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s4lv4tions · 8 months

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labour of love; nsfw

pairing; nanami kento x reader summary; something is on your husband's mind — nothing that can't be solved with a morning in bed, you're sure. wc; 4.6k cw; smut, largely vanilla, nanami kento is a loving husband etc

You’ve long since grown used to the press of knees against the mattress rousing you from your sleep. The gentle dip of the bed, the steady — if not stilted — breathing, the sudden waft of his cologne as he tries to settle himself beside you without waking you. It doesn’t work most nights, but Kento still tries.

He smells like the cleanliness of shower gel and the spicy goodness of his favourite fragrance, all nutmeg and saffron and warmth. It’s enough to have you rolling over to face him, half-lidded and half-asleep, hooking your leg over his waist and burying your nose into his neck. There’s a rough puff of air as he realises he’s failed to be stealthy — not for the first time, either. But he pulls you closer anyways, hands smoothing up your back as if to memorise the curve of your spine, or to cajole you back to dreamland.

If there was a way to become one with him you would’ve figured it out by now. Some days, in this bed, it feels like you’re close enough to discovery. Perhaps if you press every possible inch of yourself against him, share the same air, let your minds float away to the same place, it'll happen. Alas, you wake as two separate people, forced to peel yourselves apart when the sun rises and he's off to work. It’s always accompanied by disappointment, but for now you revel in the feeling of his firmness beneath you, and the beat of his pulse in your ears.

“Sorry for waking you up.”

He always says it, and you never mind, but you reply anyway. “It’s okay. I like seeing you.”

Kento’s arms tighten around you, and he says nothing back. The shaky breath muffled against your hair is enough to tell you how his day went, but you won’t ask him about it. Not yet, not when it’s still fresh in his mind. It’s enough of a blessing that he was able to return home at all tonight, instead of sleeping at his desk with only his jacket to fend off the cold. Still, even a good night’s sleep won’t solve everything. You can deal with it tomorrow.

“Did you eat?” You mumble, trying to ignore the seductive hands of sleep pulling at your brain. “I left… hamburger steak. In the fridge.”

“Mm.” His lips brush your hair, and you feel yourself slipping away, further and further into dreamland. “Don’t worry, darling. Just sleep.”

“O…kay… Sweet dreams… Kento…”

You always sleep best when you’re with Kento. You know this because, without fail, you end up drooling all over him like a dog. It's something that never happens when you’re bundled up alone, but it’s as if every muscle in your body relaxes something fierce when you’re with him. It’s embarrassing, and gross, but somehow he never minds. Just chuckles and watches you fuss over wiping it all away, teasing you about how deep you must’ve been sleeping. This morning is no different.

You’d woken with the sun. The curtains you’d forgotten to close shed honeyed sunlight across every fold of your blankets, every inch of skin, every tiny piece of dust floating in the still of the air. Hair tousled and mouth dry, you were so warm it almost made you fall right back asleep. Any part of you not covered in a blanket was wrapped, in some way, in Kento’s arms. The perfect morning. No longing looks as he rose to go to work; no cold side of the bed if he’d stayed in the office. Just perfection and warmth and… a drool stain on his arm.

Whether your cheeks are now warmed by the sun or a persisting feeling of embarrassment, you cannot say, but his hands are even warmer where they cup your face. You attempt to ignore him, scrubbing at his skin. “I need to tape my mouth shut.”

His thumb begins to smooth back and forth. If you were a cat you’d be purring. “Dramatic.”

A glare that’s far too soft. You push away the corner of the duvet you’d haphazardly chosen as your rag, cursing yourself for your weakness as you abandon your task and instead lean into him. “Oh, and I suppose you enjoy waking up every morning with a sticky bicep, Kento?”

“Mm.” The way he urges you towards him is not lost on you; it’s not until your noses brush and your lips part that he says: “I love it.”

“You’re gross.” Your smile betrays you, but you can’t help yourself. You let your graze trail over the handsome planes of his face; from his strong, pointed nose to his chiselled cheekbones, his thin, expressive eyes and tousled morning hair.

“Mhm. And you married me regardless.”

"Hm. I guess I did."

It's like two giggling children sharing the silliest inside joke. Your laughter is soft and breathless, still muddled with sleep, and it's natural the way that you fall into each other so easily. Your head falls back against his chest, the sound of his heartbeat in your ear; your legs intertwine, and your arms hook under his. Close enough to the point where you don’t know where one of you ends and the other starts. If only every day could start like this one, but you're the sort of person who cherishes rarity. And oh, how rare it is to wake up with him — speaking of which…

"You don't have work today?" You ask, trying (and failing) to keep the hope out of your voice.

"No." There's a little pause, before: "I finished up my latest project, so I took the day off."

You haven't forgotten the pledge you made to yourself yesterday: the promise to ease whatever may ail him, or at least to get to the bottom of it. “Woah. You passed up a chance to make money?”

“I suppose I did.”

"Hm, I don’t mind. I like having you to myself." Breakfast, that goes without saying. Maybe he'd prefer to go out for it, or maybe you could cuddle until brunch. Maybe he'd like to take the rare opportunity to stay in all day — and if you're in all day, you may as well do a little more than cuddle...

“You’ll have to share me with the laundry.”

“Mm.” As if drawn there, bolstered by the knowledge that you essentially have all the time in the world, your lips meet the side of his neck. You feel him swallow as you do, but Kento’s nothing if not poised; even as you dare to scrape your teeth along his skin, there’s no other reaction that’s quite so visceral. “I’m a jealous woman, you know.”

“I know.”

Those hands that had cupped your face start to trail down your back — warm and slightly calloused, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Brushing over the elasticated waistband of your panties, lingering just enough to be suggestive, but no more. You pretend that even the slightest whisper of his touch doesn’t make your stomach twist pleasantly, but you suppose you’re long past coyness, considering you are husband and wife. “And you married me, so you know I can’t share you.”

“Even with the laundry?”

“Oh, especially with the laundry.” You finally lift yourself from nipping at his pulse point, flushed and arching into his hands, and stare at him straight on. His gaze is half-lidded, but his eyes — oh, his eyes. So clear and sharp and fixed on you like he wants to print your image onto his eyelids. And his body is so firm beneath you, broad and muscular (you’ve never questioned how a salaryman who has no time to go to the gym is so incredibly fit, but you aren’t about to start now) — even on top of him you feel almost dwarfed. “But, speaking of laundry — we should probably get our money’s worth from the washing machine, then, shouldn’t we?”

An eyebrow quirks. “Oh?”

“Mhm. If we’re gonna wash the sheets, they may as well be as dirty as they can possibly be. Filthy, even.” No use in playing innocent. It’ll be killing two birds with one stone — multiple birds with one stone, even. You can treat your hardworking Kento to an orgasm or two, comfort him after what was no doubt a long, hard day — all the while you enjoy yourself in his arms, and save time and money with the laundry. Perfect.

You’re practically kneading his biceps at this point. The manicure he pays for bi-weekly digs in just slightly, leaving half-moon dents in his otherwise perfect skin. You don't worry about it too much; if there’s one thing you know about Kento it’s that he treasures those little marks above all else.

“How do you propose we do that?” He says, face purposefully blank.

Groaning, you give his arm a light slap. “C’mon, don’t make me say it, Ken.”

“I was joking, darling.” With a smile that sends your tummy flipping, he threads one hand in your hair, large palm flat against your skull, and urges you closer to him. The other settles itself against your jaw, keeping your head firmly in his hands, and it’s with very little shame that you melt into him. It’s hard not to — and besides, why starve yourself of something you’ve waited so long for? “I’m not that cruel.”

A liar he is not; with little fanfare, his lips meet yours, and it’s like every time before and every time after. His lips are smooth, his nose slanted to press against yours, and every movement is deep. His tongue licks into your mouth, lips moving against yours in such a way that you can’t help but moan. It's interesting to experience first-hand how much your relationship with Kento has changed over the years. When you first met him, he baulked at even the mere idea of tongue — this Kento, though, is some measure of depraved, and takes great pleasure in the way you squirm underneath him when his tongue runs over yours.

It’s the type of kiss that, inevitably, makes you want more. You’ve long since parted your legs to hug either side of his hips, and you whine at the press of his growing bulge against your panty-covered clit. It’s that dull sort of pleasure — not enough, never enough, and you’ll curl and arch and flex yourself until it feels like it might be, grinding down on the shape of him. At some point his hands move from your head to your waist — or are they at your back, your ass, your hips? You’re not keeping track. You only know that they sear the skin that they touch and set your nerves aflame, and that’s all that matters.

You’ve just broken apart to catch your breath, prepared to peel off your panties and have your way with him — but in the blink of an eye you’re weightless, and the world twists and warps and you’re under him, suddenly, with the wind knocked out of you. “Kento!”

“Sorry, love.” He doesn’t sound sorry at all. In fact, the words are barely out of his mouth before he descends on you again, this time laying the entirety of his body against you. It’s all you can do to desperately follow the movement of his lips, the rocking his hips — and you’re clutching at his arms all the while, mind dizzied and chest heaving. You’re liable to let him have his way with you just like this, with your legs around his waist and your ankles pressing against his ass, but—

“Wait, I—” Panting, your grip on his biceps tightens, and you frown up at him— “I wanted to be on top, y’know. I wanted to give you a break.”

His laugh is gentle, breathy. In the haze of the morning every sharp edge of him is cotton-soft, his hair this honey sort of blonde wherever the light hits it — mind twisting juxtaposition to the red-hot pleasure broiling in the pit of your tummy. “It’s a husband's duty to worship his wife, is it not?”

“I—” His head dips to the crook of your neck, lips ghosting over your skin in such a way that you shiver in his grasp. It’s sweet and indulgent and him, all him; his weight atop you, his hands on you, his scent around you. “I… Oh, You’re playing dirty, Kento.”

His answer is a hum that reverberates all throughout you. “Am I?”

You’re not expected to answer, and you doubt you have enough control over your muscles to do so, because just as you open your mouth, his fingers slip underneath your panties and slip over the hot, slick skin of your pussy. He’s always purposeful with you, and this time is no different — he does not fumble and flounder, unsure of where to put his hands. He has learned you well enough to know what brings you pleasure, and oh, does he want to bring you pleasure. He makes a glutton of you; gives you far too much, buys into your every whim. He can’t help himself.

You’re wet enough that he can slip a finger in with little difficulty — embarrassingly little difficulty, and you squeak as he slides it all in at one go. His fingers are thick, that goes without saying, but what makes Kento especially dangerous is his skill. He’s too attentive — watches everything, notes every shiver, the pitch of your voice when you whimper his name. He knows just what he needs to do to make you lose your mind — at that, as if he’s read your mind, another finger joins the first, jutting upwards to grind against that spongy spot that makes your legs jerk.

“O—oh,” you breathe, “That’s — okay, that’s good.”

“Is it?” Kento sounds far too amused for your liking, but you’re hardly in a position to scold him, not with your legs spread and your hips rolling up into his hand. “You're like wet velvet.”

“Don’t say things like that!” You whine, slapping a hand over your face. Your cheeks are red-hot, and it only adds to the overwhelming overstimulation — the sheets and Kento against your skin, the coolness of the pillows beneath your neck, the sounds that leave nothing to the imagination.

Sometimes you can’t believe your luck. Almost every partner before him was his complete and utter opposite, caring little for your pleasure and simply using you as a means to an end, but — with Kento, it’s so different. He centres you in everything. Sometimes it’s overwhelming, especially when he wants only for you to lay there and do nothing. It’s hard not to feel a bit lazy, like you have to offer something in return — he says you’ve already given him everything he wants, and it’s enough to make you scream. You suppose you have little to complain about, though, considering you’re regularly being fucked through the mattress.

When you gain enough lucidity to unscrew your eyes, he’s already watching you — like you knew he would be. Somewhere along the way Kento had migrated from on top of you to beside you; he propped himself above you on one elbow, cradling your head. If you were to only glance at him, you’d think him wholly unaffected by your whining, squirming self — but you allow yourself a stare, and are pleased to find the tips of his ears pink and flushed.

“I wanted to take my time,” says Kento, as if reading your mind. “But I’m too impatient when it comes to you.”

“I don’t mind,” you say — breathe — adding: “We have the whole day. You can fuck me slow later.”

It’s as if he was waiting for you to say it. Almost as soon as the words leave your mouth he’s pushing himself up, gently slipping his fingers out of you. You mourn their loss, but you know you won’t be untended for long. Sure enough, he pulls off the sweatpants and briefs that hang low at his hips, and settles himself between your legs once more. His cock is hot and heavy against you, pressed right between your lips, and you shiver as it’s nudged right against your swollen clit — but nothing more. Not yet.

Kento has endless patience — or so it may seem. His impatience, though rare, manifests itself only in his accidental roughness — as if he doesn't know his own strength. Your legs parted with strong hands, your body tugged further down the bed before you can even register the movement... Still, despite such impatience, he takes the time to rest the tips of his fingers against the shiny plushness of your bottom lip. He watches with sharpened eyes as your mouth opens and accepts them in, your tongue all too eager to lave over them, licking over the tanginess of your own juices. His voice is laboured — almost hoarse — when he breathes: “You’re vulgar.”

With a pop, his fingers are removed, glossy and wet and slimy. He wipes them on the blanket as you huff: “You put them there.”

His large hands grasp the back of your knees and push your legs up, until they hook high up on his waist and around him. “Because I knew you were vulgar enough to take them in your mouth.”

“Touché. But—”

Kento’s lips silence any half-baked argument that was about to leave you — this kiss is gentle, almost innocent. Somehow it’s enough to make your cheeks heat up more than any other racy gesture he’s shown you thus far. It’s made even worse when he reaches across your chest to intertwine your fingers — both hands housing a wedding ring.

(And it’s not surprising how romantic he is. Perhaps when you first started dating you were convinced that his blunt mannerisms and professionalism would extend to every facet of his life — and in many ways, it does. He’s the perfect gentleman in public, hands never straying too low, words rarely crossing the boundaries of polite-speak. But here, in your marriage bed, with more than a measly three hours of sleep and the sun casting shadows across your bodies, Kento is softened. Whatever exists outside your room that scares him so much no longer has any place in his mind.)

“I’m going to make love to you now,” he says. It’s just above a whisper, heated and heady against your lips. The gravel in his voice that had attracted you from the moment he’d opened his mouth is enough to make your knees turn to jelly — lucky, then, that they’re kept compacted by the barrel of his torso. “Is that okay?”

Your brain short circuits. Any smart comment or cheeky quip you could respond with is lost, and you’re left staring up at him, wide-eyed and willing. “Yes, please.”

His lips twitch upwards, the ghost of a smile, but he doesn’t attempt to tease — simply connects your lips again, and guides himself to your entrance with that free hand of his. The blunt head of his cock is silky smooth and slippery with your arousal, and barely catches on you before it presses in — the stretch dull and only slightly uncomfortable, but entirely familiar. It’s like stepping into a warm shower after a cold day — not just sexual, not just to scratch an itch or a means to an end — it’s this. Feeling the heat of him inside you; the way his breath catches in his throat as you squeeze around him. Knowing that you’re the only person in the world who has the privilege of having him like this.

It’s with a breathless sigh that he bottoms out inside you, hips flush against yours. On either side of your head, his arms bulge with the weight of his own body, muscles hardened and tensed — and as his hips begin to move, that neatly trimmed patch of hair around his cock grinding against his clit, you can’t help but reach out, anchoring yourself to them. There’s little else you can do except lay there and take it, shuddering all the while, mouth agape in wonder.

“Is this — okay?” Kento asks. His voice is strained, and you try to hide the smug smile it elicits in the bulk of his arm — there’s no point. He’s far too focused on staring at where he splits you open, anyways, watching how your lips split around him, crested by the sweet little pearl of your clit. And he calls you vulgar.

“Mhm. You can — you can go faster, if you want.”

A laugh. “If I want, hm?”

“Please, Kento,” you whine, humping up towards him. It’s embarrassing how much he makes you want him. It should be, at least, though you find you’ve gotten a little shameless as of late — shameless enough to press your feet hard against his ass, pulling him in deeper. “Don’t make me wait.”

Never let anyone proclaim he doesn’t treat you right, because at your request, he does just that. His pace quickens, pulling out to the tip and slamming all the way back in — the rhythm straightens out quickly, and that’ll be your downfall. If it isn’t enough that his hips grind down against your clit with every thrust, Kento (predictably) knows how to use his cock. The mushroom shaped head bullies against your g-spot in that dizzying rhythm — back, forth, back, forth, building you up until you’re gasping for air.

You wonder if it’s like this for everyone. You wonder if everyone in the world is lucky enough to find someone who fits them this perfectly, who listens to them this intently, who isn’t afraid to show such unerring devotion. You wonder if you will ever feel safer, more loved, than you do when you’re in his arms — if you will ever feel such deep, persistent pleasure at the hands of another. Then again, what good does wondering do? When you have all you need at your disposal, there’s little need for wondering. When you’re taken care of so thoroughly, there’s little need for anything else. And God, are you being taken care of.

“Oh — fuck, Ken, I’m—” Words escape you. All that matters is that building heat, the involuntary trembles of your walls around him, the electricity zipping from neuron to neuron; his eyes on you, the furrow of his brow, the comforting weight of him pressing you down. It’s all so much. You could lose your mind. You are losing your mind. “I’m—”

You can’t even finish the sentence. All you know is that your toes curl and your back arches and you squeeze his arms a little too hard but you can’t control it, you can’t control anything, not the way you’re squeezing him in a vice grip, not the way you’re dripping down around his cock, wet and sticky and messy—

“That’s it,” Kento urges, voice ragged as he fucks you through it. Through hazy eyes you see him — strands of hair hanging low over his face, his skin dewy with sweat. Ruined. “Good, that’s it. There you go — damn it—”

When he cums, he very nearly collapses on you, breathing heavily and sweat dripping from his brow. He presses himself to the hilt — of course he does, he can’t help himself — panting lowly as he thrusts with every wave of his orgasm. You can feel him against your cervix, that once-strange sensation of being filled.

In the midst of his pleasure, and fortified by his fatigue, his movements begin to slow. It’s that inevitable syrupy slowness that comes after an orgasm, where desperation is eventually traded for an easy languidness. His head bows to place a sloppy, messy kiss on your mouth, one he’d normally eschew, and you accept it with all the eagerness of a woman in love. One, two, three — another one to your cheek, then, and then to your brow.

That frantic, charged energy finally slips away. Kento holds you tightly to him — he always does, when all is said and done — but something about the way he’s hunched over you makes your stomach twist. You don’t know what is — some sixth sense, perhaps, that blooms into a sense of dread in your chest. The supernatural powers of a wife to know when there’s something wrong with her husband, and coupled with his demeanour the previous night...

“Kento,” you whisper, petting your hands over your head. “Is everything alright?”

“Mm.” A beat of silence, before he pushes himself up again, and — with some difficulty — pulls himself out of you. He kisses your forehead and sits himself up, sheets pooled around the hard lines of his abdomen. With worried eyes you watch as he reaches for his glasses, and then the wristwatch he’d left on the bedside table last night (almost 800,000 yen, one of the few things he’s splurged on himself) and deftly begins to clip it on. He's still avoiding your eyes when, at last, he says: “I… I was thinking of changing jobs.”

You shoot up — or sit up, rather, with what little energy you have left. “Hm? Oh, Kento, that’s wonderful!”

“Mm. It is.” But something’s bothering him. He doesn’t sound as elated as he should, considering he despises the job that he currently has. “It’s a smaller agency. An old… friend of mine runs it. The work is hard, but I won’t have to work much overtime, and… well, it’s better work, I suppose.”

You run a comforting hand over his covered thigh. “But?”

Kento exhales, slow and tired. “But I thought I left that work behind a long time ago.”

You shift, humming to yourself thoughtfully. “The work is hard, you say?”

He nods. “But… rewarding.”

“Hm. Well, I don’t know too much about finance, but I think that as long as it gives you purpose, it’s good, right?”

His head falls back against the headboard, and tired eyes trail over you. “It’s so simple for you.”

“Well, one of us has to simplify stuff, and I doubt it’ll be you. Look — you hate your job now, don’t you?”

“...Mm.”

“Then change it,” you say, rolling over on your side to face him. Your features soften at the sight of him — uncharacteristically unsure of himself, staring at his hands with furrowed brows. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so deeply torn, but then again, you know how hard he’s worked for this job. His career — especially before you met him — was of the utmost importance to him. Money, money, and more money. That’s what he’d told you. He was obsessive. He slept even less than he does now, barely used the fancy apartment he paid extortionate rent for... How do you turn your back on years and years of commitment, of obsession?

You reach a hand up and take his hand in yours once more. The silver of your rings glint and glimmer in the morning light, the garnet stone in the centre of yours a bloody red.

“For better or for worse, Kento,” you say quietly. “That’s what we promised. Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be here with you through it all.”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles that one smile of his — the small, wistful, sad one. The one that hints at a far more tragic past than he’s let on, one of misfortune and melancholy. That’s okay. He doesn’t have to tell you, and you would never press him to. In much the same way, you pretend not to see the glassiness of his eyes when he raises your joined hands to his lips, and pretend not to hear the lump in his throat when he tells you he loves you — dearly, more than life itself.

"Yeah, yeah," you say, smiling. "Just don't forget about that retirement to Malaysia, okay? I want a beach house."

He huffs a laugh, and the cast of despondency shatters. Then, a thoughtful hum. "Mm. A beach house... that sounds good."

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #nanami kento fic #anime x reader #smut x reader #i dont think we focus enough on how hard it was for nanami to return to jujutsu tee bee haytch #i want to hold his hand etc etc #cheeky little mention of malaysia of course couldnt help myself x #my fics

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amomentwiser · 9 months

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"Why don't you spend time with us?" they say, "Keep your phone away at the table."

Parents say they want to talk — until it's about anything real.

They don't want to know about how their plans for your future make you feel.

They don't want to know your fears, hopes or dreams.

The things you're interested in — your favourite music, games and movies;

Or the things you've come to believe.

Sometimes it feels like parents don't want to get to know you as a person. They only see you in relation to themselves.

Or sometimes they do talk about music and games and movies, and it's even worse — because the conversations you want to have are serious.

And it's worse because it becomes very clear, that they don't want to have conversations that matter. That, god forbid, make them feel.

They want to avoid talking about all the times they yelled at you. No apology, no acknowledgement. Just glaze over those parts and pretend everything's normal. Neither guilt nor remorse.

And you're left wondering whether this thing you have a memory of actually happened, because everyone is acting like it didn't. And whether your anger is warranted, because everyone is acting like it isn't.

An unspoken decision: "Yes, we were harsh earlier, but we felt bad and are being nice now"

The implied demand: "...so be grateful,"

The undercurrent of a threat: "...or I'll get angry again."

And a push to move on: "Why do you bear grudges? Leave the past in the past."

All these little clues, that you learn to read in their body language and their eyes and their vibe.

And then they balk when you don't call them. Or jump at the chance to spend time with them — or even have a relationship.

It's weird, loving people you don't like. That you'd never choose of your own volition; that you'd never be friends had you met in the real world. People you're indebted to anyway, because they took care of you your whole life and changed your diapers and drove you to school, and what friend would ever do that?

Had they been overly abusive I would've cut them off without guilt; if I didn't know that despite it all, they really did love me, I wouldn't have cared about hurting their feelings.

Some people... you love them only because they are family. If they were a boyfriend, I would've broken up with them; if they were a spouse I would've divorced them. Alas, they are my parents, and I'm destined to love them. To give up a kidney for them if need be, but not any days out of my workweek.

I don't have these conversations with my family because I've come to realise that this is something they're not emotionally equipped to handle. Too much self-awareness would bring out memories not only of the mistakes they made with me, but also all the times adults in their childhood failed them; of all the ways they themselves were wronged; all the years they wasted because of choices they didn't know they had; and all the things they wish they'd done differently. So I understand; the flood of anger and regrets it brings to the surface must be draining.

But that also means that I'll distance myself from them, because for me, their misunderstood love is draining. And because this has to stop somewhere; someone has to start choosing differently — and I've decided it'll be me.

#the daddy's girl to daddy issues pipeline #brown parents #break the cycle #strict parents #toxic family #brown people problems #self love #self care #quotes #writers on tumblr #desiblr #desi culture #desi girl #indian writer #desi parents #dysfunctional family

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bldngiris · 1 month

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꒰OKLAHOMA SMOKESHOW ꒱ . . . d winston !

pairing(s) : book! dallas winston x fem!soc! reader

in which y/n dreams of escaping tulsa but her dad is holding her back. however dallas winston listens and yearns.

requested : yes or no.

!! content warnings : yelling, swearing, r's father is an ass, r is a soc but she doesn't like being one, discrimination. movie dallas used only for visuals even though i used blonde book dallas in mind!! mentions of religion, angst

robin chirps : happy easter!! this fic is inspired by oklahoma smokeshow by zach bryan :) bold is the song lyrics!

go on and put on that dress that all the bad boys like.

y/n stood in front of her full-length mirror and took a look at herself one last time before heading out the door. if her father had caught her wearing anything other than appropriate soc attire, she would be done for. the amount of times she had been hit on by cocky high class boys who just wanted to get into her pants was numerous, alas her father didn't care. "you don't want to look like one of those greasy balls of garbage do you?" he would ask her. truth was y/n didn't want to be a soc. sh didn't want to be a greaser either. she wanted to escape tulsa and live in a city without labels and get away from all the hostility stored away in the streets of tulsa.

i know your daddy ain't home so ride with me tonight. you always wind up here in a puddle of tears

y/n had made her way to the diner with her friends. however, her "friends" had left her midway through the walk home to go hang out with a group of other socs. it had started to rain and the closest place y/n could go to was bucks. y/ns feet subconsciously made their way to the building lit by neon beer signs, ignoring the voice in the back of her head saying, "if i catch you 'round one of them greaser places.."

she slowly opened the door to the place, as a mixture of tears, mascara and raindrops ran down her face, her hair sticking to her face, her dress drenched. many eyes were on her as barely, if any, socs came to bucks. whispers, some louder than others presumably by drunk men were heard as y/n sat on one of the bar stools.

them boys are out and they're angry and they're lookin' for blood In the back of a blue old pick up truck. you've got nowhere to go although you're all gussied up

y/n sat at the barstool, a shaggy, pale, blonde boy sat beside her, a malboro cigarette hanging out of his mouth loosely.

"hey man, what're you doin' out here?" he asked the soc, curiously, in a sluggish tone of voice. y/n sniffled.

"my friends left me when we were at the diner, n' i didn't wanna get jumped, it's dangerous walkin' home by myself, y'know." she sniffled again. "plus, it's cold and wet." she paused again. dallas listened, as he hummed and nodded, understanding what she was talking about.

there's so much whiskey in his coke it'll make her nose bend

"that really sucks man," he muttered taking a sip of his whiskey and coke, y/n could smell the drink from her seat. dallas did't turn away or ignore her after that. they spent the next hour talking.

but she swears that his love is a damn god send

don't get me wrong, dallas hated socs. but y/n was different, under the high class, hair done, pretty dress facade, she was a normal girl yearning for more than just a privilege title. the two could relate on another level which dallas had appreciated. dallas and y/n both wanted more or less the same thing, both wanted to escape tulsa, but more or less everything was holding them back from doing so.

she's known god since she was a child, she used to play in the yard and she would dream of one day

y/n played in the front yard of her house with a white picket fence. she saw two kids around her age, playing over by a park around the 'border' between the west and east side.

"hi! im y/n can i play with you?" she asked the three children. they were greaser children, as seen by the difference in their appearance.

'til the world came around and took her dreaming away. told her how to dress and act and smile.

"sure! im soda, thats johnny and that one over there is steve" one said. soon enough, y/n's father had come out of the house, soon following a burst of yelling came about. "y/n get over here and away from that white trash." he exclaimed. y/n wondered, how could a grown adult be so hostile toward children? y/ns father grabbed the little girls hand and took her back over to the freshly painted house on the block.

'y/n, sweetie, you know better than to talk to those type of people." he told her. "now, im sure mrs. sheldon and mrs. valances children would love to play with you hm?" he said. the little girl with pigtails and turned around to watch the greaser kids looking at her sadly, eventually cheering themselves up and laughing softly as they played on the monkey bars.

she's an oklahoma smokeshow. he's an asshole from back home. she'll never make it out alive.

that night, at bucks dallas and y/n talked for hours. y/n told dallas about her image and how she was forced by her father to keep up the good girl act, how every soc guy just wanted to get in her pants and how she's never going to make it out alive.

dallas told her about how he grew up in the streets of brooklyn, new york because his asshole father didn't give a shit about him. his mother and grandmother didn't have enough to provide, because his dad kept taking the profit to the bottle. he ended up in juvi by the time he was ten for theft, trying to provide for his family until he just left and ended up here in tulsa.

that small town bar scene, where small vices kill your big dreams. he'd take you home but he's too drunk to drive.

"but my dad will never let me leave, not until i'm 21 at least, and if i do, he'll list me as a runaway to the police and they'll come and find me." she muttered, solemnly. it was nearly midnight now. dallas way to intoxicated to drive. y/n had used bucks landline to call a cab as she made her way home, thinking of the boy who had changed her life in a mere few hours.

well, I've been here, I've been up all night. thinkin' 'bout a life with you and i. one you'll never know 'cause you're a small town smokeshow.

dallas layed there, head empty except for the thought of y/n. it was nearly 3 in the morning at this point, but all he could think about was the girl who he had just met but felt like they had known each other for years and there he continued dreaming, because unfortunately for him only one of the two got their 'escape' from the prejudice of tulsa, oklahoma. unfortunately, it wasn't y/n. unfortunately, it wasn't the way either of them planned.

#dallas winston #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston oneshot #dallas winston imagine #the outsiders x reader #angst #the outsiders #the outsiders imagine #the outsiders oneshot #the outsiders x yn #the outsiders x you #the outsiders x fem reader #the outsiders 1983 #the outsiders 1967 #book! dallas winston #collected works.

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softie00 · 1 year

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Healing

pairing; yeonjun x reader

warnings; fluff, insecurities, angst, reader feeling not good about themselves, physical appearance, boyfriend yeonjun being cute, words of affirmations, comforting, showering, negative thoughts, cuteness!

words; 1k

a/n: for myself and everyone else who feels the same way and need comforting. ❣ likes/comments/reblogs are appreciated ☺

summary; you've been neglecting yourself, crippled by insecurities which causes you to distance yourself a little from your boyfriend yeonjun. but for how long?

You don't remember when your own thoughts started to consume you. Little by little, a staggering gush of water that carried each of your insecurities forming a tremendous flooding.

A flooding that doesn't require people to let notice of prior nor detects its danger. Why?

Because it's made way to your vessels, the comfort of your body, building it's way up until it feels uneasy. Sinking each of your organs and most of your brain. Alas, it's nothing new for you. These types of flooding have always occurred within you many times.

Slowly you've welcomed these moments of floods, some particularly more usual than other days. And today was one of those days too.

I feel ugly

I feel worthless

I'm not good enough

I'm never pretty enough

I don't fit the standards of beauty

Do I deserve to feel happy

Ugly

Your mind is corrupted by these thoughts so often. Some of your own and some of others. Growing up, always experiencing the rough side of things which includes your appearance. Attacked constantly for how you looked, being told you're not good enough and you'd never find anyone to be with you.

Although it's been years, they still visit you. Sometimes when you just admire your boyfriend Yeonjun, they creep up and deliver whispers inside of you. It doesn't help with your boyfriend is the most gorgeous man you've ever laid your eyes on.

The one that steals everyone's attention by just simply existing, whereas you were the one who people acted like didn't exist.

It's not his fault, no. As much as he's attractive as ever, he has his moments of insecurities too which you've always kissed away.

You haven't realised you've slowly neglected yourself. Sure, you still get up and do certain things in the day but it feels burdensome. Though, you may have unknowingly distanced yourself from the one you truly loved.

Yeonjun

"Yeonjunie wants cuddles," Yeonjun babbled with his soft voice. His arms already making it's way to your waist, pushing his warmth on to you your back. He moves his face on your neck, trying to get a reaction out of you.

It's a bit late in the night, with Yeonjun just returning home. He had practice and today he felt so knackered. All he thought of was running back to you and cuddling.

He nozzles his nose further more, hands tightening at your waist, "Y/N, are you sleeping?" He quietly asked.

No response.

"I'm sorry I came home late we had so much to learn today," He explained whilst yawning mid way, "All I kept thinking of was coming home to my princess and giving you a big fat cuddle."

He noticed you gave no movements yet still spoke on, "But seems like you already sleeping," Yeonjun kissed the back of your head, "Good night baby have the sweetest dreams."

After a while, you opened your eyes. A tear escapes as it sinks down your face. You weren't sleeping. You was awake. You felt guilty with a heavy heart. The fact that your boyfriend wanted to cuddle you and you resisted, purely because your stupid mind thinks you don't deserve him.

He's way too good for you.

Even though his touch made you falter for a minute, you froze to talk. And then it all come flooding down.

Your behaviour only becomes apparent as days go by. When he initiates touch, you somehow redraw yourself or make yourself so busy that he doesn't have to ask. And somehow, you thought it'll work.

Not today.

You was walking until you heard Yeonjun calling out your name, "Y/N, I need help." He shouted from the bathroom. So you made your way there thinking what could be happening.

As you entered the room, you saw him in the shower with a hand on his eyes, "What happened?" You asked in concern. Making your way closer to him until he drags you inside with him.

"Yeonjun-"

"I missed you princess." He murmured against your neck, with his body engulfing yours. You almost forgot how nice it felt having him this close. Hearing the words come out of your boyfriend's mouth instantly forming guilt.

You tried to change the subject while you looked to the side, "I thought something serious happened with you-''

He lifted his finger above your chin, making sure your facing him directly. Something you've been avoiding these days too.

"Is you not running away from me serious, Y/N?" He asked, holding your gaze. You felt a sharp pain in your heart hearing these words come out from him.

He wasn't annoyed but more so had a worried look, which softened as he goes on. "What's going on, my beloved? Speak to me, let your thoughts flow like this water, I promise you won't drown, I'm here."

You know you can't escape him for any longer. The soft nature of your boyfriend has yet again made your heart burst. How dare your mind play these tricks on you when someone cares about you so deeply?

"I'm sorry Yeonjun, I'm s-o s-sorry." You stuttered, bursting into tears instantly. You knew this was wrong of you to do yet you listened to your mind all these times. "The thoughts i k-keep having, not feeling good enough, feeling ugly, not deserving of you." You blurt out, letting the flood in your mind out once and for all.

Yeonjun's heart broke hearing your words, knowing you've been carrying this weight all by yourself. He instantly grabbed the shampoo pouring it over his hands, then lightly massaging your scalp.

It felt relaxing, probably the best you've felt for all these days you've had.

"It's okay to have these thoughts," He affirms, continuing to massage in deeper with his bare hands. "But do you know they ain't coming from you but someone else?" He questions, making you confused.

"Coming from who?"

"Donald trump." He replied, making you open your eyes and laugh out loud.

"Babe that makes no sense, how?" You chuckled, seeing the glint in your eyes made him so happy so he continues further.

"Well, think of each negative thought that comes. Imagine Donald trump is the voice in your head saying these things, what would you respond to him?" He asks.

"I'd tell him to fuck off-"

"Exactly! Tell that orange oompa loompa to fuck himself!" He giggles, letting his hands make it way to your body, applying soap all over.

His hands felt so heavenly on your skin, all you could think of was the feeling of comfort and the laughter of what he mentioned surrounding you both.

For once, your worries that were huge waves become quiet. The flow decreases vastly, instead of feeling like a flood it passes you gently like a simple wave in the ocean.

You let the wave pass through your entire body, acknowledging what it is and letting it go.

Yeonjun knows of your insecurities, yet he's never let you feel alone with them. He noticed you've been neglecting yourself with everything being untouched, including your skin products. So he planned this out, to shower you with his gentle comforting and soft kisses he grazes against your skin as the water washes past.

That's how much he loves you.

You both got out and he grabbed a towel, patting you dry before you put your fresh pajamas on.

He sits in front of you as he grabs your moisturiser, rubbing it against his hands before he applied directly on to your face.

What did you do to deserve a sweetheart like him?

His hands delicately touch your face, removing away any tensions or stress within your mind. Almost like his hands have the power of a healer, anything he touches he heals.

This moment he's healing you. He's your healer.

"Thank you so much." You whispered, feeling ever so grateful for having such an attentive boyfriend. "I've been so terrible with you, babe."

But Yeonjon just smiles.

"I love you Y/N, so much that you're all I ever think of day and night. You consume my mind and thoughts even on the lesser brighter days and in those moments, I hold on to them stronger. Because when I see your smile and cute giggles, I instantly feel better." He expresses out loud with joy, his expression becoming softer. "Share your sadness with me Y/N because I'm selfish, I never want you to feel alone. Even in your bad thoughts."

Your eyes began to tear up hearing the confession of your boyfriend. He has a heart of pure gold, whatever he says or touches turns to a positive light. Sending warmth all over your way like a ray of sun.

You immediately leaned over and hugged him. His scent from the shower still lingers radiating comfort. You let yourself embrace fully into him for the days you couldn't, how soft and cute your boyfriend feels.

He pulls back, making you stay seated infront of you as he shares contact with your eyes intensely.

"Look in to my eyes." He orders.

Your expression was confused yet cute to him, he knows how much you struggle to look into his eyes but today he will make sure of it.

"B-but why?" You hesitated.

"Sweetheart just look, come closer." He responds with a small smile, watching you lean in to him but not so much. So his hands grab on to you, pulling you faster against him. Now all you can see is his mesmerising eyes.

"Do you see that?" He asks, patiently waiting.

You felt like you was in a trance, his eyes were extremely magnatising you as each second passes. He was shining, He was so beautiful.

"The way your reflection shines through my eyes, the sparkle of yourself in me that's only visible through my eyes, that's how you look to me. Multiple stars that rush their ways into my eyes just to witness your beauty, because you hold my universe."

You gasped hearing the sweet words laced with honey by your boyfriend. His eyes smiled and grew more in admiration of your beautiful self. All you could see yourself in his eyes was, you.

Feeling butterflies forming already, "Yeonjun, you are so so cute. And adorable and my god I have no words but thank you ever so much for being so kind with me and gentle. For understanding me and taking care of me."

He admires the way you speak, he does this all truly because he loves you. A lot. "You're cuter." He teased, "Y/N you mean the world to me. I'd do anything to make you feel ease." He comforted.

His eyes continue to linger down to your lips, as he places a quick peck on your lip. Then above your nose and to your forehead. Your heart was racing, feeling fuzzy from the gentle kisses.

"I love you, Yeonjunie." You embraced him tightly within your hold, as he did with you too. Never wanting to let him go ever again.

"I love you, Y/N."

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cryptidcorners · 3 months

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Old Friend — Prince!Derek Danforth x GN!Reader [ Part 1/? ]

Description: A royal ball celebrating the end of a decade of pure isolation between Houses brings you and an old acquaintance together once again.

# No Request

# A.N: I'm literally gushing over DND here, lol! There's sm story shit. it's more lore explaining than actual romantic stuff, SOOO. sorry. hope you enjoy the AU pfft

Media: The Beekeeper [ AU ]

Character: Derek Danforth [ AU ]

Tags: DND/Fantasy Inspired AU, Royalty, PLOT, Lore Dumping, Friends to ? ? ?, Romantic Implications, Fluff, Slight Suggestiveness { if you squint }, Slowburn, Childhood Friends, Flirting, Catching Up, OOC!Derek [?], Sweet Talk + Reader is !GN.

Warnings: Mentions of War/Isolation, Depression, Childhood Trauma, Substances/Acholic Beverages + Smoking.

TOS. Derek Dandorth Master List {TBW}.

The ballroom had been mildly entertaining at most, while Dandorth House was certainly exotic with fruitullius pickings like booze, muzzled griffins and gowns, you had found yourself a mere wallflower near the belt of the corner. Your attentive gaze remained ill as you stared at the chorus of visitors from all across the world clad in their signature wear, dancing the night away with tipping mindscapes.

You were impressed by their shiny attempt to win over the other Houses with opium and silver statues not seduced. The idea of taking wine brewed by a Dandorth was an idea you'd never subscribe to, as much as you valued their efforts in ore distribution, they weren't a House you'd call a friend, more of a neighbor with the temper of a sun bear.

The shine of silk, flashing grins and laughter had made you feel as if you didn't belong, as if you were nothing but a lonley phantom enviously spectating the quartz floors.

Your House, Tallis, was a symbol of artistry, sculpting, poets and other powers were the foundations of your land. You were the only heir to the throne, sharing no brother or sister to extend a blade at down the line. Alas, you were greatful no family blood would bare at your fingertips, but the crippling loniliess had carved you into a quiet, yet respectful noble with dreams just like any Tallis; only you wished there was another one to share it with.

"Admiring the dancefloor are we?" A voice asked, it's tone as complex as the limestone statues of old characters fronted at the palace. You felt something buzz in your soul, and your gaze had flocked up to the host.

Prince Derek Dandorth, only, he was much older than when you last laid your eyes on him.

It was around midnight when both Houses declared they'd go into hiding to cower away from the war. It was your last royal ball together, and you weren't interested in leaving yet. You were both children then, dumb and in love. You both had scurried off and his yourselves near the old balcony that you were sure had been rebuilt with golden rimmings and white rose bushes.

"When will I ever see you again?" You asked desperly, hands interlocking with his soft fingertips. Derek's eyes had arrowed into you, deep with longing. Back when his hair was still an endless rush of dark, brunette curls and gentle highlights.

"I don't know, but it'll be soon. Our Houses may be splitting, but that doesn't mean we won't be able to dance again, will it?" Derek whispered. "We'll see each other again. We have to."

He had been wrong, and you had been grieving over that broken promise when you were children for a long time. The Dandorth and Tallis Houses were at a halt, conflicted by some nearby wars circling close to the walls.

It had resulted in both kingdoms locking themselves in their labyrinths of treasure, with eyes paved into the stone. You were isolated in your House, only seeking comfort in carving your inner desires into rich pavement that was now collecting dust in your Queenship's second guest bedroom.

Now, he was here, cocky as ever. With blonde hair and light reminces of forest green and flakes of emerald flickering across his face. His signature uniform was gorgeous, with carefully decorated leaves and patterns that resembled rich lingering. His crown set carefully in his forest of curls, and you swore you could smell cologne that burst your nostrils with pure dopamine.

"Derek?" You uttered, slack jawed.

You blinked and he waved his hand in front of your stunned expression teasingly.

His hand carefully tightened around his glass, "Now, that's no way to greet a prince in his own House, is it?" the heir cooed. Your face fell and you arched a brow, unimpressed at his mock of carelessness. Prince Dandorth was certainly an idealist, but he was definitely not an actor.

He laughed, tone deep as ivory. "I'm just messing with you, Noble Tallis." Then, he opened his arms for an inviting hug you immediately fell into. Although, he felt stiff, you could sense he was relived to see you again.

"You look different." You pulled back.

Derek's gaze remained on you, "You like it? The hair that is—I had it personally dyed, you can tell how organic it looks, yes?"

You could tell he was trying his best to seem noble. So, you teased. "Oh, the hair? I hadn't noticed, silly me. I couldn't help but notice your blush and gown—are those earrings?"

His fingers ran down the golden patterns with a soft smile. "Well, the House of artistry was attending, I had to look my best, especially for the only heir." A warm smile spread across his face. "It's been way too long." Derek said breathlessly, "I missed you."

Prince Danforth's face softened. "Well, thank the Gods."

You eased, trying to stir up some conversation. "How are you? I've heard your House is doing well after the release."

He boasted. "People are desperate over our caverns, you would not believe how many travelers were mounted at our doorstep ready for trade." Derek confirmed after a sip, "We might be in need of your creativity again, the walls are so dull, and they can certainly use some of your flare, don't you think?"

You were flattered. Your eyes ran down the exterior of the walls, lightly scratching your jaw. "You know, you're right. Your palace does look a little—"

"A little, what? He urged.

You humored. "Like it was designed by a commoner."

Derek laughed. "You've always had an eye for details like this. Good to know I wasn't disappointed to know you haven't changed that much."

Then, he asked. "How about you? Any new inventions or views on the world? Hearing about your House is like turning a Jack-in-the-box."

You chewed your lip awkwardly. As Derek had imagined, there were many views and advances in Tallis. Though, it had caused a whide fued between philosophers and their audience. It was overwhelming, but nonetheless, Tallis had been doing much better than any other House, even with its complications with political attributes. "It's . . . going well."

You knew it wasn't in Derek's character to pester, so he hummed in delight for your vague answer. His lips settled on his narrow class, drinking in a rich selection of dark champagne. His apex gaze settled on you, "Mind if I steal you away for a moment? I see you don't fancy the music or dancing." Derek offered his hand, "Just like old times," he suggested.

There wasn't a sliver of reluctance in your answer, you eagerly gripped his hand and let him guide you outside the ballroom. The wash of silence veiled over your ears as the intrusive rhythm of the party began to fade away.

You had forgotten how large Prince Danforth's palace was, with high walls itching towards the sky and silver veins ripping through the quartz floors. He drank up your silence. "Beautiful, isn't it? I know there might be a thousand mistakes in your eyes, but it's something else entirely to me. My people sculpted and built this castle for my House, my bloodline, and no matter what I do, I may never repay their labor."

Derek sighed, gaze masking apologetically as his speech had been led astray. "Sorry, I haven't spoken to you in a while. I have a lot on my chest, Noble Tallis."

"No, no. It's alright, I assure you. Don't apologize for simply speaking to me."

Derek smiled shyly, "Thank you." his voice relaxed at his offer, "Would you fancy a tour?"

"Absolutely." Your eyes fluttered.

Derek nudged his head forwards the split of hallways, "Come, then."

Your fingertips parted and you were slightly disappointed when he walked a few steps in front of you, arms spread out like a hawk as he basked in the light of the exquisite chandeliers hooked to the carved ceiling.

You felt like a child again. Two rebellious souls giggling and whispering, racing up the staircases like hummingbirds and gazing at the web of art pieces that mapped the generations of his House. Tales of war generals and royal blood rivalry. Derek in particular had a knack for history, giving his share of intelligence of his family tree with eager eyes.

"Is that your grandfather?"

"Great-grandfather." Derek corrected. "My father told me a lot about him, he was the loyalest king of this House. He truly cared for his people, and it's how we were able to advance this far at all. He just had faith." His eyes fell, "Though, I worry it's all going to go to waste."

"How so?"

Derek set his hand carefully on the painting, fingertips grazing gently across the teeth of the large canvas. "My mother has been pushing our classes too hard this last decade. It's caused a commotion within our walls, they don't trust the House anymore. I have no authority like her, she won't . . ." he choked back a cry. "I can't do anything, I'm useless. I'm only a Prince, I'm nothing compared her."

He felt your warm grasp on his shoulder. You whispered, "That's not true. You're many things, Derek. A dreamer, a loyalist. You'll be a great king, this I tell you."

Derek paused. "But what if my kingdom can't wait? They're being pushed to the edge, working like dogs. It's no good leading a nation when there's nothing left. I don't want to wait."

This was a lot to take in. Tallis had been oblivious to how quickly Danforth had been advancing like no other House, now you were truly worried. A rebellion was possible, and every House had almost lost all their work by the lower classes arriving at their pearly gates with mounts of fire.

His hands fumbled with his dressing, voice grim. "I'm the only heir, the only one left to fix up her mistakes." Derek turned to you with desperate eyes. "I feel like I'm in a cage. The walls have opened up again, yet, I don't feel free. Like a bird in a cage, do you know what that feels like? To act as an audience, almost no word in anything unless I'm told to."

You hadn't noticed Derek taking both your hands and pressing them against his chest. You exhaled lightly, "Derek. What is the queen doing to you?"

Was Queen Danforth imprisoning him? A Prince should have a voice, especially as the only heir. Your grip tightened, "Prince Danforth, whatever is happening . . . you can tell me anything. I promise, your word will remained sealed between my lips, nobody will know."

"Oh, but they will." Derek explained. "Someone will always know. There's ears in the brick and mortar, eyes from friends."

You made a noise as if you were being strangled. "But what about now? I feel as if you told me everything and nothing at the same time." You were at the edge of tears. You couldn't loose him, not again.

"I haven't told you a lick of what's truly happening." He told you. "There's so much you don't know, Tallis. So much to know, such little time."

You were so confused. This was only the tip of the iceberg according to Prince Danforth, he wasn't the type to lie for as spoiled as he was. Regardless, his eyes were the darkest shade of sincerity you had ever seen. Your voice was hushed, "What do I do? I can't leave like this, Derek."

"I promise, I'll tell you everything." Derek rested his forehead against yours, "I promise." then, he pulled away. "I love you too much to let you get hurt because of my ignorance. Time will tell, just be patient."

Derek desperately needed someone to talk to. About his injustice and personal conflict, but he felt the need to warn you as well. Something else was brewing, a conspiracy perhaps? What was Queen Danforth up to? Would you ever know? So many questions.

Then, you broke out of your paralysis when he had mentioned love. You stammered, "You love me?"

He was shocked, frozen in his step. "Of course, I do. You're so fantastic, intelligent and sensitive. If I didn't know any better I figured I'd be under a spell," Derek chuckled. "I may as well be at this point. I care about you, so much. I can't lie to you, but I can't put you in harm's way either."

Your face warmed. Before he could spin away, you held his hands tightly, getting lost in his eyes once again. His breath hitched, and you heard him swallow harshly. "Tallis?" Derek didn't pull away, you could even sense him bringing himself closer, "You know, if we do this, there will be no turning back . . ."

You were longing, "Then so be it. I've been locked away for too long, the only company being memories of you."

Derek's speech slowed, harsh and husky. "All my life, I've always gotten what I've want, everything I asked for. However, this is the first time I've felt—" he rasped. "I needed something as precious as you."

Cupid's arrow has pierced your soul, and you had read him well enough to press your lips against his own, melting into a kiss. Derek pulled away, catching his breath with a giggle. "Oh, Heavens, give me a moment."

"Never kissed someone before?" You asked.

"No, never." He hushed you with a peck, that descended into a deeper kiss. You ran your fingertips across his silky wear, and you could feel shivers running down his spine. He felt like a peasant on his knees, begging for a penny to add to his name. Derek had felt desperate before, but never like this.

A strong desire had pulled you closer, stealing each other's breath away. Your sentimental feelings grew thin once he pulled away after making a noise, which made his face flush in raw embarrassment.

"A thousand pardons, I just, got a little wrapped into it." Derek mumbled and then repeated. "Sorry,"

"Don't be, I liked it, I promise." You traced his thumb to his cheek, lightly circling his warm skin. "Thank you for taking me out, and telling me everything, or . . . most of it at least."

Derek's face softened and rested his hand on yours. His face fell, "If I could, I'd run away with you, start somewhere fresh."

"Derek, you know we can't. We're the only heirs, the only ones who can hold the throne and make a difference. It's our duty."

He dipped his head, saddened at the taste of reality, "I know, I know, but a man can dream." though your face was infectious enough to let a smile spread across his face.

The rest of the night had been tranquill and hush, a few fruitful hours of nothing but gentle praises and a few butterfly kisses here and there without disturbance, until you finally stopped near a pool where a seahawk was perched, beak wrestling weeds out of the water. It was growing late and you could sense your House would be departing soon enough.

Derek took your hand once more, resting his lips on your knuckles. "This was a wonderful evening, Tallis."

"I hope I get to see you again." You told him.

"I'll make sure to write to you, maybe through a messenger bird so it's extra private." Derek toyed. "Maybe you can send me those beautiful drawings of yours."

You smiled softly. "I'll think about it."

You had kissed him goodbye again, before you could stir away from his side, his warm breath tickled your ear. "And don't forget what we spoke about,"

Dawn was tickling the air and the clouds were heavy with the deep scarlet of sunrise. Derek had gotten no sleep tonight, as his attention was too busy wandering through chapters of you. It wasn't the only thing keeping him up, as his mind was still swampy with anxiety. He had only fueled your curiosity to solve Danforth's conspiracy, all because his emotional vulnerability had gotten the better of him and he couldn't bring himself to hold back.

He walked tiredly to his study and wrapped his hands around the careful mold of his desk, carefully reelimg out a sealed envelope from the darkness of his cabinets. A red stamped, engraved with a symbol resembling a furious bee hunching over its stinger to the side was in bold, almost intimidating him. Derek's gaze hardened, he knew there was something else to his symbol,

And he would get to the bottom of it.

#👑 derek danforth #derek danforth #derek danforth x reader #derek danforth x you #writing #the beekeeper #josh hutcherson #writers on tumblr #dnd #fanfic #royal au #haven't been online for a while.#so enjoy!!! I may or may not write an actual fic w/ this concept if you enjoy it ❤️#if you want more. Ask

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 27 days

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I got caught shoplifting a few weeks ago so Im gonna have a court proceeding (? if thats what you call it in english idk) in a couple hours and Im a little bit nervous but the shit I stole was only worth 7€ and it was my first time getting caught so I dont think it'll be too big of a deal. Honestly Im just glad I didnt get caught while I was stealing ~85€ worth of acotar books, because my punishment would not only be wayyyy harsher it would also just be embarrassing, imagine stealing sjm books when theres so many good books you could steal from a bookstore

Anyway, speaking of acotar books, its livebloggin time. Last time, Feyre and Rhysand came to this cabin in the woods/inn in the middle of nowhere and stayed in a room thats so small that you couldnt even have sex in it and then they had sex. not penetrative sex, they just fingered each other. Which is to say Rhysand fingered her vagina and Feyre fingered his wings because god forbid a man be on the receiving end for anything other than a blowjob. Also, I guess Mor, Cassian and Azriel are somewhere else? I didnt wanna say anything about them being gone bc I just kinda assumed they were staying with Feysand but they seem to be gone. whatever I dont care about those guys anyway

Chapter 49

Feyres internal declarations of love and wanting to be with Rhys forever feel very shallow when you consider the fact that 1) theyve only had like 3 months worth of non-traumatic interactions with eachother, and 2) she thought the exact same way about Tamlin and then she DIED FOR HIM and then she left him after barely half a year

'"You know exactly that I would do anything for my people and my family."' 'Your people' consisting of one (1) city

Feyre's pussy feels slightly raw from getting fingered hours ago?? thats not a good sign.

'"I'm not gonna turn away from you. Not from you," I promised him quietly.' honestly, i can believe that, if you can fully forgive someone for physically torturing and sexually assaulting you after like a month or two you can forgive them anything, I have no idea why Rhys would be worried about that

can you imagine if Rhysand got shot with poisoned arrows and he just died right here. Life could be a dream but alas, I live in a nightmare world

I actually really like Feyre going feral over her love interest like this (even if that love interest is Rhys) I dont we're gonna get much more of that in this series so I shall savour it

Yeah, now that she mentions it, how come one ash arrow was enough to straight up kill Andras but Rhysand gets hit by like a dozen and hes just fine after this. I guess it could be that Feyre shot Andras in the eye so it was more lethal than Rhys getting shot in the back and wings but still, afaik there are no longterm consequences from this, like hes not even gonna have to deal with idk, his back hurting at certain points or something

Im not a fan of Feyre being so murderhappy now when she was reluctant to even kill animals at the start of this book, like at a certain point Im not so much bothered by Feyre's character being retconned from ACOTAR but her character from start of ACOMAF

Damn I didnt think the sex would be anything other than a pointless diversion, but here it is, being plot relevant

How come these guys have been torturing him by just stringing him up and leaving the arrows while they whip him, if I was an evil torturer and had just gotten my hands on a guy with wings Im sawing those badboys off immediately. or should i say batboys ahahahha.hahha

Oh, just a splinter of ashwood can he deadly but of course Rhysand is gonna be pretty much fine after being impaled with seven whole arrows

'"And Elain would love [Velaris], I'm sure of it. Although she would probably cling to Azriel the whole time, looking for safety."' smth about that line feels icky to me, I think its the fact that I dont think Elain actually properly interacted with Azriel at this point and also, Velaris is a perfect paradisical city what on earth would she need his protection for there

ughhhh all this bullshit with the dresser is so unbearably annoying

I guess I'll see how this all actually pans out next chapter, but right now I gotta say I dont like the fact that Rhysand's wounds just heal on their own, I couldve used some good whump with him. And Im not just saying that because I dont like him and Im a sadistic little bitch, even though both of those things are true, Im saying this because I think seeing him in a vulnerable position for an extended time would make me like him more

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti sjm #flames and darkness liveblog

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liketwoswansinbalance · 5 months

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Round III of Excerpts from The One True School Master of Vault 41

Agatha turned to the Rafal. "Interesting,” she nodded. "I'm sure you don't remember the names of all the masses you've murdered, but tell me, whose face do you see in your nightmares?" she prompted expectantly.

“Rh—h-hACK,” said he, the Evil sorcerer.

“What? Come again?” Agatha prodded all too knowingly as she got to her feet.

Rafal seized up and started to convulse silently. Something was obstructing his airways.

Sophie hopped up from her seat. “Aggie! He’s choking, Aggie!” she squawked.

“Oh! Well, do something then! He’s yours to look after!” Agatha crossed her arms and stared Rafal dead in the eye as he suffocated, daring him to try anything.

“B-but, I don’t know how to—" Sophie’s voice died in her throat as she fluttered her hands in distress. She looked at Agatha in askance. "Would you revive or resuscitate..."

Agatha shook her head stubbornly. She was Sophie's savior and no one else's. On occasion, she would save Tedros, but he usually wouldn't let her save him. "If he dies now, there'll be no one to blame and it'll be of natural causes. And, I'll be doing Tedros a favor by sparing him a heart attack. He's been through so much already, I'm not sure his heart could take another shock, like the one in front of us."

Sophie exhaled, ready to blow up, flustered and red. She could barely get words out, and froze in place. Her ribcage throbbed with panic, like she’d swallowed her heart whole.

She turned to Kiko, next, to seek help, but found that Kiko was gone! Sophie hadn’t noticed that the Evergirl, the only one she could expect a scrap of human decency from had fled from the table!

Turning bluer by the second, Rafal stopped clutching his throat.

He stood up abruptly, chair scraping the glass floor as it skidded back with a screech. He motioned with his hands to signal to the girls that they didn’t have to intervene, dismissing them.

Gripping the table, he leaned on it, bent over its edge, and thrust his fists against his diaphragm hard, dislodging what had caught in his throat.

A saliva-coated coin of cucumber shot out of his windpipe and hit Agatha squarely in the eye.

Sophie sagged in relief.

The slice of cucumber slid down Agatha’s cheek leaving a trail of spittle. “Well, that’s settled,” she griped sullenly. She flumped down on her seat cushion again, long, rangy limbs askew. “Too bad you’re alive.”

“Too bad indeed. For you,” Rafal smirked, stretching his tensed jaw so it clicked.

Agatha winced. “After yet another run-in with death, you’re still here. Guess my luck’s run dry for good. Will Lady Fortune ever be on my side?”

“Not if you don’t cease with the complaining,” he taunted, “If only I could stretch you beneath her wheel, but alas… I’m beholden to your dear friend.”

“Enough,” Sophie boomed as she slammed her hands on the glass table. The table shuddered, and the filigree bone china jittered as several serving dishes clinked together.

Agatha and Rafal swiveled to look at her.

“That’s it,” Sophie fumed, “I’ll put up with none of this infantile bickering while I’m present. You two must learn to cooperate. I know you don’t trust him, Agatha, darling, and admittedly, I don’t either, but I think he’s trying, at the very least, to be helpful, so be civil. The same goes for you as well, Rafal. At least try to look contrite. And remember: my say is final.”

All three fell silent for a moment.

"If you actually were wondering,” Rafal told Agatha, "The answer is Rhian. His face has haunted my dreams every night since he died.”

⸻

[Note: A lot comes to pass between these two scenes, so don’t expect them to be perfectly chronological. I just thought the shift could be fun to see.

And, this second section takes place earlier on in the plot by the way. We're nowhere near the climax with these two excerpts.

Also, watch what you think, Agatha. Some dreadful irony will come back to bite you, and everyone to be fair.

Oh, and did anyone catch the Shakespeare reference?]

Good's glass walls beamed back the moonlight like searchlights spilling from the columns. The walls were truly a spectacular sight, the mazes of halls all illuminated in silver.

Yet beauty and brilliant lighting do not the optimum conditions for breaking and entering make.

Every polished facet contained Agatha’s reflection, exposing her in her black robes. And, she was well-aware of this disadvantage, but she would never be able to slip away during the day, so night it was.

She rounded the bend and her spine prickled with the familiar sensation of being watched.

After her run-in with Professor Anemone, she now roamed the halls with much less fear. This time, she encountered a different petrified faculty member. Pollux.

She reached up and knocked lightly at the space between his eyes. Nearly soundlessly, it echoed, muffled by his thick-skulled, furred brow.

Just what she’d thought, he had nothing but a load of fluff in there. Agatha laughed to herself.

The labyrinthine glass breezeways, went winding and overlapping every which way, breathtaking in their complexity, but Agatha had discovered that no matter which corridor she turned into, the swathes of friezes lining the walls would direct her, pointing her in the same direction, hopefully the right direction.

The pearlescent friezes were inlaid with nacre, and they cast ribboned, iridescent rainbows when it was day. Though now, they gleamed a dim silver.

There they were, the figures frozen in motion, a goose girl’s tresses, a farm lad’s cap blown in the wind, trees doubled over, all bowing to the same current.

Certainly, they had been revised, but by whom?

All in one, singular direction they went, one after another in a sundry procession: fairy godmothers’ crystalline wands, soldiers’ spears, kings’ scepters, shamans’ pipes and tapering beards, Seers’ gazes, wizards’ staffs, fair maidens’ dismembered, white fingers, birds’ beaks, mermens’ tridents, agrarians’ pitchforks, crowds’ pennants, jousters’ lances, heraldic banners fluttering aloft, sylphs’ wispy tails, cupids’ arrows, and quixotic princes’ swords.

Agatha could not make heads or tails of these strange alterations to the scenes acting as her guides. They were most probably leading her to her final destination, as if they were conspiring to help her. But her theft would be a far cry from a Good Deed. It breached the Rules.

It was as if the School itself were supporting her theft from it. Or, could it be?

She stopped short.

And a prideful voice projected from somewhere sounded, reverberating through the glass-enclosed tunnel. “Move,” it told her with marked disdain and thinly veiled impatience.

It was coming from the walls, she concluded. Agatha looked about uneasily, thoroughly unsettled, and spun on her heels to face them. The carvings.

She stared intently at the wall closest to her.

A lean, cloaked prince was posed in the midst of slaying a serpentine creature that curled in on itself, swallowing its own tail. It was circular, made of a writhing mass of things.

Agatha shuddered involuntarily as she studied it. The beast’s scales resembled Japeth’s Scims a great deal. All snakes reminded her of Japeth these days. A wyrm, was it? No, it was an ouroboros.

And the prince’s banner, it was a gloomier, storm-cloud grey, silver like the Wish Fish. And it had a swan gracing it, an odd, obsidian piece of glass set into the frieze, looking darker than the rest of the banners. Still, it held gleams of iridescence. It was just duller and darker in finish than the other coats of arms. Almost, just almost, Evil’s banner.

The prince turned to her from his carved position, pointed his sword ahead and glared right at her. His swan crest blinked and seemed to glare down at her as well.

“Move, you imbecile,” said a cold, villainous, not particularly princely voice from the carved figure. “We don't have all night.”

Agatha stared dumbfounded.

"Yes, it's me,” Rafal’s voice seethed. “And I can't hold them frozen forever. So, go.”

Agatha stepped away from the wall, and proceeded down the last few lengths of the hall.

No, impossible. Rafal helping her was impossible, she thought breathlessly. Laughable. She was tempted to scoff, but held herself back since she didn’t want to take this one-time occurrence for granted.

Rafal. Of course. Always had to represent his own side, she supposed. The depraved madcap. Couldn’t masquerade as Good for a day, could he? If he had to be Good, he’d croak. She was sure of it. There wasn’t a single thing in these green Woods he could do to repent, help or no help. Not a thing.

He always had to be so maddeningly obvious about his darker, murderous instincts. His cold voice had been a dead giveaway. Even Sophie was subtler. And Sophie, subtle? No chance of it! He was just worse by comparison, that was all.

All the doom and gloom and the no-nonsense demeanor, it got tiring after a while. Christ, had she been like that before?

Agatha had masqueraded as a witch her whole life and look where it had gotten her. Just once, she wished she could see him beaten down and forced to act a harder role. Imagine, him, dealt a harder role to play. Like hers.

Had he ever been oppressed in his life? He was an oppressor! Well, Evil had been oppressed, but that was his own doing. He’d brought the curse upon himself by slaughtering his own brother!

You could do anything while Evil. But Good came with restrictions. The Nevers were freer, truly. They didn’t chastise bad manners and loud chewing. Well, Rafal seemed to, for Sophie’s sake. But Agatha knew most Nevers wouldn’t care a jot about tea party etiquette.

So long Rafal and thanks for all the help. I hope you wind up dead.

She had the urge to look back, but nevertheless, she turned away from the carved prince as he took up his sword and animatedly resumed fighting his battle with the ouroboros, blade clashing against scales, as if he were fighting his own violent rebirth.

Agatha was certain that this robbery wasn’t exactly the sort of cooperation Sophie had in mind, but it would have to do. It was the most they could muster up. And what did it matter now?

She gripped the crystal knob to Professor Dovey's office and turned it. Locked. Drat!

Then, she heard a clink and something pin-like skidded across the floor. The carved prince’s tiny sword.

She inserted it into the lock, and silently thanked Rafal. Maybe, he wasn’t so corrupt after all.

She tucked the sword into her pocket, and tentatively entered Professor Dovey’s office. She didn’t look back at the frieze, now converted into an ivory scene of bloodshed instead of victory. Nor did she catch sight of the tiny prince being disemboweled by the ouroboros, gutted through the gaps of the plating in his armor, leaking entrails, and succumbing to a theatrical “death” without his tiny sword.

The miniature black swan banner finally tipped and sank with a metallic clank, fluttering up like a flag of surrender before it settled on the ground.

After he was “killed,” Rafal exited the wall. A decent practice session in dying, he thought. Though it wasn't quite right. And being eviscerated wasn't a pleasant way to go, he found. He mentally crossed that method off his list.

The frieze reverted back to a prince frozen in the motion of slaying the ouroboros once again, banner branded with a white swan, as if Rafal had never been there at all.

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teeth--thief · 1 month

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Photos of Lyonyd (Leonid?…) Toptunov? I wouldn’t mind rambling on him, also.

- Rodka

I deliberately saved this ask for last (sort of). As a treat for myself and as a threat for everyone else ♡ And for @ur-favorite-basil-enthusiast since he was also interested in seeing The Collection.

I'll have to split this into a few parts - dreaful, I know! - because I can only add 10 pictures to one post while on mobile =( I'll keep reblogging with additional pictures till I run out of things to share. Subscribe for more insane content in the future and don't forget to click that bell icon to...

Part 1

He had manifested to me in a dream when I first started researching Chernobyl, have I ever mentioned that? Well, he has. Which was truly an anomaly because I almost never have any dreams at all... but about that some other time, perhaps.

I am going to put the pictures of him under the cut so nobody gets jumpscared by my Collection of Five Billion White Guy Pictures. And I'll also include some relevant information! Or as relevant as I can make it, at least.

Just to be clear (and safe): I found all of these out in the wild, on da internet. I am, however, pretty sure that at least the collage of his pics from uni times is from @/toptunovleonid on Instagram. So, just to be very clear: all credit for at least that goes to her.

Semi-chronologically, his pictures go like this:

Ignoring that one picture that is barely visible and out of frame in a few pictures of the photo album it's in, because he looks about 10 there and I feel slightly weird about sharing it specifically.

We're in... Tallinn, middle school number 11!

Second boy from the left in the second picture is him. That is he. He who was 15 then. And a 16 year old Lyonya in the left picture, of course.

From this time, one of his classmates remembers him as follows: At school he was quiet, unnoticeable, very shy. I remember he was always hanging out with younger kids. He was chubby. They'd now say he was a "nerd". Alright, we get it, he was a sweet child... Teen? Both? Or was he like this all his life? Either way, please stop before I die from all that sugar...

He's (10th grade) the guy leading the little girl (1st grade). His shapeless hair has charmed me. What's his hair routine and will it work on my curls? Mhm, didn't think so. And first in the second row from the bottom in the small pictures, in case you can't recognise his face yet.

As a bonus - his school certificate from the school in Tallinn he attended until graduating in 1977:

The grades were from 2 (you didn't pass with that one, so that's an F) to 5 (an A, I suppose?). So as you can see, he certainly studied well. What a nerd (affectionately).

Uni territory now! Moscow calling 📞 or, rather, Obninsk and the MEPhI

If you weren't born in any of the USSR countries during The Soviet Times, it'll come as a surprise to you but the students had mandatory... field... work... classes...? if you can call them that. They had them digging potatoes and what not. Nothing screams socialist spirit like making uni students do free labour in the field, I guess?

Pictures with his uni girlfriend, how cuuute! (And Sasha Korol hanging from the roof in the background... for reasons unknown)

Lyonya pretending to drive a combine harvester. And next to him, obviously, Sasha Korol. When I first saw this picture, I thought he was on some kind of a scaffolding but alas - it's one of those old beasts, like our Bizon. But that's not a Bizon because those had roofs. Nobody here cares for USSR combines talk - not even me - let's move on.

Not too sure when these two are from but they look uni enough to me - probably from the very beginning and sometime closer to the end, judging by his stache doing significantly better...

Mandatory military service because a REAL MAN in the USSR needed to know how to shoot a gun, obviously. Even when that meant military service interrupted your uni for a short while. I say that as if no other countries before or after had mandatory army time... don't question it, I'm doing a bit.

Lyonya is second in top row in the picture on the left and third from the left in the top row in the other pic. Korol is there, too, he's fourth from the left in the top row in the first picture and second from the right in the bottom row in the other picture.

#I'll leave my particularly unhinged comments for later pictures. just you wait. wait and quiver in fear #leonid toptunov #file: special interest: chernobyl #chernobyl #file: ask!#asker: rodka

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multiharlot · 2 years

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my wife / matt murdock x age gap!reader

summary: matt loves calling you "his wife" any chance he gets. especially when someone isn't quite getting the hint

warnings: jealous matt sorry not sorry, mentions of alcohol, a second warning for jealous matt bc he deserves it, the phrase "my wife" is used an obnoxious amount of times.

masterlist || series masterlist || add yourself to my taglist!

matt loved calling you his wife every chance he got. from the moment you two got married, he only ever referred to you as "my wife."

you two had gone to a nearby thai restaurant and ran into one of his old classmates from columbia, tyler.

"hey! good to see you! how've you been?"

"good and you!"

"great. have you....have you met my wife? this is my wife, y/n."

tyler just smiled before sticking his hand out.

"you must be...his wife?"

you chuckled, nodding your head and shaking his hand.

"it's his new favorite phrase." you smiled

and he never denied it when you said that.

one day, he'd apparently told foggy and karen that "his wife" was bringing them lunch today.

"you know...we were at the wedding. we know she's your wife, bud. you don't have to keep saying it."

"sorry i just...i like saying it." he shrugged, his cheeks warming as he felt them staring at him.

foggy and karen just smiled at the gross amount of love that their friend had for his wife.

so you could imagine, during his college reunion, he had a hell of a time introducing you as his wife to everyone that came up to speak to him. everyone in the room knew that you were his wife. or so you thought.

"hey, i'm gonna go grab some drinks. you guys want anything?" you ask, turning your head towards matt, foggy, and marci.

foggy nodded his head while matt and marci said no.

"well would you look at that, your wife is gonna go get me a drink." foggy teased at matt, and he just shrugged, sipping on the scotch he'd been nursing all night.

"my wife is a nice woman."

you rolled your eyes as you walked away, headed towards the open bar.

"can i get a cosmo and a scotch neat please?" you ask, and the bartender nods their head.

you lean forward, looking at all of the bottles against the wall as you wait for you drinks. then a man leans against the bar beside you.

"hi...have we met before?"

you give him a polite smile, shaking your head.

"no, i don't believe so."

"i didn't think so. i would've remembered meeting someone as beautiful as you." he said, smiling cooly.

you let out an awkward chuckle as you nodded your head.

"yeah well i doubt we would've met. i'm here with my husband. i didn't go here so...i mean i did. just not...for law. and not at the same time as you."

"your husband?"

"mhm" you hum, nodding your head and hoping that would be enough to get him to back off.

but alas, not all dreams come true.

"i don't know the guy but he seems like a fool."

"excuse me?" you ask sharply, narrowing your eyes at him.

"he's got to be a fool to leave a pretty thing like you unattended." he smirks, stepping forward and tracing his hand gently down your arm.

as you move your arm and step back, a hand is quick to grab the stranger's hand off of you.

"i'm gonna suggest that you don't touch my wife and that you keep your hands to yourself."

there's a short pause before the stranger lets out an amused chuckle.

"murdock's your husband?"

"and what about it?" you ask sharply, furrowing your eyebrows and quirking your head to the right.

"he just didn't seem like the marrying type."

"i wasn't, until i met my wife."

"ummm....your drinks are ready." the bartender says, awkwardly interrupting.

you mumble a quick thank you and matt leaves a tip on the counter. he quickly wraps his arm around your hips, gripping your hip bone so tightly you thought it might leave marks.

"here's your drink fog." you smile, handing his his drink as you take a seat.

"everything okay?" he asks cautiously as matt adjusts his jaw.

you look over at matt , who's jaw is so tense you're afraid it'll break. you lean over, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw and then taking a sip of your cosmo.

"everything's good. my husband took care of it." you smiled, which caused matt to relax slightly.

"anytime." matt smiles, sliding his arm around your waist and pressing a quick kiss to your hairline.

"not you too." foggy groans.

"i think it's cute." marci mumbles and shrugs.

"no yeah, it's so cute. just like my wife." foggy says, pressing a loud kiss to marci's cheek.

marci just looks at foggy for a moment before speaking up.

"nevermind i hate it."

taglist:

@luvr-bunnyy @glowstick-lesbian @anothersworld

#matt murdock x reader #x reader #marvel #daredevil #daredevil x reader #marvel fanfiction #marvel men #matt murdock #matthew murdock #netflix daredevil #matt murdock imagine #matthew murdock x reader

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chatsurie · 9 months

Text

Her little light

part 2

The first time had been heart wrenching. Even while getting out of the car her legs had shaken so badly she had feared for that short second that she would kneel over. What an impression that would have been, huh? Especially in front of a five star hotel that only the Elite of Society was able to afford.

It had indeed been a long cry from her run down apartment with it's screeching wood floors and the rattling walls from the incoming trains near the main station.

She remembered checking the picture on her phone multiple times and rereading all the information she had, before she had actually gotten out of the car, the driver shooting her another cautioning glance, as if to say 'don't fuck this up or it'll be your head on the platter'.

The man she had been waiting for, had stood in front of the entrance his phone in his hand, rapidly typing something. She had taken a deep breath, when she had realized that at least the picture had been true. Sure, the agency checked their clients before accepting them, but an agency already being deeply in the illegal network had never seemed extremely trustworthy to her.

The anxiety doubled down, when the stranger and her went into the restaurant with her on his arm.

It was alright. She only had to get through the night. She only had to survive this dinner, looking pleasant like a dumb doll, and would then just have to accompany the man to his hotel. Nothing more nothing less. Just dinner and Sex. And after that she would have a big wad of cash that she could have never brought in while bartending.

Everything would work out fine.

Sex had seldom been a pleasurable occasion for her, even before then. She was used to just lying down and taking what they gave or giving what they wanted.

That night she understood that there was a different kind of humiliation of taking the tip of the table while the client explained to her that he would definitely reschedule her while wiring her agency the money which would then immediately go back to hers, obviously minus the interest.

That morning, after sending her babysitter home, she had slid down the shower wall and cried under the shower head. She had still been able to feel his hands everywhere. There had been marks all over her body. Bites, the occasional handprint from the slaps he had dished out, and her hair still hurt from the way he had pulled on it.

That morning she had prayed to never have to meet this man again.

But alas, it was another bill paid. It was another wad of cash that went into the savings for her little light. Maybe she wouldn't have the life she had always dreamed of having but she would make damn sure that her son would get whatever the hell he wanted. She would make damn sure that her little light at least would have everything he needed.

And maybe some day, when Kiro was grown up enough to understand, and when she had enough saved up to move them to a better place and when she had gotten her online degree, she could become a mother Kiro could be proud of.

Yes. Maybe some day.

What a great dream that had been.

Now, a good five years later, there wasn't even an inch of anxiety left over as she sat at the fine table waiting for one of her regulars.

He had been an intimidating man, when she had first met him. Through the vetting she had done beforehand she had known exactly who he was, what he was and most importantly, who he worked for. It had taken some time until she had been able to engage in completely normal conversation with him, since she had also been quite new to the business at that point and he could be intimidating enough on his own as well.

However after being his escort for a good of four years, she could pride herself in knowing the man quite well. He really was nothing more than another rich Dude with too many connections and own emotional problems to honestly consider Dating.

That was always the best client to have.

“Good Evening, Koko!” Smiling brightly the young woman got up, as the man made his way over to her table. His usual red jacket thing, she never knew what to call it exactly, hung loose over his arms reminding her that he probably hadn't eaten right again.

But that wasn't something she was to worry about.

It was none of her business

“Evenin'.”

His voice sounded a bit gruffer than usual as well as he leaned down to press a light kiss on her cheek in greeting. It was one of those nights then.

The bracelets on his wrists jingled as he pulled away her chair for her to sit in, before taking a seat as well.

She remembered the first time he had done that for her. Up to this point her clients had been relatively well behaved, but Koko had been and still was her best paying client. Surprisingly enough he was also the one who was the most cordial, if she could call it that. When he had pushed away the chair for her the first time she had been so flabbergasted that she had outright told him to not do it again.

The simple raise of his brow had made her apologize for the apparently perceived disrespect immediately and she honestly didn't know why he had decided to meet with her again.

“How was your week, Koko?” She always started with some light conversation before Koko would tell her what exactly he expected from her when it was one of those days.

He only grunted, as the waiter left their table.

“If we ignore the idiots at work that I have to deal with on a daily fucking basis, it was okay-ish.”

Someone was prickly.

As he took a sip from his red wine she felt him scrutinising her in a way that he hadn't since their first meeting. It was the moment she knew she wouldn't like what he would say next. Maybe he finally got tired of her?

He sighed shaking his head and taking a sip from his water, “anyways. How was your week? I hope you bought yourself something for once? Honestly. I don't think I have seen one dress on you that I never saw before. What do you do with all my money?”

If she were any other person his direct call out might have stung the way it was supposed to. Now though, she only made a note to put special attention on the left side of his spine when she gave him a massage later. Koko was rather difficult to handle when that man hadn't eaten, hadn't had a somehow uneventful work day and a tense back to top it off.

“Well, I'd say what I do with my money, Koko,” she simply teased, a flirtatious lilt in her voice as she took his free hand and starting a light massage of his muscles, “isn't any of your concern, as long as I look perfectly the part I need to look. Wouldn't you say?”

“I have a proposition for you.” He started again, after looking her up and down, his tone serious, still not pulling his hand away. It was always a good sign. “First of all, I would double the rate I'm paying usually for the evening in question.” He stopped, letting the information sink in.

Double the rate? That was... that was a lot of money. That was honestly too much. He was talking about 15k for Gods sake. With that money the dream of being able to send Kiro away for college seemed all the closer. He would be able to get the best education there was with everything she had already saved for him. Hell, maybe, just maybe he would even be able to study outside the country when the time came.

What was the catch?

So deep in her thoughts, she hadn't realized she had stopped the massage, until Koko lightly tapped her hand, which made her start up again, though a bit more hesitantly. Koko only started up speaking again, after the fact.

“Second, I wouldn't leave you the whole evening. You'd be by my side the whole time.”

Oh she really wouldn't like that, would she?

“I'll also take it upon myself to send you the correct wardrobe for the evening. The only task you would have is look pretty on my arm as usual and maybe have some pleasant conversation.”

“What is the evening about?” She asked him after a while of silence as he didn't seem like he wanted to elaborate and for a short second she thought she saw something like guilt flash through his eyes.

“It's a simple business dinner with the executives of my organisation. Not more not less.”

What?!

That was it?

15k just for that?

She had to be missing something there. Right?

Wait. His organisation? Wouldn't that mean Bonten? As in the most dangerous Gang in Japan right now? That Bonten?

The amount suddenly started to make sense.

“For what do you need a date for that?” There was a slight accusatory tone in her voice and she withdrew her hand. Sometimes she just couldn't keep her thoughts inside her head.

Koko chuckled, “can't I simply enjoy your presence?”

She bit her lip. That was a sweet deal. But was it worth the potential danger? What if this meeting ended up being the one finally creating the bullet with her name on it? She couldn't let her Son grow up without a mother!

“Can I think about it?” She asked him after a short while.

Koko nodded slowly. “I can give you three days. Then I need to know. The dinner would be in a week. Saturday night at 10.”

If she really did decide to go she would have to find another babysitter. The teenager who usually looked after Kiro, a sweet eighteen year old girl who was preparing for entrance exams had already told her that she wouldn't be able to work next Saturday.

After that conversation was over, some stress seemed to fall of from Koko's shoulders and the answers he gave her throughout the rest of dinner were nothing short of polite and charm.

“Ready to go?” He asked her, as the waiter cleaned up the plates.

It was time for that part of the night, she still dreaded. In all the five years of doing the escort service it just didn't seem to get any easier. Sure it helped that Koko was a regular and surprisingly more gentle than most of her clients, but she just didn't seem to be able to get over the feeling of powerlessness it gave her.

Koko's hand on her back created a steady pulse as he led her outside after paying.

The ride to the hotel was quiet. His hand had wandered from the small of her back to the inside of her thighs in the same way it always did only leaving its place when he needed to switch gears. Funnily enough it were always these car rides that the young woman realized that out of all the clients she had, Koko was probably the most touch starved. He always needed some kind of bodily contact if the surrounding allowed for it.

The hotel the two stayed at was always a different one, always high end, and always in a part of a city she could have never dreamed of stepping in without him. Out of curiosity she once visited Ginza, a part of Tokyo, Koko liked to stay at on her own when she had made the time and just looking at the hellishly expensive shop windows made her feel filthy. And that was after starting to make good money with the whole escorting spiel.

The hotel Koko had chosen this time was another glamorous one. The name did scratch an itch, but she couldn't really explain why.

After Koko had parked and opened the door for her, he gave the keys to a valet who seemingly didn't need a reminder to be extremely careful with his car.

The inside of the hotel was as luxurious as the outside and it honestly didn't do anything to cause her wonder anymore. It was just another picture of what she would never be able to afford, because her first and last concern would always be the well being of her son. That's where her money went and that's where she was happy seeing her money going. If having sex with rich men, could buy her son the best education and a flat in a good part of the city then that was all that was needed.

And who knew. If she really did take this job Koko had proposed, maybe she could finally at least take a step back and restart her own education.

Maybe it really did end up being worth it.

The ring of the elevator, signalling that they had reached the suite pushed her out of her musings violently.

It would be fine. Just the same old, with someone she at least partly trusted. Hell anyone would be worse than Koko. After all maybe she could even consider him a nice acquaintance at this point.

He was careful with her in a way no other of her clients were. There really wasn't a need for her anxiety to spark again.

“How about you finally get rid of this awful jacket so I can get out that painful knot near your spine again.” She whispered in his ear, while letting her fingers glide slowly up and down his back, the cloth of his jacket feeling as expensive as always.

“I always wonder how you know,” Koko answered while turning around, “I think it's your job to take it off though.”

Obviously. Not a penny from his hand without doing the actual work, she thought, suppressing the chuckle that wanted to slip out at that. Instead she started busying her hands on the buttons, kissing down the every speck of newly bared skin while starting to walk him towards the bed.

Maybe she'd be able to finish everything quickly? That way she might be able to get more than four hours of sleep, before preparing breakfast for both her son and the babysitter? The poor girl was probably kept up by the little ruffian for quite some time and it was a Sunday. She deserved to sleep in form time to time.

Was she a bad mother? Sure, the babysitter came only once a week, at most twice but her son had a no good prostitute-

Stop, that was not the time and place.

Koko paid her well enough to deserve at least every ounce of attention she was willing to give. She owed him at least that.

Once his legs hit the end of the bed she finally stripped the jacket off.

“Am I allowed to put my attention on your back now, Sir?”

Koko chuckled, sitting down on the bed, “you know, I might have, if you weren't such a damn tease. Right now, I think there's something else that needs attention. If you really want to massage me, you're going to have to earn it.”

It really was one of those days. He would fight her tooth and nail on every act that wasn't overtly sexual, wouldn't he?

Throwing him a demure smile, she got to work, carefully opening up his velvet pants all the while kissing down his stomach and v-line, slowly ridding him of his trousers and boxer shorts and stroking him a few times, before finally taking him in her mouth, all the while maintaining eye contact with him.

Two hours later, she was completely exhausted lying next to him on the bed. God she was so tired.

Koko's fingers were painting feathery pictures on her skin.

“You know, usually I have to wrestle you back into bed for just a few more seconds of lying around. You sure you alright?”

Sighing she hid her face underneath her arm.

“Oh you know,” she did her best to shoot him a half grin, “just age catching up with me.”

Koko sighed at that. Right. She had forgotten. Age was a bit of a prickly subject with the man.

“You know it's only these tiny moments that you really do look your age. If I were a better man, I would kick you out with some more money and tell you to make something out of yourself.”

But your not,” she whispered, “it's exactly because you are the man that you are, that this arrangement works so well.”

It was that moment. That second, where his hands stopped painting circles on her shoulders and instead went to the back of her scalp, carefully massaging it, that she knew the next conversation would be the dreaded one. It had started around two years ago. After he had helped her get out from her old agency, while allowing her to keep some of her normal regulars, that the conversation first came up.

“You know, I'd be able to care for you without a problem. You would just need to let me. Become my sugar baby. You wouldn't need to do this escorting shit any longer, just to be able to pay your fucking rent, because you know as well as I do, that none of them pay you like I can and do.”

She sighed, forcing herself to sit up, “Koko,” god she was so tired, “we've been over this. My answer will stay the same as it has the times before. It's a no. I appreciate the offer, but I can't.”

The man rolled his eyes shoving his hand through his white hair. “Why not? I don't think I've ever asked.”

The fact that a man like him still asked, was something that deeply surprised her every time.

“Koko, I just can't.”

Maybe she had pushed her luck with him a tad bit too much, because the look he gave her was every bit the one of a hardened criminal.

“That's not good enough. I'd say I've been rather patient with you. I want a fucking reason this time around. And it better be a good one.”

The threat of or else hanging up in the air made her wonder if she should push her luck a bit further. She had never liked to be told what to do. One look at his eyes, completely devoid of all the usual mischief, made her rethink.

“Because you're possessive, Hajime.” She nearly would have told him that sometimes she worried that this whole deal wasn't completely transactional for him, “I can't be dependent on a single man in my life ever again. The moment you drop me, because I have outlived my purpose, I will be alone. Without a network to support me, to fall back on. And since we can't put a date on when you will abandon me, and that you will, I need to use every opportunity I can to make sure I have enough money to live comfortably. So no, Koko. I can't.”

With that she finally got up off the bed. Maybe he finally understood it now.

He was silent, as she went along getting dressed, knowing that tomorrow the money would have been transferred to her bank account. Because that was all it was. Money.

His next words had been drowned out by the elevator doors closing. If she would have heard them, maybe she would have considered trying to cut off all ties with him.

And if just for the purpose of her own sanity.

As she closed the door to her apartment, Silence greeted her. Taking a second to take a breath she just stood behind the closed door for a second before ridding herself of the coat, hanging it up on the hanger and making her way over to the kitchen. Downing a glass of water she finally dared to throw a glance at the clock hanging on the wall. Half past four. Too late again. Maybe if she went to bed now, she would be able to sleep at least for two hours before getting back up again, to make breakfast for her son and babysitter. Kiro sadly still was somewhat of an early riser. But then again, she should probably count herself lucky. There were kids that got up at six instead of seven.

Settling into bed, she tried to forget about the evening. Most of all Koko's preposition.

It sounded all the more enticing the more he asked her. For the sake of her two hours of sleep, she still decided to make it a problem for future her.

She had just finished cooking the pancakes as her little whirlwind stumbled inside the kitchen.

“Mommy! You're home! Look at what me and Hanna-san drew yesterday. She put it on the fridge. Look. It's a gigantic bra- brachiosaurus. I called him Totoro, because Hanna-san told me he would protect me!”

Smiling the woman had turned around, first to Kiro to raise him up, “it's Hanna -san and me, Kiro. Remember. First you call the other person,” and snuggle him against her. Then she finally turned to the fridge.

Yeah, painting was absolutely not his strong suit, she thought as she looked at the picture. Without his explanation she honestly would have been unable to say what it was.

“Totoro is beautiful, dear. Just as precious as you. Did you sleep well?”

After breakfast and sending home a still sleepy but thankfully happy Hanna, Kiro helped her cutting up some fruit to take with them to the park. She had never thought that she would love listening to all kinds of information about Dinosaurs as she did, as her son talked her ear off.

An hour into playing hide and seek at the park, Kiro finally decided to go play by himself on the playground situated inside the park, allowing the young woman to finally sit down and take a sip of her energy drink infused coffee. Days like this made her remember why she did everything she did. She really should call Koko tonight and tell him that she would accept the dinner with his organisation. If it meant seeing more smiles on this tiny face she would fight the world for her little light.

“My, I didn't expect to see someone this pretty today. May I sit with you?”

Surprised the woman turned her head around, taking her eyes off her son and at least staring at an overwhelmingly tall man dressed in a pair of black slacks and a white shirt. His lilac hair falling into his sharp face she did have to agree that he was rather pretty.

“Sure,” she slowly said. There was something about this man. She had seen him somewhere before, “be my guest.” With that she turned back around, taking another sip of her coffee, while watching over Kiro again.

“Autsch, that hurt my ego just the tiniest bit, sweets. I've never been shot down this quickly before.” The man beside her started up again, a teasing hurt in his voice and she turned back around to him.

“Sorry,” she started clarifying, “I'm not-”

The man interrupted her, “interested? Yeah I figured. Damn. Your man must be happy.”

“I don't-”

“You don't have a man?! Now I feel even worse.”

Fucking! Could he stop interrupting her? He was thinking so fast her sleep addled mind had trouble keeping up.

“Sorry. Do we know each other?” She asked again, her tone taking on a sharper tone, finally looking him up and down. Her eyes instantly fell onto the tattoo on his neck. The same one Koko wore.

He was another executive. Had Koko? No. For what would he send another executive to her. And if he did want to observe her or whatever, he would find someone more inconsipcous than this man

He grinned. “Ah,finally. The question I was hoping for. We don't yet, dear. I'm Ran. Pleasure to meet you.”

Telling him her name, she turned his name over in her head a few times.

Ran. Was he the one Koko complained about constantly? No, that place took a man named Sanzu if she remembered correctly,

“Can I help you somehow?” The woman asked, her voice still as sharp. She had not went out today to hold conversations with another gangster. The goal today was spending time with her son.

“Just wondering what a beautiful woman such as yourself is doing here all by herself.”

Before she could answer, her son came running over. “Mommy! Look! I found a worm.” Grinning brightly he held the poor animal right into her face as he came to a halt in front of her.

Shaking her head lightly, she kneeled down in front of him, in order to become eye level with him. “Kiro,” a strict tone in her voice, “what have I told you about picking up random animals?”

The little ruffian had the nerve to look the slightest bit sheepish, as he put the worm back into the ground, “to always be careful with animals and con- consider that the smaller the more, uh, fra- fragile they are?”

“Exactly. That's my sweet boy. Now what do you not do when you find a worm?”

He bit his lip the slightest bit, leaning his head to the side while thinking, “that I shouldn't run with it? And instead be extra gentle?”

Stroking his hair, she grinned at him, holding her hand out for a high five. “Exactly.”

As Kiro looked up at his mother, he suddenly started to realize that his mother wasn't actually alone. Shying away, he quickly hid behind her, clutching her legs, as she stood up again and peeked around her to look at him.

“Aww, now who is that little man?” Ran asked, cooing at the child.”

Taking on a protective stance, not trusting the man in front of her, she took a little side step to be completely in front of Kiro.

“That's my son. Why don't you run a long dear. The swing is free now. I'll come over in a second.”

With that Kiro nodded at her, threw a last glance at Ran and took off towards the swings.

“He's very precious. No need to be so protective though. I wouldn't hurt a child. Nor you. At least as long as it isn't consensual?”

Rolling her eyes she put her hands on her hips. “Ran-san. I am not interested. My plate is full enough, I do not need another man in my life. Now, please move along!”

Ran sighed as if the load of a thousand worlds had just been dropped on his shoulders.

“Alright. I get it. It's been a pleasure to meet you though. I'm sure you're a great mother by the way. I would have killed to have one as attentive as you. You two have a nice day.”

That did have the effect of making her blush. It wasn't all that often, someone complemented her on her education skills. Heck, most other mothers she had the misfortune of talking to just turned up the nose after finding out she was a 24 year old single mother with a five year old child.

“Thank you. I really appreciate it. Have a nice day as well.”

When they left the park in the afternoon she had nearly forgotten about Ran again. Instead she got to making dinner, while helping Kiro set the table.

Looking at him now, she knew that her decision had been made the moment Koko asked her. She would take him up on the offer.

Taking the burner, he had supplied her with she simply dialled the speed dial. It only rang about two times before he accepted the call.

“ What is it? I'm quite busy!”

Was he still annoyed with her? She had expected him to sulk a bit after their last conversation but she hadn't thought that he would still be angry. After all the last few times he hadn't been either. So why now?”

“Don't worry I'll make it short. I just wanted to tell you that I accept your request for the dinner meet. That is if you really do not leave me alone there.”

There was a short silence on the other end and then a light chuckle. “Awesome. That's great to hear. I'll tell the boss then. I'll pick you up at your place. Just write me the address.”

Hurrying before he could end the call, the declined, “No, Koko. Just tell me where I should come and I'll be there when you want me to.”

Koko sighed, “I'll still need your address. I will send you a dress. Can't let you come with the same thing you always wear for me.”

Gnawing at her lips she mulled it over. Somehow she had always known that the sense of privacy she had tried to put between her and Kokonoi would be teared down by the man in time. First it had been the higher pricing he had ensured to give her, then it was the agency he thankfully rid her off, then came his insistence on being the sole provider and now it was her address. She was getting more and more tired by the day. Everything would be so easy if she would just let him.

“Sure,” she answered hesitantly, “I'll send it to you. Anyways dinner's nearly done, I better get back to cooking. Have a nice evening, Koko.”

That Saturday she got ready in the bathroom being extra meticulous with her Make up and hair. Deciding to put it up into a well thought out more traditional style. It reminded her a bit of the style her own mother had always forced her into when they had went to important functions. The hair ornament she put in after much contemplation the only thing left that still reminded her of her previous heritage.

Just as she had put on the red dress, embellished with gold accents, surely to match Koko's dress robe, her bell rang.

She didn't have the kinds of friends that would just drop by on a whim. Especially not on a Saturday when they knew she would be working. So then who else?

Surely he wouldn't, right? She had explicitly told him to not pick her up?

Even before she could completely settle down and think it over once more, she could hear the door opening.

Kiro!

“What the?” She heard an erringly familiar voice as she quickly made her way through the hallway.

“Sorry Kid, I must have the wrong number.”

“What are you doing here, Koko?!” She asked the man sharply as she came to a halt in front of the door, pulling Kiro behind her once more, turning around to him.

“Can you go to your room and think about what you wanna take with you to Granny tonight? Maybe Chihiro?” Kiro had recently started to get crazy for Ghibli movies and had promptly named all his most precious cuddly toys after characters he liked.

Kiro nodded slightly insecure, throwing a few glances between his mother and the strange man, before running to his room.

“What are you doing here, Koko? I told you I'd come on my own?!” She asked him again, while pulling him inside the apartment and leading him inside her kitchen in order to not let anyone see him standing on her door step. What if her landlady saw him and thought she was in heavy debt and decided to finally use that reason to evict them.

“I still need to tell you about a few things tonight, so I thought it better to pick you up,” the man defended, leaning on the kitchen counter while throwing a confused glance to where the boy had ran to, “i didn't know you had a little brother.” He finally decided to breach the subject

Turning her back to him, she reached up to get two glasses out of her cupboards and filled them with water. One she put down next to Koko, the other stayed in her hand the cold grounding her just the slightest bit.

“Because he isn't. He's my son. Kiro.” She finally told him after deciding that there wasn't anyway she wouldn't be having that conversation with him.

Koko's eyes nearly immediately fell down to her right hand. Surely searching for a ring on her finger.

“Does your, sorry I don't see a ring, does your boyfriend know that you do what you do?” He actually had the nerve to sound angry. As if it was any of his business.

“As a matter of fact,” she told him, voice pitched higher, already wanting him to just leave her sanctuary and just leave her the fuck alone, “he doesn't. And even if he did he wouldn't care, because he is not in the picture any more. Now. If you're done judging me for my poor choices in life, maybe you can tell me what was so important for me to know that you decided to blatantly disregard my privacy and come here, even though I told you not to.”

Looking just the slightest bit sheepish he took a sip of his drink taking a look around his kitchen.

“Ya know, when I came here I was honestly a bit worried. This shithole might be in a better part of town but with the money I give you, you should have been able to afford better than this run down flat,” she wanted to interrupt him at that. Who did he think he was to come into her home and disrespect everything she worked for? One sharp look at her made her close her mouth acting as if she had just needed to take a bit breath, “I honestly thought you had some kind of addiction or maybe you were in trouble with a few shark loans but surely you would be intelligent enough to tell me and let me solve the problem for you,“ he went on, taking a few steps towards her, “It didn't even cross my mind that you might have a child that you're spending on and saving for. If you would have just told me, I could have helped you with that, ya know?”

Crossing her arms in front of her chest she glared around him. She hated when he looked at her like that. Like he was able to give her the world and more with no remorse for the repercussions and hurt he would cause other people and maybe even her.

She hated it so much.

The last time someone had looked at her in this way she had ended up a single Mother.

“Anyways, “she tried to deflect, “what did you want to talk about? Wasn't my only responsibility tonight to look pretty on your arm?”

Koko rolled his eyes pulling her shortly against him, “Sorry. I did mean to tell you that you look simply ravishing.” He gave her a little kiss on her head, while she tried wrestling free from his embrace. What was going on with him today? His moods changed so fast and it very nearly gave her whiplash.

“Your deflecting again. What did you want to talk about?” She asked into his chest after accepting that she wouldn't get out of that Constrictor grip he had on her.

Koko finally let go of her, and with his expensive cologne not blocking of the nerve ends to her brain she finally felt like she could think freely again.

“I wanted to-,” he stopped himself before starting a new sentence. It was the first time she had seen him do that, “Actually, no matter anymore. We've wasted enough time. Lets get, Kiro was it, to his Granny?”

Seizing him up and down she tried finding out what he was concocting in his head before nodding slowly. She was getting paid for this. So simple politeness it was.

“Wait here.” she told him, while going to get her son.

As she helped Kiro pack the last of his stuff for the night, she could hear Koko rummaging through her flat. It made a pit open in her stomach. There was a reason, why she had never accepted his requests for driving her home. She didn't want a customer to invade her privacy even more than she already let them. She didn't want to give them more of a fantasy than she already gave. She didn't want Koko to think of anything more than the employer, employee relationship they had.

A relationship that was slowly sizzling out and warping into something that she wouldn't have any control over.

“Who is this man, Mommy? Are you in love with him? Is he going to be my Dad?”

Kiro's words made her halt and old insecurities came back to light so suddenly she nearly fell over. His father wasn't in the picture any more. After getting her pregnant and being put in front of the choice of his families inheritance and his son, he had chosen. Kiro had never even seen a picture and since he had started elementary school, questions had come in. Questions she didn't know how to answer.

“No, Baby.” She told him carefully, sitting down and pulling him onto her lap. Koko could wait. Her son would always be her top priority. “That man in the kitchen is Hajime Kokonoi. He's a friend of mine.”

Kiro nodded slowly, before asking: “Then if he's a friend, why are you mad at him?”

She laughed a little bit at the question, stroking his hair. “You know, how you are angry with me sometimes, because I did something you didn't want me to do? Or how sometimes I get mad with you? With Koko it's the same thing. I can be angry with him and something he did and still be his friend. Okay?”

“Name?!” She could hear Koko call from the kitchen.

With a last cuddle she pulled Kiro into her arms and got up with his backpack in the other hand.

“Now then, lets get you over to old Granny, before Hajime tries kidnapping me, shall we?”

After having thanked the older woman and saying goodnight to her little ray of hope she finally followed Koko outside to his car where he was already waiting for her. The pleasant smile that had been settling in her face almost instantly replaced with a cold anger.

“You know,” she told him, after getting into his car and fastening the seat belt, “I do not appreciate my privacy being invaded in such a manner. Don't do it again.”

Koko rolled his eyes as he pulled out into the street. “Well, I don't like having to wait, yet here we are. Seems we'll just have to live with it.”

Grumbling she settled back into the seat not even throwing a glance down at her thighs as his hands settled back on them. Instead she just grabbed it and tried pushing it off her.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Koko grumbled, his hand not leaving her leg, “you never had a problem with it. What's up with you today? You do understand that I'm paying you, right ? And especially tonight, with my co-workers not knowing that you are a fucking escort you'll need to play a doting girlfriend. So settle a smile on your face and just be okay with my touch. Know your place.”

It nearly made her cry. Koko had never made her cry before. But how often had she pondered over exactly that. Doing the work she did may bring in good money, but it made her feel worthless. Oh how far had she fallen. The exiled daughter of a multi million enterprise.

Just as his hand left her, she made the decision.

Tonight she would play along. As perfectly as her mother did at those functions. She would be the proper eye candy she was supposed to be, doting on the man next to her in the way everyone expected her to. And after tonight, she would tell him that she was done. After tonight, she would cut all ties with him.

It would hurt as hell. He had become a friend after all. But the way he had started to behave just couldn't go on. He had started making her promises that tasted of the golden cage she knew all to well. One that she, unlike her mother, would never end up in.

So, as his hand settled on her thigh once more, she let it rest there.

It would hurt for some time, but it was better this way. There had been building something between them, she long since didn't know how to categorise.

Yes it was better this way.

“You know Koko,” she whispered, just loud enough so that she knew he could still hear her, without letting the tremor sound through her voice, “you've been a dear friend to me. I'm honestly thankful for all the help you've given me.” Instead of answering he simply gave her thigh a little squeeze.

As they pulled into the parking lot, she fixed a happy smile onto her face, checking her appearance in her hand mirror. It needed to reach her eyes.

Think of Kiro. She thought. The smile needed to be softer.

Think of his first steps. Think of last Christmas.

It worked.

As Koko opened the door on her side and pulled his hand out to help her out, she knew she wore the softest smile she had ever worn.

She could see with just a bit of satisfaction how the sudden change threw even him for a loop for a short second.

When Koko lead her into the well lid VIP lounge the first man to catch her interest was the man sitting at the head of the table. He was obviously the leader.

Mikey.

With his black clothes and sunken in appearance he made a stark difference to the other smart dressed men. But even then, he just exuded something she couldn't quite place her finger on. What she did know though, was that it made her tremble.

He had to have a mother out there, right? One that would surely cry if she were to see her son in such a state. She knew she would if Kiro would ever have such an empty look in his eyes.

Next to him must have been the second in command. He had a crazy look in his eyes and the way he seized her up, nearly made her run and hide behind the treasurer. Yes, that was Sanzu for sure. He looked just crazy enough to drive Koko into a fucking frenzy every time they interacted.

Before she could move on to the Guy Koko had once explained to be Kakucho, a movement in the corner of her eye caught her interest.

“Ran-san?!” She couldn't stop herself from calling out upon seeing his lanky figure in the chair. That's right, of course he'd be here tonight. How stupid of her to not remember. He might cause her a few problems in this charade then.

“You know him?” Koko asked her the tiniest bit flabbergasted a question lying on the tip of his tongue. Maybe she wouldn't have found it to sound as offensive if she wasn't still angry with him.

Shaking her head free, she quickly turned to Koko explaining: “We ran into each other at the Park.” her voice was just a tad bit sharper. Just because she was an escort didn't mean she slept with every man she knew.

With that she turned back around and into a deep bow. “I'm so happy to be able to finally meet you all. I've heard so much from my boyfriend. I'm (Last Name), (Name). Feel free to address me in a familiar manner though please. It's a pleasure.”

One after the other introduced themselves after that and for a short moment, she wondered why Koko had wanted her to be there today. Before she could get suspicious though, Ran had made space for her and 'her boyfriend'.

“What a surprise,” he started, a challenging shimmer in his eyes, “I didn't think I would see the spitfire again. Though if I remember correctly, didn't you say you didn't have a man? And now you're here with my dear friend Koko. Makes me worry for him just the tiniest bit. “

She had been right on the nose with this one. He was a difficult one.

A soft grin settled on her lips, as she put one of her hands on Koko's thighs. “I'm sorry Ran- san, but if my memory serves and it usually does, because it is quite good, you never let me finish my sentence. You just assumed. Maybe I just wanted to tell you a second time that I'm not interested, because of the wonderful boyfriend I already have.”

And that was how the evening went. On more than one occasion she had the feeling of being interrogated for something. Challenged in regards to something. The only question was what. What had been Koko's end game as he brought her there, to a dinner that had nothing to do with work.

“When did you two meet each other? And since when are you,” he stopped as if he had to think about a fitting word, “ together?” Rindou asked, a lilt in his voice she couldn't quite place once more.

“We met three years ago. At work actually. My employer introduced us and we just kinda hit it off. What can I say. Hajime is just a perfect gentleman.”

She didn't let her growing frustration show. Instead she listened to the stories they told, feeding Koko with food from time to time, massaging his hands and playing every part the of brainless Bimbo she knew Men like this preferred most of the time, while only taking kitten sips from the glass of red wine situated in front of her.

Another trick her mother had taught her by letting her watch how she handled business dinners with her husband.

Only ever drink so much that you aren't seen as impolite or prude but never too much so that your glass hopefully doesn't get a refill. This way you stay as the one vigilant person in the room, as the other members drink.

Knowledge is power.

“Tell me, (Name) what do you do for work?” Kakucho asked after that. Out of the corner of her eye she saw some of the men straighten just the tiniest bit. Did they really not know? Tonight there had been just a few too many innuendos.

Prepared for the answer she finished chewing before answering him, with a teasingly annoyed glance at Kokonoi: “well, this one would love me to not work at all, I can assure you. But if you need to know, I'm just an assistant. Nothing all that fancy you see. I just remember dates and organise them.”

As the evening dragged on she started becoming tired. After all it wasn't like being a mother was an absolute cakewalk.

At some point after having been asked a question twice, Koko squeezed her arm in an overly affectionate manner, before pulling her a bit into him and addressing the rest of the men in the room. “I think my Darling is starting to get tired, so we better get going. Come on, careful. I'll help you up.”

Still a bit drowsy she slowly got up and bowed towards all of them again.

“Don't you think we should invite them over for a dinner party at our place, Dear?” The question had been out before she had had time to think about it. It was simply another mannerism her mother had installed in her. “When you go out with important colleagues of your husband, you invite them over for dinner.”

And maybe Koko looked a bit too satisfied after the initial surprise. And maybe if she had been just a tad bit more awake, she would have noticed the light nod Mikey had given towards Koko's direction, then maybe she would have seen the nightmare that was brewing on the horizon coming just fast enough that it would have allowed her to grab Kiro and run.

Back inside the car both adults took a deep breath. “That was beautiful. Damn. I knew you were skilled. But this skilled? Shit. I owe you a fucking raise.”

Her eyes still closed,the younger woman only mumbled: “Take care Koko. You're nearly overthrowing me with money while I still distinctly remember Takeomi asking for a pay rise just as few hours ago.”

Koko laughed, as he fished for the certainly expensive blanket he had in his car and gave it over to her.

“Let's get you home first. We'll need to talk again tomorrow, but I really want you to know that I'm absolutely proud of you. You were absolutely beautiful today. That's my girl.”

Silence settled into the car as she slowly fell in and out of sleep. When Koko reached her place he quietly got out of the car, jogged around to the side the younger woman was still sleeping in and carefully first searched for the keys in her handbag, before lifting her out of the car with ease.

It wouldn't take much longer anymore, the treasurer told himself. He only needed to be patient for maybe another two weeks at most. The trap would close around her the moment the deal with the Chinese would go through. And without knowing it herself she had helped him significantly tonight. She would be able to play the perfect part during that dinner, maybe even sweeten up the deal just the tiniest bit. And the moment the dinner would find its end, he would give her something to drink that would just make her fall asleep before taking her home with him.

She'd finally be safe,

The only problem, the only unknown in this equation was Kiro. But he would find a way to make it work. And if it meant buying another house somewhere further away where they could all live together under his protection and control then that would be it. If he thought about it further, maybe that son of hers might even become a blessing.

Only time would tell.

When he reached the bedroom, he carefully put her on the bed.

“Come on now. You gotta wake up for at least five minutes.” He whispered, while also helping her out of her black pumps.

The fabric made him wrinkle his nose. Yes. It would be far better when she finally lived with him. She would never have to wear something so cheap ever again. God it was disgusting.

“Honestly, if I were a better man, maybe I'd understand why you save everything for your kid. But get yourself some damn shoes, woman.” He quietly sneered, as she slowly rowsed from her sleep.

“You still here, Koko?” her voice was a little rough and the man suddenly realised that it actually was the first time he saw her after waking up.

The man laughed lightly as he helped her sit up. “I do need to talk to you tomorrow morning, so I just figured I could stay over for the night. Maybe even help you a bit with Kiro?”

She must have been half asleep still, because she only nodded at him, around five seconds after and then proceeded to slowly get up and walk towards what he assumed to be that bathroom. He heard her rummaging around for a bit and then there was an abrupt silence that lasted a few minutes.

“You alright?” He asked as he walked to the bathroom door to knock.

Another few seconds and the door opened slowly. She was blushing slightly and fumbling with her hands.

“Could you- could you help me with the zipper?”

Kokonoi smiled, turning her around with careful fingers.

As he opened the zipper his hand wandered down with it tenderly caressing the slowly appearing skin. It really didn't matter how often her saw her naked. She was a picture for the gods every time.

Placing a singular kiss upon her neck he abruptly build distance between the two and left the bathroom, closing the door in the process.

He only needed to be patient for a few more days. Then she would be his and there was nothing she could do about it except accept it.

When she woke up the next morning the woman felt surprisingly warm. Her blanket felt softer than usual and the smell was somewhat familiar.

“You woke up earlier than expected.” A grumble could be heard above her and in surprise she wanted to quickly roll over only to be held back by the waist.

That was in fact not her blanket lying above her. That was a very tired sounding Koko.

“What are you still doing here?” She did remember him getting her home and helping her change. But why had he not driven home? And how was it possible for her to be so out of it yesterday night? She had never been this tired in her life before.

“We still need to talk about the Dinner party you offered.”

The what now?

The dinner party?

She offered?

Wait. Yeah. There was something.

Fuck. Autopilot had just taken over at that point and she had done what she had always done. Fuck!

“Koko. I did not know what I was fucking talking about. Can't we just say I was too tired to know what the fuck I was saying?”

Koko's lips drew into a teasing smile, before answering:” Don't worry. I know. I was just pulling your leg a bit. There is something I need to talk to you about though. In about one to two weeks Bonten will close a deal with a Chinese group. We want you there.”

We? So it really had been a test then?

She sighed, falling back into her bed. She didn't dare look at him, as she uttered her next words.

“I'm done, Kokonoi. I don't want to do this anymore. You've been a great friend, a great client but I can't do this anymore.”

Koko stilled next to her for a short second, his hands finding their place around her waist pulling her against him as he sat up.

“Why?” He sounded genuinely hurt.

“Because of exactly this,” she whispered in a tiny voice, gesturing to his hands around her, “I feel like you want more. Hell you even explicitly told me you want more now, for two years straight. And I simply can not do that. My priority is my son and he always will be. You need to let me go.

She could hear his tooth clashing together and felt his grip getting tighter.

“Just do this one last job for me. After that I'll leave you alone. I'll never ask for your service ever again. Just this one last thing.”

Struggling to turn around she finally looked at him. He looked so hurt. And she was the reason for his hurt.

“Will my son be safe?” She asked after some contemplation.

Koko sighed. “If everything goes to plan they will never know you have a son and will never see you again. Nothing more nothing less.”

“Fine.” She finally agreed. She could at least do this one last think for him.

He nodded, placing a soft kiss on her hair. “Thank you,” and then with a playful grin she knew was to underplay his emotions, “that way Mikey at least won't skin me alive.”

With that his arms disappeared around her and she laid back onto her back staring at the wall.

It really would be the last. After that she would cut all ties.

“We can't have that.” She teased back and in turn accepted that he didn't want to deal with his emotions right now.

“Thank you.” The man whispered, leaning over her and stealing a kiss he quickly deepened after realizing she reciprocated.

He build a small distance between them, before asking with a sad smile: “You think you can indulge me one last time?”

Once his plan would be set into motion she would probably hate him for some time. He'd have to take what he wanted now to tide him over.

Gulping she nodded pulling him down to her again.

As she tried rolling them over he put a determined hand on her stomach. Tonight, she'd be under his control.

Leaning down his mouth wandered from her lips to her cheeks, down her neck. She'd finally be his. With that thought, he started sucking on her neck in various places. Finally everyone would know, that she was a taken woman. There wouldn't be anyone else anymore.

One hand found it's place on one of her breasts, carefully stroking the little nub and drawing the most beautiful sound from her mouth.

“No- no marks, Koko.”

She felt him grin at her skin. “You're mine. Everyone should know it. I'll do whatever I want with you.” With that his mouth wandered down and unto her other breast.

He could feel her slowly rubbing her thighs together.

If only she knew what she did to him.

Finally coming out of her stupor the younger woman let her fingers wander over his chiselled chest. Going down, down down.

God, she would drive him crazy one day. He was already straining against his pants, aching to be outside of it's confines.

And then her hand was finally where he wanted it. Slowly stroking him for just the tiniest bit, before ridding him of his pants. God, her hands felt so good.

“You're doing great, Baby. Just breathe. Let me do this for you.” Her voice was sultry in his ears and nearly let him forget everything around him.

“Keep your eyes open, look at me baby.” She ordered, slowly pulling his face up by his chin.

She was blushing. God she was so fucking precious. They had had Sex so many times already and she was still blushing every damn time.

Her face did remind him of something though and with great difficulty he took the hand pleasuring him off him.

“What did I say?” He asked her a slight warning in his voice?”

With a pout she rolled her eyes. “That you wanna be in control?”

He grinned, in turn grabbing her chin and making him look at him. “Very good. And what are you doing right now?”

“Taking control?”

God, that pout did things to him.

“They are a conservative bunch then, I take it?” The woman asked, staring down at the expensive ring Koko was holding out to her with clear dislike.

It was the day of the dinner and since the morning her stomach was simply screaming at her to pack her bags and run. Something was terribly wrong, but she just couldn't figure out what it was exactly.

Koko rubbed the back of his head, before taking her hand with slight force.

“Yeah. A woman wouldn't be allowed at the table otherwise. You'll have to try and get his guard down a little. Be nice to the leader, treat the other executives with respect. You can joke around with them the tiniest bit but don't show them the smart head you have on those beautiful shoulders.”

She nodded along to his explanations, trying not to mess with the expensive cloth draped around her arms and shoulders.

“Let's get this shitshow on the road then.” She mumbled, mostly to herself.

“Hell yeah, that's the spirit.” Sanzu suddenly called behind her. Turning around she realised that the rest of the executives as well as Mikey had arrived.

He was dressed up as well tonight.

So this was the big occasion everyone was making it out to be. Straightening her back she settled a smile on her face.

It was just another mask.

Just another day.

When the six Chinese men arrived, the executives stood up, as she was following Koko's lead she observed the room.

Mikey stayed seated. Bonten probably had the upper hand in this deal then and they probably wanted to keep it this way. All three of the new men, however had a certain glean in their eyes. They would probably be playing a trump card tonight then. She would have to soften them up, before they played it.

“That went much smoother than I expected,” Ran joked as he sat down on the couch, the others promptly following leaving her standing in the corner.

Her mind was racing. She had expected a lot this night. But not Human trafficking. She really had gotten herself into deep shit today.

Mikey's glances in her direction were the ones that concerned her the most.

“You were good, honestly. I don't think they would have been this agreeable if they wouldn't have had such eye candy coming after their beck and call,” Rindou agreed with his older brother.

“Come on. You must be exhausted. Sit down.”

Gulping she slowly shook her head and then addressed Mikey with a sharp bow.

“I am exhausted, actually but I also have a son I need to get home to, so if you'd please just excuse me?”

It sounded much more like an insecure question than she would have liked it to.

The hand suddenly falling on her shoulders made her shake visibly.

“You know as well as we do, that we can't just let you go, after everything you heard tonight.”

Her lip was starting to quiver. What had she thought as she had agreed to this?

Exactly. She had thought about nothing but the nice stack of cash she would get.

“Koko, please,” she turned around to him, “you can't be serious. You know I'd never tell anyone about this.”

Koko smiled, pulling her into a strong embrace.

“I know. But I simply can't let you leave my life. And if keeping you and your son within my walls for the rest of yours means keeping you, then that's a price I'm willing to pay. You should have just agreed to my proposition. I would have let you keep your freedom for just a little while longer. Maybe at some point you even would have agreed to marry me out of your own free will. But you didn't. Instead you said you wanted to leave. It's not something I will ever accept. Your mine now and I won't even let you take a step without me allowing it ever again.”

Her intuition about wanting to break contact had been right.

She had been absolutely fucking right!

“My son?” She croaked out, only now realising. He was supposed to have a happy life. Go to a good school. Meet his peers. Make friends, get a nice girlfriend of boyfriend or whatever. He wasn't supposed to be holed up here.

What had she done?

“Already on his way,” Koko whispered into her ear, stroking her back, “we'll be one happy family.”

As he let go she nearly sank to the ground her legs threatening to give up on her. Only the realisation that she needed to be strong for her son, for herself and because of the other men still watching everything she was able to get back up.

Her mother had always told her that her pride would be her downfall one day. Well, Kokonoi Hajime did not know what would hit him.

Turning around she looked at the white haired man. “What do you plan to do with my Kiro?!”

He shrugged, grabbing his champagne of the table where he had first placed it.

“We'll see. If your agreeable, then he won't think anything different. I'll just be his father. You'll be my wife he'll go to the schools you always wished he would go to and everyone will end up happy. You just have to do what I tell you.”

Everyone would be happy, huh?

Turning around she zeroed in on the open bottle of wine, Ran had opened to celebrate the done deal. With her head held up high, she strode towards it, looking everyone dead in the eye at least once.

After having grabbed the bottle, she turned to Koko, taking a huge sip.

“You're sleeping on the couch tonight!”

He wanted her to be his happy wifey?

Then fine. She would fucking do that. If him being happy meant her son being safe, if him getting what he wanted meant her son getting the life he deserved, then heaven be damned. If him wanting to play fucking family, then she would take on this role. What was another mask after all?

She was back in the golden cage. Only this time it felt like she had given the keys out of her hand herself.

#Koko x reader #Tokyo Revengers #Ran Haitani #Mother reader #esort reader #light threats #kind of kidnapping #yandere kokonoi

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arianna-bradshaw · 2 years

Text

Wet Dream

Summary: Rooster and Bulldog with a one bed trope basically; Bradley has a wet dream🤭

TW: 18+, Smut, Drinking, Teasing, Grinding that's kinda dubcon bc he does it while he's asleep??

WC: 1.7k

_______________________________________________

It wasn't often that the Dagger team would have leave at the same time, but one year after the Uranium Plant Mission they all had a two month leave. A trip to Hawaii seemed perfect and almost everyone went. Hangman and Phoenix, a recent couple were going; so were Payback and Fanboy with their girlfriends, even Bob brought his wife. Rooster and Bulldog were the only single ones and decided to make it cheaper by sharing a room at the Hale Koa. 3 weeks in paradise were much needed for the group and when they arrived, everyone immediately relaxed.

After a long day on the island, you all finally could check into the hotel, and get some sleep. Jet lag wasn't really a thing for you guys, so used to traveling across the world with no time to rest. Though the activity filled day definitely tired you out.

"Hi can I check in for Bradley Bradshaw." Rooster yawned, standing at the front desk.

"Of course, so we have a single Queen Suite, correct?" The woman asked, clicking through her system.

"There should definitely be two beds," He frowned, but alas, the hotel was booked up and now Rooster and you were stuck for three weeks with one bed.

______________________________________________

"I'll just take the floor or something it'll be fine." Bradley shook his head as we got to the room.

I frowned, "C'mon Roos, it's three weeks. There's no way that'll be comfortable. This bed is huge. We can share."

That's how you ended up here, laying in an oversized shirt and sleep shorts; Bradley pressed firmly against your back. You definitely remember falling asleep on opposite sides, but now you were in the middle, a sleeping Rooster- with no fucking shirt on- cradling you. As if that wasn't enough, he had a distinct… problem pressing against your ass.

Of course, you just tried to go back to sleep, but it was 4am, and his muscular chest against your shoulders as well as his hard on were hard to ignore. So you just grabbed your phone and sighed, at least you could scroll through the pictures from yesterday.

It was only a few minutes later when Bradley shifted his hips- and then again. All of the sudden he was softly grinding against your backside and your eyes widened. You should wake him up, but the idea of how mortifying that would be for the both of you prevented any movement. You gently tried to move to the otherside of the bed but then you heard it.

A small moan of your name off his lips, okay that kinda changed things. You were already turned on by him pressing against you but that…. That was a lot. You sat up quickly and pushed yourself away, taking in a shaky breath.

A few hours later he woke up, and rubbed a hand over his face. He blushed when he caught sight of you, already dressed in a tiny sundress that hugged your curves, the outline of your bikini obvious.

"I'm uh… gonna shower." He said quickly, rushing into the attached bathroom. You all met for breakfast downstairs, and you both would blush at any eyecontact. The plan was a beach day, since it was right outside the hotel; and Phoenix and Hangman tagged along. Your baby blue bikini complimented your body, and Bradley's pink flamingo shorts… well they suited him.

You were lounging in the sand with Phoenix when she mentioned it.

"So did you two finally fuck or something, you can barely look at eachother."

You turned deep red and shook your head. "I woke up last night, and I think he was… having a really good dream- about me." You mumbled.

"Oh my god, did he like… wake up." She asked.

"Nope but he moaned my name and grinded on me. God it was so hard not to fucking jump on him." You groaned.

"Does he know you know?" Phoenix asked.

"No! I got ready before he was awake, but I think he remembers the dream. Considering how he's been acting."

That's how it started, you knew that she had told Hangman, who told Payback- who passed it down the line. You knew their mission- get the two of you together. No one said anything to you, but as soon as you were in Phoenix and Hangman's suite playing truth or dare you knew something was up. The game got raunchy quick, even though it was mostly couples (so no random kissing or anything). Bob and his girlfriend were dared to do body shots, Hangman gave Payback a lap dance, Phoenix had to tell the story of her and Hangman's mile high club time which resulted in Rooster yelling, "Dude me and Bulldog were right fucking there!"

Phoenix raised an eyebrow, "Fine, Truth or Dare Rooster." She smirked.

"Truth," He shrugged, knowing that a dare would probably mean stripping or possibly doing something with Bulldog- he could not handle a hard on right now.

"What was your most recent wet dream?" She asked, "With details."

You hide your surprise in your beer, eyes widening.

Rooster blushed and ran a hand over his face. "I uh, it was… I was on base in my barracks with someone and we- you know."

You blushed and fidgeted with your glass.

"Who was it?" She asked.

"Can't give away all my secrets can I?" He winked at her, and turned to you.

"Y/N, truth of dare?" Rooster asked.

"Uh truth." You bit your lip.

"What's your biggest kink?" He said, smirking.

"Oh… I don't know. Maybe like- choking or something." You blushed, it was an easy answer, but no less embarrassing. He nodded and looked away.

The game continued and eventually it was Bob's turn again. "Bulldog, I dare you to… kiss Rooster." Of fucking course you had to pick dare, you figured that Bob would be nice, but no.

You blushed and looked over at Rooster, biting your lip. He shrugged in approval and you scooted closer. He was bright red, but so were you. You placed a hand on his chest and kissed him, his hand fell to the side of your neck and pressed gently; pulling you closer. It wasn't until Hangman smirked and said, "Get a room," that you both quickly pulled away, looking down.

"It's your turn." Bradley whispered to you, and you nodded. "Rooster truth or dare?"

"Dare." He said, smiling softly.

"Take me back to our room." You whispered in his ear. He nodded eagerly and stood, grabbing your hand. You ignored the whistles and lude jokes as you left quickly. As soon as you were in the hallway he pressed you against the wall, kissing you deeply again. "C'mon Roos- we're just a couple doors down." You whined.

Rooster nodded quickly, grabbing your hand tightly to lead you to the door, and a shaky hand uses the keycard.

Once inside the room, he pushed you against the closed door, a hand groping at the bare skin of your thighs. He groaned, pulling you towards the large bed.

"Bradley please." You moaned, peeling off the sundress and shimming out of your underwear. He had already pulled off hin tangtop, and was fidgeting with his shorts button.

Once he was undressed he crawled over you, pulling you into a deep kiss; one hand cupping your cheek and the other groping your exposed chest. You moaned softly against his mouth, moving a hand to grip his aching cock. He gasped quietly, kissing your neck.

"Fuck, Bulldog. Need to taste you." Rooster mumbled against your skin, kissing down your stomach.

"Please, need you." You whined, squeezing your thighs together. But a strong pair of hands gripped them apart. Then Rooster's head dipped between them, licking a stripe over your cunt, moaning at the taste. You weren't much better, gasping and gripping his hair with a loud moan.

"Fuck Bradley." You whimpered as he dove in, licking inside you and running his hands over the soft skin of your thighs. He brought to fingers up to tease your entrance as he moved to lick your clit in a fast rhythm. You pulled his hair harshly and moaned in time as he thrust his fingers into you; curling them up. He pulled back, staring at you.

"You're so fucking wet, baby? All for me, huh?" You nodded in response, head falling back.

"Always, Roo. Always been for you." You whined, he groaned and went back to work. He was tuning your body, plucking every string to prepare you for orgasm. In just minutes he had you squirming and whining out his name as you squirted on his fingers; he lapped at your cunt- groaning as if it was fucking nectar of the Gods.

He kissed gently at your hips as you panted in relief, eventually tugging his head up to kiss you.

"That was so fucking hot baby." Rooster groaned, kissing you deeply. "Can I fuck you? Please." You nodded quickly in response, spreading your legs wider. He gently pushed in, kissing your neck. He groaned lowly as he settled inside you, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. He panted above you, watching your face carefully. When you nodded and bit your lip he started thrusting.

You could tell he wouldn't last long as he wanted, if his moans and groans were anything to go by. He set a brutal pace, stroking every part of you. You moaned, pulling him down for a deep kiss.

After a few more minutes of pure bliss he groaned. "Fuck Y/n, I'm close, darling." he stuttered, pulling your body against his. You nodded, "Me too, Bradley." He groaned and bit at your neck. When he finally moved a hand to your clit, you whined and watched him. You feel apart, cumming on his cock and he followed with deep grinds- finshing deep inside you.

You both panted as he fell beside you, nuzzling you close. "That was amazing." He grinned, kissing your temple.

You giggled and nodded, "It was," you gently pet his hair. "We needa clean up, love."

He nodded in response, groaning as he got up. After a long relaxing shower, you were cuddled in bed- in one of his shirts and comfortable underwear; him only in boxers.

"Next time you have a wet dream about me, tell me." You giggled, nuzzling his strong chest.

He blushed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Noticed that did you?"

#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw imagine

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darkkbluee · 6 months

Note

Re:dn?

For the WIP asks

Hi anon! Thanks for the ask. Re:dn is my succinctly named WIP and it lives permanently in my head, peeking it's not-so-little head out every once in a while. Not-so-little because every time I remember, I keep adding to it. And the fic, intended to be a short 5k one-shot, just.doesn't.end. It's at 17k now, more than thrice it's expected length. I've given up on ending this monster. I love it, so alas, it'll keep being written and written and written in my drafts. Maybe I will post it, maybe I won't.

Re:dn is about Light getting reincarnated in a peaceful world. He is pretty happy with his new life. Unfortunately for him, he isn't the only one reincarnated. The rest of the main death note characters are reincarnated as well. And they aren't very happy with Kira.

Starring Light "what is Kira? Is it tasty?" Yagami, L "I will get you to confess. Your feelings <3" Lawliet, Misa "date me, senpai!" Amane, Mikami "this life is a reward for my service to God" Teru, Matsuda "I'll make sure you stay on the right path this time" Touta. Plus several others, who aren't here because it would clutter the paragraph.

Snippet below the cut.

Light was born on the 28th of February, year unknown. His parents weren’t Soichiro and Sachiko Yagami. They were utterly ordinary people in ordinary jobs. He was not an only child either. Light had a father, a mother, a younger sister, grandparents on both sides of the family and a lot of cousins. It was a large, extended family.

His parents worried when Light woke up screaming in the middle of the night. They worried even more when Light froze at sight of the plastic water-guns his cousins pointed at him and refused to come out of the closet till they were all gone. His parents, unlike his parents Before, got him the professional help he had never had. After-all, how was Light to explain he had been imprisoned under the suspicion of being Kira and his own father had fired an air gun at him at close range? Despite being his father? Despite understanding the danger of even blank shots at close range?

And in this new life, Light couldn’t explain it either. They could ask questions all they wanted, but Light had no answers for them. But something had to be done, something had to change. His parents couldn’t take the suffering of their child anymore, and Light couldn’t either. As an adult, he could pop pills for sleep as and when needed and needed to give no one any explanation – except occasionally his doctor for a prescription. As a child? This was dangerous for his health and sanity.

So, Light took advantage of being a child. Slowly, he opened up to the doctor his parents had arranged and talked about things from his past life as if they were dreams.

Things could have gone wrong. They could have gone so, so wrong. The doctor could have labeled Light as a psychopath of some sort. He could have had Light been declared insane, his parents would then abandon him and this new life would be over even before it had begun.

Instead, his leap of faith was successful. His words were taken as the overactive imagination of a child. Of a genius child, who took in more of the world at a young age than his parents would have expected, and that had resulted in unintentionally traumatizing him.

Talking about it… helped. In ways more than Light had thought. Things he had never realized were wrong, feelings he had never realized he had buried, insecurities, fears, dreams, ideals…

It also helped that Light had realized his new world was more peaceful than Before. Crime was low, corruption was low, wars were few. Not non-existent, never that. But significantly lower than… than Before.

In this new world, Kira was not needed.

#death note #lawlight #light yagami #comedy #WIP ask meme #WIP ask game #wip asks #asks

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jammatown919 · 8 months

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Plus One

This has been sitting in my drafts 99% done for like, four months now, so I figured I'd finish it up and send it out since I haven't posted any writing in a hot minute.

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"Cupcake, I really don't think this is a good idea."

"I'm sorry, Vi, but it's been three months. I can't hold her off any longer."

So this was Vi's punishment for falling in love. After seven years wasted in prison and everything that had gone wrong with her sister, she'd finally found a reason to smile again; the woman of her dreams, standing directly behind her as she looked at herself, hardly recognizable, in the mirror. This woman right here was the light of Vi's life, and things were damn near perfect.

If only a formal introduction to Piltovan high society wasn't part of the package deal.

"Do I seriously have to wear this?" Vi adjusted the collar of her impossibly expensive suit, still grimacing at her neat, slicked-back hair which she feared might never be completely gel-free again.

"I offered you a dress," Caitlyn replied, dressed just as formally as Vi but pulling off her sleek navy gown and high heels significantly better. Her hair, pulled into a neat twisted bun, was immaculate without any product, which was just not fair, honestly.

"Then you would've made me wear heels," Vi grumbled. She swore the collar was making a conscious effort to choke her. "Cait, I don't wanna go to this thing."

"I know, love." To her credit, Caitlyn was incredibly sympathetic, and she had valiantly held off her vulture of a mother from trying to present Vi at one of these events for an impressively long time. Unfortunately, though, sympathy didn't get Vi out of this suit or her "responsibility as Caitlyn's partner", as Cassandra had put it.

What a piece of work.

If not for her insistence, Caitlyn and Tobias would have been fine with Vi continuing to sit out of all the events the Kirammans hosted and attended, but alas, neither of them seemed to know how to tell their matriarch no.

She tried to remind herself this wasn't for Cassandra. It was for Caitlyn, so her mother would get off her back about it and stop starting arguments. It was so the two of them wouldn't have to endure any more awkward dinners or pointed questions about why Vi was "hiding" from all those stuck-up elites. As if she needed a reason.

"Can we say I'm sick?" Vi asked, reminding herself of a much younger Powder trying to weasel her way out of chores. God, she missed that kid.

"She'll just make you go to the next one," Caitlyn replied, refocusing Vi before she could think too hard about the sister she'd lost. "It's best to just get it out of the way now. The first one's always the hardest."

First. Implying there would be more to follow. Great.

"Do we have to stay the whole time? What if I get in there, say hi to everyone I'm supposed to be nice to, and we just go?"

"The whole thing won't even be two hours," Caitlyn said, and when Vi turned to face her, she was completely serious. "It's just a cocktail party."

"We're getting this dressed up for less than two hours?" Thought it sounded a bit silly to put this much effort into their appearances for just a short event, Vi was infinitely relieved that she'd be out of this damn suit sooner than she'd thought.

"These things are intentionally short," Caitlyn said, reaching out to fix Vi's tie. "Long enough to catch up with people, but short enough to avoid anyone getting too tired or bored. It won't be that bad, really. It's just drinks, appetizers, and small talk."

"Drinks and appetizers don't sound that bad," Vi replied. "It's the small talk I'm worried about. The hell am I supposed to talk about with these people?"

"You won't have to say much," Caitlyn promised, gently caressing the side of Vi's the way they both loved. "Just stay with me and follow my lead. It'll be over soon enough."

Vi took a deep breath and nodded, looking herself over in the mirror one last time. She didn't particularly care whether her tie was just so or her hair was perfectly neat, but Cassandra would have a fit if she looked anything less than the very high Kiramman standard of presentable.

"Ready, love?" Caitlyn reached for Vi's hand, looking at her expectantly. Vi sighed and resigned herself to her fate.

"As I'll ever be."

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As it turned out, Vi shouldn't have been as worried as she'd been back home. No, she should have been far, far more worried.

Despite the Kirammans' insistence that this was a relatively small affair, there were at least fifty people present when they entered the ballroom where some friend of the family Vi had never met liked to host their guests, and they were all staring at her.

Some were better at than others, stealing glances when they thought she was looking far enough in another direction that she wouldn't notice, but some were absolutely shameless in their stares. But worst of all were the whispers. Caitlyn had warned her to expect some type of reaction to their relationship, but it seemed her place of origin was the hot topic of the evening.

She didn't know why she was mad. She' been expecting this. She knew how these people were, and her hot pink hair and face tattoo clearly marked her as other in this room of neat Topsiders, but she'd thought she wouldn't care. That she was above their bullshit opinions and nothing they said would matter to her because she'd heard it all before.

But this wasn't like the other times. Before, she'd had some sense of pride in herself, knowing she was a daughter of the fissures and the Pilties were on her turf. Now she was on their turf, dressed up as one of them, making an effort to appear as something she wasn't because she loved Caitlyn so goddamn much, and they looked at her much differently than she was used to. Enforcers had looked down on her before, but as the dirty street kid who was probably going to punch them in the face, and that was something she could live with. These people looked at her like some exotic pet the Kirammans had brought to the party. And, in a way, she was.

They all knew it. Their whispers told her. All they saw her as was the Kiramman girl's dressed up stray. A street thug that may or may not be domesticated, depending on who you asked. An adventurous fling that never should have been made public. A phase that Caitlyn would hopefully grow out of.

That last one was what really got to her. The idea that Caitlyn didn't really love her, that this was nothing more than a rich girl looking for a thrill, that their relationship wasn't real. Maybe she could have gritted her teeth through the rest of it, but she wasn't going to stand here and listen to these people who didn't know anything make assumptions and throw around theories about the last good thing in her life. She had to leave, or jaws were going to break.

All in all, she lasted twenty minutes.

After that, she was pushing her way out past stupid Pilties who were extremely offended that she'd nudged them aside or forgotten to say "excuse me" or whatever the hell mattered to these people. Caitlyn was quick to follow, softly calling her name and apologizing absently to all of the people she'd shouldered out of her way.

Things were better out on the patio. Quieter. Two people minding their own business on the opposite side, paying absolutely no attention to Vi finding a spot to lean against a railing or Caitlyn chasing her outside.

"Vi-" Caitlyn began, but Vi didn't let her get far.

"I'm not going back in there," she snapped, cringing internally at the vaguely hurt expression on Caitlyn's face. She shouldn't snap at her. It wasn't her fault. "Look, Cupcake, I'm sorry, but this whole thing was a mistake. I know this is important to you, but I don't want to be stared at and talked about like some exotic thing."

"I know," Caitlyn replied softly. She slowly walked toward Vi until they were side by side, in similar positions with their folded arms bracing them against the railing. "I'm sorry I made you come here. I should have known this would happen."

"You didn't make me," Vi reminded her. "Your mom did."

"I'm a grown woman. I should be able to tell my mother no."

"Guess that makes two of us."

"No, this one isn't on you," Caitlyn said. "You were trying to accommodate us. You had no idea what to expect, but I've been plenty of these things. It was my responsibility to recognize how this would be for you and not put you in this situation."

"Cait-"

"Don't tell me it's not my fault. You said no and I didn't listen." Caitlyn ran a hand through her hair with a heavy sigh. "We don't have to go back in. And I won't make you go to any more events. If my mother has any complaints, she can kindly shove them... well, you get the idea."

Vi snorted in a way the Pilties back inside would probably describe as undignified.

"You know..." she said, a hint of mischief in her tone. "I think hearing you tell your mom to shove her complaints up her ass would be the perfect way to make this up to me."

"Oh, quiet, you." Caitlyn gave her a light, playful shove. "I have a better way to make it up to you, anyway." She made a show of her eyes traveling up and down Vi's body, completely shamelessly. "If you're open to it, that is?"

"When am I not?" Vi looped an arm around Caitlyn's waist and pulled her in a little closer. "Maybe we should get out of here before I tear that dress off you."

"Lower your voice!" Caitlyn hissed, but she was laughing all the same.

"Yes, ma'am," Vi replied flirtatiously.

"Save that for later," Caitlyn said in a warning voice. "Come on. Before my mother tries to drag us back inside."

"Like she could," Vi scoffed, but she took Caitlyn's outstretched hand regardless and followed her to and down the little set of stairs connecting the patio to an unnecessarily large garden.

It didn't look like guests were supposed to be out here, but Caitlyn walked confidently enough that neither the guests on the patio nor the random gardener working on a flowerbed batted an eye at them as they circled around the impressive property to the giant front entrance where they'd been greeted.

There were a few people lingering here, but Caitlyn paid them no mind, so neither did Vi. It felt a little weird, like someone was going to call out and stop them any moment. The feeling reminded Vi of sneaking around Vander as a kid, either to go out way too late at night or sneak a sip of something from The Last Drop. What she wouldn't give to hear that old voice scolding her.

Now, if anyone thought to stop her, it would be nothing but high-pitched Piltie voices, but fortunately, no one cared enough. Vi and Caitlyn were free to walk home in peace.

"Think anyone'll notice we left?" Vi asked once they were more or less clear of the property.

"Oh, my mother will have a fit," Caitlyn replied with a tiny, adorable roll of her eyes. "We might not be hearing the end of this for a while."

"What else is new?" Vi said lightly. "How long do you think we have?"

"By the time we get home, I'd say we'll have a good hour and half of peace."

"Who said anything about peace?" Vi's hand slipped out of Caitlyn's and gently trailed down her thigh. "I thought you were making this up to me."

Caitlyn swatted her hand away, but she couldn't hide her little smile or the pink tint in her cheeks.

"Of course. How could I forget?" she replied.

"Y'know..." Vi continued mischievously, "I don't think an hour and a half sounds quite long enough. Why don't we pick up the pace? I'll race you."

"Vi, I'm in heels!" Caitlyn exclaimed as Vi grabbed her arm again and tugged her along.

"You can run in heels."

"Not these ones!"

"Guess we know who's winning, then." Vi made a big show of speeding up, but she didn't really take off the way she'd grown up doing. If she'd really wanted to, she could've left Caitlyn in the dust, even in this restrictive outfit, but this was all for fun.

Besides, she would never dream of missing out on the way Caitlyn tried to hurry along in those horrendous stilts she called shoes. Absolutely adorable.

"C'mon," she called, with absolutely no regard for the fact that they were jogging down a public street. "First one to bed gets to top."

And suddenly Caitlyn could run on stilts.

It seemed Vi's night was about to get a whole lot better.

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#arcane league of legends #arcane #piltover's finest #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #arcane vi #my writing

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