I don't have much to say here other than thank you for taking a peek here. Here's some of my work in this all new list with ALL my work. I had to dig up some of these bad boys.
Masterlist
Also some rules:
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2. You can request stuff! Feel free to ask if there's a character I'd write for from the work you see in the masterlist.
3. If you feel you have constructive criticism, I appreciate it but I don't fully write to please but more so write for myself. So it's unnecessary.
Let me know your thoughts on whatever is written!
NOTICE: PLEASE do not steal or plagiarize my work. I don't give anyone permission to put my stories in any AI software of any kind.
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Hi my laptop is donzo so I ordered a new one and the place I got it from delayed that hoe for two fkn weeks -
So I canceled it and am getting a new one today. In case some of you curious cuties thought “this dumb b doesn’t update her stories.” (I’m talking about Not Your Problem and Second Chance.)
Imagine: You were absolutely sure the communal showers were empty.
For one thing, it was late. For another, most of the Cleaners had already scattered after the mission, disappearing into their rooms, the kitchen, or wherever else they usually went to collapse after a long day. And, most importantly, you had listened before stepping inside. No footsteps. No voices. No familiar heavy stomp of boots.
So, with a perfectly clear conscience, you shut the door behind you, set your things down on the bench, and finally allowed yourself to breathe.
The hot water hit your shoulders, washing away dust, exhaustion, and the last stubborn traces of your terrible mood. You closed your eyes, tilted your head back, and almost decided that maybe the day hadn’t been so bad after all.
Almost. Because the very next second, the door to the shower room swung open.
“Damn, finally,” came a familiar voice. “I thought nobody was in here...”
Enjin froze in the doorway. You froze too.
For a moment, neither of you moved. The silence between you was so thick that even the sound of running water suddenly seemed suspiciously loud.
Enjin stood there with a towel slung over one shoulder, already out of his outer clothes, though thankfully not yet fully committed to walking into the showers like he owned the place. His amber eyes widened. Then he blinked. Once. Twice.
Then, very slowly, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling.
“I didn’t see anything.”
“Enjin.”
“Nothing at all.”
“Enjin.”
“You could even say I was born blind.”
You grabbed the nearest bottle of shampoo and hurled it at him without thinking. Enjin dodged it far too smoothly for someone who had just claimed not to have seen anything.
“Aha!” you snapped, peeking at him through the steam while covering yourself with your arms. “So you can see well enough!”
“Reflexes,” he said calmly, still staring very hard at the wall. “My life is full of danger.”
“Your life is about to end if you don’t get out.”
“Fair.”
He took one step back. And, of course, that was the exact moment his foot slipped on the wet floor.
You barely managed to squeak:
“Careful!”
Enjin flailed, reached for the doorframe, missed it completely, spun in the least graceful way imaginable, and somehow managed to catch himself at the very last second. The towel on his shoulder, however, gave up on him entirely and slid solemnly to the floor. Both of you stared at it.
Then Enjin said, with complete seriousness:
“It sacrificed itself for my dignity.”
You clapped a hand over your mouth, but the laugh slipped out anyway. At first it was quiet and muffled, then bright, helpless, and impossible to stop.
Enjin glanced at you, and the corner of his mouth twitched.
“Glad my humiliation improved your evening.”
“Don’t worry,” you said, still laughing. “It was a very respectable performance.”
“I’d bow, but I’m afraid you’d misunderstand.”
“Enjin!”
“Leaving. I’m leaving.”
He bent down to grab the towel, but you instantly hissed:
“Don’t look!”
“I’m looking at the floor.”
“I know you.”
“That’s because the floor is the only one not accusing me of anything.”
You snorted. Towel in hand, Enjin began backing toward the door again. This time with extreme caution. Almost majestically, if not for the fact that he was moving sideways like the world’s most suspicious crab. And it might have ended there. It really might have.
If you hadn’t said:
“You know, for someone who asks me for a light all the time, you lose your composure surprisingly fast.”
He stopped. Slowly, he turned his head, though his eyes remained very honorably fixed somewhere on the wall beside you.
“That was unfair.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re clearly in the winning position here.”
“I’m naked in a shower, armed with shampoo.”
“Exactly. Absolute advantage.”
You narrowed your eyes, though he could barely see it through the steam.
“Are you flirting with me right now?”
“Me?” Enjin pressed a hand to his chest, looking so deeply offended that anyone else might have believed him. “In the middle of such a serious crisis?”
You gave him a silent, knowing look.
“Yes. I’m flirting,” he finally admitted.
You laughed again. This time, it came out a little more bashful than you intended. He smiled too, but not with his usual smugness. This one was softer. Warmer. The kind of smile that made your chest tighten in a way his teasing never quite did. And somehow, that felt much more dangerous.
“All right,” he said at last, stepping back behind the door. “I’ll leave. I’ll stand guard and protect your sacred right to personal hygiene.”
“How noble of you.”
“I’m a very noble man, actually.”
“You barged into the showers.”
“Accidentally barged into the showers. Very important difference.”
“And nearly fell.”
“That was tactical.”
“And lost your towel.”
“It fell heroically in battle.”
You shook your head, but your smile refused to go away. Enjin had almost closed the door when he paused again.
“Hey.”
“What?”
He still wasn’t looking inside. He stood just beyond the doorway, one hand holding the door, his voice a little quieter now.
“When you’re done… I can walk you back to your room. Just in case there’s more dangerous wet floor on the way.”
The hot water suddenly wasn’t the only reason your cheeks felt warm.
“Is that an excuse?”
“Of course.”
“A terrible one.”
“I’d call it creative.”
You were quiet for a couple of seconds, then turned your face away, as if that could hide the smile in your voice.
“Fine. Wait outside.”
There was a brief silence from behind the door. Then Enjin gave a pleased little hum.
“Understood. Guarding.”
“And don’t listen in!”
“What, are you planning to sing in there?”
“Enjin!”
“Okay, okay. Silent.”
And, to his credit, he really did go silent. For about two minutes. Then his voice came through the door again.
“Hey… was that my shampoo you threw at me, or someone else’s?”
You covered your face with one hand.
“I told you to be quiet.”
“So it was mine.”
And despite the embarrassment, despite the ridiculousness of it all, you laughed again. Because no matter how hard you tried to stay mad at him, with Enjin, it almost never lasted long.
Warnings: mentions of abuse, violence, swearing, kidnapping
WC: 2913
Chapter 5: Hell's coming
Prev - Next
Your back meets the dirt with a winded breath, Dear immediately pressed to your chest.
Bro is cussing right over your face, people are running, scattered everywhere and anywhere. You can’t see past a cloud of dirt that seems to float into the air, disturbed from it’s resting place.
You hear the giver barking out his location, orders or something- you don’t even think you have the time to register exactly. The next thing you know, Bro is hoisting you to your feet and manhandling you behind something for cover.
The table that originally the three of you were sitting at, combusted into smitherins, a scream leaving your throat as Dear began to cry into your chest.
“Levantate! We need to move-!”
“What’s happening?!” You shout beginning to move out of your hiding spots but stumbling into the open of the roads in front of you.
Bro looks to your right, stepping out after you and pushing you right back to the ground with a grunt, right as a ball of garbage lands exactly where you stood. It breaks apart into pieces, and originally you weren’t concerned with it until you noticed the char and the stench of smoke in your vicinity.
Smokers carry that stench wherever they go. You’d know because you smell everytime you work in that dingy bar.
You used to smell it every time you were near him.
His voice reaches you, Bro pulling you behind him with his headband now in his hand, eyes glowing bright amber.
In front of you three, stands what you’ve run from for all these years. The being that led you down this path where you stood right this moment.
The man that gave you your son, and the year of misery before that.
“Baby. Been looking for you for months now.”
His voice sounds older. Likely the cost of smoking. But he stands tall and proud with a devious grin to match his façade.
“Kori…”
Kori Goris had a professional look to his person. There wasn’t a day where you’d see his clothes disheveled unless he has a scrap with one of the dealers.
But now, you see his clothes are singed. Burnt at the ends with soot upon his brow. He holds your stare, relishing in the way you hold fear in your irises.
His pants are decorated with chains hanging off his belt, his shoes puff out ash wherever he steps even if it doesn’t look like any ash is there.
Your onslaught of curiosity is answered with one single look.
Kori’s eyes are shining. A bright neon orange. One that combats Bro’s amber hues unironically.
He’s flickering an old school lighter, one you recognize being one he used to light his cigarettes non-stop.
“You miss me?” Kori grins, his head tilts. Teeth shining with disgusting glee. “Come on, baby girl. Let’s get you home. I’m tired of this game of cat n’ mouse-”
You shake your head before he finishes his sentence. Dear’s head is hidden in your neck but the dual toned hair of his gives his identity away. Especially since Kori’s head has matching colors.
“Look at him. He’s got his daddy’s hair. He got your looks?”
Before you could move, Bro launches his cloth forward, a heavy object on the other end. With a snap of Kori’s fingers a burst of fire pops in front of him. It completely deflects the attack but distracts him enough to get you and Dear out of the way.
Bro keeps pushing you as you run, Dear holding onto you tight as though you’d ever let him fall. The giver turns around one more time, making sure your route from Kori isn’t followed by anyone else. Seeing two other people running after you with pure fear on their face, he almost mistakes them for other underground folk.
That is until two bursts of fire engulf them in flames right before his eyes.
It’s clear then, that Kori is not afraid of collateral.
He’s not afraid to take back what he thinks belongs to him. Bro is not afraid to get in the way of that.
A whirring is picked up from your ears, and you quickly side step while shoulder checking Bro into a pocket of the alley. Barely missing a large fireball that passes the three of you from where you stood.
To your despair, the fire completely blocks your exit.
You hear Kori’s cackling, his footsteps bringing him closer and closer with each huff of laughter.
Dear finally peaks out, meeting his father’s stare with fear and confusion. You try to bury him back into your neck. You never wanted these two to meet.
Hell, Kori never wanted to meet him, or so you thought. It was the whole reason you ran away.
“Don’t take another step.” Bro challenges. “I’ve been wanting to beat your ass for a while now, Kori.”
“Oof, Santa. You’re killin’ me here.” Kori smoothes out his dual toned hair, flickering with his lighter again and again. “You wanna know something? I’ve been wanting to do the fuckin’ same. Ever since I saw you walk into my girls apartment building.”
Your blood runs cold.
“How…how long-”
“Not long at all actually. You can thank your little boyfriend for that.” Kori explains. “I knew there had to be a reason my best dealer just up and left. ‘See you around’ my fucking ass. You had to have a reason to leave so I just wanted to see for myself.”
Bro visibility falters for just a moment, the realization hitting the two of you at the exact same time. Only for him it feels a thousand times worse.
“Ugh hearing you tear him a new one. Just sent me back to the good ol’ days. Course I had to beat that out of you sometimes-”
“Callate.” Bro shifts back into his defensive stance. “You had it good. Why come back now? Why take back what’s been running from you for so long?”
“The thrill, Santa. The thrill. You know how much adrenaline I get knowing the love of my life is just a few feet away? God I laid eyes on her and it was like the first day I met her. Wandering those tunnels. Looking for some ‘fun’ as she said. Something about ruining something so sweet just gives you a thrill of a lifetime.”
You shake your head, refusing to let those memories come back.
“You kept leaving her gifts at her door like it was a fucking shrine. So I wanted to play nice guy for two seconds. She was never too materialistic. She liked the effort. I’m sure that poem made you so ooey gooey inside, huh baby?” Kori flashes his teeth with a thick smile. “Suprised you never noticed the handwriting. Am I that forgettable?”
The way he eyes your son gives you a wave of confidence and anger. But hearing him speak was the only thing holding you back.
You never spoke back. You knew better. But you have changed now. You knew your worth.
“You couldn’t have. Not when you got that thing on your arm-”
“He’s nothing like you.” You spat. “He’s everything you will never be. My baby’s going to be a better person than your sorry ass could ever become.”
Kori’s smile fades. His lighter shuts tights and for just a moment, the roaring of the fire behind you dies down. Within that second, you smell the smoke. As though the fire’s completely gone.
“You know how I got these abilities, sweetheart?” Kori asks as he steps forward. You and Bro both take a step back. “You left. You left and took every part of me with you.”
His free hand rises to rub down his face, gliding against his cheek as though he’s calming himself down. “I know I said some shit. But man. You didn’t even fight me on anything. Took my money, my baby-”
“You’re baby?!” You scoff. “You wanted him dead!”
“That was before I knew what humans were capable of.”
Bro holds his hand in front of you, preventing you from even thinking of moving forward. “No te muevas.”
Kori continues anyways. “You left me with a chunk of my money gone. My baby, gone. My other half, gone. I had nothing. Zero, zip, nothing to come home to. The underground is so, so fucking lonely. And what did I do but smoke my feelings away. The smoke spoke to me. The lighter was the only source of warmth.”
He flicks the lighter again, but instead of the normal sized fire coming out, the flame is bigger. Much bigger.
It attaches to his clothes and rises up, engulfing his outline in a decent wall of fire. He looks as though he’s a candlewick, standing with a flame as big as a building.
“I was at my lowest point. And then it all hit me.” Kori grins, insanity written upon his face. “Oh my son, anyone can be a giver if they’re at rock,”
“Run.” Bro commands, but your frozen still for a second longer. You’re horrified at the growth of the fire.
“Fuckin’,”
Dear is the one to snap you out. Patting at your back and pointing behind you. You turn just in time to see not only the fire behind you begins to grow with Kori, but something else incoming.
Again, you push Bro into the alleyway pocket.
“Bottom!!”
Just as Kori maniacally announces the finale of his sentence and assumingly finishing blow, a massive spew of water breaks through his flames and hits him back a few feet. He lands on his back with a heave, his body sent into momentary shock.
You don’t even have time to register what that could have been. But from the uniforms you see at the end of the way, you’re more than relieved to see it’s the Cleaner’s Bro has been talking about for a while. Bro whips his cloth up the the top of a building’s roof and hoists him and the two off you up with what you assume might’ve been pure adrenaline.
Once you’re up, you finally see the chaos that unleashed by Kori’s hand.
It seems he’s not the only Giver attacking this poor village. You see raiders running amuck. One having tendrils for his hair, throwing things here and there. Another has a giant hammer, horrifically breaking anything and everything in her path. What catches your eye is a circle of color that comes in and out, bringing in more raiders by the second.
You’re observation gets cut off, Bro’s hands cup your face as he drags your attention to him.
“Are you both okay? Tell me you’re not hurt.”
You blink, aware of the tears that try to build up and out of your eyes. But you shake your head anyways. You can’t break down right now. Not now.
“We need to keep moving-”
A loud roar spooks the three of you in it’s originating direction. While you’re astonished at the sight, Bro mutters a curse. A giant, green beast is demolishing the tendril raider you spotted earlier, and they’re seemingly laughing with glee while they do it.
“Guita. That’s way too big-” He shuts himself up, shaking his head back to the current situation. “Come on, lets get away from the alley.”
You look around for the nearest escape. There’s a plank leading to the other end of the building.
It doesn’t look very sturdy, but if your quick you can get over. The only issue is that Dear would have to cross over himself.
“I can’t just make him cross first.” You tell Bro. “He’ll freak out.”
Bro looks from you, and back to the other side of the roof. His thumb and index finger meet his collar. “Enjin, I gotta meet you back on the ground, but I need someone to grab the kid and-”
You hear the grunts coming from the collar.
‘Heard! Just hang tight-!’
That’s enough for Bro to get into action.
“You trust me?” He asks.
“Yes.” You don’t even hesitate to respond.
Bro almost falters at that. The moment passes without a word about it. “You cross first, I’ll stay with Dear. There’s nothing to tie cloth to so I’m gonna try to help him over the plank. Alright?”
You nod, not noticing the look of bewilderment on your son’s face. Just as Dear sees you step onto the ledge he shrieks and kicks at Bro. You both look at him with panic, knowing you wouldn’t have time to ease this out and think of a new plan.
“He needs to see.” Bro states. “He needs to see it’s ok. Here, switch with me!”
You sigh, coming back down and taking Dear from Bro’s arms. Suddenly, you know what he might’ve felt when you see Bro quickly come up the ledge. You almost feel your heart leap to your throat, you’re so scared.
With a slight quickness to his step, Bro makes it over with little to no issue. The sight makes Dear look at you with a new stare you couldn’t quite put into words.
You put his feet on the ledge anyways, and note how Bro is almost leaned halfway over to him.
“Okay baby. Balance okay? You gotta walk towards Bro-” You get interrupted from Dear whining again, his tears falling in big, heaving, drops. You try to shush him, urging him over the wooden plank. You’re grateful it’s a lot wider than Dear is, but you’re still on edge. “Baby, please. I’ll be right behind you.”
That seems to grab his attention. So you repeat yourself. “I’ll be right behind you. As soon as you're over I’ll be right there. Okay?”
It takes a second. Bro urged him to cross with a strained voice. “Come on, she’ll be okay, papas.”
Dear slowly nods, holding your hand to the edge of the plank. You and Bro both hold onto the ends, making sure it stays where it needs to stay. You give your son a small kiss on his hand and send him off.
Little by little, he takes a step, not quite looking down but watching his footing. He pauses right in the middle to your horror. Behind you, you can hear the roar of fire and the same water blasts hitting at the walls of the farthest side of the building. At some point, you think you hear slicing of sorts but it doesn’t quite distract you. It just makes you aware of what could be happening.
“Keep going, baby! You’re fine. Crawl if you have to!”
At that, Dear slowly gets to his knees and with a new found speed, gets across much faster. He flinches a bit on the last few inches, whincing in pain.
He looks at his hand for just a second, and ignores it the rest of the way over. Bro reaches out, getting him from a good distance and brings him safely to his side.
You let out a breath of relief, momentarily grinning at the two boys on the other side.
You wordlessly put your hands on the ledge, ready to hoist you up before you hear Enjin’s voice, almost clear as day despite the distance.
“Bro! He got through! Incoming!”
Quickly, your head turns to the end of the roof you’re on, watching as Kori rises up like a rocket with the flexibility to turn as he pleases.
“Whew! You Cleaner bitches know how to fight!”
Bro swears, taking his cloth to give you a chance to get over the makeshift bridge. If it’s you he wants he’s got you right then and there, there’s not much Bro can do to save the day this time.
And yet, in that second Kori’s voice rings in your ear.
“Oh my son, anyone can be a giver…”
It was never you he was hunting down. Maybe at first glance, but it changed. You turn, eyes widening at the colored circle appearing behind Bro and Dear. Kori laughs behind you now, and the bridge gets blown into bits.
The three of you duck out of the way to not get hit by the debris, and when you pick your head up, you’re just in time to see another fireball hit right in front of them. Sending them toppling into the portal and out of sight.
“No-!” You scream. A hand wraps itself around your neck, Kori’s lips reaching close to your ear.
“Someone’s gotta take over the family business, mommy-dearest.”
Right as those words leave his mouth, you scream, pulling your head forward and immediately launching it back to hit him in the face.
A move you’ve clearly done so often with Kori that he expects it. With the momentum you’ve given him, he pulls you down to the ground. Standing over you with a deranged grin. “You could have joined. Been my arm candy all over again. I treated you like a fucking queen-”
“I’ll kill you.” You promise. “I’ll kill you and I’ll bury you in those fucking tunnels myself!”
You pick yourself back up, only to get knocked down again with the bottom of his boot.
“You’ll have to find me first, baby. He’ll be alright. He’s gonna know where home is.” He states.
“You son of a-”
You never noticed his foot reeling back. With a swift kick to your face, you’re knocked out cold, left to be found by whoever comes across you.
Warnings: Swearing, near panic attacks, fluff for the most part
Chapter 4: The Reckoning
Prev - Next
“Alright, baby. How are we doing the hair today, hm?”
Dear shakes his head, making his fluffy hair spin around. He taps his foot on the seat he stands on. He hated clippers. The sound irritated him and he never held still for you to cut his hair.
Styling it was the only way to keep it out of his face and his eyes. It wasn’t that long…yet.
“One ponytail? Or two?”
Again, Dear shakes his head.
“Come on, baby. We’re gonna go to the market today, you need new clothes. Lets get your hair done, yeah?”
This time, Dear grunts. He turns to walk off the chair you put him on in front of the bathroom mirror.
“Dear!” You sternly put him back on the chair. He whines, his pacifier again muffling the sounds coming out of his mouth. Again, his foot starts tapping. “I’ll just give you a small one. So you’re hair doesn’t get in the way!”
“He doesn’t seem like he wants you to touch his head, chulita.”
You roll your eyes, making eye contact with Bro from the mirror. “What else am I supposed to do? He’ll be mad with his hair in front of him.”
Bro shrugs, his arms crossing as he leans upon the bathroom doorway. “Just let him learn. How often does he run around with his hair down?”
You ponder. Dear hasn’t really done that in some time. You never really have given it a chance.
“He has to let you near him, babygirl. Let him find out if his hair really bothers him or not.”
With a huff, you cross your arms and look down at your boy who’s already looking at you with pleading eyes. You pout. “I’m your mom. You’re supposed to let me do these things.”
Another laugh rings out, followed by a peck to your cheek much to Dear’s annoyance. “He’s a big boy now. Verdad, chamaco?” He smiles gently down at your son, patting him on the arm and helping him off of the chair. He scurries away, his shoulder length hair bouncing away with him.
“Here, take some hair ties with us and maybe his brush. He’ll change his mind when he realizes how annoying it can get. I know I learned.” Bro points to his low bun on the back of his head. You never really took into account how he did his hair in the morning. Still though, the pout doesn’t leave your face.
You feel tears welling in your eyes as you begin to put away your hair stuff you typically use on Dear.
Bro begins cooing at you, his hand sliding around your tummy and pulling you into his chest. “Why you crying?” He laughs.
“My baby’s too old for me to do his hair.” You whine out. “He doesn’t need me to help him get dressed or…or tie his shoes…or to even do his hair.”
Bro, seeing you genuinely in distress, presses his lips to your forehead. “You know that was gonna happen eventually-”
“Well not anytime soon!”
“He’s almost six!”
“So?!” You push away.
‘This is ridiculous.’ you think. It was true, Dear is growing up and learning to do things on his own and it’s thanks to you. Just the other night he was reading a book with Bro on the sofa, and it was one of the older kid books that only had pictures on the chapter pages.
Bro would read along, albeit faster, and ask if Dear was done before they turn the page. After that, he would clean everything up and then come to you to ‘help’ get ready for bed.
He knew how his room should be. First he puts away his toys in front of you, and if your tried to help he would hum and snatch what you had in your hand away before doing it himself.
It sort of hurt to see that it wasn’t so much as he didn’t need your help…it felt like he just didn’t want your help.
After explaining it like that to Bro, you felt even more ridiculous when he just gave you a lopsided smile. “He’s learning from the teacher. What? Do you accept help when your sister comes around?”
You look at him oddly. “Well?” He asks. “Do you?”
“Well…no.”
“He’s got no siblings either. He just doesn’t see what team work is.”
“That’s not true. You help me-”
“But I’m entertaining him while you’re doing all the work. Let me help you today, yeah? We’ll teach him the difference between what’s what. Sounds good?”
There’s a beat, and then you nod. It couldn’t hurt. He wasn’t wrong, you’ve been actively teaching Dear what to do but based on doing it all by yourself. You never really ask him for help because…well you just didn’t realize he was getting to that point where he could help you out. Let alone even wanting to.
“Still got that look on your face.” Bro observes after looking to the side. “Do my hair, if you want to do something so bad.”
“Really?” You raise a brow. “You want me to do your hair?”
Bro shrugs. “Why not? Come on. You know how to do a braid? Not a big fan of loose strands.”
He pulls the chair back a bit, sitting in front of you and making eye contact through the mirror. He tilts his head to the side, bringing his finger up to his lips.
You side eye the doorway, seeing the familiar tufts of hair of your boy just barely peeking out of the hall.
With a sigh, and a shy smile, you take a brush and begin undoing his bun.
There’s a gentle quiet as you dismantle his hair. It’s not too long. In fact it’s almost the same length as Dear’s if not an inch longer. The feeling of it was surprisingly soft, which you tried not to be rough with. Any time you would see certain strands of his hair come off your would softly apologize.
“Tight or loose?” You ask.
You don’t get an answer right away, so you look up to see his smirk, smugly looking at your through the mirror.
“Santa.” You scold. He breaks a hearty laugh choking out of him as his hands rise up to block your own from smacking him. “I’m gonna let you run around with your hair down too. I’m tightening your braid, maybe you’ll get a headache-”
“No, mi princesa. Loosen it, please?”
You hum, splitting the sections with ease. The gentleness in your actions contrast your previous tone. It’s done out of love. Genuine love.
Care and tenderness. Affection. You think you love this man.
After you finish, you give him a peck to his head and stand back to admire your work. To your surprise, you feel tugging on the bottom of your pajama shorts. You look down, seeing Dear peeking up at you, blinking with wide eyes and pointing at your brush.
You look down at him and then back to the brush. “You want me to do your hair?”
Dear nods, quickly taking his place at the chair with a pep to his step. You blink, still processing what’s just happened. Bro chuckles and pecks your shoulder. “See? Let him learn from example.”
Your son stands still as you give him a pair of pigtails. His hair sticking out behind him in a straight style. You smile at him in the mirror and pinch lightly at his little cheek. “All done. You like it?”
Without haste, Dear nods, reaching up and jumping in place to get you to hug him. You giggle, giving him a hug and picking him. With you. You hand him things to help you clean up the bathroom counter before calling Bro to help move the chair back to the dining room.
While walking in, Dear waves his arm to get the older man’s attention and points to his hair. Bro whistles and grins in response. “Wow. Que chido!”
Dear shyly hides his face into your neck, and you giggle at his reaction.
“Hey. Help me with cleaning up the kitchen while your mom gets ready.” The giver states patting on the seat of the chair for him to hop on. You carefully set him down, and have to bite your tongue when Bro lifts the boy up with the chair. Dear giggles and squeals as he’s carried higher and out of the bathroom.
You finally get a little peace. Doing your makeup and getting dressed in gentle quiet. You had time to really think about how Bro’s words resonated with you not just to ease you and calm you down but also for the best interest in Dear.
It truly felt like he cared and that he was changing before your eyes. It didn’t feel like a quick one night stand. Especially since he stays. He stays and he talks things out. He came back and apologized.
While you were immediately seeing similarities from your ex the first time you fought, this was already moons away than what you had experienced.
Kori would coax you to bed, and bruise you for all to see. His fingers left marks lasting for days. While Bro’s were more relating to focus, and he never ever crushed your flesh beneath his hands while you pleaded for him to ease up.
Kori would yell at you and leave you without contact for weeks, Bro came back practically the next fucking day.
With Kori, you were a pawn in his game, an employee.
With Bro, you might have felt silly with how he pursued you, but you’re finding out that he means his words. He likes you. He loves you.
The note from his basket stayed in your top dresser drawer, and you hadn’t had the moment to show him. But the words from it kept you thinking. You had carefully opened the drawer and taken out the piece of paper, holding it in your hand before tucking it into your skirt’s pocket. It didn’t sound like him at all, but you chalked it up to him going out of his comfort zone to get you back.
It was sweet. And so was he.
“Ready?”
Bro stands at the doorway, his hands resting on either side of the wood while his eyes almost gleam at you.
You wore a nice flowy blouse that was tucked in with a long skirt. Simple, but nice for a family day out. A family day out.
“Kid’s getting fidgety again.”
Without hesitating anymore, you nod while walking his way. You press your lips to his chin for a short second and tug on his hand as you head down the hallway.
“Let’s not keep him waiting.”
Bro had suggested a day out with you and Dear, as a way to just enjoy each other’s company. You had mentioned needing to get Dear some new shoes. He was showing some struggle in wearing his regular ones. Even since he didn’t want to wear them often anymore around the house.
While at it, some of his shirts weren’t fitting like he liked them anymore. Same with his pants.
So it was already time to go shopping. There was a market the next few towns over in one of the safe zones, and it was close enough to the city where trash beasts didn’t go by too often. Bro had also said that he would hope you’d be comfortable enough to meet some of his new giver friends.
The drive over though, in his own car, had you taking in all sorts of information of these people he respected so much. Even a young girl that took a liking to his kind personality.
“Her name is Guita.” He stated after you has asked about her. “She’s nine. Just turned nine not too long ago.”
You frowned, unbelieving his words. “They have a child in the Cleaners? That’s so dangerous-”
“She’s a Giver.”
The thought of a child having to trust their most prized possession to get them out of their darkest moment was unnerving. You’ve heard of Givers just obtaining their vital instruments through time, but you’ve seen enough of them at work to know how they operate.
“She’s a sweetheart. You’ll love her. Then there’s Gris, and Enjin. Those guys are the ones that initiated me.”
“I know who Enjin is. But I don’t know Gris-”
“He was outside that night you took me home.” His sentence ends with a knowing smile. “I just finished the last of my sales. Gris was the one to take it all off my hands. Turned in the money and I just…never picked up another package.”
You stared at his profile for a long, silent moment. “What did he say?”
Kori was a hot head. Hated taking ‘no’ for an answer. Matter of fact, if he could, he’d blow anyone’s head off that disagreed with him. But the dead are liabilities even if they can’t talk. While people mind their business on the ground, there’s enough people to know when someone doesn’t show up anymore.
He never threatened your life before. Until you told him you were pregnant. Then everything fell apart.
“Kori? I didn’t tell him shit. I gave his money, said I’d see him around and told my handler I was done.”
You hum. “You got off easy.”
“I got out. Because I wanted to change. For you.”
“Didn’t ask you to…”
The softness in it doesn’t get mistaken for snark. Bro can tell you meant it earnestly with pure concern. “I didn’t need you to. It was already on my mind.”
The rest of the drive was a pleasant silence. Dear occasionally humming in his makeshift carseat to remind you of different items you were here to look at.
Getting to the market was easy. Getting through it was another. Sure there were areas where you didn’t have to be outside, some merchants set up in the buildings where they could.
You whispered to Dear to point to anything that caught his eye and when he did, you would let Bro know while he waited in plain sight for the other Cleaners to find you three.
It wasn’t long until you decided to look into the kids' clothes, but every now and then you’d find some cute trinkets around for the house. Of course you didn’t really need those so it was difficult for you to justify the purchases. Even if some of the clothing looked like something you’d wear on a nice evening out. Maybe you could convince Bro to have a night out like that.
You were showing Dear some bigger shirts that he could eventually grow into. Knowing him, he liked his clothes baggier than normal. Which did worry you if he would fall or not.
You slipped a dark green shirt on him, one that the sleeves went down just past his elbows and the rest of it to the tops of his knees. He nods at you, bouncing in place with a soft huff.
“Dear, it’s too big. We’d need to stitch it to make sure you're not tripping over yourself.”
Just to show you how he could move, he begins to run around you with it on, stopping in front of you with a nod. You sigh, slipping it back off and pulling down his original shirt so he’s still wearing clothes. “Alright, fine. But we’re sizing down the next two so you have something that actually fits. Alright?”
You put the shirt in a small basket the vendor offered you when you found him a pair of shoes.
In looking around a new folded pile of different clothes, you pull out a pair of overalls. Dear pats at your arm excitingly. “No, baby. This is also too big-”
The boy whines. Tapping his feet as he waits for you to actually try it on him. But given the bagginess of his current pants and this one, it wasn’t very likely. You’d have to lead him to the changing room and with this many people you didn’t like that idea.
With the way people begin to turn heads, you feel yourself get this chill down your spine.
Normally you don’t want to reward Dear with this behavior, but you’re desperate to not grab attention. In seeing your panic, Dear relaxes all on his own.
You’re surprised to see him pick up the green shirt from earlier and successfully attempt to fold it back to its original pile. He points at the overalls again.
“You really want these?” You question. You’re met with an excessive nod.
Dear was never one to ask for things. Just to be thankful for what he was given. When Bro left all those toys for him, he took really good care of them to his best ability. Translated well in how he took care of the pacifier you gave him when he was so little.
He’ll never know it was a way for him to stay quiet when you both went out into the public. Crying babies attracted attention.
“Alright. We got you two pairs of pants, these overalls and some shoes. Why don’t we get you some lunch, yeah?”
Your son nods, looking around before looking at Bro. As though asking if he can go over there. You nod with a gentle smile, putting the green shirt in your basket while watching him reach the older man. He’s greeted with a smile. Lifting the 5-year-old into his arms and looking around.
Seeing that Dear’s in someone's sight, you bring your attention to the merchant. “How much for these?” You show him your basket. As he digs through your findings, your already bringing out your coin pouch, mentally tallying the total and handing him what he asks for.
He doesn’t take it right away, staring at you for a moment longer. “Have you traveled about, miss?”
You tilt your head in confusion. “Uh…I havn’t. No, sir.” You lied. Something light and easy.
The merchant hums. Taking your money before putting your newly purchased items into a tote bag you’ve brought open in front of him. “Forgive me. Must be the trick of the mind…”
The exchange in itself makes you uneasy. Although you think nothing of it at all. Instead the rest of the transaction goes without a hitch, and you thank him for his time as he does the same.
You couldn’t help but turn back and see him having his fingers on his choker, saying something just low enough you can’t quite hear.
Hurrying out, you find Bro waiting for you while Dear curiously looks around. The small pouch he puts in his shirt pocked makes you cock a brow at him.
“What’s that?” You asked.
The genuine smirk he gives should have warned you he was up to something. “A present for you.
You hum, taking his hand as the three of you make your way back to the middle of the market.
“For me huh? Is it something I can use?”
“Sort of.”
“Hm. Something to wear?”
Bro’s silence answers you before he winks in your direction. “I’ll show you once we find some place to eat.”
At that you whine.
It’s not like you hated surprises, but you weren’t a fan of getting gifts either. You were unfortunately picky with your style even if you havn’t had the chance to really focus on your self. If anything you were worried you secretly might not like it, and then Bro would have had spent his money for no reason.
Alas, the man gives you a reassuring smile before making your way into a secluded area meant specifically for food vendors. Dear gravitated to the sweets, naturally, which you had to prevent him from a new tantrum before it got out of hand.
You both had to explain to the poor kid that he had to eat actual food before divulging into sweets.
“Why don’t we just try to get some food for now, and I’ll buy you something from that bakery stand, yeah?”
You tried your best to get him to settle. But everything you did just wasn’t what he wanted or what he wanted to hear. Finally, as if the grace of the heavens gave you it’s mercy, the plate of food Bro puts in front of him stops his next set of kicks to the chair he was in front of.
There were times where Dear would get fussy when he was hungry, but food was always a way to keep him busy. He’s growing, after all. It’s just more of a pain when he decides he’s not done eating despite the fact his plate is in fact empty.
You silently thank Bro, helping your son pick up his hamburger in his hands. The last thing you wanted was for him to spill everything out of the bun.
“So. Wanna see your gift?” Bro asks once you seemingly help yourself to the meal he brought to you.
You give him a small, shy nod and he reaches into his pocket.
It’s a beautiful necklace, one with a heart shaped garnet hanging from it’s chain. Silver, dainty, you’re scared it would come off too easily.
You’re mesmerized with it. So much so, Bro begins to explain. “I’m not sure what made me want to buy if I’m honest. But…if it’s too much given everything-”
Bro’s interrupted with the grin on your lips, the shining eyes matching with it melting his heart right where he sits.
“Put it on for me?” You asked, turning towards Dear with your hands already brushing your hair away from your neck. Dear is much too preoccupied with his meal to see your lover’s usually calm, charming demeanor fall apart at the sight of you so bashfully lovestruck.
Bro kneels next to your seat, clasping the necklace at the base of your neck with a hum before giving your cheek a peck as he stands.
Just as he sits back down, he looks up and you swear the way the light makes his skin glow in radiance makes him look like he isn’t even real.
You feel pathetic in a way. Not like before when you were sure there was nothing to cry over, like when you kicked him out all that time ago. Not like when you had to run with nothing to your name but the skin on your teeth.
But in a way that makes you feel vulnerable. As though you were younger and new to love all over again. This was different.
This was comforting. You didn’t feel like you’d say something wrong and get punished for it.
You felt safe.
“You got a way with gestures you know.” You manage to huff out.
“What can I say? You’re worth it.”
“Got a way with words too.” You look over at Dear, wiping off something on his cheek as he scowls at you for daring to embarrass him for not being a clean eater. “That why you tried your hand with that poem you left at my door that one time?”
You expected him to laugh. Or be embarrassed. And instead you were met with silence on his end. He looks confused. You think it’s just because he genuinely doesn’t remember.
“The poem…You know when you were leaving all those toys and stuff-”
“Amor, I gave Dear some toys yeah and left some stuff for you but I never left a note…”
As he speaks, he notices you reach into your pocket. While at the same time trying to remember what you could possibly be talking about, he notices a figure standing not too far from the seating area the three of you were at.
You pull out the note, seeing Bro’s attention elsewhere and following his sight. Your heart sinks at the merchant from earlier, staring at you with eyes widened like saucers. He slowly raises his arm, his finger pointed at you and begins to cackle.
“I found you.”
You hold the note, frozen in fear. Not seeing how the words of the writing light up and begin to fry away at the paper. The stinging hits your skin and you yelp, looking in horror as the note floats towards the the merchant with an elegant flutter.
The pieces split apart but what remains faintly touches the man’s skin right as he screams.
“Boss…I found her!!!”
You’re shaking, unable to move right away. It’s in slow motion the way a bright light engulfs the man and a simmer of color swirling from his remains expands into a large circle. Something begins to exit the surface.
Bro, thinking quickly, dives over the table to take cover as the realization hits you all at once.
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୨୧ — When his daughter brings home her first potential boyfriend at fifteen, Sukuna doesn't say a word. He simply sits across from the terrified boy at the kitchen table, his fork clinking against the plate, the sound sharp in the tense air. The entire time, he maintains unblinking eye contact while you attempt to salvage the rest of the dinner conversation with meaningless small talk.
After about twenty minutes, Sukuna finally speaks, "You touch her wrong, they won't find enough of you to bury. Got it, boy?" The boy is out the door just as you bring out the dessert, and your daughter doesn't speak to her father for three days. But when rumors start to circulate that the same boy pressured another girl into something she didn't want, his daughter quietly finds him outside sipping on his favorite whiskey.
Sitting next to him -her shoulder pressed against his-, she whispers, "How did you know?" Sukuna just shrugs, but there's understanding in the silence between them. After that, she doesn't fight his "inspections" quite so hard. He's always been her protector after all.
︵︵︵ ๑❤︎๑ ︵︵︵
୨୧ — During a parent teaching conference, his daughter’s literature teacher suggests she might be "troubled"… due to her persistent interest in writing dark, violent stories… The teachers eyes flicker towards Sukuna’s tattoos and scars, suggesting it might be due to the home environment.
Wrong choice of words.
Before you can intervene, Sukuna leans forward and asks with a deadly calm, "You ever read Dostoyevsky? The fucking Bible?"
The teacher nods, shrinking back in his seat…
"All full of violence. All considered genius. My daughter’s writing isn’t the problem." His voice never rises, but the temperature in the room seems to drop a whole ten degrees as he continues. "Your small mind is."
Two weeks later, your daughter rushes home holding her regional writing trophy. Sukuna has her piece professionally framed and hung in the living room next day.
Because at the end of the day, that’s still his little girl.
A/N: short chapter because I didn't realize I changed the format of my chapters like a dummy but couldn't put other halves of those chapters without the info being all weird
Warnings: swearing, smut, 18+, cunniligus, face sitting
Chapter 3: Head Spin
WC: 2492
Prev - Next
Since that night, you let Bro come over once in a while. There’s an unspoken rule between the two of you. No initiating. You’d let something happen if it ever happens. But you made it very clear your priority is Dear and his safety.
Bro made it his mission to show you he’s changed.
You didn’t necessarily deserve it, nor want it. But the action of him doing this was touching. So you thought you’d let this play out.
So far it was nice.
Oddly enough, Dear liked Bro. You couldn’t believe it. How this was possible when the kid was afraid of his own cousins, well you would never know. Maybe it was the toy bribery. But Bro was shockingly good at watching over and talking to Dear.
Where you lacked patience, he strived. You couldn’t help but comment on that when Dear wouldn’t stop sniffling after Bro announced he’d be gone for a whole week. You held onto the boy with a tired smile as he kept reaching for Bro while the latter tried to walk out the door.
One sob from the baby boy and Bro turns with a gentle shush.
“You’ll be alright, papito. You gotta take care of your mama f’me, yeah?”
He promises he’ll be back, and they can play more when he does. And he does.
He keeps his promises.
The week goes by slowly, but Dear is ecstatic when Bro is waiting for him at the door, the tired giver begins scolding him when he answers the door.
“You never know who’s outside, chamaco. You can’t be doing that or you’ll upset your mama.”
Dear giggles like it’s funny, but Bro kneels to his level and puts on a serious tone.
“It’s not something to laugh at. There’s scary people, mijo. People we wanna make sure you’re safe from.”
For the first time, you see Dear actually stop and show that he’s listening.
After a timid nod, Dear holds his arms up to get picked up by Bro. The giver looks at you as he does so, as if he was asking permission. You don’t say anything to show you it bothers you. Usually you never do.
That is until you catch him showing Dear how to box. You see him showing Dear how to ball his fists right, and listen to how he instructs Dear to strike. You’re not a fan at first. But for some odd reason you don’t stop it. He can tell you’re annoyed by it, since you give him a face every time he looks in your direction while teaching this 5-year-old to shadow box.
“He’s not even making friends, you’re giving him a reason to keep people away-” You began to complain.
“That’s one way to see it, or he knows how to protect himself from strangers. Besides he’s five, how hard can he hit? The most he’ll do is get a lucky shot at someone's eye or a random weak spot and he can run.”
You guess it’s fine.
Eventually, he spends the night when he isn’t training.
Still, nothing happens. Not anything sexual anyways.
You let him kiss you, and the same vice versa, but you both understand it has to stop there.
You don’t want to do anything with Dear home. And you don’t feel like it’s right. It still feels too sudden. A part of you still hasn’t forgiven him for that night and you told him so not too long ago. It’s getting better, but the sting still lingers.
“Would you ever want to meet some of the Cleaners?” He asks you one night.
You're curled into him, his hands respectfully resting both on his chest and your waist. Very similar to the first time he laid in your bed.
“Mmm. Not sure. If I did it wouldn’t be so soon.”
“Why is that?”
“Work. Need to keep an eye on Dear. Plus I’m not a fan of taking him out when I don’t need to.”
“He could use social interaction…” He suggested quietly.
You raise a brow, tilting your head in amusement. “You’re thinking the best for Dear? I thought you ‘didn’t wanna deal with kids,’” You deepen your voice, making Bro roll his eyes. “Cause they’re a ‘pain in the ass.’”
Bro shakes his head, a shy smile growing on his face. “You heard that huh?”
“Well, I had to. You caught my eye. I just wanted to make sure I knew what you were about. But I assumed you had already known.”
He shakes his head. Explaining how your boy was really just a rumor. Some guy had made a comment about your ass, and that you must’ve ‘had a baby with those hips of yours.’
That explained the fight you witnessed that night.
Where Bro’s own blood stained his teeth, and he gave you that chilling grin.
“You were protecting me even when I wasn’t yours?” You asked out loud.
“I’ve always been yours. You had me wrapped around your fingers the second you said hello.”
You giggle. Actually giggle into his chest. There’s a rumble in Bro’s chest, he travels his hand up while his other wraps around you.
He silently sends thanks to whatever is above. Because for once, he’s content. For once he feels something he didn’t think he would ever deserve to feel. It’s just a shame that the sparkle in his eyes had to die before he could find a starlight like yourself.
You complete him. And he’ll be damned if he ruins it.
You both look at one another, eyes traveling to your eyes and lips until you feel yourselves coming closer together. There’s a look to your eye. Something hidden behind the irises, something exciting.
There’s the nagging feeling that you were back and fourth with when he first pursued you. The ‘Will you? Won’t you?’ game. God, you need to be more responsible.
“You sure…?” He whispers.
The question lingers, making you question where your head is even at. It’s been a few weeks. Maybe a month by now.
That’s…not enough time, surely…but then again neither of you were doing this right.
“I don’t know…” You answer. “I don’t want to be loud.”
You pray he can’t see your flustered face. “Don’t worry then, mamita. We don’t have to do anything.”
You’re silent, and then, “Maybe we can just kiss?”
You feel embarrassed. Acting as thought he wasn’t deep in your guts a few weeks ago. Like he didn’t have you twitching on his tongue a few weeks ago.
“Yeah? You want a kiss, chula?”
You nod, straddling him now. That wasn’t such a wise idea, especially since you accidentally grind right on his crotch. You moan softly just as he’s apologizing. “I’m trying not to. I promise I-”
“Shut up.” You whisper. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
Who was he to deny you?
His lips press against yours, his hand right at the back of your neck. You moan softly into his mouth, hands sliding up his chest and to either side of his head. You break apart for a mere second to regain some air before diving back in.
Bro’s scruff that he was growing the first time he met you was shaved down to a patch of hair on his chin. It tickles you, making you whine with a slight tease at the tip of it. Finally, you sit up on his waist, smiling down at him.
“I can make you feel good…” he pants. “Can make you feel real nice, mamita.”
You hum, looking to the side. A small squeeze to your hip brings your attention back to his face. He shimmies you both down the bed just a bit, tapping at his chest. “C’mere. I got you. Come on.”
Your brows furrow, this is new. At least you think it is. “What do you-”
“Come sit on my face, baby.”
You’re bewildered. “What-?! I can’t do that-”
“Yes you can, come on. I’ll make you feel so fuckin’ good, hermosa.”
The way he begs, it almost sounds like he is whining. He's pulling you to his stomach, then to his chest. His fingers reach for your panties and the slight touch he lingers upon the fabric makes you hold your breath.
Slowly, he pulls them to the side. “I’ll make it as quick or as long as you want, chula. Just make sure you feel good while we’re at it, alright?”
You hesitate one final time. You never thought about something like that, but if he says it’s alright then, what’s the harm?
You pick up the lower half of his shirt that you wore upon yourself, scooting up more until you’re finally hovering his face. You don’t look down, you’re afraid you’ll look odd to him. And this already feels odd.
“What’re you waiting for, hm? Give me that sweet pussy, baby. Come on.”
Before you can fully register what hes asking, you feel his arms wrap around either of your thighs, and he plants you onto him.
You gasp, feeling his tongue immediately tease and prod at your hole. His nose is right at the perfect spot to rub against your clit and you can’t help but to grind your hips back and forth.
A moan rips out of you, feeling his face rise and his mouth suck in that aroused clit. You twitch, hands reaching up for the head board. The wet muscle wriggles around, getting every spot that makes you see absolute stars. And to be frank, it’s such a high.
You imagined this to be suffocating for him. But the way he keeps you against him, the sounds that come out of his mouth as if he’s eating an every day meal, the moans that hits your spots in all the right places. It just makes your head spin.
“Fuuck, baby. Slow down!”
Bro doesn’t listen. Your whines are his fuel. And he’s a fucking machine, ready to ruin you in every way shape and form.
Finally, you’ve had enough. “Wait…! Wait…!”
You’re biting down at your lip, afraid of being too loud. You curse at him, shaking your head side to side but you don’t mean it. His hand rises up and grips at your ass, and you squeal.
Quickly, you cover your mouth, eyes snapping down. Silently asking him ‘what is wrong with you?!’
You find that his eyes never left your face. Your leaned back in such a way that lets him take a good and long look at your right between the valley of your breast. He glares at you, pushing you up just a smidge.
“Take that fuckin hand off of you.”
You shake your head, for real now.
“I said,” He pushes you off, but your not even sat up properly before your flipped onto your back. “take your hand off.”
Your mouth falls open, Bro’s arms wrapping around both your thighs to the tops of his shoulders. The lower half of you us lifted to bring your cunt straight to his mouth.
At his mercy.
He spits onto you, licking it up almost immediately. His open mouthed moans, as gentle and sultry as they are, send a tingle down your spine. Feral, is the word you’d use to describe it.
The tip of his tongue gently prods at your bud, and your thighs twitch in response. You want to shake your head, you want to smack him away.
You don’t remember it being this good last time.
You whine, rising to your elbows and nodding with a tiny whimper. You crawl towards the headboard, already feeling his hands rub up your back before snatching your arm and dragging you back towards him. “Don’t run from me. Stay right here.” He says as he rises to meet your face.
You nod, reaching your hands up and bringing him towards your lips. A small apology. You didn’t want to run, your body is just moving on its own.
Tasting yourself makes you a little self conscious, but the way it ruins Bro and has him moan like he’s in heat overlaps that immediately.
Bro moans into your mouth, whispering sweet nothings as he pulls away for little gasps of air.
“Come on, what d’you want? I can give it to you-”
“I don’t think…” you pant. “I don’t think I can take you fucking me, I’m gonna be honest.”
Bro cackles but it’s mindfully quiet. “Not a problem.”
Instead he lowers himself down onto his stomach, eyes glancing up as he wraps his lips around your clit again. You hiss, already reaching that edge within a new time record. You think you can take a little more, but in feeling his fingers slip inside of you, it’s not likely.
The room fuzzes out, you accidentally let out a guttural moan from deep in your neck. Bro’s open mouth kisses to your cunt takes you to a specially new high. You like hearing him make pretty sounds for you, hear him talk to you. Your hands travel to the back of his head, fingers tangling within his hair. There’s a moment when he gives you a verbal ‘uh huh’ in the midst of his tongue wriggling around your folds.
You slowly begin to move his head, grinding to meet the knuckles of his fingers, smiling in pleasure and nodding with every stroke.
You felt bad, thinking he isn’t even getting off on this. But after looking down, you notice how his eyes are blown out wide, the lower half of him is raising and lowering with every thrust of his fingers. Your jaw drops, feeling his fingers pistoning in and out of you. You realize not long after that he’s grinding his hips onto the bed.
“Fuck you’re so hot.” You whimper. “Please make me come. Please…please…!”
There’s no need for verbal confirmation. Your physical reaction is a reward to Bro’s point of view. Watching as your head lulls back, arching away from the mattress and you fucking cream all over Bro’s face. He groans into your folds, nodding up and down as he pulls his fingers out and uses his thumbs to spread you open.
Flat tongued strokes abuse your slit, making you shiver. You brush your fingers through his hair, cooing at him to stop. Your soft voice makes his brain melt. Bro can’t help but to drunkenly disobey. He’s grinding his hips onto your mattress with more vigor, his groans echoing out with every second he spends in between your thighs.
“Stop…can’t…”
Bro gives you one final and searing kiss to your cunt. He crawls up your body, grabbing you by the face and presses his soaked lips to your mouth. You whimper, reaching down to stroke him but there’s no need to get him to his peak. He’s already reached it.
You look down, eyes blinking in surprise.
Bro chuckles in your face, pecking you on the cheek. “Forgive me. Couldn’t resist.”
Warnings: swearing, heavy misunderstandings, slut shaming, angsty but with attempted reconciliation towards the end. OC! mentioned but not for the reader.
Dividers by: @cafekitsune
Chapter 2: Misunderstanding
WC: 4799
Prev - Next
“So…you moved here like what, a year ago?”
You snort. “Around there. Maybe a year n’ a half ago.”
“Mmm. So you usually do this with your regulars at the bars?”
“No.” You answer immediately. Raise your head up, re-resting it right above the hand that’s on the left side of his chest. Your eyes connect, and you give him a teasing smile. “Not even with the people I see often. Maybe once but that was a while ago.”
“Yeah? An ex I gotta worry about?” He asks.
Bro has been through the mud before. Pretty things on his arms either wanted attention in the worst ways or just ‘on a break’ with their boyfriends. He’s never one to walk away with out throwing a punch or two when they find him to confront him. One fight happened right in your bar.
You still remember the big, cheesy grin Bro gave the poor bastard with his blood seeping onto his teeth. You didn’t know where to look when he had made eye contact with you that night. But that might’ve been the first time you felt something twinge inside of you. Excitement, you think.
“No. God, I would hope not. Never want to see that bastard again.” Your fingers dance along the skin of his chest. Bro squeezes your side, and you sigh in pleasure. Still sore from your activities. “Not a very cozy typa guy if you ask me.”
“You into those kinds?”
You reach up, your hands sliding around his neck to pull yourself up and pressing your lips against his. It’s a small and chaste kiss. You feel his hands massage your back up and down as you lips trail downwards. “I like em cozy. Rough around the edges. Maybe with some muscle.”
“Older?” His brow raises.
“Oh enough to make my old man roll in his grave.” You cackle, kissing him again. “But you’re not that old, you know.”
You mean it sincerely. On the ground where the young die young, he’s not the old man he claims he is. With stamina like that? Hell no.
You look over, eyes peaking out the window and seeing the faint powder blue of dawn. A sigh rags out of your mouth, your lips returning to his neck and preening with his hands groping at your ass. A giggle escapes, and you place your hands upon his cheeks, giving him one last deep kiss before moving out of the bed.
Bro groans, watching you sit up with your legs swung over the edge. Your bare body was traced over, again and again as you stretched your arms up. “Hungry? How do you like your eggs, big guy?”
Instead of answering, he sits up, maneuvering his way to you and dragging you back towards him. “C’mon. Why don’t we sleep in, hm?”
“Gotta clean up today.” You sigh, already making your way out of the covers.
The man has the audacity to grumble, begrudgingly agreeing before leaving the bed to get dressed.
You teasingly slip his shirt over your head, slipping out with a cheeky wink behind you as he gives you a sleazy smile back, his eyes trailing down to the sight of your bare legs taking you out of the room.
The apartment you lived in was not big by any means. Your son’s room was a mix of yours, with a pullout mattress on the underside of your bed, but now he likes to sleep in his own room. Which originally you had set up for him as a nursery. One bad dream made him sleep in your room for a long time. But you had to make sure he was able to be by himself once in a while.
You’re halfway done making some coffee when the sound of the bathroom door opens up. At first you think nothing of it. Until you realize there’s no footsteps coming up behind you.
You turn and peek into the hallway where you swear Bro was coming out of. You’re not sure what to say when you watch his face morph into something new. Originally, you saw confusion appear when his attention turned to the side. Then in realizing he’s opening the door to your son’s room, you ask yourself something at the same time. ‘Did Bro Santa not know I had a kid?’
You have to remind yourself that this wasn’t going to turn into anything. Or at least it wasn’t meant to. If you kept seeing him, then telling him about your son would be honest. If it was just a one night stand though, then why bother sharing?
Instead of just making contact, you went back to your stove, turning off the stoveheads and scratching at your brow. Well this was awkward. But not as awkward as the unexpecting hostility this man bestows once he’s in full view of the kitchen.
“You got a kid?”
You don’t turn to him right away, plating a pancake onto a plate before finally giving him your attention. You cross your arms, licking your lips at the same time.
“I…do. He just wasn’t here tonight.”
“And you didn’t think I needed to know that?” He scoffs. Whatever softness he had prior, it’s gone now. In fact with his headband now on him, he looks downright furious.
“Look, I wasn’t anticipating this to be more than a one night thing alright? I thought you knew, some of the regulars do.” You explain. “Besides, it’s not like I’m pushing anything-”
“Right now, maybe.” Bro growls. “What happens in the future. You’re gonna find me, tell me you’re havin’ another and it’s mine?”
Your eyes widen in shock. “Fuckin’ woah, dude. It’s not fucking like that.”
“Like hell it ain’t!” He marches forward, slamming his hand on the wall. “You expect me to believe that? That why you don’t want your ex around? Probably got your money from him and booked it here huh?”
You walk away, unbelieving of the bullshit you’re hearing. “What the fuck is your deal, Bro? It’s nothing like that!”
For the most part, Bro was right about the money. You stole a hot amount before taking off with your newborn. It definitely wasn’t going to be given willingly. You needed out, so you got the fuck out.
“You don’t even know what I’ve been through, asshole.”
“I’m sure that’s your game, princessa. You act all cute, all sad, just to run a man’s pockets and call it a fuckin day-”
You snap your finger, spinning around and pointing at him with anger in your eyes. “Watch your fuckin mouth, Santa. I’m not one to fuck around. I’m not some whore.”
“Sure was moanin’ like one on my-”
“Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ forget you were begging to have me.”
This escalated too quickly. You practically felt your head spin. The fact of the matter was, this was a dude with some baggage, and you already had too fucking much to deal with. “You act like I was asking you to step the fuck up. You barely know me, and you're definitely not someone I want around my kid.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”
“Uh, hello?” You scoff. “Mr. Underground? You talk to everyone and everybody that sells around the area. You do work on the low and get paid under the table, I know how guys like you work. You beg, barter, and steal and find someone to drain out of their help before leaving them when they’re no use to you. Fucking been there, done that-”
Bro gives you another sleazy grin, his eyes unmatching the sentiment. “Guess I don’t recognize sloppy seconds the way you assume shit so easily."
Your face falls, eyes blinking away tears. This shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. And maybe it’s because you can’t help but think that he’s right. Weren’t you?
“You can fuckin leave.” You grit out.
You pass him, not even caring how he follows you to the hallway. He’s still trying to rile you up.
“Someone like me huh? What does that mean, tell me. Someone like me has to fucking fight every fucking day to live. We’re on the ground, babygirl. You’re not gonna-”
The door to your room slams right before he finishes his sentence. You hear him let out a frustrating ‘ooooh’ as you rip his shirt over your head. Your eyes are welling with tears, ones that you can’t fight now. You enter your closet, muttering swears up and down, left and right, all while you dress into your normal clothes.
He waits at the hall, opening his mouth to speak when you come out, only you ball up his shirt and chuck it at him. “Get the fuck out of here, Santa. I don’t even wanna look at you.”
“Mira- Hey-!” He grabs at your arms, his shirt now hanging around his neck before you pull away.
“Get off of me!”
“Just listen for a sec-”
You fight back, tugging your arms back and pushing at him until you get him to the door. Finally you get him past the threshold, but a sob rips through you before you could stop. Bro looks at you, this time with genuine concern.
“Do me a favor, and forget this happened.” is the final thing you say before you slam the door a second time in Bro Santa’s face.
Your son was a shy thing. Which is something you didn’t really concern yourself with in the beginning when it was just you and him. Although, in reconnecting with your sister, that was a whole other story.
It broke your heart to see him not interacting with his cousins for so long. They would come over just to spend the majority of the time coaxing him over.
It took a minute, but he warmed up.
He’s five years-old, still not speaking as much as you would have hoped he would. But he was very independent.
You didn’t need to help him dress anymore. Or brush his teeth. Sure you supervised it, and helped when he needed it. You just weren’t expecting the change so fast.
After your sister left, you had your son empty his overnight bag. Made him put his dirty clothes away and everything. At first he was tapping his foot, irritated. You put a stop to that with a snap of your fingers.
Leading him to the laundry room, you watch him put the clothes in while you put in the detergent.
“Eventually you’ll have to wash them all by yourself, Dear.” You give him a knowing smile, already laughing before his tired eyes squint at you.
His pacifier is still in his mouth, the one you bought with his cash since it was a really good brand. You tried really hard to get him to lay off of it but man, that did nothing. He wouldn’t drop it for the world.
First you tried hiding it. He bawled his eyes out on the living room floor.
Then you tried squeezing it with lemon juice. He got on the stepper and washed it himself in the sink.
Then you tried bribing him.
It was then he finally put his foot down. “Mine. Mama’s gift. Mine.”
You had to call it quits eventually.
“Fine, baby. But you gotta let go of it at some point.”
Dear didn’t acknowledge anything you had said right there. So you dropped it.
“What? You wanna wear stinky clothes for the rest of your life?” You ask him.
Dear ponders for a second, not quite thinking out your question. You can tell. After a bit longer, he shakes his head, and has the audacity to point at you and nod.
“Me? Me what?” You already knew what he was gonna do. Sure enough, he points to the washer. His eyes closed and his head nodding up and down. “Oh! So I’m just your cleaning lady aren’t I?”
The boy giggles, his hands covering his mouth before he squeals as you lift him into your arms. “I think you outta learn a thing or two about being a grown up. But you’re lucky you're a baby. And adorable. I’ll let you pass this time.”
You don’t even think he’s heard a word you said as you dig your fingers into his sides, light and feathery. You carry him to the living room, tossing him carefully on the sofa and giggling with him as he puts up a pillow to cover his belly.
“You think that’s gonna do anything?” You cackle, making your way over. “You stinky brat-”
The two of you laugh, fighting at each other, one trying to attack the other trying to escape. In the midst of the chaos, there’s three stiff knocks from the door.
You pause, looking over. You definitely weren’t expecting any guests. Your sister would have announced herself by now too.
No one else knows where you would be…
For the first time since you ran those five years ago, you feel your skin turn ice cold. You swear you can hear the blood rushing down your face. The whole time, Dear’s laughter is still just dying down. He finally looks at you, sitting up and patting your arm.
Concern etches in his face when your eyes snap to his, unknowing that your fear is written all over you.
“Dear…Uh…”
You can’t even get the words out. You had a plan in case something ever happened. Though now, your brian is complete mush.
You look at Dear, and his eyes are filled with worry.
“Baby why don’t you go play with some toys in your room…okay?”
Dear blinks at you, tilting his head in confusion. He looks to the door, a muffled voice coming through but you’re so out of it you don’t hear it. “Please, baby?”
It’s the final push before your son semi runs to his room, turning to look at you from his doorway before disappearing from your view. You know you’ll have to make sure he’s alright. That you're both safe. And then later you can just relax the rest of the night away with your little boy and the next day will be fine. Same as yesterday and the day before that when he had fun with his older cousins.
You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, and make your way to the kitchen.
A knife gets ripped out of the holder, and you move to the doorway quietly. You look through the peephole, seeing nothing at first. But then you hear movement from below the doorway. You wait, and watch.
You dread whatever comes out in front of you. Maybe you’d see the familiar dual toned haired maniac you spent so long avoiding. You hope not. Anyone but him.
‘Please.’ You think. ‘Please. Not him.’
The view of a shadow tightens your grip on the handle of the kitchen knife.
You’re in such a state of fear you don’t realize it’s gone after standing there for a few minutes longer.
Finally, with whatever strength you can muster, you grip onto the door handle and twist it open. With a steady hand, you push the blade forward.
The empty air puzzles you.
Unsure of what to do in this situation, you peek from side to side, not seeing even a single sight of a person anywhere. You look to the ground, blinking at the sudden basket that’s at the foot of your home’s threshold.
Inside, there are certain self care items, sweets, tea bags, and…toys?
You take a closer inspection and sure enough, there’s tiny race cars and a rubix cube in the same bag.
You hum, looking at either side of the hallway again.
There was no doorman, no guard, nothing to tell you who might’ve entered the building. The apartments were sparse, some empty due to them not being fixable, some were just too pricey for others to live in. So you don’t think it could have been one of your neighbors. Especially since these things seem to be…personalized?
You recognize one of the packaging from the bag as a cream you keep in your bathroom. As for the tea bags, they look like the ones that you had in your mug that morning when you kicked Bro out…
You groan, closing the door finally and sliding your back down to the floor. You turn the bag upside down, looking at the contents in disdain. There’s a small, folded up piece of paper that flops out on the bottom. You open it, reading it over and over again.
‘The moment I messed up, I realized how I couldn’t be without you. My heart aches with you gone. The days are longer, my patience has gone shorter, and I can only think of ways I’d cherish you back by my side. That night of love is something I’ll forever play in my mind. Over and over. The way you call my name. In pleasure, in anger, in general. A prayer to my ego.’
‘Oh so you’re a romantic now?’ You think to yourself, scoffing out loud. Instead of digging through the pile, you swipe the paper up and put it in your pocket. Stuffing the spilled items back into the bag and leaving it on the sofa. If Bro can come up with some sappy bullshit like this, surely he can just say sorry to your face… but you don’t think you want that.
After the small check in with Dear, who thankfully kept his door shut tight until you let him know it was just you, you tucked him in after brushing your teeth together. The moment you realized his breathing evened out, you left him be.
You were just getting to clean everything around the house, doing a last one-over before bed. The bag you left on the sofa was unpacked, but the items were put in a small box. That way if you caught Bro at the door you’d just give them back. At least that’s what you told yourself.
But you didn’t go right back to work the next few nights. You didn’t have to. You made more than your weekly goal the evening you kicked Bro out, so you can spend some time with Dear when he comes back from his weekend with his aunt. For the most part, it was calm. However, the gifts never stopped coming.
At first it was little things. More selfcare items, artificial flowers, sweets that Dear absolutely indulged in no matter how often you tried to hide them, and more kid’s toys. His rubix cube was still his favorite.
You had to sit down with him and explain that he couldn’t keep these. These were from a stranger and he can’t be accepting gifts from people he doesn’t know.
Sure he tried to argue, but it just ended in him calling you a ‘mean mama’ and hiding in his room for the rest of the day.
His tapping got worse. It went from his feet tapping on the floor, to his hands banging on the surfaces of the table tops.
The cherry on top was the fact that Dear was now running to the door. As though Bro was his new toy shop. He kind of was but that did not help you whatsoever.
Eventually, he got to the door before you did.
Bro looked up from where he was leaving another bag, this time an actual gift bag. You wished you could say that’s what caught your attention but it was actually his uniform.
The familiar black and grey pattern caught your eye. You couldn’t believe it.
Bro joined the Cleaners.
“Hey…” He muttered. He stands to his full height, eyes not leaving yours until you leaped forward, taking your son by his shoulder.
“Dear.” You hissed. “I already told you about answering the door!”
Normally you tried to refrain from raising your voice with Dear. But when you just had a heart attack a few days ago, you’d rather be stern and hard on him now so he’s not turning this into a habit later.
Dear whines, tugging on your pants and pointing up at Bro. You look up, about to tell him off but your voice dies down when you notice the shadow that barely looms over his face. It’s almost as if he’s seen a ghost.
He’s staring down at your son, which automatically makes you want to tug him back behind you. You can see Bro’s fist tightening around the hold of the bag..
Dear, ever the little rascal, ignores your tugging and reaches out of the door to grasp Bro’s hand. Though Dear’s hand is rather small so it takes the middle three fingers and he pulls him inside.
You huff. Thinking he’s gonna go straight for the gift bag but he doesn’t. He just slams the door shut and runs off into the hallway towards his room.
You gap in his direction, gritting his name out like he was caught with his hand in the cookie batter and apologize to Bro. As softly as you allow yourself to be.
Bro shifts, looking around for a short second before finally landing his eyes at you. “Can we…talk? Please?”
“There’s nothing to say, Santa.”
“No, there is. Please. I want to apologize.”
The waver in his voice almost has you agree. Almost. “Why should I listen?”
You try to be an understanding person most of the time. But you gave this guy the time of day, and he spat in your face without even getting to know you like he said he wanted to. He hit you in all the places you hid away and you didn’t even get the satisfaction of tearing him a new one because you were just so hurt.
It was humiliating.
You were never one to cry about stupid things like this. You were stronger than that. You’ve been called worse than that.
“You shouldn’t. I wouldn’t blame you for not hearing me out. Pero, dejame hablarte. Just a few minutes and I’ll be out of your hair. For real this time…”
For whatever reason, your heart bunches in a knot. You decided then and there, you really didn’t care what he had to apologize for. You just wanted to hear if his reason was even good enough to consider.
“You’re gambling right now, Bro. What do you need to say?”
The Cleaner licks his lips. His hands shake as they interlock with one another in front of him.
“Where can I start?”
You think about it for a minute. There’s a few options. Why get so aggressive so fast? Why think you were the kind of girl to shift that responsibilities? Why you?
“Why did you go snooping around?”
Bro nods. You can see the cogs turning in his head before he talks. His voice is grave. “To keep this very long story short…I grew up learning it’s important to know where everything is in your environment. When it came to…spending nights with people in general, they were usually at my place so I never worried. This was the first time I willingly went somewhere else out of my comfort zone.”
You nod. “So you tried to nice n' comfy. So comfy you were able to call me a whore-”
“And that was wrong.” He nods. Bro turns his body, leaning closer to you and giving you his full attention. The fidgeting settled it seems. “What I did, what I worked with- we met lots of…beautiful women-”
“This is a great start-” you begin to cut him off, scoffing to the side with your arms crossed tighter over your chest.
“It’s context,” he promises. “And you know, everything was just sex…no emotion, no love… sex and only that. While I regret the way I went about it with you, I don't regret doing it. Then some people, not just women, would use that on us. Either there’s a kid we suddenly knew of, or some pimp sicced a guy on one of ours that wasn’t so open and used it as blackmail…So I came at you the only way I ever knew.”
You don’t say anything. Just stare at the table in front of you. The bag’s contents peeking out interest you more than looking him in the eye. Because you know if you do you’ll fold. And you’re still in the lead.
“That doesn’t really explain why you thought I was that kind of girl.”
“I…I was protecting myself…Feelings that I noticed I had way before I realized this was just going to be a one night thing. No tengo derecho a comportarme así. I shouldn’t have treated you like that. I just acted.”
Bro reaches out tentatively. You pull your hand back. His hand slowly lowers, resting on the table.
Silently, it’s a sign. You’re not open to his affection.
“Can I ask something too?”
The audacity. Despite it, you nod.
“What did you mean…’someone like me’? I know probably from the shit that went around but…tell me what you thought I did.”
You let out some air, leaned back in your seat now. Laughing through a sigh of your nose, you put your gaze to the ceiling. “It’s not what I think you do. It’s what I recognize. You deal. Wherever you can. When you’re out, you run packages through the tunnels.”
Your head picks up, a sad smirk upon your face as the brows on Bro’s face furrow in confusion.
“Tunnels older than our great grandparents. Passing cities undetected. Sometimes you hear things and you feel you’re going crazy. Sometimes you talk to yourself and the walls will respond. And most importantly,” You make eye contact. “You meet the devil in the crossroads of those tunnels. And he gives you more. And more. And suddenly you realize you can’t stay away from them for long.”
There is a long, painful, silence. The two of you stare at each other and suddenly there’s an understanding. ‘You’re like me.’ the two of you think respectively.
The air shifts. It’s not like it’s any lighter than before but it’s more bearable.
“Who’s his father?”
You shut your eyes. As though that question confirms your worst nightmares. It may not be him that found you, but it’s too close. Way too close to home. You told yourself you wouldn’t mess with guys with this life. The ones that do anything for money.
Because that’s what you did.
Once upon a time you were in those tunnels. You were alone talking to those walls. And the Devil heard you ask for a friend. A companion. And he answered with a name.
“You’re old boss.”
You don’t say anything when Dear pokes his head back into the room, unaware of the tension brewing amongst you two. You just smile like everything is ok. Like there wasn’t an issue. Although to Bro, it is rather amusing to see you snap into Mama mode.
You lightly scold him for bringing in a ‘stranger’ to the house. Even if he now knows he’s “mom’s friend.”
Bro doesn’t know what to do with himself. But he is a polite person when he wants to be. So he stretches his hand. Albeit nervously, but Dear reaches out as well.
“Nice to meet you, kid. You can call me, Bro.”
Dear pulls his hand away, shyly digging his face back into your chest as you giggle. You bounce him in your lap, and try to ignore the stare Bro gives you. Dear finally pulls out the rubix cube Bro left for him in the bag. It was solved. You assumed that was why he invited him in so excitingly.
Right after praising the 5-year-old, he whispers something that only really means something to you.
“He’s got Kori’s hair.”
You sigh. “I know.”
The dual tone wasn’t yours. You thought it was some kind of curse bestowed upon you. But after holding Dear in your arms, you realized it was far from the truth. You once loved his father. And that was something you’d hold dearly in your heart. People change and there is no fixing what isn’t meant to be fixed. But he left you with the only piece of him you’ll ever need. Your son.
And you’ll be damned if you ever let the same thing happen to Dear. You’ll give him a life of fulfillment. Of kindness. With or without help.
Bro reaches his hand out again, a silent ask of a treaty. You hesitate, slowly putting your pinky around his. And that’s good enough for him.
A pet peeve of mine is getting the long fics with no cut to shorten the post before clicking it open to read the rest - and I did that with this last fic. So so sorry!
A/N: This is a series. I've been working on this for the past few months now. Enjoy!
WC: 2960 words
Dividers by: @cafekitsune
Chapter 1: First Impressions
Next
Bro Santa was HQ’s daddy dearest. He loved the kids on his team and helped them grow into understanding their Jinki’s with dedicated care and attention.
But would you believe it if he wasn’t always like that?
No at first, he was a grouchy, rugged manwhore. Your words. Anytime you saw him at the bar, you’d serve him and whatever friend he had for the night, man or woman.
Always two beers. Sometimes a frilly cocktail.
You didn’t really pay too much attention to him. He’d glance at you, rake his eyes up and down your body, and give you a knowing smile.
He always tipped well. Always greeted you and bid you farewell. Called you ‘his girl.’
You try not to go after men like him. The kind that’ll do anything for cash. The kind that’ll do almost anything for a price.
Givers were odd. And so was he.
He always had a lot of money. Sometimes over tipping. Like that’s what got your attention.
Sure you were working for good money, but you weren’t working like that.
Other times, you noticed he’d be talking to newer people. ‘Cleaners’ you think they were called. You’re ex hated them. Butting their noses where they didn’t belong. That’s when you found out it wasn’t just drugs he was moving around. It was people. Givers.
You didn’t like thinking back to that time. Open your eyes to see what you should avoid. Like the man of the hour. The final warning to not get close to him was the first time he sat at the bar on your first day of bartending.
“I don’t want to deal with fuckin’ kids, man. Pain in the ass.”
He was sat with a friend of his, probably someone from the underground scene. You did notice him hanging around them. Sometimes you wondered if they knew about a certain group you were trying to avoid.
You had a 5 year-old to worry about. So that was that.
The only one’s aware you were even a mother were the regulars. Like…regulars. Friends of the owner type regulars. Like Bro. Yet, that didn’t seem to stop him.
“Let me get a whiskey, princess.”
You ignore his pet name when you snap back to reality, taking a decently filled bottle from behind you and looking at him with a small smile.
“Something new, huh? On the rocks?”
You wait for him to say something. Anything. Instead he holds your stare.
It’s then you really take in his face. How his hair is tied back in a low ponytail, his goatee is well taken care of and trimmed to be as short as possible. His bandana hides the majority of his forehead, but you can see how he’s furrowing where his brows would be.
You play his game for a moment longer, setting the glass down. “Got something on my face?”
Bro gives you a smirk, his mouth the only thing moving. “I’ve been trying to get you to look at me for a while. Figured we’d get to know each other. But, you don’t seem to want anything to do with me.”
His hands interlace with each other, resting on the bar. You look down at them. They’re large, a ring on each middle finger, one around his thumb. “I’m hurt, chula.”
“You want the drink or not, Santa?” It comes out light, but he knows he’s testing you. You're irritated tonight. And he feels like he knows why.
“I want the drink, sweetheart. Give the glass a little kiss for me would you?”
You scoff, pouring his drinking out of the chilled bottle into an empty glass. No ice. The final touch was you putting the glass onto the table, some of the whiskey slipping out.
“Hey.” He tuts. “Come on, bonita. Talk to me.”
You roll your eyes, shoveling up ice from the ice bucket below the bar, and tossing it in his glass. “Sorry. Rough night.” You say sarcastically, uncaring on how full that glass is now.
“You really haven't gotten laid in a while have you?”
You grimace at his words. He’s not wrong.
It’s the way he says it so knowingly that irks you. “What the fuck is it to you?” You bite. “If that’s your way to get in my pants, just take your fuckin drink and find a hooker. There’s a ton around here.”
“I don’t want that.” He grins, the frown disappearing. “I’m tryin’ to get to know you. Been wanting to.”
You roll your eyes.
Night after night, he comes in and sits right the fuck in front of you. You greet him normally, and end the interaction the same way.
“Bite me.”
Until finally he steps his game up. He waits for you.
You walk out, letting your co-workers do the last of the closing shift. You barely made it across the street from the bar to head home when you caught his eye. He was leaned against the wall, talking to some blonde guy with a scar on his left eye. The stranger gives Bro a knowing smile, tapping him on the arm before walking off.
The giver grins at you. That wicked, crooked smile that matches his lax energy. You don’t see how or why he’s attractive to you right now. But your eyes keep raking up and down his body.
“You look a little tense, nena. Need some hands?”
With a tired sigh, you give Bro a small glare. “Trying to get in my bed, Santa?”
“Or get you in mine. But that can wait. Maybe let me take you out?” You scoff, ignoring his presence as he walks besides you.
“What the fuck are you even doing here? That’s how I know something’s weird about you, you left the bar like…an hour ago.”
“Just made some solid cash. That’s all.” He at least sounds sincere. “Come on. Celebrate with me.”
Bro cautiously steps towards you, his hands out of his pockets but also away from his body. As though he’s telling you he’s unarmed. You trust him for now.
“I’ve been dying to get to know you since I laid eyes on you.”
Okay maybe not. You snort, “Please. I got a lot on my plate already. So why the hell are you trying so hard?.”
“Why else would I have waited this long to get your attention?”
“All this to get to third base? You’re a dog.” Part of you stills when you hear those words leave you. You’re usually not this abrasive right off the bat. Then again, Bro has been trying to get under your skin– maybe even your sheets, for a while. So why is it when he steps right into your bubble, you let him lean to your ear.
Bro has no shame. Growling with a sick smile and nothing innocent shining against his teeth. “You wanna throw this dog a bone here? If I’m that bad, I’ll leave you alone.”
His hand slides around your waist, and you put your hands against his chest as he pulls you in.
“What do ya say? You’re free this weekend aren’t ya?”
This was such a bad idea. You tell yourself you’re just looking for a way to let off some steam. Just looking for some fun.
Here you are, right against the door of the inside of your apartment. You know your kid is at your sisters, so this is your only chance.
Somehow, in the middle of your makeout, you find the strength to push back. You giggle, wiping at your chin and lead him to the living room. You push him down, immediately following him with your knees trapping him from either side of his lap. Lips press together, hands roam all over.
“Knew you wanted me, all you had to do was admit it.” Bro whispers, in between the little gaps of your kissing.
“God you’re such a fucking snark.”
With that, you stand in front of him, pulling your shirt of and shimmying off your jeans. He sits up, his own blue short short sleeve slipping off. His white tank top hugs his body, stretching against his chest and you notice a silver chain hangs just below his collarbone.
You're left in your underwear now, you're quick to try and fall to your knees but he stops you almost instantly.
“Hold on, baby. Hold on.” Bro’s fingers trail up the soft skin of your thighs. Sending you a tickling sensation. You reach out. Your fingers gliding on the tops of his shoulder while his mouth presses open mouth kisses on your tummy.
You whimper, the sensation of his tongue on you making you feel butterflies just under the layers of flesh. This was new.
You were used to the quickness, the borderline bdsming, the rush. This had you really pause and think.
After months of carefulness, after making sure there was no way for your past to catch up to you, you couldn’t have thought this was safe. You bring a random man- well…as random as he gets, home. You go all in, ripping your clothes off for some relief and you're just…not even second guessing this. Why would you, anyways?
This was temporary. This was just sex.
‘Just sex…’ You think to yourself. ‘Just…sex…’
“Why are you being…” You feel the words slip away from you, the same time Bro’s hands grip at the back of your ass. Fondling you as his kisses began to rise. He pulls you onto his lap, one arm wrapping around your waist while his hand was firmly places right under your panties.
His lips met your chest, lips wrapping around a nipple and looking up at you with complete desire.
You feel your face grow warm, unable to form any sounds other than cooing eager pleas.
“This feels nice.”
‘What a stupid thing to say.’ You think.
“Good.” Bro responds. “Want you to feel nice.”
His words are slightly muffled, his tongue staying out of his mouth to swirl over your areola. You look away, eyes finding anything else to gaze upon. Your heart sinks a bit when you see the little blanket peeking out the toy chest but before you can even think anything to yourself, you squeal with surprise.
You look down with a mad pout, raising your hand to smack Bro for biting you. He lets go, reaching up to stop your hand and presses your lips flat against his.
Your muffled moan is angry, your eyes closing to get lost in the feeling. Your hips grind down on his bulge that’s just waiting to burst out his zipper. Every grind, you hear him groan and it feeds your ego like no other. He whimpers at some point, the second you begin to twist your hips right as you find that spot on your clit with a gasp. You dig into that spot with another roll of your hips, stopping only when he taps your thigh gently.
The second you pull away you’re both huffing into each other's faces.
“That fuckin’ hurt.”
“Aw, need me to kiss it better?”
You scoff, lowering yourself to your knees and fiddling with his belt to release him from his confinements.
“You’re such a pain.” You mutter. Your hand wraps around this length right as he raises his hips to lower his pants, scooting the front of his boxers down just enough to spring it free.
You pause, staring at this…monster.
The head is red and angry, the base of it is buried under thick black curls, and the girth…
You gulp. Taking in a deep breath before hovering your mouth over the tip. Slowly, you bring his cock to your mouth, taking in as much as possible. Your hands reach up and grip his thighs. Trying to breathe through your nose.
You only began moving when his fingers gently start to brush your hair away.
Every thrust into your mouth, had you gurgling a new sound of ecstasy. You were getting more and more cock drunk with every. Single. Push.
You manage to take him halfway, your eyes glancing up at him with a plead.
“Come on, mami. You can take it.” He groans, one hand reaching up to push his shirt back, the other holding the back of your head to keep you in place. “Right there. Hold it there.”
You have to breathe through your nose in shallow breaths. Otherwise you might-
In thinking about it too much, you painfully gag, tapping his thigh fast to warn him and he lets you go.
Your head rips away from him. Panting and swallowing whatever residue stayed in your mouth. Your eyes were teary, rose runny and you're sure your lips were swollen.
And you loved it.
Eyes looking up at Bro, you give him a drunken smile. You brace yourself on his knees again, lapping up his tip and shaking your head onto his cock.
The groan he makes as his head tips back has your back arching, wanting to give him more. But in the back of your mind, you had a small idea.
You watch him nearing his peak. Waited till he started panting and you grated your teeth just light enough for him to feel it.
Bro hisses, his hand snapping to grasp under your jaw.
Your eyes widen in fake shock, and falters at the look of pure irritation that reads on this man's face.
“You wanna play stupid games? I got a stupid prize for you.” He growls. “Come on. Do it again, I dare you.”
You blink, his cock still twitches every now and then. With a sly crack of a smile, you bare your teeth out again.
Suddenly, you squeal, feeling yourself getting manhandled to your back on the sofa. The sound of light tearing snaps you out of your haze and you look down. He tore your good pair of panties.
They weren’t lace, or fancy, but they were comfortable dammit. And comfort doesn’t come around on the ground.
“Hey! You fucking jack-ass!”
You let out another squeal, feeling a sting to your most sensitive bits.
It’s not long before his mouth is pressed against you, sucking in your clit, fingers curled deep inside of you while you thrash in overstimulation.
He’s already dragging out your second orgasm so far. And you just need a small break.
“Please…!” You whine. “Please! Oh my fucking- you’re gonna make me…make me…!”
You listen to him hum, egging you on, nodding with your shaking legs before your body convulses in small but strong jolts of pleasure.
You arch your back, hands closed in fists you hit against his head in vain. He’s not letting up but he is laughing into you. Finally, he pulls away, his long tongue lapping at the slit of your pussy one last time.
“Yeah I think you’re ready now.”
Dazed, you don’t even know what he says as he helps you onto his lap.
You only understand you’re being held up, your knees on either side of his waist before feeling the head of his cock prod at your entrance.
“Come on baby,” You manage to hear. “Let’s go. Ride me.”
You nod, eyes fucked out and hands bracing on his shoulders.
Slowly, you lower yourself onto him. Wincing and whimpering in mild discomfort. You try to just get it all in to adjust sooner but Bro stops you.
“Despacito, chula. Don’t be hurting yourself now.”
“Wan’ it.” You drool out. “Want your cock. I wan’ it.”
Bro pulls you towards him. His lips hover yours while he whispers. “Andale, pues. You want it? You want me?”
“Yes!” You hiss, fully sitting on his lap now, him hilting into you. Your mouth is hung wide open. A new sound rips from your throat, echoing out with a dying breath. “Oh fuck, you’re fuckin’ huge-!”
Bro gives you a grunt, laughing when he finds his composure. It’s still broken, feeling your walls fluttering around him. “And I thought I had you prepped enough. You’re fucking strangling me.”
With every thrust, you’re apologizing. With every grunt, you’re moaning. There’s no winning here. You’re just ready for the sweet release awaiting you, and there’s a feeling in your chest you’re sure is going to make you pass out..
Your walls squeeze around him, sucking him in. Eventually you feel yourself tiring out, but that idea leaves you as soon as you feel his arms wrap around your waist.
You shout, arms wrapping around his neck, and biting into his shoulder to try and quiet down. He’s pistoning in and out of you, lifting you up as though you were just some fleshlight.
Bro lets out a deep sigh, like he was holding his breath. His voice is ragged, rough, and super close to your ear. “Cum for me. Let go. Let me feel you fuckin’ cum for me!”
You feel that knot tighten in your belly.
“Squeeze me tighter…tighter! Fuck!”
Bro practically roars his release out, triggering yours not long after. Somehow that enhances his sensitivity.
After shooting ropes and ropes of his cum inside of you, the tightness of your cunt has him throwing his head back and hissing in slight discomfort. Or oversimulation would be the better term.
“That’s it, chula.”
Bro brings a hand up, cupping it under your jaw. He makes you look at him. You’re fucked out expression having him grinning from ear to ear.
“Y’alright?”
You give him a lopsided smile. Giving him a drawn out ‘uh huh.’
“Think you can take me again? Or you wanna take a little break?”
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first of all . . . I AM SO SORRY ಥ‿ಥ second of all, ahhh, i'm never confident when i do pinkish colours, so hopefully these look good.
i have two version of the hearts because the og heart dividers looked too big when filled, so i made a smaller one to help balance it out. but yey options ?!
No thoughts just ghost being horrified when his baby girl insists that he doesn't love her.
Small round face flushed red from wailing, tiny hands slapping against the breakfast table after ghost had set down her pancakes shaped like hearts.
"Stop it!!! Stop it dad!!" She wails, and ghost freezes at the fat tears that roll down her face "you don't love me!! Stop pretend!!! No love meee!!!"
This is nothing compared to her occasional tantrums, genuine heart-broken sobs as she declares ghost hating her. Simon, her own father who retired when she was born, who quit smoking after she said he smelled funny all the time, who leans all the way down when she wants to hold his hand on walks.
Ghost tries to soothe her, kneeling down to talk "man-to-man" as he says it. That only seems to upset her more today, kicking at his face and sobbing harder.
It's only when you come in from the kitchen and scoop her into your arms that she settles at all.
"What's wrong, sweetpea?" You ask, though you heard the whole thing from the kitchen. When she nearly breaks into outright sobbing again, you ask "your dad loves you very much, what makes you think he doesn't?"
It's now that she finally looks at ghost, eyes shiny with tears and clinging to your shirt for comfort "dada doesn't smile at me ever. Because dads smile at their daughters but he doesn't!! he doesn't love me!!"
Oh.
Simon...never really was able to emote much due to his scars. Of course he never smiled. Not that his little girl knew that.
Ghost goes tense across from you, expression darkens. Ghost doesnt like to talk about the things that happened to him, can hardly stand to see himself in family photos. He always told you he wasn't built to be a father.
He slips out of the room before you can say anything, and your daughter only takes that as proof, crying again.
"I told you, dad doesn't love me!! He doesn't want me, he hates me!!!"
Just outside the room, ghost starts to shed tears of his own. Why did he ever think he could give her what she needed?
He grabs the car keys before slipping out the back door. No need to make a fuss.
⏾ a/n: this post was inspired by this request, although it is not really close in context 😭 sorry anon!! i also really wanted to name this post something else and i couldnt explain the context well... 😭
When you were pregnant, Simon was so worried she would be huge like he was. He lived in terror that the birth would be horrendous for you. He felt so guilty, blaming himself for a scenario that he made up. The thought of doing anything to hurt you was torture for him.
But, when she came out, she was tiny. Little fingers and just over 5lbs. Simon had never held something so little. He could hardly even believe it when he took her into his arms for the first time. This tiny little thing was his and yours. Perfect and ridiculously miniature.
Her little fingers wrapped around his thumb as she makes little frustrated sounds. “Don’t think she’s a big fan o’ me, Lovie.” It comes out as a joke, but for him, it’s a half truth. One of his biggest fears coming out, trying its hardest to damper his mood.
“She’s just hungry, Si. She likes you plenty. She’s only about an hour old.” You smile tiredly as you look at your large husband cradling your impossibly tiny little girl.
Your daughter pulls his thumb forward, trying to nurse on him. “Ah wrong one, darling. You’ll need mummy for that.” He laughs. You swear if you didn’t know any better, you would think he was crying.
Enjin sneaking and slipping into your bed from behind you, slithers his big, inky hands up along the curves of your hips up to the smooth skin beneath your shirt of your rib cage. greedy, inquisitive lips kissing slowly, suggestively at the back of your neck to the slant of your soft shoulder. you softly, tiredly mumble him a whispered enough and he whines a little, continuing on kissing your neck, stopping just at the juncture of your jawline, watching you peer swiftly over your shoulder.
"baby, I've missed you, please let me have this"
"En', no. I'm too tired, I've been on non-stop missions for the past few days, besides..." you slightly adjust yourself a bit, maneuvering the comforting blanket from your body to showcase a deeply nuzzled and coddled Dear sleeping ever so close to your chest. cute tiny little arms holding on to you with a grounding grip, snoring lightly. peacefully.
Enjin groans, irritatingly. slumps his head against your shoulder defeated, then sharply gazes down at the sleeping younger cleaner clinging onto his partner.
"what's he even doing in here anyways? shouldn't he be with Bro or something?"
"Enjin, stop. he had a nightmare, poor baby, and Bro is currently away on a mission. so get over it."
again, Enjin exceeds an annoyed protracted groan, but with more rolled vexation and provocation of not having his alone time with you. and solely, only with you. he rests his chin onto your shoulder, then catches a quick glimpse down at the now awakened young cleaner. smugly grinning up at him, snuggling closer into your warmth and tenderness.
and Enjin could feel his blood vessels pop rigorously along his neck and forehead. the knowing, menacing glint shimmering in the young cleaners eyes, triggering something so frenzied.
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\( ᐖ)/ heianera!sukuna’s wife has been ignoring him, and he won’t have it
“Has she eaten?”
Uraume stands reverently at Sukuna’s side, flat gaze fixed ahead of them. “No, My lord. She has yet to leave her quarters.”
Sukuna grunts something under his breath, then dismisses his attendant who shuffles across the threshold of the lattice frame doors and disappears past the translucent sheets.
It’s quiet. Especially without your routine complaints or gossip of the shrine’s happenings. His breakfast tastes notably pungent this morning, the fisherman who refused to pay tribute at this month’s offering no longer as appetizing as he looked when he begged for mercy at Sukuna’s feet. Like a petulant child, he pushes his tray away from him and gathers his kimono to hoist himself up.
You haven’t said a word to him in three days. Any longer and the two of you might never speak again.
It’s juvenile—offering your Lord the cold shoulder like some inconsolable child. For fuck’s sake, he’s the strongest sorcerer in history. The undisputed King of Curses. Why is his attention anchored on a mere spiff? A lover’s quarrel?
No. He will sort this once and for all.
You’ve had enough time to sort out your emotions. The two of you will speak again today if he has a say in it. Which he does.
Promptly, he arrives outside your chambers. There’s not a sound coming from inside. For all he knows, you were assassinated in your sleep, stubborn and set on sleeping in separate rooms.
Sukuna doesn’t knock. The entitled man just slides the door open, inviting himself into your space.
Sukuna quickly realizes maybe he shouldn’t be as reckless as he’s feeling—only met with the sight of two irises piercing daggers into him.
You’re half-naked, sliding yourself into your kimono and brushing your unruly hair from your face.
But, no. Sukuna’s not focused on your pinched up and twisted expression that’s making a show to scowl at him. His attention is fully honed in on your body. Not because he wants to tear that stupid kimono off of you and devour you like he has for the past couple of lonesome nights. Even the worst fights ended with you sprawled beneath him—tears staining your cheeks while you screamed his name in pure bliss.
His crimson slits are dragging over your swollen and perky breasts, rounded out more than normal. The slight pouch of your belly. The second heartbeat jumping behind it.
Huh.
“Where is Furi? Were my instructions to her of not allowing any visitors in unclear?” you practically shout, working to tie your obi sash in haste. Perhaps you do not wish to spend another moment in his presence.
Sukuna slips inside, sliding the door shut and crossing his arms over his chest. He feels his temper simmer to a manageable level. If anything, your spat from the other night is inconsequential. Truly, he doesn’t even remember what the two of you argued about. His long hours away from the shrine? A servant who stared at him too long? His tendency to be a brute with the people of his domain? It’s usually one of the three.
“I was unaware that I was a visitor in my own shrine,” he retorts, head tilting as he gives you a slow appraisal with all four eyes. “Have you done something new with your hair?” he smirks, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip.
“Go find a scythe to fuck yourself on,” you curse, a pout on your lips as you stare at yourself in the mirror, clearly unsatisfied with the reflection staring back.
“Maybe I should,'“ he practically purrs out, a curl on his lips as he motions to leave your room.
He stops in place when your gaze flies towards him, doe eyes tinged red and filled with tears. You must have been crying all night, your cheeks swollen and eyelids puffy.
“Woman,” Sukuna starts slow, still marveled at the fact that you have domesticated him into rationality. “Use your words. I may be the strongest creature in all the lands, but what I am not is a mind reader,” he growls, gaze thinning in tepid vexation.
The corner of your lips twitch downward, before a tear slips down your cheek. You suck in a shaky breath, before staring at your reflection once again with disgust. “Something’s wrong with me, Ryomen,” you whisper, voice wavering. “I keep crying. Nothing tastes good anymore. I want to hit and kick you one minute, and then feel your kisses on my throat while you press me into the futon.”
You bite your lip, Sukuna’s form swallowing the background as he hovers over you from behind. Like they belong there, his lower pair of hands settle on your waist, while the other pair shift to correct the poorly tied obi.
Sukuna’s words, vulgar and rash and mean, are an absolute to his actions. Gentle. Loving. Tender.
Leaning down, he presses a kiss against your pulse point, feeling it jump under his teeth. Then, he whispers. Tone husky, a low timbre. “We’ve been fucking like dogs, little bird. When did you last bleed?”
You tense up, eyes nearly bulging out of your head as you sort out your thoughts. “Oh my… N-no, I bled when… when that servant tried to poison you,” you stutter out, picking at your fingernails.
Sukuna can feel your heartbeat picking up as you begin to panic. Two hands find yours, large and calloused thumbs brushing over your supple skin. “That was well over a month ago. How incompetent are your servants that they haven’t noticed?”
You turn to face him, feeling more tears well up, running across your waterline. “I prefer to tend to m-my own sheets.”
Sukuna, a beast of a human, has to hold back his laughter from his wife whose about three seconds away from a breakdown. It is comical just how asinine you can be. Nonetheless, Sukuna has a strong incentive to see you joining him for breakfast again.
“Had I known you women were so complicated, I would have rethought this matrimony,” he grunts against your ear, a hand at your waist sliding up your belly.
“Well, you’re stuck with me,” you mutter stubbornly. You lean back against your husbands broad chest, inhaling deeply, breath shaking. “Us. You’re stuck with us.”
Sukuna’s gaze squints, ears twitching as he picks up on both the beat in your chest and the one in your belly. “I didn’t think it was possible.”
The raw vulnerability in his voice takes you aback. “Neither did I. Do you think we will be good at it?”
“You will,” he states with the utmost confidence, dragging your hair past your shoulder to inhale the scented oil dabbed on your nape. “You are a world’s more merciful than I am.”
You giggle, slapping his hand and allowing him to squeeze you in your intimate places, decorating your skin with short kisses. “That is true.”
The both of you stand there in silence. You and Sukuna never needed to fill the gaps with meaningless words, simply finding comfort in each other’s company. He’s nervous, you can see it in the tight expression he wears. And your pulse hasn’t slowed since you’d learned of what’s blossoming in your womb.
But you have each other. In a world full of curses and strife, Ryomen Sukuna and you managed to find worshiping devotion in one another that triumphs all.
