to come closer.
So, he did.
The way you bit your kiss-swollen lips begged for him to dip down and meet them with his own.
So, he did.
And you had to do nothing at all for his hands to slide up and intertwine his fingers with yours. This time, his love would not be silent.
The mattress had moved off-center from the frame and slats. The sheets had all bunched up at the end, cascading down into the floor. The heavy pants, raucous moans, and salacious slapping of sweaty skin had quieted. All that remained was Katsuki's breath in your ear, his chin tucked into your neck, and slowing heartbeat heavy against your back. Katsuki wrung you dry of every speck of energy you'd scraped together after barely sleeping for the past forty-or-so hours. All you wanted to do was pee and sleep for however long he let you.
Wriggling your arm free from under his muscle-heavy weight, you gave his backside a light tap to try and get him up. When he didn't move, you wondered if he'd fallen asleep without even pulling out. But eventually, he peeled himself from your back with a raspy grunt. Cool air sent goosebumps along your exposed skin that sounded like Velcro when he pushed himself up from the mix of dried sweat, lube, and saliva covering both of you. Hissing when he pulled completely out, you clenched at the emptiness right as Katsuki flopped next to you, arms outstretched and limp. Knowing you'd fall asleep if you didn't move, you forced yourself up on shaky arms and moved to balance yourself, but Katsuki shot out a hand to grab your arm and pull you back down so he could kiss you without even bothering to open his eyes. Like he knew exactly where you'd be. Like he'd always know.
When he heard the bathroom door close, Katsuki sat up with bleary vision and wiped at his face. Fuck, what are wild birthday… he glanced at the clock nearby, squinting to read 12:37 glowing in the dark. He nearly slipped when standing up from the spilled lube and wrapped condoms spread all over the floor. "Fuckin'..." Too tired to bother cleaning it up right then, he grabbed a towel from the hamper and tossed it over the mess before opening the bedroom door with a yawn and promptly stubbing his toe on the bag you left sitting right in the middle of the hallway. "Shit!," he cursed, sucking in a breath through his teeth before kicking the suitcase into the bedroom, letting it roll to a stop as he stumbled down the hallway to clean up.
Far too exhausted to do any of your normal bedtime tasks, you dragged your feet across the floor before turning out the bathroom light. You wouldn't die from not brushing your teeth or washing your face for one night. Was it terrible to sleep in makeup? Yes, but whatever. Sleep came first.
You fell into bed and grabbed the crooked sheets, pulling them up to your chin while burying your face in the single pillow that remained on the bed. Already feeling yourself drifting off, you felt the bed dip before a warm arm snaked around your middle. You buried your face in Katsuki's scarred chest and draped your own arm over his waist. Waiting six months just for the opportunity to fall asleep with him again. To smother in his scent of burning caramel and musky wood. To whisper into his skin. Yeah. Yeah, it was worth it.
What was the… ah, right. "Dai suki da yo, Kat," you mumbled with your last bit of drained energy. With his heart pressed against your cheek, you kissed his skin stained with dried, salty sweat. Katsuki’s legs languidly tangled with yours while he buried his chin in the crown of your hair.
“Mh. Dai suki da yo…” Quiet. Sleepy. But still, you heard it. You wished you could hear it every day. Every night. Forever.
___________
ummmm here u go byeeee plz kudos and comment and share with ur friends and tell me how the wait was worth it so i can cry a lil :')))) please follow my tumblr https://thetrashywritingwitch.tumblr.com bc i live on tumblr, it's my main website. come talk to me, send me asks, and keep up to date with what i'm doing do yall dont think i'm dead :)))))
ALSO since this has become an issue int he past year: DO NOT EVER USE MY WORK IN AI OR TEXT GENERATORS!! I don't consent to anyone "finishing" or "continuing" my fics through AI in any form!!!! AND DO NOT use my work in any youtube/asmr/tiktok videos without my written consent!!! you can mention me and link back to my work and post about how much you 💖 my fics hehhe BUT you cannot do voice overs of my fics or anything like that, esp not for ad revenue or profit!!!
ok fr byeeeeeee (no the fic isn't over or done we still have like six or so more chapters until the end 🥰)
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Dirty Work - Javier Peña
Part 2 to Desperation
i really just needed an excuse to use this gif red is def his color
Warnings: possible ooc Javi, smut [minors dni beyond this point], first person POV [Jackie with the big boobiez], also ofc Jackie (she's poc ! i more than likely won't specify her ethnicity so feel free to read as a self-insert), lazy proofreading
Smut warnings: not nearly as filthy as the last one, but still a lil dirty, public (?) sex [it’s in an office y’all], risk of getting caught, strip tease (? eh), SQUIRTING HEHE (pedro’s javi has a squirt kink from last time), overstimulation, slight pain+crying from overstimulation (consensual i promise!), basically brief masochism, worried!Javi, gentle!Javi, tummy bulge, this is basically like…mainstream porn, please proceed with caution, FLUFF at the end they like each other :o
wc: 3.5k (much shorter :( lo siento)
I walk through the halls of the quiet building, the smell of cigarettes and various colognes filling my nostrils. I haven’t seen Javier in a few weeks but we’ve spent nearly every late night on the phone as if we were two lovesick teenagers still living with our parents. Javi wasn’t just some guy I fuck and never call again, he was intriguing and mysterious, but also a little easy to read. He’s funnier than one might imagine—corny, but funny.
I told him about the Ammazza restaurant a couple of nights ago and he had been dying to try some of their food so I decided to be nice enough to surprise him with dinner.
A few people tried to stop me from walking through but I just kept on walking until I saw a room with an open door. I figured it must be where his desk is considering how often he complained about never having enough privacy so I poked my head inside the door and spotted Murphy’s profile, quickly seeing Javi’s face right across from the blonde. I strutted in quickly, making their heads turn at the sound of my platform heels hitting the floor.
“Woah, woah, woah, woah—“ Murphy protested.
I just waved him off without even bothering to look at him. “Shut up, Murphy,” I said before leaning over to pop a kiss onto Javi’s lips and sitting on the edge of his desk. “I brought you some much-needed Ammazza since it sounded like you’d be here late.”
Javi seemed a bit shocked at my appearance but sends me a warm smile nonetheless. “Thank you, uh… How did you know where I worked?”
Shrugging I answered, “I was across the street walking Angie’s dog and I saw you guys come in… That was last week I think?”
“Oh, so you’re stalking me now?” He joked. I noticed him checking out the straps of my chunky heels, probably noting how their fuchsia color complimented my brown skin.
I chuckled. “You just have a hard time blending in.”
“I’ll take your insult as a compliment. What’d you bring me anyways?”
“I didn’t know what you liked so I got you a pizza, much better than back in the states.”
“Thank you, muchas gracias, but I gotta get back to work… I’ll call you later?” He asked.
I smirked at him eyeing my nipples through my white blouse and nodded. “Sure thing, suga’.”
He curled his fingers and tilted his head up a little bit. “Dame un beso,” he hoarsely whispered. I gave him another kiss, only this time our lips linger a little longer. I noticed the smell of cigarettes so I asked for two.
I pulled my red lipstick out of my purse and put some on; I could tell the men were exchanging weird looks but I ignored it and grabbed a pen to write my hotel name and room on one of the cigarettes before I placed a kiss on the cigarette butt and placed it back into his hand. I pecked his cheek to stain it before lighting my cig and leaving without having said another word.
⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ✮ ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚
“Javi?” I called with a swift knock on the open door. “Javi, ¿donde estas?” I took a few extra steps into the room I had visited hours prior and looked around the empty desks. A hand from behind pulled me back out into the hallway and I yelped before being spun around and finding Javier’s eyes. “God, fucking—Jesus, Javier you can’t do that!”
Chuckling he wrapped his arms around my hips to give my ass a firm, slow squeeze, practically grinding his clothed dick against me. “Lo siento, mama,” he whispered against my chin.
I smiled, hovered my lips over his, and tangled my fingers through his work-messy hair. “Te perdono... Why’d you call me and ask me to come back, Javi?”
He tried to kiss me but I backed away, his grip on me causing me to hit the doorway. “Mm, you looked so sexy in those jeans earlier I couldn’t stay away from you another night.”
“You coulda just came to my room.” He picked me up and walked over to his desk after kicking the door shut, and sat me atop some papers in the open area.
“Maybe I wanted you to come to me as you did earlier,” he flirted. I raised daring eyebrows at him and played with the hair on his exposed chest. “How ‘bout we go somewhere a little more… Private?”
“Lead and I shall follow.” He helped me off of the desk and held my hand while I followed him to a nearby office with a door. He shut and locked the door behind me before sitting in the chair with his toned legs sprawled out. “Oh, is this the part where I just get on my knees and beg to suck you dry?” I stood in front of him and watched his eyes follow the lines of my jeans.
“You don’t have to beg sweetheart,” he said while shaking his head ‘no’. After bending over I slowly undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt.
“You wanted me to come crawling back to you, you said?”
“Maybe… That a problem?”
I hummed and ran my cool hands over his sweat-covered chest. “No.” I walked a few feet away, turning my back to him. “You sure nobody else is here? Hmm?” I asked while facing him again.
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
I smirked down at him and unbuttoned my jeans, cheeks flushing at the sight of his jeans tightening around his dick. I untucked my shirt and undid a few buttons at the top, enough to reveal just above my nipples. I turned my back towards him again and bend over as I pulled my tight jeans down my legs. I heard him exhale deeply at the sight of me not having any panties on and still bent over I rubbed my middle fingers up and down my squished slit, shivering at the pressure. I balanced myself as I took my free hand to spread my left ass cheek so that he could see more of me. I jiggled my ass, giggling bashfully at how exposed I am; I stood up and stepped out of my jeans, remembering how he seemed to have liked my shoes earlier. Turning around I took off my blouse, let it slip from my fingers to the floor, and slowly walked to him before I sat on the desk and propped my legs onto his shoulder. He slid his hand up my bare skin, admiring my low eyes and smile.
“Jackie… Jackie, Jackie, Jackie…” He cooed. “Spread your legs for me?” I obeyed his request and propped my right leg on his other shoulder; he rolled his seat closer to me and kissed the goosebumps on my belly. I ruffled his hair a little bit which made him pull his head back to look at my nails. “Mm,” he cheerfully moaned, “Pink, yeah? Like your heels?” He rubbed my calf, leaned back to leave little pecks on my ankle above my heel straps, and darted his tongue out to lick up my entire leg until he got to my hot vulva. His hands gripped the sides of my thighs roughly as he chose not to wait any longer to get a proper taste. He moaned and practically melted into my skin. “You taste better than I remember,” he affirmed.
“Hmm, thank you,” I whispered, leaning back on my elbows. I watched his tongue work over my clit, trying to hollow my moans into breaths but failing miserably. My moans bounced off of the walls in the small room while his mewls fell onto my dripping lips. He buried his nose deeper into the flesh of my pussy and allowed me to close my legs around his head; I cried out his name, begging him to fuck me with his fingers. He just moaned and slowly slid one inside of me wanting to feel me convulse around him before sliding another one in, stretching me out so much with his fingers alone that it nearly burned. “God, you’re gonna make me come already,” I moaned.
“Need to make you squirt again,” he said close enough to my clit to make it vibrate. “That was so sexy…”
Giggling, I said, “Won’t I get—fuck, right there—I can’t get these papers wet?”
“Don’t mind ‘em, cariño, Cesar will live.”
Before I could even think to question him again he sucked my clit between his teeth gently and shamelessly rammed his curled fingers against my g-spot; my hands clamped around his curls and my knees tightened against his jaws. I felt a similar urge as I did that night in the car where I squirted all over his backseat. My eyes closed thinking about him ruthlessly fucking me in the puddles of my secretion was enough to… Well, make it happen again.
I let out the most obnoxiously high-pitched scream as my orgasm took over my body and mind. He pulls his head up, unable to take any more of the pressure my legs were causing; he rubbed my clit with all four of his fingers and pumped his other hand in and out of my pussy at a pace my orgasm couldn’t keep up with. He laughed and boasted once my squirt began to spill everywhere, some even splashed up onto my chin.
“Good fucking girl!” He boasts, not letting up on my body. “Good girl, baby, oh my goodness—“ He cut himself off by giving me a tender kiss. “Do you want me to stop?” He asked after I had finished squirting, but I feel some more build up inside of me so I shook my head and urged him to keep going even though my clit was beginning to swell from the overstimulation. I saw how hungry his eyes grew at the sight of me squirting all over him and wanted to keep it going. The possibility of getting caught made this that much more exhilarating. “Oh, I can feel you squeezing around my fingers… Mmm… M’gonna have to replace my fingers with my cock, how does that sound? Good? Good.”
Watching his slick lips talk me through my elongated orgasm had me speechless—no, practically fucking braindead. His cock replacing his thick fingers and his hand still doing laps along my tender bud was enough to get me going again. This time it started out little, he didn’t even notice it at first and I thought my squirting session was coming to an end, but the numbness of my urethra turned out to be an indicator of another orgasm. As I said, it started out small but ended up much more explosive and messier than the first time. I didn’t feel a single bit of it even as it was coming out, soaking my and Javi’s face in the wetness. He rubbed even harder, almost as if to take out his frustration of it getting all over him.
After a few seconds, I had to use all the strength I could muster to push his hand and body away from me, my moans turned to gasps of agony and my already wet face being soaked in tears. I laid flat on the desk and took a moment to myself, jumping at his hands touching my thigh.
“You okay?” He asked softly after pressing his chest to mine. He kissed my collarbone sweetly and asked, “Was I too rough?”
I rubbed my palm against the side of his face and breathed in a few more times. “I just need a few minutes.” It was true. I loved the way he could effortlessly yet effectively get my body to do the things he wanted even with the slightest touch. I opened my eyes and grinned up at him. “Maybe just be a little gentle now?” He kissed me sorrily a few times. “You can do what you want, just ease up, okay? I loved it,” I reassure, “I love how you can push me to my limits. I just need some softness for a bit, that’s all…” He kept giving me a guilty look, not understanding that I admired him so much more than before. I loved being controlled and used during sex and getting to the point of cumming so hard I shed tears was a new turn-on for me. I kissed his sorrow-filled face and guided our bodies so that we were upright again. “Here,” I whispered; without breaking eye contact I lined his semi-hard cock up with my entrance again, tugging at his hips to inch inside of me. “See? I’m okay, that’s okay.”
He lifted his hands up to my face to place a kiss on my forehead. “Does it hurt?” He asked, pumping only halfway into me.
I shook my head and danced my fingertips over his back. “Shh, sh sh…” I brought him down to kiss me and guided him to fill me back up. “You feel how wet you made me?”
“Yeah?” His breath was shaky and his upper body trembled in my grasp.
“I loved it, I love the pain and the way you use me,” I said in the sense of begging him to forgive himself.
“Yeah?” He whimpered. “You promise?” His slow pumps gave my body time to relax around him. I wrapped my legs around his waist and lifted one of my nipples into my mouth, mewling out a ‘yes’. He cursed at the sight of me, droplets of my squirt still dripping from my hair onto my shoulders. I squirmed at his tip curving to my cervix, surprised (but thankful) that it didn’t hurt. I went to watch his length pump in and out of me but was surprised to find the bulge in my tummy spring up upon his entry into me. He noticed it too, I watched as his eyes widened and he quickly started to worry again.
“Come here,” I ushered before he could even get a word out. I pulled him to lay on me and gasped at how much deeper he seemed to reach. He couldn’t hold his pleasure in any longer. He adjusted us so that his knees were on the desk and my head was hanging off; on his knees above me, and forced my hips up to level with his and he sped his pace up just a little. I pleaded for him to keep going, tantalized by his whimpers and grunts. He shoved his arms under and around my waist to pull me in closer as his thrusts had gotten sloppier. “You’re s’close already,” I said when I felt his shaft throb inside of me.
He kissed me in response and paused for a moment to prop one of my legs on his shoulder; he started pounding inside of me forcing a few yelps to come out whenever he hit my pelvis with his. The desk creaked loudly and sounded as if it were on the verge of collapsing, but that didn’t stop him. After a while his pounding turned into short but fast thrusts, only allowing the base of his shaft to move in and out of me. I screamed his name and clawed at the papers on the desk letting a few books fall off whenever my flailing arms bumped into them. I cupped his face, moaning at his constant rubbing against my sweet spot.
“Oh, baby, you look so pretty like this,” he said.
Before I could give him some more dirty talk the sound of the other door slamming shut caused both Javi and me to freeze. I covered my grimacing mouth and sat up after he pulled out to tiptoe to the door. I didn’t hear what was said, but I could tell there were at least two men in the bigger room yet I am unable to move in the slightest bit. Javi turned the light off as quietly as the switch would allow and I prayed that neither of the men were looking at the opaque glass on the door. The further door being heard slamming shut again made Javi look outside, scanning the room.
“Be right back,” he whispered while pulling his jeans up and grabbing his gun.
Freaking out I tried to stop him. “No, no, Javi, please don’t leave me alone!” I whispered harshly.
Hey, I said possibly getting caught was a turn-on. Not nearly getting caught.
“It’ll be for two seconds, cariño, okay? I promise I’ll be right back.” He kissed my forehead, and left, but kept his promise. He was gone for maybe 45 seconds before he walked back in and shut the door. “We’re okay… Um… Do you want to stop?” He asked after standing in front of me.
I rolled my eyes and smirked, pulling him in for a kiss. My heart still pounding from the quick scare caused me to shiver in his arms but I ignored it and undid his pants again. “I want you to fucking hurry up and cum inside of me before we actually get fucking caught,” I urged, turning around on the desk into doggy position and not letting any more time slip away by putting his cock back inside of me.
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckles, “it won’t take long.” He gave my ass a light but loud spank, tugging at the ends of my hair with his free hand. He pulled me back by my hair to meet him halfway on his dick, moaning out a loud, “Fuck, your ass is amazing.” He planted a kiss on my spine and dug himself into my overflowing pool of discharge and precum. It took him no longer than a few minutes of listening to my whines from how my pussy was aching for his cum for him to get close again. “You feel so fucking amazing,” he breathed onto my back, giving it a love bite.
“Javi, I can’t wait anymore…” I begged, “Please fill me up.” His hand wrapped around the front of my neck at my words, and he began to let his warm cum pour inside of me. “You’re so good to me, Daddy.” He shoved himself deeper inside of me to give me his last few drops.
“I’m good to you?” He tiredly asked.
I turned back around after he pulled out and gave him a sloppy smooch; he fixed my hair and grinned at me. “You’re so good to me.”
“Sorry about earli—“
I placed a finger on his lips and shushed him. “I’m fine, really.”
“Promise me again,” he insisted.
“Javier Peña, prometo… Que me encantó… There, does me saying it in Spanish make you believe me?” I laughed at his sleepy state.
“Actually, yeah.” He kissed me again and again and again until I felt his cum starting to drip out of me. “Here…” He grabbed my jeans and helped me into them carefully, picking me up off the piss-soaked and messy desk; he zipped and buttoned my pants for me before grabbing my shirt. “You should wear this on our date,” he nonchalantly mentioned.
I scoff up at him and start to close the blouse. “Excuse me, Agent Peña, I don’t believe you asked me properly.”
Blushing he finished dressing and quickly threw me over his shoulder earning a quick yelp from me. He walked out of the room to his desk and began gathering his things with his other hand. “Pretty girl, will you do me the honor of gracing me with your presence over a lovely dinner at Romas?” Laughing, I said yes to his proper offer which rewarded me with a slap on my ass as we began to leave the building. “Atta girl!” Once we arrived at his car he sets me on my feet and asked, “Need a ride?”
“Mhm… I walked because it’s not too far from me.” He opened the passenger door for me so I gave him one more kiss before climbing in. He turns one of his scanners off and lights a cigarette for us to split on the short drive to my hotel. “Javi?”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you wanna fuck in the Cesar guy's office?”
He choked on a laugh. “He gave me some bullshit tip which ruined my progress… Why?”
“I feel bad,” I admitted. “We could have at least cleaned it up a little… I mean I did piss everywhere.”
Shrugging he said, “If you met him you’d know why it didn’t matter.”
“I’m gonna trust you on that,” I said. “How was your pizza?”
He glanced over at me and nodded happily. “Oh it was great, thank you. Are you hungry? You told me once you always eat dinner late.”
I mantled at the small detail he remembered, firmly nodding my head. “They have good food at the hotel… Why don’t you stay over tonight?”
#javier peña narcos#javier peña#javier pena smut#javier pena#javier pena imagine#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal#narcos#narcos imagine#narcos smut
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Creep (Bo Sinclair x Reader)
Summary: You’d grown up in Ambrose, but seeing the mill town’s glory days coming to an end, your family packs up and moves the summer before your senior year of high school. You never expected to return to Louisiana, let alone see Bo Sinclair again, but when your distant husband’s new job brings both, your life goes to hell faster than you can blink.
Note: Yet another Bo Sinclair fic because that man lives in my head rent free. Reader is a cis woman (and a horrible judge of character), but no other descriptors are used. Title comes from the TLC song. This one isn’t as implicitly dark as my other Bo fics, but it’s still there…lurking through the rose-colored lens of nostalgia. Do not interact if you are under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word Count: 7.3k
Warnings: Death, murder, violence. Marital infidelity, emotional manipulation. Implications of kidnapping and prolonged captivity. Sexually explicit content that involves coercion (dubcon re: degradation, choking, bondage, and unprotected sex). Do not interact if you are under 18.
The Traveling Wilburys song that was playing in Taylor’s Drug Store only served to remind you of how old the place was. You stopped in to pick up a prescription for your husband and do some light shopping. The interior hadn’t been updated since at least the ‘80s, save for the digital cash registers and security cameras, a monitor above the glass doors where you walked in reminding you that you were being watched. You shuffled along the scuffed linoleum tile, shopping basket on your arm as you looked at the shelf of painkillers.
Throwing a bottle into the basket, you continued along, trying to remember what you had put on your mental list and coming up blank. You went to the snack aisle, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to grab a bag of chips. While considering whether to go with barbecue or sour cream and onion, you noticed a man walk over just a few feet away from you, holding a basket filled with odds and ends. Normally, you minded your own business, but you turned your head to get a better look at him. He was tall, wearing a well-worn flannel shirt that made you wonder for a brief moment what it’d be like to have your legs thrown over his broad shoulders. Despite the trucker cap pulled snugly over his mess of brown hair, almost covering his eyes, his profile seemed hauntingly familiar until it dawned on you—Bo Sinclair.
You could remember Bo being a cocky troublemaker with no regard for his own personal safety, regularly getting into fights in and out of school. With a swoon-worthy smile and an attitude that made your mother emphasize to stay the hell away from him, you did have a bit of a crush on Bo, one that you kept locked in a box to wither and die when your family moved out of Ambrose. Years had passed, though. You’d changed so much since high school. Undoubtedly, he had to have changed too.
Fuck it. You’d been in town a little over a month and had yet to make any friends. It was nice to see a familiar face—a handsome one at that.
“Bo Sinclair?” you exclaimed, as if you hadn’t spent the past ten seconds staring at him out of the corner of your eye.
As expected, his eyes didn’t light up in recognition when he saw you. In fact, he seemed startled and suspicious. Brows furrowed, he stood stiff as he straightened his posture as you approached him in the snack aisle. His hostility made you second guess your decision to approach him, but you’d already made a spectacle of yourself. Nothing else to do but follow through and hope for the best.
“I’m not sure if you remember me. My family moved out of Ambrose at the end of our junior year, but—“
He relaxed a bit, giving you a grin that made you want to throw your wedding ring on the ground. “Now I know I must be dreamin’ if I see Y/N standin’ in front of me.”
You smiled. “Yeah, you look great—I mean, y’know, it’s great to see you.”
“It’s great to see you too, doll. Ain’t many familiar faces ‘round anymore.”
“Do you live in town, or—“
“Still in Ambrose, few of us left out there,” he said. “Most of the stores shut down, so I gotta drive out here for stuff.”
“Well, maybe I’ll see you around, then. I just moved here a few weeks ago, and I still don’t really know anyone.”
“You mean you and your husband just moved here,” he said, motioning to your wedding ring.
“Yeah,” you sighed.
You had just barely missed it, the gleam in his eye at your response. Somehow, you suppressed the chill that threatened to run down your spine. That much hadn’t changed about him, the darkness that reared its ugly head whenever you found yourself getting too comfortable around him.
Just as quickly, he claimed he had to get going but that you’d see him again. You gave him a half-hearted goodbye, taking his promise with a disappointing grain of salt.
Looking at the bags of chips yet again, you grabbed several, intending to spend the rest of the day marinating in your loneliness with snacks and movies until your husband arrived home from work. Maybe you could talk him into getting takeout rather than you having to cook.
The half-empty house was eerily quiet when you arrived back, ignoring the unopened cardboard boxes that had been taunting you for weeks. Unpacking on your own was a monumental undertaking, since your husband worked so much during the week and spent the weekends doing home repairs that you weren’t able to take care of on your own.
The red light on the answering machine was flashing, and as you set your shopping bags down, you would have bet a million bucks on who the message was from and what it said.
You folded your arms as you listened to the message, huffing discontentedly under your breath. “Hey honey, I’m working late tonight. We hit some snags with that big project for the quarter. Don’t wait up for me. I’m not sure when I’ll be home. Love you.”
“Yeah right,” you scoffed aloud, pressing the button to delete the message.
Just because it didn’t surprise you, it didn’t mean your feelings weren’t hurt. You’d suspected for a long time that your husband had been cheating on you, though you could never prove as much. Still, it didn’t take a genius to put together the consistent late nights, how he’d finally arrive home with the scent of another woman’s perfume lingering on his clothes as if to taunt you. The part of you that was still a little bit in love with him had hoped that the move would bring the two of you closer together, and for the first week, it did. Then, he started at his shiny new job and found someone to scratch his itch just as quickly.
Being in a new town meant you didn’t have your normal circle of friends to gossip and air grievances with, and doing so on the phone wasn’t the same. You wondered if they’d forget about you eventually, tuck you away in a corner of their minds that they didn’t explore often. It wasn’t as if you hadn’t done the same, running into Bo Sinclair earlier that day was the first time you’d even thought about him since high school.
Your morbid curiosity getting the better of you, you wondered where your old high school yearbooks were. Looking at the intimidating stacks of cardboard boxes on the other side of the room, you wracked your brain for where you would have packed them.
The cardboard box labeled ‘photo albums’ proved your gut right, as you dug through it to find your high school yearbooks. The familiar blue and gold design that covered each of the books sent a rush of conflicting emotions through you. Fuck, did anyone actually enjoy high school?
Even back then, Ambrose had been such a small town that to save money, the county had the middle school and high school in the same building. There were so few of you left that it hardly made a difference. Students often had to go to surrounding high schools to participate in extracurriculars and varsity sports. Families who saw college scholarships as their kids’ ticket to a better life would put thousands of miles on their cars to drive them to and from practice during the school year. Your graduating class–at least what was supposed to be your graduating class–couldn’t have been more than forty people.
Such a small town with an even smaller school meant everyone knew each other’s business. It was suffocating. Still, you opened the yearbook from your junior year of high school and flipped toward the back of the thin book, skimming past the R’s and to the S’s. You studied his photo, strange yet familiar. Handsome with his messy brown hair and cocky grin, you wiped at the paper, assuming there was some kind of smudge on his cheekbone until you realized, no, it was a bruise.
Beauregard Sinclair. You’d forgotten that was his first name, not that anyone ever called him that anyway. You certainly never did. Vandalism, fighting, and hot-wiring cars were his hobbies of choice back then. He did well in shop, you knew as much because your home ec teacher bitched about how the shop instructor pulled some strings to let him stay in the class, even after he swung a wrench in another guy’s face and knocked out three of his teeth during class. You’d see him at house parties, lurking in the shadows with a dangerous and almost feral gleam in his eyes, a beer in his hand as he waited for the right time to pounce on a tipsy target. More reason to stay away from him, your high school best friend who you hadn’t spoken to in years would whisper to you. He was young, then, troubled and immature. The man you spoke with in the convenience store was so different–confident and flirty, a strong, blue collar man you should have pursued instead of being blinded by the false promises of white collar domesticity. Damn.
You looked at the photo directly to the right of Bo’s. A boy with long hair who seemed to shrink into himself, as if to be in as little of the picture as possible. You squinted to make out his odd expression–the mask, how could you forget the mask.
Vincent Sinclair. You remembered Vincent, odd and quiet, though by the end of freshman year no one said anything about it. Bo had beat that out of more than enough people that the gossip was only whispers. The two of you had several classes together. Perhaps because you were one of few students who actually gave Vincent the time of day, your US History teacher had assigned you as partners for the final project, an essay on a past president with a visual element to accompany it. Luck was on your side when you reached into the bowl at the front of the classroom to draw the name of the president you and Vincent would cover—John F. Kennedy. While most of the other duos made poster boards or had someone dress up for the visual element of their project, Vincent had crafted an incredibly detailed wax diorama of the Kennedy assassination that almost got the two of you sent to the principal’s office because the blood splatter looked a little too realistic for your teacher's taste.
You set the yearbook down, wracking your brain for the name of the youngest Sinclair brother, a friendly boy who’d run around Ambrose barefoot and often covered in mud. He had just started middle school when your family moved, but you’d seen him briefly in the two times you had gone to the Sinclair house to work on the history project with Vincent. Linus? Leonard? Lester.
In all honesty, you didn’t remember Lester very well. All of the Sinclairs were odd, though. Their father was a doctor, but not the kind your parents ever wanted you to go to. Their mother’s wax sculptures lost their appeal after you turned about 10, the last year that you’d go to the wax museum as a school trip. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair had always been nice enough to you, but in the second grade, Bo had cut off one of Cindy Jacobs’ pigtails during craft time. He came into school the next day with a black eye, his already scarred wrists an angry red. You could never bring yourself to like the Sinclairs after that.
Slamming the yearbook shut, you closed your eyes, trying to keep memories of Ambrose at bay. Maybe it was for the best that your family moved. You took a deep breath before throwing the yearbook back into the box you found it in and retrieving a bag of chips.
Your husband had already put together the entertainment center, all of your VHS tapes and DVDs well-organized. They were one of the first things you unpacked. After briefly pondering your first movie choice of the evening, you grabbed The Postman Always Rings Twice and put it into the VHS player.
As you settled onto the couch with your bowl of chips, the black and white screen was your security blanket, lulling you to forgetting your woes and instead on Lana Turner and John Garfield making the screen their home for the following two hours. You’d fallen asleep on the couch just before the movie ended, and your husband didn’t bother waking you up when he arrived home at some point that night, because you woke up with a crick in your neck and a note on the fridge that he’d be working late again. You threw the dirty plate he’d left in the sink at the wall. It didn’t make you feel much better.
The rest of the week dragged on as you went about unpacking on your own, your husband working his usual late nights.
When you pulled into the parking lot of Taylor’s Drug Store the next Thursday afternoon, the same day and time you saw Bo the previous week, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit pathetic for deliberately planning your shopping trip around the possibility of running into him again.
Any negative feelings that festered within you on the short walk from your car into the drug store vanished as soon as you walked inside, seeing Bo standing in the shampoo aisle, brows furrowed as he stood in front of the dozens of bottles on the shelves. This time, however, he was dressed in a mechanic’s work shirt and jeans, his cap still pulled over his face, cigarette tucked behind his ear.
“Hi Bo,” you said as you approached him.
He grunted in response. “Huh? Oh, hey, Y/N.”
“3-in-1 not cutting it?”
“You always had a smart mouth?” he said, glaring at you. For a split second, you thought he was angry with you for your quip. “Vincent needs one with this Jujube shit in it. I don’t even know what the fuck I’m lookin’ at.”
“Jojoba oil? Here,” you said, grabbing a shampoo bottle and handing it to him. “He still got long hair?”
He nodded. “Yeah, he ain’t got it cut in a long time.”
“It suited him,” you said.
“I’ll let ‘im know you said so,” he grinned. “You always come in here on Thursday afternoons?”
“I do now.”
“Sure know how to make a guy feel special.”
“Do you wanna get coffee?” you asked, feeling foolishly bold.
He raised an eyebrow. “Your husband gonna be alright with that?”
“I don’t care,” you answered. So what if people thought it was a date, it’d be about time your husband got a taste of his own medicine.
“Well, we can at least pretend you care about your reputation and go somewhere a little bit outside of town.”
You smiled. “Sounds like you already got a place in mind.”
He wasted no time in throwing the rest of what he needed into his shopping basket while you picked up your husband’s prescription, not bothering to grab anything else that was on your list. It wasn’t like you had any other plans for the week.
You followed his truck to a small roadside diner, a greasy spoon type of place family would go to some weekends growing up as a treat. Even though you’d already eaten lunch before going shopping, the smell coming from the restaurant when you got out of your car was tempting enough for you to consider seeing what they had on the menu.
The restaurant’s decor was simple, old yet charming, and as indicated by the handful of cars in the gravel parking lot outside, there weren’t many people there. A friendly-looking older woman sat you and Bo in a booth, the kind with worn out upholstery that cracked in some places to reveal the cushion underneath. You couldn’t help but smile when you sat down.
“Hi there, what can I get started for y’all?” the waitress asked.
“Just coffee for me,” you said.
Bo nodded, pulling the cigarette from behind his ear and sticking it in his mouth as he muttered, “Same for me. Thank ya, ma’am.”
“You got it,” she said.
He lit a cigarette, leaning back in the booth seat a bit. Of course he managed to find one of the few places that still allowed smoking indoors. Looking at his hands, you didn’t notice any kind of wedding band on any of his fingers. The waitress returned to the table less than a minute later with two mugs of hot coffee, pointing out the creamer and sugar at the end of the table.
“So, are you working as a mechanic now?” you asked, fixing the coffee to your preference.
He smiled. “What gave it away?”
“Shut up,” you laughed. “You were always great in shop class. Didn’t you help one of the teachers fix their car once?”
“Vice principal, and he got me out of a suspension for it.”
“Do you work around here?”
“Got my own place in Ambrose. You’d be surprised how many people end up with car trouble in the middle of nowhere.”
“I’m really happy for you,” you said, trying to suffocate the ‘what if’ scenario that began making itself comfortable in your mind. Visions of helping him run a small family business, a kid or two with your smile and his eyes hanging around left you with a lump in your throat. “How are your parents?”
“Folks kicked the can a while ago. Nothin’ really you could do,” he said with a shrug.
“Yeah, mine too,” you said. “How about your brothers?”
“They’re good,” he answered. “Just doin’ their thing.”
“I’m glad to hear it. Any weddings, or—“
“Nope. But how long ago d’you tie the knot?”
“‘Bout four years.”
“You don’t sound happy about it.”
You paused, considering how to phrase your answer as you played with the ring on your finger that suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. Growing up, you and Bo weren’t what you considered friends, but his familiarity made you feel comfortable. Still, you felt odd airing your marital woes to a man you were supposed to just be catching up with over coffee.
It was one thing bitching about it with your friends, most of whom had their own relationship issues, offering you the validation you were seeking. Your strained marriage had come to define your life, as embarrassing as it was to acknowledge.
“Things were good for the first year or so, but after that, I could tell he was getting bored. No matter what I did, it felt like I was an obligation,” you said. “Then the late nights at work started, and by the time I realized what he was pulling, I didn’t know what to do.”
“Why not get divorced?”
“I haven’t worked in years. I’d be on my ass, and he knows it. Sometimes, I think he took the job out here so he could fuck around behind my back and not have my family or friends breathing down his neck about it.”
“Maybe he does it ‘cause he knows you’ll be a pushover about it.”
You scoffed. “I ain’t a pushover.”
“He’s only been pullin’ this shit for so long because he knows you’ll just take it,” he said, the cigarette pointed at your face punctuating his harsh words. “Sometimes when people do ya wrong, they don’t get the message ‘till you show ‘em.”
Clenching your jaw, you looked out the window, avoiding the knowing expression on his face. He was right. Your marriage had been on the rocks for far longer than things had ever been good, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be the one to initiate the end. It was long overdue, and you knew with his history of infidelity that you could get a decent settlement from a divorce.
Perhaps you couldn’t admit to yourself that your marriage was nothing more than a dead horse you just kept beating. Throwing in the towel on your relationship felt like failure and inadequacy, which left a sour taste in your mouth. Things couldn’t continue as they were, though. You had to do something.
You frowned a bit, looking at the clock on the wall behind Bo. He startled you by snuffing out his cigarette in the ashtray on the table, the rattling bringing your attention back to him.
“Got somewhere you need to be?” he asked.
“Nope, he won’t be home for another three or four hours. I got nothin’ but time.”
“Me too.”
You nodded, suddenly feeling shy and averting your attention to the empty coffee mug in front of you, tapping your nails against the ceramic. He put his hand over yours, the clinking noise ceasing as you mustered up the courage to look at him again. As soon as your eyes met his, you were a goner the moment he whispered something about a nearby motel that charged for rooms by the hour, his lips curling into a dangerous grin when you merely nodded in response.
It felt like you blinked and he had paid the check, pulled you outside with him, and led you to his truck, your heart hammering like it did when you were sixteen. The motel was just as sleazy as you’d expected, but when the clerk handed the room key to Bo after he’d gotten it for two hours, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.
As soon as the door opened, it just as quickly slammed shut, Bo grabbing your purse from you and throwing it aside as he trapped you between himself and the wall, feeling as though you were shrinking beneath his intense gaze. When you tried to avert your gaze, he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him, and you did. For the first time since you were in high school, you really looked at Bo Sinclair. He was just as handsome and terrifying as you remembered him being back then. You wanted him just as much as you did back then, too.
He growled his one and only warning, “I ain’t gonna be gentle with ya, darlin’.”
“I—alright,” you said.
Your hesitance didn’t deter him at all. The kiss that followed was devoid of any romance, but you supposed you’d settle for passion. You kissed him back, trying to keep up with how much of you he wanted. Your open mouth, free for him to claim with his tongue, suddenly felt foreign to you, as if it were no longer your own. Oddly enough, it reminded you of your first kiss.
Despite being a memory you hadn’t revisited in at least a decade, as you replayed it in your mind, you could remember it a bit more clearly. Bo’s truck idling in the driveway, the radio playing soft as the two of you talked. He’d driven you home at his mother’s request as you’d stayed at the Sinclair house late to work on your project with Vincent. You had kept glancing at the front door, waiting for it to swing open and one of your incensed parents to drag you out by your hair for being alone in a car with a boy for so long.
Then, taking you by surprise, he had kissed you, far rougher than you’d anticipated your first kiss being, especially when he tried pulling you onto his lap when you actually kissed him back. You remembered your heart hammering in your chest when he pawed at your thighs. Something else had happened which you couldn’t quite remember. You had felt shameful and uncomfortable when you walked into your parents’ house.
You gasped, brought back to reality when he stripped you of your shirt and bra, exposing your skin to the cool air in the motel room. He unbuckled his belt, and so quickly you could hardly process what he was doing, he grabbed your wrists, binding them tightly with the worn leather so that your skin chafed whenever you so much as tried to move your hands.
If anything, it seemed your shocked and worried expression only served as motivation for him to rid you of the rest of your clothes, pushing you onto the dingy bed as he took off his own clothes, his wild eyes glued to your nude and vulnerable figure.
He stroked his hard cock in his hand as he approached you. “You’re gonna take all of it, ain’t ya?”
“Bo, I don’t know—“
“Don’t act stupid, doll,” he grinned, licking his lips. “It ain’t a good look on you.”
He slid two fingers in your pussy, kissing you as he pumped them in and out of you, and you moaned against his lips. Sure, you’d used vibrators and dildos to make up for your husband’s lack of attention, but you were almost overwhelmed at getting the real thing from a man who actually wanted you, even if it was on such dubious terms.
When he pulled his hand away, your whine at the emptiness became a strangled moan when he slid his cock inside you. His thrusts were harsh and unforgiving, as if he were punishing you for something. Maybe you deserved it for being unfaithful to your husband. You’d initiated everything with Bo until the moment you stepped into the motel room.
You felt helpless beneath him, your bound wrists emphasizing what little control you now had over your body. The way his thrusts became more erratic, sweat beading on his forehead, you knew he was close. You could only imagine the state you were in.
“Gonna fill you up real good,” he groaned.
“Not inside, Bo. Don’t—“
He covered your mouth with his hand that he’d used to finger you. “What? Lil’ slut don’t want my cock all of a sudden? ‘S all you were thinkin’ about when we were sittin’ in that booth earlier.”
You shook your head frantically, unsure of whether you were doing so in protest of his cumming inside you or his taunts. A pathetic whimper came muffled from your lips, and he cursed under his breath, thrusting harder.
“Your pathetic fuckin’ husband don’t make you feel this good huh?”
Again, you shook your head. Sex with your husband was painfully boring. This was more painful than pleasurable, and you considered if you were the pathetic one for being so desperate for attention you’d let your old high school crush treat you with such brutality. You hated how the smug grin on his handsome face made you feel, wishing for a moment you could smack it off of him.
His calloused fingers were ruthless on your sensitive clit, and your stomach tightened as you felt yourself nearing orgasm, struggling to catch your breath with his hand over your mouth. You were dizzy and could feel a tear roll down your cheek from the overstimulation. Digging your nails into the leather of his belt that was still secure around your wrists, you writhed as you came, your pussy clenching around his cock. His own orgasm followed soon after, and you felt him bottom out inside you, cursing under his breath as his cum filled you.
When he pulled out, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, leaving you humiliated at the string of saliva that went along with it. He, on the other hand, didn’t mind as he licked it up, almost to your disbelief.
Freeing your wrists from the restraints of his belt, he threw it aside and settled next to you on the bed. You rubbed your sore wrists, but found the additional friction only made them sting more. For a split second, you wondered how you were going to explain your soreness and the raw skin to your husband. You let out a frustrated exhale. He probably wouldn’t even notice, or maybe he would, but not mention anything, the same way you never called him on the proverbial lipstick on his collar.
A pit of shame and discomfort formed in your stomach as you lay next to Bo, but chalked it up to cheating on your husband for the first time. He deserved it, after all he put you through. You’d thought about cheating on him before, wanting desperately to for so long, but in your mind, it was more on your own terms, as an active participant rather than how Bo threw you around.
Turning over to face him, he was sitting against the headboard, a smoldering cigarette between his fingers. You scooted over, throwing an arm over his bare torso as you rested your head against his chest. He stiffened, but before you could move away, he pulled you a little closer.
The two of you spoke softly for the next hour or so, before finally getting up from the bed. Neither of you said much when you got dressed, you waiting by his truck while he turned in the room key. He drove you back to your car, which you’d left at the restaurant.
“See you next week?” you asked quietly, the slightest bit of hesitation in your voice.
He grinned. “You can bet on it, darlin’.”
This rendezvous continued for the next few weeks, the two of you eventually stopping the pretense of getting coffee altogether and meeting at the motel once or twice a week. Whenever you’d see him, he’d have a new bruise or scratch somewhere, claiming it was just a byproduct of his work. That didn’t explain the scratches that looked like someone had clawed the hell out of his arm. He never mentioned having a cat, and while you knew better to assume the two of you were exclusive, you wished he wouldn’t lie about it.
Though generally you knew what to expect from him, it was as if each time you had sex he was testing your limits, pushing you further than you were comfortable at times. Still, you were worried that if you protested too much, he wouldn’t want to see you anymore, and you’d be on your own again.
“He’s gonna be out of town this weekend for a work trip, at least that’s what he says. You wanna stay over?” you asked as you got dressed, taking care to keep the fabric away from the fresh bruises on your hips.
“You askin’ me to defile your literal marriage bed?”
“Yeah, and I’ll cook dinner too.”
He laughed. “You drive a hard bargain.”
In the days leading up to Bo staying for the weekend, you could hardly contain your excitement. You didn’t know anyone to have a housewarming party, so you never got the chance to show off the house to anyone. It was neat enough, but you wanted the place to be spotless, each room cleaned and unpacked so you could indulge in your increasingly frequent fantasies of Bo coming through the front door at the end of the day.
As much as you didn’t want to admit it to yourself, you were excited for the gossip. You had a cordial enough relationship with your neighbors, but you wanted them to see the truck that certainly wasn’t your husband’s in the driveway, the handsome man leaving your house Sunday afternoon looking far too disheveled and satisfied for an innocent weekend visit. What’s more, you wanted them to hear you, no doubt what you were up to while your husband was away, word eventually getting to him that his wife was stepping out on him. Finally he’d get a taste of his own bitter medicine.
Your husband hadn’t bothered returning home after work on Friday, bringing his suitcase to work with him in the morning so he could head straight to the airport from the office. You honestly didn’t remember where he was going, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when a little after six, you heard the knock that made you rush to the front door.
A change from his usual work shirt, worn out jeans, and cap, Bo stood on your front porch in a dress shirt and nicer jeans. You smiled, giving him a kiss on the lips for the neighborhood to see. Moving from the doorway, you felt a bit nervous for him to see where you lived.
“Some place ya got here,” he said, looking around.
“It’s his. My name’s nowhere to be found on the mortgage,” you said.
“The guy buys a house like this and is barely in it?”
You shrugged. “I don’t get it either. I’ll give you the grand tour later, though. For dinner I was thinking chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, and I forgot to get a vegetable so that’s just gonna be frozen green beans,” you said as you walked into the kitchen.
“As great as that sounds, I was thinkin’ of startin’ with dessert first,” he responded, his gaze hungry as he took in the sight of you standing in what had become your natural element.
“The bedroom’s right up those stairs,” you whispered, glancing toward the staircase.
He grinned. “Lead the way, darlin’.”
Taking his hand, you led him upstairs and down the hallway, past the closed doors of the empty spare bedroom and hardly stocked guest bathroom. Your bedroom door, however, was wide open. You’d never admit the amount of time you spent cleaning it before he came over, at least wanting a nicer experience than the dingy motel rooms that the two of you had been accustomed to having sex in.
He hardly took a look around before pushing you back onto your own bed, kissing you as he slid one of his knees between your legs, pressing it against your clothed pussy.
“You know what I wanna see you do tonight?” he asked, his voice low.
“What’s that?”
He practically spat his answer back. “Ride my leg like a bitch in heat.”
Your breath hitched, and you nodded, wasting no time in moving over so he could sit on the edge of the bed. When you reached for the hem of your shirt to start undressing, he clicked his tongue.
“Clothes on, darlin’,” he said, patting his thigh.
You could feel your face heat up as you settled on his lap. Doing this fully clothed left you with a sense of humiliation you weren’t sure whether or not you liked. Slowly, you grinded your hips against his leg, holding onto his shoulders for support.
His hand slipped between you, his fingers rubbing your clit through your panties while the other squeezed your hips. You could feel your orgasm building up when he pulled his hand away from your clit suddenly, giving you a cruel grin in response to your look of betrayal.
He smacked your ass. “C’mon now, you gotta work for it.”
It didn’t take you long to get a rhythm going from there, squeezing his shoulders and letting out high-pitched whines of frustration as you chased the pleasure that seemed just out of reach. Something in your core tightened, and you desperately tried to get more friction from the rough material of his jeans to your aching, clothed pussy.
Biting your lip, your eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment as you considered the situation you were in, humping the leg of a man who wasn’t your husband in your shared bed while he was none the wiser. It was wrong and debauched, but it made you wetter than your husband ever had.
“Jesus Christ, ya really are a lil’ bitch in heat, gettin’ my nice pants fuckin’ soaked,” he taunted, flexing his thigh as you rutted your hips against it.
You moaned, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Bo, fuck, I’m close.”
“What the fuck?”
You felt like someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on you upon hearing your husband’s voice. Turning around to look at him, he was furious—and marching right toward you.
He pulled you off of Bo, and you landed painfully on the ground. Just when you thought he’d start in on you, he punched Bo square in the jaw. Pushing yourself off the floor, you narrowly avoided the two men beating the shit out of each other in your bedroom. Your husband managed to get a solid kick to Bo’s leg, and his knees buckled as your husband readied himself to land another blow.
“Fuck you! Get off of him! Get off—“ without thinking, you grabbed the lamp off of the nightstand and swung directly at your husband’s head.
The ceramic base shattered upon impact. He collapsed to the ground, blood slowly pooling from his head, though his limbs continued to twitch. You dropped the broken lamp, eyes wide in shock at what you’d just done.
“Oh my god. Oh my god—what am I gonna—“
You looked to Bo, who despite his split lip, was shockingly unbothered by the situation as he stood up. From the floor, your husband emitted a groan, choking on his own blood.
“He’s still alive. Oh fuck, call an ambulance or-or—“
Bo rolled his eyes, grabbing the cord from the lamp and strangling your husband with it until he stopped making noise. You turned away to vomit on the carpet.
“Are you finished? ‘Cause the way you were carryin’ on, there ain’t no way one ‘a your neighbors haven’t called the cops by now.”
“What do I do? I mean, can we say it was self defense?”
He kicked over your husband’s limp body, showing you the damage in all its bloody glory. “That look like self defense to you?”
“Fuck. Bo, I can’t go to jail. I can’t—“
“Darlin’, no one’s goin’ to jail. You just gotta do exactly what I say. Got it?” he grabbed your face, pulling your attention from your dead husband to him. “Got it?”
“Okay,” you whispered.
He instructed you to break the lock on the front door, and then gather any valuables you could. Your stomach lurched when you realized he wanted to stage a break in, your husband an unfortunate casualty and you abducted in the fray. It was genius, but worrisome how quickly he came up with the idea.
As you set the scene of your now ex-husband’s untimely demise, you tried not to think about how Bo didn’t hesitate to kill him, cold and calculated. No time to consider the implications. You’d made your bed, and there was nothing to do but lie in it—except you couldn’t even do that, because your husband’s blood was splattered all over it.
You took one last look at the house, knowing whatever Bo had in mind involved you leaving and never coming back. The thought evoked no emotions in you. The place was never a home, somewhere you felt particularly attached to. Instead it served as a facade, an ornate casket that was fit for your marriage to formally be laid to rest in.
Upon returning to your bedroom, you grabbed your duffel bag, the one you’d kept packed and hidden in your closet for when you’d meet Bo at the motel. Shoving what you could into the bag and your purse, you attempted to appear casual as you walked outside, putting your things in his truck and waiting for him to join you. You wished you had time to clean yourself up before leaving, feeling self-conscious of getting your husband’s blood and your own wetness on the passenger seat.
Your heart skipped a beat when he opened the driver’s side door a few minutes later, but you calmed down a bit when you saw it was him. Wordlessly, he started up the truck, leaving the headlights off as he slowly drove up your street. When he turned them on a few blocks away from your house, you let yourself breathe a little easier, but you weren’t off the hook yet, not until you got the hell outta town.
“You passed the turn for the motel,” you observed.
“We’re not goin’ there.”
“Then where—“
“Ambrose. Ain’t no one gonna look for ya there.”
“It’ll be all over the news. Anyone could see me and turn me in,” you said.
“They won’t. Trust me,” he said, his firm tone giving you the assurance you were seeking.
He continued driving, the old country backroads becoming more and more familiar to you. So many times when you’d thought back to your youth, you wondered what was a dream or a memory, but these narrow, pothole-littered roads confirmed it was all real.
As soon as you saw the sign welcoming you to Ambrose, you felt like you could finally breathe. The sign had definitely seen better days, but it didn’t matter. You were home.
“God, it’s like nothing’s changed,” you whispered, mostly to yourself as Bo drove up Main Street, passing the places your teen spirit would haunt when life seemed so complicated but was still so simple.
“A few things have,” he said, “but yeah, ya know how people are ‘round here.”
You nodded, about to respond when you noticed the gas station coming up. “Wait, can we stop here? I wanna see your shop.”
He hesitated for a moment but obliged, wordlessly pulling into the station and turning off his truck. You got out, leaning into him when he wrapped his arm around you. Being in your hometown again filled you with conflicting emotions, but the safety you felt on Main Street slowly began to fade as soon as you stepped foot in the gas station.
“So you run this place on your own?”
“Yeah, just me. Not enough people comin’ by to warrant extra help, but—“
He was interrupted by the sound of metal clanking and what you could have sworn was a woman’s muffled screams.
“Bo, what was that?” you asked, anxiety lacing your words as you stepped closer to the source of the noise.
He sucked on his teeth, the sound making your skin crawl. “Nothin’ you need to worry about.”
You stopped in your tracks, feeling yourself become dizzy as the distressed yelling didn’t stop. It sounded far too clear to be your imagination. “What the hell did you do?”
“See, if I was you, I wouldn’t be showin’ so much hostility to the man who saved your ass from the electric chair,” he snapped. “‘Less you want me to drag your ass to the cops that’re crawlin’ all over your house by now?”
“Bo, c’mon,” you whispered, feeling tears well up in your eyes.
“Just get back in the damn truck,” he said, his voice low.
You nodded, dazed as you made the short walk back to his truck. Sitting in the passenger seat, you put your head in your hands, trying to figure out how your life got fucked up so quickly. You’d never know what brought your husband home from his work trip early—if that was even the case, maybe he had his own plans to cheat over the weekend that didn’t work out, his usual squeeze standing him up.
There were so many what if’s that raced through your mind, like if you hadn’t impulsively grabbed the lamp and made the situation go from bad to worse. The way Bo had escalated things to absolute worst by dealing the death blow to your husband, cold and calculated, suddenly made sense. Even if your husband had approached the situation calmly, you knew Bo wouldn’t do the same. It would have come to fruition at some point, but you didn’t expect it to be so soon.
When Bo returned to the truck, you noticed the fresh blood on his knuckles as he grabbed the steering wheel, but didn’t mention it. What was there to say? It wasn’t like you could do anything to help whoever he had trapped somewhere in that gas station. It did explain the scratches and bruises he’d show up to the motel with.
“So, how about that dinner you were gonna make? I’m starvin’,” he said nonchalantly, the key in the ignition making the engine roar to life.
Staring blankly ahead, you whispered something about mashed potatoes. He gave you an unreadable glance from the driver’s seat before throwing his arm over your shoulder and driving up the street to his place, the Sinclair family’s house atop a hill. When he drove past your childhood home, the lights were on inside. You wondered who lived there now.
#bo sinclair x reader#slasher x reader#bo sinclair x female reader#slasher fandom#slasher community#house of wax#house of wax 2005#slashers#bo sinclair
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