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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 15 hours

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Part 24

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 23 🟣 Part 25

A reverse harem vampire AU ft. Mikey, Marshall, August and Sherlock

Series summary: Somehow, you've managed to live with your boyfriend and his roommates for months before finding out they're vampires, but the real shock first comes when they find out you have a special quality. A quality the guys would love to make use of...

Warnings: Fluff, ongoing vampire shenanigans, mentions of drug abuse, addiction, tragic backstory, August's completely unwarranted hatred of jellybeans.

Word count: 2.7k

A/N: Family trip!!!

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @summersong69 @mis-lil-red

@sillyrabbit81 @livisss @itsrubberbisquit @ktficworld @proud-aroace-beastie

@plaidcat4815 @wa-ni @lovemusicpart2

“Tell me something,” you whispered to Mike, who was sitting in the way too comfortable chair next to you, reclining the seat — probably without feeling any guilt towards Marshall and Sherlock, who were sitting behind him. They had plenty of leg room left. “How are we flying first class right now?”

“August refuses to fly coach,” Marshall answered that question for Mike. The answer didn't surprise you. Like, at all.

“It’s not like we can't afford it,” August snapped from the seat in front of you. The one next to him was empty.

“Charles would be proud of you,” Mike taunted. You didn't see the smack that followed, but you heard Mike's pained grunt all too clearly.

“Please don't break him,” you laughed. Mike snuggled into your side, glaring at the seat in front of him and kicking it for good measure. “And you can stop this tantrum right now, or sit next to August.” It was a good thing he was so damn cute.

“He's not wrong, though,” Sherlock pointed out, a hint of amusement to his voice. “Charles is the only other member of our family with the same insistence on certain levels of luxury.”

“Do I count as a member of your family?” you chuckled. All of your guys looked at you as if you'd gone crazy. And it was a silly question; of course you were a member of the family. “Because I think I might just be learning to appreciate those standards.”

“And exactly how expensive are dates going to get now?” Mike asked with a smile. “Because… Just because they are all fucking loaded, doesn't mean I have unlimited access to those funds…”

“Mostly because an ungodly amount would be spent on Jelly Beans, and an even more ridiculous amount would be spent on videogames,” August sneered. Mike just shrugged — he could hardly deny it; the fact that your arrangement meant Mike didn't need his mountains of Jelly Beans anymore, hadn't exactly meant he wasn't still eating plenty of them, much to August's chagrin.

“August, just because you live a boring, joyless, Jelly Beanless life, doesn't mean I have to,” Mike sighed.

“How long has this been going on?” You asked Marshall and Sherlock.

“I'd say since the invention of the Jelly Bean,” Sherlock said, “but Mike wasn't around back then. I believe that happened somewhere in the late eighteen hundreds…”

“As long as Mike has been around, then?” you asked, not wanting to ask them too many invasive questions such as ‘how in the hell do you know when the Jelly Bean was invented?’

“At least for as long as they've known each other,” Marshall answered, explaining that that hadn't happened until about thirty years ago. Still, that was a long time to have a whole feud over candy, you pointed out.

“It's a long time to be addicted to candy,” August growled.

“Eh, I guess an “addiction" to Jelly Beans beats all of those other addictions I had,” Mike shrugged. “Oh…” His cheeks flushed when he saw the troubled look on your face. “I guess I never told you…”

“Much of anything, Mike,” you said softly.

“It's not the best story.” He tried to shrug it off, but you could tell something was bothering him. “It's, eh… It's not exactly a version of me I want you to know about, either.” He looked at you, the sadness in his eyes becoming more and more pronounced as time went by, and it took some serious effort to convince him you loved him for the man he was now, not who he was forty years ago.

“Alright, fine,” he sighed. “What do you know? So I know where to start…”

“That Marshall ran into you in the eighties and that you were hanging out with a bunch of goths and goth-adjacent figures,” you summed up quickly, eager to get to the rest of the story.

“Alright, well… What’s important is that you know we're talking about Berlin in the eighties. My dad got a job there, so we moved from here to Berlin when I was six or something. That went well for a few years, and then my dad died when I was fourteen. I didn't think much of it at the time, but over the years… Something about it doesn't check out, and I honestly wouldn't be surprised if my mom killed him because he had an affair with his secretary, but whatever. Water under the bridge, I guess.”

“Mike! The fuck?” He said it so casually…

“Sweetcheeks, it doesn't matter, okay? Dad was gone, mom worked all the time to keep a roof over our heads, and I became completely unbearable—”

“And that never went away,” August said. You could tell he was smiling.

“Hey, thanks!” Mike replied, rolling his eyes. “Anyway. I'm a completely unmanageable teen at this point, and Berlin in the eighties was not the place for that. Like, it goes wrong shockingly quickly. I think I was sixteen when it really started going south. Like I said; Berlin in the eighties was something else.”

“There were two things the government couldn't exactly get a handle on,” Marshall interjected. “One was vampirism, the other heroin. The two went hand in hand, more or less.” He looked down at his hands, clearly not at ease.

You had just decided not to press the matter when Sherlock offered an explanation. “Junkies were… not simply easy targets, although it would be hard to deny that they were.” It actually took you a while to notice that Sherlock and Mike had switched place, and that while you were looking straight at Sherlock, who was now sitting next to you. “Back in the day, addicts and vampires were connected by the mutual illegitimacy of their existences — although the vampires naturally had several advantages over humans from marginalized communities—”

“Anyway,” Mike cleared his throat and appeared next to you again. “The thing about a junkie is that they'll do pretty much anything for a fix. Including volunteering to feed vampires in exchange for some cash. Now, those were not the people you've heard us talking about up until now…”

Apparently, the goths you'd heard about had been the ones who took Mike in, the ones who tried to get him clean. “And they succeeded,” Mike said with an apologetic grin on his face. “Several times, even. My mom had stopped caring at that point, and then when I was nineteen — a few weeks before Julia, my ex, ran into Marshall — mom died, too…”

“He found out what I was not much later,” Marshall said.

“How?”

“I walked in on them, after Julia and I broke up, except I didn't walk in on what I at first expected to be walking in on, if you catch my drift.”

“Went about as well as you'd expect from the guy who's pretty much okay with everything,” Marshall laughed. “We did really well for a few years.”

“We'll spare you the lengthy, boring part with all the domestic bliss,” Mike swooped in before Marshall could elaborate. “When I was… twenty-two? Fairly sure I was twenty-two, yeah… Anyway, I met a girl—”

“Of course you did,” you blurted out before you could help it, immediately looking up at Mike with what must have been the guiltiest look of your entire life so far on your face.

“I don't blame you for that. Anyway… She was in trouble — the kind of trouble I'd been out of for years, at that point, and I thought I could be to her what Julia and Iris had been for me, but—”

“You relapsed?” you tried. Right on the money.

“Yep… Even years later, Hedwig — that was her name — pulled me right back under. Wasn't her fault, of course. It's not like she put a gun to my head and forced me to stick a needle in my arm or anything. Can't even say it wouldn't have happened if I hadn't met her. Anyway, the point is; it happened… Not a great time. I—” He nervously fidgeted with the hem of his shirt. “I’m happy to tell you the rest, but… later?”

You took his skittish look at the other passengers to mean he’d prefer a more private setting. Deal.

A left turn and the change from smooth asphalt to crunching gravel beneath the tires of the car startled you enough to let out a loud, disapproving hum and lift your head. You hadn’t been asleep, per se, but definitely dozing off a little, your head resting comfortably on Marshall’s shoulder. Mike’s hand was on your thigh, eerily — vampirically — still ever since you’d asked him for the third time if he could stop moving it because it tickled. He enjoyed tickling you, you were not a fan.

“We’re here, princess,” August said from the front seat, and you leaned over to look out the window, seeing nothing but forest, forest and more forest.

“We’re where?” you asked, surprised at the absence of the house you’d expected to see.

“The estate,” Marshall noted calmly. And exactly how big was this estate? “Big enough.”

“Charles likes his privacy,” Mike noted. His fingers were tapping a gentle rhythm on your knee now, and his legs restlessly bounced up and down with excitement. “You’ll love this place!”

The car finally pulled into something that actually looked like a driveway — that is to say, it was the same gravel, the same road, but you could finally see that there was a house attached to it. Mansion. Villa. Actually it was closer to something resembling a small castle, but this wasn’t Europe, so…

“Charles also likes extravagance,” August snarled his answer to your unasked question.

“I can see that,” you muttered breathlessly as you followed Mike out of the car when it came to a halt in front of the stairs that led to a pretty grand front door. “Where is Sherlock?”

“Right here, darling,” he called from the top of the steps, where August was also already standing — holding both of your suitcases and your backpack.

“Wait, how did the three of you travel so… light?” And how had it not occurred to you to ask that question before now?

“We have everything we need here,” August explained. “Mike, get her up here!”

One of the heavy wooden doors opened the second Mike put you down, and a small woman stumbled through it. She was a little older than you, with long, black hair down to her waist, and she looked absolutely exhausted.

“Priya!” Sherlock said, grasping her elbow to steady her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, Mr. Holmes,” she replied before turning to you and reaching out her hand. “Hi, I’m Priya. I’m—”

“Dinner.” Oh, for the love of god, why did you have to snap at her? You didn’t even know the woman, but the thought of her feeding your vampires was entirely too much. “Sorry! I—”

“I get it,” she chuckled. “My sister, Nalini, has your… talent. She’s protective of her family as well. And you’re not wrong, just a bit impolite.” You deserved that.

“I don’t know what came over me,” you said. “I’m so sorry.” Not to mention how rude you would have been if you had been wrong… What if this woman hadn’t even had any idea she was visiting vampires?

“Are you sure you’re okay, Priya?” Mike asked, his brow furrowed, and his voice concerned.

“I’m alright, guys,” she laughed — but it took a lot of effort to do so. “I’ve been sick before, I always survived.” With the back of her hand, she wiped the sheen of sweat from her brow, and you noticed an intricate reddish design on her palms. She caught you as you tried to get a better look. “From my eldest sister’s wedding,” she said. “I can show you pictures later this week, but I really have to go. The sooner I get home, the sooner I can start sleeping off this cold, or whatever it is.”

“Please let us know when you get home,” Sherlock said as he walked her to the cab you’d just stepped out of.

“That was unnecessarily rude, princess,” August snapped when the car drove off.

“I said I was sorry,” you muttered quietly, not daring to look August in the eye. “I… You’ve all known her for a while, haven’t you?”

“She’s been coming here for years. About a year before Sherlock and Mike moved away,” Marshall explained. “Now, what’s really bothering you about this?”

“I thought you’d never been in this kind of… arrangement before,” you muttered, also avoiding Walter’s eyes.

“And we haven’t. You heard her; she’s not like you.” Marshall ushered you into the hallway, where the others were already waiting. The sound of the door falling shut behind you made you jump. “Charles was willing to pay a small fortune to drive her out here. Once a month, just as usual. And all the rules of the Bank still applied, just as usual. So, if you’re worried for so much as a second that you’re not special to us, you can stop that now.”

“Did she say she would be back later this week?” you asked softly. Part of you hated the thought of anyone but you feeding your vampires — even the ones you hadn’t met yet…

“She’s a friend of the family, not just… dinner.” The unfamiliar voice behind you startled you more than the closing door had, and you spun around as quickly as you could — but not quicker than the owner of the voice, who had apparently already walked around you, and was now standing behind you. “Would you stand still and let me do the moving, please?”

Two hands descended on your shoulders and gently turned you around, so that you were now face to face with the ‘new’ vampire. He was handsome, his face all angles and edges, with kind eyes and a charming smile. Judging from the sour look on August’s face, this had to be Charles.

“Charles Brandon, pleasure to meet you,” he said softly as he took your hand in his and shook it briefly. Perhaps too briefly? The charm of his smile almost made you overlook the sadness behind those kind blue eyes. Almost.

Next to you, Mike was swaying back and forth on his feet, waiting for introductions to come to an end so he could— Before Charles had even fully let go of your hand, Mike lunged forward to hug the man. “Alright, kid,” Charles laughed, “you’re home. It’s okay.”

“Where’s…” Mike asked as he let go so the others could subject Charles to similar treatment of warm ‘glad to be back’-hugs. Of course, the one between August and Charles was short and tense, but other than that, it was a perfect display of warm familiarity.

“Right behind you,” another unfamiliar voice spoke. This time, you didn’t bother to turn around — a wise call, as a split second later, another man appeared before you.

“Melot,” he said as he reached for your hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. For some reason, it made your heart skip a beat. Melot looked much younger than Charles, or any of the others — younger than Mike, even — and you were fairly sure it didn’t have much to do with the dark, shoulder-length curls that framed his face. “I’m glad you’re finally here.”

“He’d ask you how your trip was, but… he already knows,” Charles noted, adding to your confusion. “I see she hasn’t been told much about him? Does the same apply to me?”

“She knows enough,” August growled, followed by a grunt as Marshall kicked him in the shins.

“August, that’s enough, go to your room!” Sherlock snapped. It was absolutely hilarious to hear those words from him, but what really had you in stitches was the fact that he actually walked away — presumably to the aforementioned room.

You only stopped laughing when Mike gently nudged your side with his elbow, at which point you looked at the others in the hallway, who were all looking at Sherlock in bewilderment. After a strange, tense silence that lasted far too long, August joined you again.

“Would someone fucking explain to me why he got to do that, here?” he sneered.

Melot chuckled softly. “It would seem that our hierarchy changed with the coming of our queen.”

#mike hellraiser fic #mike hellraiser #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike hellraiser fanfiction #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill characters #walter marshall #hc sherlock #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock holmes #august walker #august walker fanfiction #natural fic #naturalfic

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em0-opossum · 8 months

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no but can you imagine being frank iero right now. he can literally do anything and suddenly a stampede of mcr5 truthers are knocking down his door reciting their encyclopedic knowledge of every thing he has ever said and done leading to this moment and why it means mcr5 is happening. he probably doesn't even remember any of that shit. this becomes 1,000x funnier if mcr5 is actually happening because gerard would be like "frank c'mon not again we promised to keep it secret" and frank is over here like "motherfucker I'm not even TRYING"

#this works for any member of mcr technically but frank is the only one who's really active on social media so all the pressure is on him #i mean mikey too but i think he's more of a #dad life #had such a great time at this venue!#type of person whereas frank is. well he's something.#but idk I rarely use social media #frank iero #gerard way #mcr #mcr5 #my chemical romance

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turtleblogatlast · 21 days

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Every day I’m haunted by the fact the boys happily swim in sewer water

Even if it’s filtered somehow there’s no way it’s not still nasty 😭 Bet they can defeat any of their villains just by accidentally giving them diseases I swear

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #bless their hearts but they’re nasty #it’s funny because like #each and every one of them has moments #where they’re a typical disgusting teenage boy #and then the next they have STANDARDS #can’t blame Leo for being so determined to go to a spa #even if he nearly licked his own foot that’s prob cleaner than anything else the boys have been up to in years 💀#thank you shelldon for all your hard work cleaning after then 🙏#they’re all gross teenage boys!!!#even Donnie he is NO exception here #bro was DRINKING A BEVERAGE while wading through sewer water he is just as gross as his bros #bro also talks with his mouth full he is no more refined than his equally gross bros fr and I love it #but yeah no way that water isn’t disgusting even filtering it would still leave grime on the walls of the sewer for yearsss #pros of them moving into an abandoned subway system is fixing their sense of smell enough to not be as gross #100% that’s part of why they didn’t mind being so filthy pre shelldon #because I mean they were literally raised in the sewers and they’re teenage boys like that’s a double whammy #THEY ALSO DONT WEAR SHOES #the few times any of them do the shoes are discarded before heading home 💀#I love them tho they are endearing anyhow #April’s immune system must be godlike just being around them fr #honestly no joke Mikey’s probably the cleanest of them all #just by virtue of being a chef #Leo I see as a mixture since he no doubt loves to pamper himself so he’s clean like #a percentage of time before he goes out and ruins his own hard work #Donnie is similar in that he’s just VERY SELECTIVE about what he thinks is too gross #Raph may be more on the stinky end but it’s not his fault he has his stinks and eats things of dubious origin(esp since his bros ate poison)#Donnie and Leo really have the gall to be sick about Raph eating the origami salami but they have no room to talk #all their villains are prob like please stay away from us we have salmonella now

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tangledinink · 11 months

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OH MY GODS WHAT HAPPENS TO THEIR PIERCINGS WHEN THRY GO TO YHRIR HUMAN FORMS (TMWN)????? LIKE IF IT ACTS AS A MAKEUP REMIVER THENNN…

the answer is DONT THINK ABOUT IT TOO HARD!!!!!!!!!!!!

#lmao #i mean valid question #i think most likely? like? realistically? they would fall out?#because the only piercings any of the boys have are their ears #and uhhh their turtle forms dont have ears #which is like #mildly annoying with mikey #more annoying for donnie coz he has multiple ear piercings including cartilidge #even MORE annoying for leo coz he has gauges #but for the sake of like? ease and also like. idk. funsies #i think the cloaking crytals just. like. eat the piercings #same way that it allows sunita to retain her nose piercing even when she switches from form to form #also if we looked at it too hard it would 1000% fuck up thier hair every time they swapped #like #mikey would lose all his beads #donnie would have to retwist his hair #etc etc etc #which would be a PAIN #and to be fair it doesnt necessarily REMOVE the makeup but it does tend to kind of fuck it up a little #it may survive but like no way ur eyeliner is gonna be as sharp at the other end of it #but they can keep their earrings and hair (though it also gets a little fucked up) for the sake of #lets not make thier life TOO hard lmao #asks #sorrywhatnowau asks #anon

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iwasforceedagainstmywill · 1 year

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HEEYYYYY~ Rottmnt Headcanons (Junior again)

Casey wasn't trained to fight he was trained to survive.

Casey is a small human child he wouldn't be able to do crap against the Kraang even with straight up combat training.

He wasn't trained to kill unless the opponent was capable of dying and he's able to overpower it.

Casey was taught to survive, to hurt and run, to outmaneuver pursuers, and outwait creatures that outmatch him like Kraang Dogs or the Kraang themselves.

Casey isn't a hunter or an equal. Casey is a scavenger, a prey with a chainsaw. The moment you separate him from whatever's protecting him, be it tech, shelter or a person it's basically game over.

I'm not saying he's weak (HE THREW AN ACTIVE MISSILE WITH A GRAPPLING HOOK AND HIS BODY!) But Casey was trained to not die, (most specifically) he was trained to back out, run away and hide to lick his wounds and to see another day not to live in the in any other sense of the word but the definition. He's alive, his heart's beating. Because he runs when he needs to and fights to remain breathing in a world no longer meant for any living being.

Leo didn't get to teach Casey how the live, they could barely give him a childhood between the eight of them.

Casey was never taught to fight his enemies unless he absolutely had to he was taught to fight for a place in a new day of life.

#Me talking #This is also why I headcanon he's so good with medicinal work.#He was taught with limited supplies and severe injuries to care for and manage with actual supplies he is excelling #(Casey was one of the youngest if not the youngest in hideout #meaning he was taught to help people when he can but not to go out of his way and risk his life to help #someone stupid or out reach because he's a child and that's the adults' job)#(I don't think Casey hasn't gone out of his way or risked his life to help someone in danger he just doesn't(/didn't) do it it often)#Rise of the TMNT #Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles #RotTMNT #Rise Casey Jr #Rise Casey Jones Jr #Casey has trouble remembering not everything is a fight for survival after the movie even when he's happy he's jumpy #Casey also has trouble stomaching too much food at once or often #Mikey & Leo had to make a diet for him that wasn't too heavy or strongly flavored while they worked him into heavier more consistent meals

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electriccenturies · 2 years

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fucking hate this site still but i need to express a few things about mcr mikey way and nowhere else to do it so... here i am

1: glad to see mcr in their rat era. in fact my note to gerard would be to up the rat content by a significant amount. also sell that shirt that just says ‘rats’ cause i’ll go to great lengths to buy one

2: mikey singing along to flw like... this is an evolution from it being written about him, to him and ray high fiving at the shrine, to this :’) love seeing him 8 years sober and his illness treated and him being HAPPY and confident <3

3: have been saying for 10 years that mikey is every bit as unhinged as gerard, if not more, and now ppl are finally seeing it lol. it’s subtler bc gerard leans tf into being weird while mikey seems to either not know or not care, but he’s Weird af. ik yall thought it was frank or maybe gerard but it did not surprise me one bit to hear that mikey was responsible for the tramp stamp shirt bc that dude loves a reference, loves that MCR is so beloved, and also i just think he genuinely loves shit like that lol. thinking about smodcast and gerard going ‘well you see, he used to dress like a prostitute’. mikey doesnt do sexual shame ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

also dont want to get into this too much but while im airing my mikey thoughts and people already hate me... the whole ‘MiKeY kNoWs A gAy PoRn AcToR?!?’ bit is so old and such an obvious example of why the whole cishet mikey thing is actually super regressive and not funny. ik people are gonna be like ItS a JoKe but for real, saying that liking sports and wearing hats and tank tops makes someone straight sucks! y’all will believe that gerard is gay because he kissed a few dudes in public, and mikey was out there grinding (sorry, slow dancing) with dudes, cuddling with hey chris, getting sappy poetry written about him by pete wentz, etc, IN PRIVATE and you cannot imagine he’s bi because he says ‘bro’ or whatever? stop acting like ‘gay’ is a personality!!! idc if you think its harmless and “funny” it excludes a lot of people, escalates the bullshit fem/masc dichotomy, and contributes to a culture of people thinking they have ‘gaydar’. it also shows that you know nothing about mikey because it legit wasnt a transformation besides the hats, he’s always been like that. he’s liked sports and wrestling since he was a young kid! he’s always been very social and into parties! they’ve never hidden this! you just didn’t know because he’s quiet!!! and he actually seems to care a lot about his clothes even if it doesn’t look like it, you just cant handle it because you preferred how he dressed in his 20s. im not even mad about this on a mikey level because i doubt he cares i just hate it on a “this is a really backwards view of queerness that is being passed off as progressive” level

4: very into the flipping the script with the peppa pig thing. like mikey always has made weird random references that nobody except gerard gets (and gerard is usually pretending) but this one??? fully relevant and topical, and he justified it TO gerard while everyone else got it. idk this isnt really funny or cool or anything i just think its Sweet. bc i love that he works on word association like that and i love him being understood

5: not new with the shows (actually, not new in any sense, he’s been like this Always as far as we know) but i will forever love mikey for having a very clear idea of what he thinks is fashionable and not giving a fuck if anyone else agrees. hell yeah dude, you keep wearing what makes you happy!

#i have no followers and this is straight up a ramble about mikey so #just gonna drop more feelings about the references i guess #in the tags #because i love him so much for it #like im specifically thinking of that interview where the guy asks if he's the 'elf' because he's not wearing #'festive black' like the rest of them and like he obviously means 'christmas elf'#and mikey goes 'oh yeah this is my lord of the rings outfit' with ZERO hesitation #thats also the one where he gets called 'the new guy mike' lmao #conch shell was a reference too like i know its funny and sounded dumb but it was very much a lord of the flies ref!#its just that noone picked up on it because why tf would he be talking about that???#i mean it makes sense to me but my brain works on word association too so yeah desert island -> lord of the flies makes sense #but it was not relevant and it was a Bad answer lol #'you bring coconuts too mikey'#anyway just one more #theres a super old radio interview where gerard says 'salad days' and mikey goes #'roy rogers fixin' bar dude!'#he hears gerard say salad and immediately is like YES AND FROM THIS PARTICULAR RESTAURANT TOO #anyway lol mikey was so important to me for the last 10 years of my life and now i have Feelings again like damn i just love watching #that dude do what he loves and living his dream and finally getting the appreciation he deserves/not being wildly mischaracterized #because fans cant separate mental illness from personality #oh ok last thing for real because i think its hilarious #those pics of fans with gerard wearing his 'i dont want to be in a picture and if u make me i will be unrecognizable' clothes #incredible

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wolfiesmoon · 5 months

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The greatest gift

it's the most wonderful time of the year as they like to say so how about you recieve the best gift from santa on top of that 😈

this is suggestive perhaps??

Characters featured: mikey, hanma, baji, mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ Mikey

You were joking when you asked for "Mikey" for christmas. You thought Hina and Emma knew you were joking.

So why the hell was Mikey currently tied up with a christmas ribbon and sitting under the christmas tree in your house, staring back at you with a slight smile?

"Merry christmas."

"I- HUH?!" you quickly covered your mouth, not wanting to be too loud at midnight. "Mikey, why are you in my house?" you whisper yelled.

"Emma and Hina jumped me." was his comically simple response. Well, it would be comically simple if Mikey didn't scare the living crap out of you just a few moments ago.

"That- That doesn't explain anything!" at this point, you've given up with trying to be quiet.

"I can't tell you anything more. I have no idea what's happening either."

"How are you so calm about this anyways?" you walked closer to him, inspecting the tag on the ribbon that said "Merry christmas from Emma and Hina".

"Now that I think of it, it is pretty weird to be kidnapped by your sister."

You're not even going to ask how they managed to get him in here without the keys.

"Well, uhhh... how about I unwrap you...?" you offered awkwardly after a small silence.

"Are you sure you want to do that? You'll unleash the true present by doing that." something... strange flashed behind his dark eyes.

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. ♡"

₊˚⊹♡ Hanma

"Merry christmas. ♡" you froze at the sound of his voice.

You were woken up by some weird noise downstairs, quietly walking down to investigate the source. You even took a knife from the kitchen just in case.

But instead of a robber or kidnapper, what you found was Hanma Shuji tied up in a big red ribbon. Smiling at you.

"Don't you merry christmas me." you didn't know what to say or do. You were scared out of your mind just now and that combined with the strange sight in front of you made you at a loss of... anything, really.

"Woah, that's a big knife... What were you going to do with that?˜" he sounded more amused than anything.

"You little... I don't... What is even happening?" you dropped the knife on the ground.

"Someone told me that you want 'Hanma Shuji' for christmas."

"Well, you know what I thought I was going to get for christmas? Kidnapped, that's what!" you yelled, not even caring about how loud you are right now.

"Hahahah, how amusing!" he laughed, seeming very satisfied.

"You won't be saying that after the things I will do to you. You know you can't escape when you're tied up, right?" a smirk crossed your face suddenly. A sense of boldness overtook you.

"Oooh, aren't you bold. ♡" his smile only widened.

₊˚⊹♡ Baji

"No way." you had to do a double take when you saw what you thought you saw.

Turns out this christmas is more interesting than you thought it would be. A present from Toman ended up being Baji Keisuke in the flesh.

"Mmmf!" he's probably telling you to free him right now, which admittedly, is hard to do when your mouth is gagged.

"Wow, this is like, the best present I ever got. I gotta thank the boys later." you walked closer to him, kneeling down and inspecting him in all his tied up glory.

Baji looked half angry half embarrased, and honestly that just made you want to tease him more. You kissed his cheek, smiling cheekily.

"Hmmf..." you laughed a little at his face.

"Mmmf! Hmmm!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll let you out. But that doesn't mean that I'm done with you just yet." you smiled, taking the bow of the ribbon into your hands to untie it.

"Mmm..?!"

₊˚⊹♡ Mitsuya

"Me and Mana have a surprise for you." Luna ran up to you all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you placed your hands on your knees to get closer to Luna's height.

"Wait till christmas." that was Luna's only response before running off to continue playing with Mana.

"Hmmm..." you hummed, a bit confused.

"Was this... Luna and Mana's gift?" you looked at the comically large christmas present under the tree. What in the world did those two give you?

You carefully removed the lid of the box, worried about the contents. Only to find Mitsuya inside.

"I- What the hell?" Luna and Mana sure are some evil children.

"I don't know either. Hakkai approached me just now and said "sorry" before wrapping me up and putting me in this box with no further explanation." his eyes never left yours.

"I think I know who's idea this was..." you stepped inside the box, sitting directly across from him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your little sisters told me something about a surprise for christmas..."

"Oh my god. That explains... a lot." he looked as if he just made a big realisation. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight.

You pecked his lips all of a sudden, making him jump slightly. "Tell them thank you later."

"Shouldn't you be thanking them?" he smiled.

"No, I'm sure you'll be the one thanking them tommorow." His eyes widened at your mischevious smirk.

an early christmas present for my mikey, hanma, baji and mitsuya babes 💕

i want to make sure yall are well fed with that christmas dinner this year

3K notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 6 months

Text

you can always take more than nothing

character: bonten!mikey x fem!reader

genre: smut

notes: here’s my halloween piece, only half a month late! still, i hope you can enjoy it! as always, please heed the warnings and stay safe! | title cred: alice in wonderland

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, public sex/exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, daddy kink, size difference, biting/marking, blood, minimal prep, rough sex, teasing, begging, dacryphilia, humiliation, a lil bit of degradation, drugs, toxic relationship

words: 8.6k

synopsis:

Those few remaining scraps of decency you’d both been clinging to have been devoured by Mikey’s growing selfishness, no longer caring about what others might see or think or say—it’s not like anyone’s dumb enough to do anything about it anyway; it’s not like anyone has enough of a death-wish to try. He’s the motherfucking Boss. And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always.

The music is loud, so loud the walls seem to be breathing with it, bleeding with it, flashes of neon pouring over the frosted mosaics of glass and marble.

A party, thinly veiled as a corporate event.

There are people everywhere, scattered across every surface, crystal glasses filled with expensive liqour and cocktail concoctions glittering in their palms. You barely know any of them.

They’re all supposed business partners, allies and associates, ‘friends’ of your Daddy. Not that it matters all that much to you; they aren’t allowed to say a word to you anyway.

Your eyes scan the expanse of the club, on the hunt for a familiar face. Takeomi is in the corner, obnoxiously blowing smoke into some of the higher end girls’ faces. He’s really taking his role of The Caterpillar earnestly.

Good. You told him it suited him.

At your request (AKA at Mikey’s demand), the top members of Bonten have dressed up as Alice in Wonderland characters, donning an impressive group costume. You’ve been taking the whole thing pretty seriously—beginning your extensive planning in August, drafting up designs and taking everyone’s precise measurements to have each outfit custom made to their exact frames—which means the rest of Bonten has been taking the whole thing pretty seriously, too.

Not that any of them mind.

What Mikey’s little angel wants, Mikey’s little angel gets. It’s standard protocol, really; you’re merely an extension of the Boss and thus must be treated as an extension of the Boss, and Mikey’s best men have no issues complying.

Sighing, you rest your chin in your palms, sombreness souring your features. An ache, dull and dense, settles in the pit of your chest. It’s a desolate sort of longing, a gentle but constant gnawing that cannot be sated by anyone or anything other than it’s creator, something that weights your lungs and heavies your heart and stalls your breath, a vital part missing.

You miss Mikey.

You miss Mikey, but you know this ‘event’ really does have some sort of business significance; that, while it’s mostly an excuse to get drunk and high on Halloween night, it also serves as the grounds for some sort of meeting or negotiation or proposition—you can never be sure which, with Bonten.

You aren’t allowed to know. You’re lucky to be here at all.

But you miss Mikey.

You shouldn’t be selfish. You know you shouldn’t be selfish; he’s already stretched so thin between so many obligations and obituaries, and you shouldn’t add to that strain. You won’t add to that strain. You’ll sit here, pretty and perfect like his precious little princess should be, and you’ll wait, patiently, until Daddy has a moment to spare you.

He always finds a moment to spare, no matter how many duties and commitments he has. He always finds a space for you in his day, even if he has to carve it out with his bare hands.

So you mustn’t be greedy. You will be good. For him, you’ll do anything, no matter how difficult.

“No frowning, miss Alice,” Sanzu chastises through a stretched grin, wide and carved into his cheeks—a smile so sharp, so sinister it puts the true Cheshire Cat to disgrace.

He swims into your vision, teeth glinting with teals and fuchsias, an intricately wrapped box in his palms. Tugging on the ribbon a little, he unboxes it to reveal a wealth of small confections, individually wrapped in colourful foils.

“Look, your favourite kitty brought you some chocolate.”

That brightens your mood a little—a sugar fiend, just like your Daddy is—and your mouth drops open expectantly, cute tongue unfurling in invitation.

Sanzu rolls his eyes but places a truffle on your tongue anyway, pressing it down on the slick muscle and forcing your lips to close around his first knuckle to suck the treat free from him, laughing at the way your face twists.

Pervert.

His nails taste like blood—not that you’ve come to expect any less—but the rusty copper is quickly eradicated by sugar, a content little hum vibrating around the melting chocolate.

“Good, huh?” Sanzu asks around his own chocolate, shuffling a gold box of expensive Italian truffles in his palm as he picks through them, confections jumping perilously with the motion, shimmering wrappers catching in the flashing neon strobes. “They’re imported.”

“Where’d you get those?” you ask through strings of caramel and cocoa, welding to your molars.

“A little Halloween treat courtesy of Mikey,” he says dutifully, jostling the box in emphasis. “And an apology, for taking longer than expected.”

Warmth blooms in your chest, swelling with your heart and stretching your ribs. The last few remnants of displeasure fade from your face, giving way to a small smile.

How very Mikey of him, to send his second in command armed with artisan chocolates and a short, sweet explanation; something he knew would make you smile, something he knew would alleviate some of your impatience, a reassurance that he misses you too, that he’ll be back soon, that he’s thinking of you.

“There’s our pretty girl,” Sanzu teases, but his own grin has softened a little, the glint in his eyes dulled to a twinkle. “No more pouting, ‘kay? Your trusty Cheshire Cat will be by your side until your Hatter returns.”

Ah. A polite way of saying that you’re stuck with him until Mikey’s finished his work, no ifs, ands, or buts about it.

That takes longer than either of you expect, though, Sanzu’s plan of entertaining you by leading you, hand-in-hand, around the club to assess each Bonten member’s costume not nearly as lengthy as he had anticipated.

Because it only takes a mere twenty minutes or so to examine all of them, with you near instantaneously deciding that the Haitanis have won the make-believe costume contest you and Sanzu had been holding between yourselves.

Sanzu had agreed—everyone looks impeccable in their custom-made costumes, tailored specifically to them at your behest, but no one had any hope of eclipsing the Haitanis in their form-fitted pinstriped suits, each stitch and thread molded flawlessly to their frames, perfectly pressed collars embroidered with Dee and Dum in shimmery purple thread, powder blue bowties immaculately symmetrical around their tattooed necks.

Now you’re back at the bar, Sanzu’s shaky fingers sifting through the box of truffles as he searches for something, anything, to distract him from the way the blood in his veins is beginning to dry up, the way his capillaries are withering, brittle and thirsty, the way his skin is beginning to itch.

Because he can’t do a goddamn thing about it. Not yet, anyway.

No narcotics when he’s chaperoning you; that’s a hard rule. That’s a rule that’s been sewn into the tissues of his brain so tightly it’s interwoven with his synapses. That’s an execution rule; a one time only rule—breaking that rule will get him fucking killed.

But you’re both starting to become a little bit restless.

“Come on,” you’re begging, word dragged across your tongue in a petulant whine. “Just one more chocolate?”

“I said no,” Sanzu snaps, eyes hard. “Mikey said three. Mikey’s the Boss. Whatever Mikey says goes; Mikey’s girl, Mikey’s rules!”

“You’re no fun,” you huff, forehead scrunching with a pout.

“Yeah, and that’s why he sticks me with you,” Sanzu says, though he sounds almost proud, as if it’s an honour to babysit you, a title of high esteem. “Because I can resist your tricks.”

“My charms,” you correct.

“Whatever,” he waves a hand. “It’s all semantics. Point is, I know how to say no to you, unlike a few certain someones.”

Unimpressed ice blue eyes sweep across the venue, hovering pointedly on the faces of his colleagues—Kakucho, the Dormouse; Kokonoi, the White Rabbit; Rindou, Tweedle-Dum.

Your eyes follow his, and you smirk to yourself. Kakucho is the easiest out of those three; Kokonoi sometimes deceives you, allowing you to do as you please only to tattle to Mikey later, and Rindou always demands some sort of payment, claiming it’s only fair that you give him something he wants in return.

Turning back, you’re about to respond, something bratty and bitter simmering on your tongue, when a pair of hands and a smooth voice cuts you off.

You’d know that touch, that tone, anywhere.

“Pray, tell me, Miss Alice,” Mikey murmurs in your ear as he slinks up behind you, palms curling around your hips and pulling you back toward his chest. “Why is a raven like a writing desk?”

“Because it can produce a few notes,” you answer dutifully, head tipping back against his shoulder to glance at him through the corner of your eye. “Though they are very flat.”

“Correct,” he responds. “My, what a smart little girl you are.”

It’s soaked in condescension, compliment drawled out through a supercilious smirk, breath wafting across your face sweltering and saccharine.

“Do I get a reward, Mister Hatter?” you ask, sweeter than sugarcane, batting eyelashes framing hopeful, dewy eyes.

A hum vibrates on his tongue, onyx gaze apathetic and appraising as it glides across your features slowly, thoroughly, pulling each of your thoughts apart and putting them back together again.

Your head rolls to the side, over his protruding collarbone, to stare at him more resolutely. And God, it’s the way you’re looking up at him, eyes glazed with dedication, with devoutness, like you want to fucking devour him.

Like you want him to devour you.

Hips pushing back, you rub your ass into his cock in inconspicuous little motions, lashes fluttering a little, back arched in a perfect curve and tits on full display.

From this angle, there’s no way he can’t see right down your dress; there’s no way he can’t see the red lace of your bra straining against supple skin as your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths, no way he doesn’t notice the very tips of your nipples, cheekily peeking out from beneath the delicate material with each swell of your breasts.

Bony fingers flex on your waist, and he huffs out a smirk.

His ebony pupils are enormous, blown wide and gaping, gnawing away at the whites of his eyes.

He’s high.

It’s evident in the milky film of artificial ecstasy lacquering his gaze, doped up and hazy, but it does nothing to dilute the potent love he has for you, melting his stare to something soft and sticky, pouring past his lashes.

He’s feeling good tonight.

“I think I know what my little girl wants,” one hand flattens against your stomach, holding you flush to his body as the other slides up your ribs to cup your breast, filling his palm with it and kneading, slow and deliberate, simply enjoying the feeling of you. “And it is very naughty of her.”

“Oh, really?”

“Mm,” he hums, head drooping to nose along the curve of your neck. “Really.”

His lips brush along your skin as he speaks, his voice barely more than a gentle vibration along the column of your throat, and you whimper a little, fingers curling around his wrist and pressing him closer.

“A-And what’s that?”

“Aw, can’t you guess?” he tuts his tongue. “And I thought you were smart. Must’ve been mistaken. Where’s my smart little girl gone now?”

Grip firm on your waist, his hips rut forward, hard cock prodding at you through the layers of tulle. A discontented little sound vibrates in your throat as you squirm a little—and oh, he knows what you’re whining about, greedy girl, knows that you can barely feel his cock through the thick petticoat, knows you want more—and he presses his hips further forward, grinding harder into your ass.

“Daddy—Da-Daddy, it’s—”

“What?” he shoves again, stronger this time, teeth nipping at the skin below your ear. “Hm?”

“Your cock is hard,” you nearly whine, pushing back against him in a pitiful little wiggle, desperate for more friction.

“And who’s fault is that, huh?”

The hand massaging your breast gives a final squeeze before his fingers find your nipple, pinching it through the material of your dress and bra, then rubbing the heel of his thumb over it in hard, rhythmic motions.

“Is your pussy wet?” he huffs the question into your ear, his hot breath procuring shivers. “I bet it is, naughty girl. Daddy wants to feel it.”

“Please, please,” your hips buck a little, punctuating your pleads, chest pressing into his touch.

“Please? Please what?”

“Touch me, Daddy, touch me, touch me.”

Slender hands slip beneath the puffy layers of lace, calloused fingertips rough as they skim up your smooth thighs, outlining the silk ruffles of the bloomers he bought you specifically for this costume.

Your hips twitch slightly, legs spreading instinctively as his fingers trail along the scrunched hem to the apex of your thighs, pressing two into the rapidly dampening material. Pensively, they caress your slit through the material, prodding your hole just a little before rubbing two slow, hard circles into your clit.

“Christ,” he breathes out, curse splintering at the end. “You’re so fucking wet baby, and I’ve barely done anything yet.”

His palm flattens against you, all four fingers dipping into your core nearly to the first knuckle and then curling, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit, and your pelvis cants reflexively, almost as if you’re attempting to draw his fingertips further in.

“How are you this wet already, huh?” he keens, voice straining beneath his own desire. “Been thinking naughty thoughts?”

“Jus’want your cock,” you slur out honestly, hips gyrating in pathetic little circles, an embarrassing attempt to follow his touch.

“Oh, yeah? That’s all it takes, eh?” he rolls your clit between his thumb and his forefinger, nonchalantly toying with it as he mulls. “Just my cock?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod blearily. “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”

“Cute,” Mikey spits, the compliment sheathed in venom, “how utterly stupid just the thought of my cock makes you.”

His fingers clamp down on the swollen nub and tug, your whole body jolting with the pain, a yelp hitching in your chest.

The arm wrapped around your waist tightens in response, holding you close, holding you still as he humps away at you, sloppy and uneven.

“Oh, baby,” he murmurs, fingers tweaking your clit in rhythmic motions, sparks of pleasure chased by shocks of pain. “You’re so fucking easy for your Daddy, aren’t you? So quick to get soaked for him, so quick to get ready for him, such a good little slut for him, yeah?”

His voice is gravelly, letters wispy around the edges despite fact that he’s nearly shouting over music. Another rush of heat surges between your thighs, and he laughs, dark and dangerous.

Your clit throbs in his touch, the silk of your panties drenched all the way through, aiding his fingers in their slippery motions—several small, fast S gestures, followed by a few firm strokes of your slit, fingertips gliding over your folds with ease. You’re so soaked, whole cunt now outlined by the shimmery material, molding to your folds and enabling him to feel every dip, every bump, every crevice, another chuckle dripping from his lips as your little hole clenches around nothing.

“Daddy,” you whimper, thighs squeezing together tightly as you attempt to fuck his fingers. “Daddy, I—I can’t—I need—”

“Shh,” he hushes you, lips caressing the curve of your ear. “I know, baby. Daddy knows what you need.”

A palm wraps around your wrist as Mikey mutters something about going somewhere a little more private, pulling you along behind him and leading you toward those purple velvet VIP couches, empty and roped off in a darkened corner.

“What are we—” you begin as Mikey collapses heavily on the couch, knees spread wide open, hips shifting up slightly as he forces his feet even further apart, getting comfortable.

C’mere, his lips mime, voice drowning in heavy bass, his chin jutting in the general direction of his straining cock, yearning against pin-striped pants.

Strong hands curl around your hips and yank you backward, the abrupt motion punching a sound of surprise from your chest as you tumble into his lap, spine pressed tight to his sternum.

The hinges of his jaw hook over your shoulder, a crude way of keeping you from squirming as he manhandles you into straddling his thighs, hard cock pressing into your core.

“Holy fuck,” he pants out, the curse damp against your skin. “You’re so wet I can feel you leaking through my pants.”

“Daddy,” you say, and although it’s meant to be a warning, it comes out as a whine, stringy and petulant.

Because it already feels so good, and he’s already so hard, and you just can’t help but rock your hips back, slow and firm, whimpering a bit as the head of his cock glides over your clit, teasing as the slick, swollen little nub jumps beneath the dull pressure.

He laughs a little, nothing more than a deep, dark rumbling within his ribs, reverberating against your back.

“You’re so fucking nasty, baby,” he chides lowly, though you can hear the self-satisfied smirk sewn into his voice, tinged with sadism, as he rolls his hips up twice, grinding his cock into your drenched core. “You’re so fucking needy, baby, trying to get yourself off in the middle of this crowded club.”

You are, you are, another little sound escaping your lips as you rut back against him, already beginning to speed up, rubbing the head of his cock over your clit in quick little strokes.

“It’s really precious, y’know, how pathetically eager you are for me,” he murmurs, notes of fondness negating the sting the insult should bring, words gone melty and sweet. “But you gotta stop humping Daddy for a moment, so he can get his cock out and give you what you really want.”

A disgruntled little whine sounds in your throat, motions stuttering a little as you attempt to stop moving. But it all feels so incredible, greedily unable to quell your hips completely as they rotate in messy little circles, tummy starting to ripple with each graze of his blunt head against your clit.

“Hey,” he warns, sharp and stern, a palm colliding with your bare thigh and leaving a burning handprint seared in its wake, the impact of the slap loud enough to draw a few pairs of eyes. “Don’t get bratty with me, or you won’t get anything at all, you understand?”

Your head’s nodding before the words are even finished leaving his lips—yes, Daddy, of course, Daddy, brats don’t deserve to be filled by Daddy’s cock—desperate to be good for him, to be the best for him.

Because you know he isn’t fucking around; Mikey’s threats are never empty threats, each and every word plucked from his brain with superlative care, heavy and infused with meaning.

It’s terrifying and tantilizing, how easily and instantly he can switch from one mode to the other: from playful to imposing, from Daddy to Leader, a pleasant shiver skittering up your spine, your hole clenching and pulsing as your stomach plummets, gut weighted with a tingling pressure.

It’s a bit of a task, freeing his cock and manoeuvring yourself as you try to inconspicuously sink down on it, but you both manage, your fluffy petticoat of crinoline and tulle providing a decent amount of privacy.

A hiss slips through the gaps of your gritted teeth as it begins to tear you in two, cute little hole stinging as it strains around his cock, struggling to accommodate his girth, delicate skin splitting itself open for him.

“That’s it, that’s it,” he breathes lowly, voice vibrating against your ear. “There you go, good girl.”

An airy little moan spills from your lips as he bottoms out, cockhead pressed snug to your cervix, and you melt back into him, skull knocking against his shoulder, eyes slipped shut.

“Feel better, princess?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you mumble out dreamily. “S’good, S’right.”

“It feels right, huh?” he chuckles a little, thumbs rubbing fond circles into your hips, his hands all the way up your skirt, slipped beneath the frills and fluff, forearms buried in your dress. “You like it when Daddy fills you up?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. “Stretches me out real good, makes me feel all stuffed ‘n full.”

Whole, complete, one. Like everything feels as it’s supposed to again.

And it hurts, because it always hurts, because he’s too thick and you’re never prepped enough, never patient enough, core split open on his cock and little hole aching as it attempts to adjust to him, but it’s so fucking perfect, too. Your cunt spasms around him, hips twitching a little in desperation—like you’re trying to suck him in further, like you’re trying to bury him deeper—and he groans, fingers flexing as he holds you still, nails gorging on your flesh.

“Eager, are we?”

“S’not my fault,” you mewl, back arching a little as you attempt to push your hips back, squirming a bit in his strong grip. “Need you, Daddy.”

“Is that so?”

Grasp tightening, his hips thrust up, grinding the head of his cock into your cervix in slow, hard motions—back and forth, back and forth, inspiring a dull pang throbbing in your gut.

Gasping sharply, your hips jerk back in response, automatic and instinctual, pulling a hoarse groan from his chest.

His clutch turns to near bone crushing, a fractured little cry sticking in your throat, and he forces you to hold still for a moment, muscles in his thighs gone rigid and stiff as his hips press up further and tug you down, frozen, revelling in the way your cunt pulses around him, as if it’s whining for him.

“M-Mikey,” you echo its sentiments, his name a sulky plead on your tongue, brows knit together and lips jutted in a pout.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“You know,” you huff out, wriggling a little in his palms, feebly trying to fuck yourself on him.

“Tell me anyway,” he demands.

Scalding embarrassment pricks your cheeks and you whimper, fidgeting in his grasp again, head shaking in defiance.

“Come on,” he chides, but there are notes of amusement infusing his tone. “Daddy can’t give you what you want if you don’t ask for it.”

Sharp teeth sink into your shoulder suddenly, your half-formed response strangled by a gasp, Mikey’s jaw tensing as he burrows his teeth further into your flesh, piercing through tissues and snapping capillaries until copper explodes in his mouth.

He holds it for a moment, all thirty-two of his teeth latched in your skin, ensuring he leaves a full, detailed outline of his mouth etched into you—a signature of sorts—before his tongue flattens against the wound, dragging over it in a single wide lick and sealing it with blood-tinged saliva. A gentle exhale wafts over the bite, cool against the searing pain, and you shudder, chills erupting across your flesh.

“You’re a big girl,” he coaxes over your whimpering, the encouragement steeped in condescension. “I know you can do it. Use your big girl words and tell Daddy what you want.”

Your eyes squeeze shut against the burn of humiliation, lids crinkling at the corners, the softest hiccup catching in your throat, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you.

“I—I wanna ride your cock, Daddy,” you push the stubborn words from your tongue, trembling and breathy.

“Yeah?” he asks, bloodied tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. “How bad?”

“So bad,” you bleat out, striving to bounce on his cock under the firm restraint of his hands, dewdrops of annoyance clinging to your lashes, glittering in the beams of magenta and teal as you blink rapidly.

“Hm,” he muses to himself, nonchalant as he readjusts his grip, hands constringing, completely halting your pathetic little movements. “It doesn’t seem like you want it all that badly.”

“Daddy,” the word leaves your lips in a whine, scrunched and petulant through your pout, body thrashing beneath his strong grip. “Come on—”

“Are you sure you wanna be such a naughty little whore in front of all of these people?”

Your body stops its writhing, his words like a slap to the face.

It’s a bit of a shock, to hear it spoken aloud so bluntly, cut and dry and honest, and it sends a torrent of sparks fizzing through your chest to collect dense and tight in your tummy.

Shame and revulsion sets your skin aflame, the cinders in your gut flaring in response, an intoxicating combination.

“Yes—”

“Huh? What was that?” he shouts theatrically in your ear. “I couldn’t really hear you over the music.”

“Y-Yes,” you repeat, trying to steady your hiccuping voice, to be stern and resolute, even as tears begin to stream down your cheeks.

“Really?” he breathes, and he sounds astonished, he sounds appalled. “You’re so fucking sleazy, baby. I wonder what all these people would think, if they knew how truly filthy my little girl is...”

“Manjirou,” you weep out his birth name, whole face saturated in frustration.

“Oh-ho-ho,” he chuckles out the word, and it’s vicious. “Graduated to using my full name, now, have you?” he licks at the steadily oozing bite, mopping up more blood with his tongue. “Christ, you do really want it.”

“I do!” you cry out, struggling against his grasp again, hips bucking in wild, erratic motions. “I do, I do, please, let me ride your cock, please.”

“What if I made you sit, still and straight like the good little girl I know you want to be, on my hard cock for the rest of the night? Do you think you’d be able to handle it?”

You know he won’t, know he’d never be able to, because he’s just as addicted to you as you are to him, just as desperate, just as eager, just as needy; because even as he holds you motionless, he can’t quite halt the delicate jerk of his hips, rolling up into your core; because you know he wants this just as badly as you do, gets off on the depravity just as much as you do.

Even so, the mere thought of being teased like this, of being forced to hold such a degrading position, is still enough to inspire a rush of agitated tears to flood your eyes, vision gone bleary with despairing desire and rendering the club a bleary haze of glowing neons.

“No, Daddy, no, I—I just want to ride you, please, Daddy, I c-can’t—”

You’re nearly wailing now, head thrown back dramatically as your neck twists into an uncomfortable knot, anguished as you try to bury your face in his throat, looking for solace. Your chest stutters as you stammer out half-finished pleads, gone garbled with spit, and Mikey smiles.

You’re starting to cause a scene.

It’s exactly what he wanted.

“Okay, baby, okay, okay,” he’s pacifying as he feels hot tears soak into his neck, a choked sob catching painfully in your chest. “Daddy’s here, Daddy’s gonna make it all better.”

And finally, finally his grasp loosens, stiff fingers gone lax, massaging lopsided circles into the rapidly developing bruises left in the shape of their prints.

“Go ahead, angel,” he urges, nuzzling into the junction of your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the congealing bite. “Ride Daddy’s cock.”

Then he’s slumping back, settling into the couch cushions and spreading his thighs a little wider, pressing the soles of his boots into the waxed floor for stability and leverage.

His hands stay on your waist, a gentle guidance, but he allows you to set the pace—a rare occurrence—patient as your hips work up a steady rhythm of quick, shallow gyrations, each swivel dragging his cock against your favourite spot.

And God, you’re so cute when you use his cock to make yourself feel good. It’s a shame that he can’t see your face in this position, can’t see the way your lashes flutter and frame the rolling whites of your eyes or the way your features scrunch so delicately; a shame he can’t hear your gorgeous noises, all your sweet little gasps and pitiful little whines consumed by the blaring music.

But he can see how your back is bowing, spine forced into a near perfect arc by your building pleasure, bending just a hint more with each brush of his cock; he can feel your palms clutching his knees, nails digging little crescents into his shins and using them for support as your movements accelerate, as you fuck yourself harder, faster, better.

And he lets you have your fun for a little, lays back all languid and lazy and watches through lidded eyes as you play with yourself and use his cock like it’s your favourite toy—because, well, it is—but eventually it just isn’t enough and you need Daddy’s help.

Just like he knew it wouldn’t be. Just like you always do.

Not that he minds one bit.

Yes, it isn’t enough, because it never is, because you can never manage anything more than teasing yourself when left entirely to your own devices, spritzing kerosene on the dull smouldering in the pit of your stomach as the head of his cock brushes up against that engorged spot inside of you, not nearly hard enough or fast enough to have you anywhere close to creaming on him, merely enough to have your clit throbbing, swollen and neglected.

He knows you’re beginning to get restless when your hips turn sloppy, tempo starting to falter as your motions stutter, and then you’re looking over your shoulder at him with a beseeching pout, glazed eyes begging him to do something!

So he does.

He’s straightening up in a split second, hands around your waist tightening as he yanks you back toward his chest, chin hooking over your clavicle again and grinding the sharp bone into your skin.

“Poor thing,” he murmurs against your jaw, mocking and mean. “Can’t even get herself off without her Daddy’s help.”

“I can’t, I can’t,” you wail over the roar of EDM, head shaking in accentuation. “Need you, need you to do it for me.”

“Of course you do, angel,” he says, as if it’s obvious, as if it’s common knowledge. “But that’s okay—Daddy will make it feel good.”

That’s the only warning you’re given before his hips are ramming up, rapid and rough and downright ruthless, the abrupt motion slamming a high-pitched yelp from your throat, so pure and genuine and full of lust that it rises above the music, breaks through the heavy bass beat, gathering a handful of glances from a few nearby party-goers.

So much for being inconspicuous.

You should’ve known that that just isn’t Mikey’s style.

They lose interest just as quickly as they gained it, though, going back to their drinks and their drugs, unconcerned. What the Boss does at his own club is none of their business, even if it is on display for the whole venue to see.

Still, it’s enough for Mikey.

“Everyone can see you, you know,” voracious black eyes scan the balcony space. “Everyone can see you being such a good little whore for your Daddy.”

The thought of being watched, of being caught, inspires a whole flock of butterflies to flit around in your tummy, another surge of heat gushing between your thighs, and Mikey laughs. Oh, he felt that.

Because he’s right; if anyone dared to look a little closer, a little longer, cared to paid a smidge of more attention to the two of you, hidden on one of the velvet couches wedged in the corner of the VIP section with your hips rocking and Mikey’s hands buried in the lace and tulle of your skirt, they’d know exactly what the two of you are doing.

But it doesn’t matter; you don’t care. Neither does he. Why should either of you?

“Do you—Do you think they like it?” you question, and Christ, it’s so precious, that pathetic hope ringing high and clear in your voice. “Do you think they like watching me bounce on their Boss’s cock?”

“Fuck,” the curse fragments in his throat, sharp and pitchy, and he coughs on the shards. “I know they do, sweetheart.”

“Do you think they’re g-gonna go home and touch themselves to the thought of me—of us?”

“Aw,” Mikey coos out in a chuckle, breathless and condescending. “It’s cute that you think they aren’t already jerking off to you on a regular basis.”

Of course they are, you silly little stupid thing; how could they not be? With all the sweet, short little dresses he buys you to prance and twirl around in—the ones with the sweetheart necklines that dip just a hint too low, teasing the swell of your breasts with each of your gentle inhales; the ones with the rippling hems that end just a touch too high, swishing and swaying and flashing with each of your movements, riding up and fanning out to gift them with teasing little glimpses of the lace and satin underneath.

“You think I don’t know what my—ah, Christ—what my men think of you? How my men think of you?” He tongues a little at the bite, using his front teeth to scrape off a few half-formed scabs, blood rushing to pool in their place. “You think I don’t see the way they look at you?”

A whine stammers in your throat, your back arching a little more as your cunt quivers around his cock, that drove of butterflies sending your stomach swooping, the organ tensing, tying itself into thick knots pulled tight and taut with each plunge of his cock.

Mikey laughs again, the sound nothing more than a deep, dense vibration rumbling within his ribs, seeping into your back and sending tingles up your spine.

“Would you like to see the way they look at you?”

“H-Huh?”

Oh, how adorably fucked out you already are, mind gone dumb and numb to everything but him, but his voice and his touch and his steadily driving cock; oh, how adorably easy it is to make you this fucking idiotic.

“Look over there,” he presses his cheek into yours, forcing your head to turn and follow his gaze.

Across the club, Rindou sits with an elbow resting on the edge of the bar, a glass dangling from his fingertips. His eyes are cavernous, carnivorous, a smirk smearing across his face as your stare meets his, heavy lids framing a leering look.

Using a shoulder, he nudges his brother’s stomach, jutting his chin toward you and his Boss in indication when Ran looks down in question, redirecting his attention.

Now they’re both watching you, with doped up violet eyes and identical sleazy smiles, toothless and worming.

It makes you want to scrub and scratch at your skin, their gazes painting you in a thick coat of grime, body soiled by their lust and left feeling dirty, feeling gross, a strong shiver crawling across your flesh.

Your head jerks reflexively, desperate to hide from their lechery, skull knocking against Mikey’s hard enough to send thorns of pain searing through your temple.

A yelp cracks in your throat, and Mikey snorts, seemingly unfazed.

“Aw,” Mikey tuts in false admonishment. “Don’t get shy now. Look at them. Look at them while you ride my cock.”

“M-Mikey—” your eyes shut tightly, a pitiful attempt to escape their invasive eyes, head shaking in little judders.

“C’mon,” he goads, forcing you to face their stare. “You want them all to see, right? How good my little girl is? How pretty my little girl is?”

Peeking through your lashes, you squint at the Haitanis, features teetering on the verge of a wince, as if you’re expecting them to physically strike you.

They’re still looking at you, wide and unblinking, speaking out of the side of their mouths in laughs and murmurs to one another.

Dressed in matching pin-striped suits and thick suspenders, Rindou has discarded his jacket, shirtsleeves rolled haphazardly up his forearms to his elbows, first few buttons of his shirt popped undone, revealing a defined collarbone.

Predictably, Ran is still the perfect picture of poise and elegance, not a single hair out of place, suit jacket square on his shoulders and flawlessly tailored to his body, each stitch outlining his edges.

Tweedledum and Tweedledee respectively, and just as treacherous.

Whatever it is they’re saying to each other, they’re clearly enjoying themselves, amusement playing in glassy irises as Ran rests a hand around Rindou’s neck, slim fingers pressing into plush muscle. His younger brother instantly relaxes into his touch, mollifying back against his stomach and hooking an arm around his thigh, hugging it to his ribs.

And it’s the way they’re looking at you, as if they’re peeling the clothes from your body and the skin from your bones and peering into the depths of your soul to dance with your demons and devour your secrets; as if they’re singeing your expression into their minds, the sight of your features saturated in perturbation and pleasure branded into the tissues of their brains, carved into the walls of their skulls, ensuring they’ll never forget.

Everything feels overexposed as they pry you apart bit by bit, heady mix of hedonism and humiliation hazing over your brain.

Mikey’s hips slow to a drag, thighs tensing and soles of his boots skidding across marble as he expertly angles his hips and presses up, rubbing the head of his cock over your g-spot in slow, controlled motions—back and forth, back and forth, over and over and over again.

And the moan that claws at your throat is almost obnoxious, is definitely embarrassing, which means Mikey needs to fuck at least three more from your chest, grunting a little with the effort as his cockhead jabs against that plush spot, hard and precise.

A whine that sounds suspiciously like his title, tangled in spit and weighted with shame, spills from your lips, and you nestle your face against his own even as your hips jolt, desperate for comfort, desperate for cover.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it,” he nuzzles your damp cheek. “I know you do. I can feel it.”

It’s true, he can—you’re sure he can, with the way your straining little hole keeps pulsing around his length, another stream of heat cascading down his shaft, viscous and wet and so, so much, to pool in the folds of his balls, to stain the waistband of his pants and the velvet of the couch.

But you know he likes it just as much as you do.

Because you’re both so fucking naughty, so fucking nasty, but the depravity just works to heighten it all, makes it that much better, amplifying every touch and brush and tease and fondle and making it all feel so fucking good, even as Mikey’s pace eases into something unhurried, his thrusts turned languid but powerful.

So you join in, you rise to his challenge, a sick little game the two of you play, a sick little game you force others to participate in—because you’re fucking untouchable.

“Do you think their cocks are hard, Daddy?” you ask, the question dripping with syrup as you roll your hips backwards, slow and purposeful, returning the Haitanis’ smouldering stare through fanned lashes, unblinking and tenacious.

“Ah, f-fuck,” Mikey’s cock jolts, rhythm stammering for a moment before he regains his composure. “Yeah, baby, I bet they’re wishing they were me right now.”

You bet they are, too, mouths stopped moving and gazes gleaming with want, lips parted with uneven exhales pushed from their heaving chests, entirely enchanted by your movements.

It’s the most affected and authentic you’ve ever seen them before, and it sends a thrill of power shooting through your body, blood left fizzing in its wake.

One of them reaches into their pocket, groping around blindly for their phone, not daring to spare a second of their attention away from you, and Mikey snarls, nose scrunched in disgust and lip curled in a sneer, baring gritted teeth.

Because that’s too much, that’s crossing a line, and Mikey swiftly redirects your face, effectively hiding your expression from the Haitanis’ hungry eyes.

Mikey’s always liked to show off. Mikey’s never liked to share.

He swaps shoulders quickly, the defined hinges of his jaw clasped firmly over your collarbone, and smushes his face flush to yours again, skin clammy with sweat.

“And look over there,” he steers your gaze toward the other side of the club, where Kokonoi sits with a smattering of men surrounding a tall cocktail table, littered with crystal glasses and white lines.

The men around the table are laughing about something, sloshing liquor and cutting powder into thick, fat stripes, but Kokonoi isn’t paying attention to any of it.

No. Kokonoi is looking at you.

His eyes snap away when they meet your own, head whipping forward with such speed and such force it’s a marvel he doesn’t instantly give himself whiplash. A deep laugh rumbles in Mikey’s throat in response, something dark, something decadent.

“He’s gonna go home and touch himself to you, too,” he says. “He might not even make it before he goes home; might end up jerking his cock in a bathroom stall or the front seat of his car.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well, look at him,” Mikey snorts. “He’s so hard he’s about to burst outta his pants.”

Following the line of Kokonoi’s body, your gaze travels downward, to the straining lump in his white pants. His hips shift a little uncomfortably as his thighs tense, hands curled into fists on his knees as he steadily trains his stare forward at the wall opposite of him, throat bobbing with a thick swallow.

Mikey’s right—Koko’s about to burst.

The thought of Koko rushing to his car to collapse in the driver’s seat, head tipped back against the headrest and hand shoved down his pants as his palm rubs frantically at his hard cock, or hastening to the washroom to lock himself in a stall, forehead pressed tightly to the rickety door and panting out stuttered, half-stifled whimpers hotly against his upper lip as he hurriedly relieves the problem you’ve created, is almost too much to bear, stomach clenching in time with the throbbing of your cunt, a torrid pressure building and burning in your gut.

The sudden acceleration of Mikey’s thrusts snaps you out of that tangle of thoughts, effectively drawing every ounce of your attention back to him.

A mewl pries past your lips, sharp and high and cracking at the end, whole spine arching as Mikey resumes his assault on your favourite spot, cockhead driving hard and fast against plush flesh.

“They can look all they want, but you’re mine.” His fingers tighten, his grasp rigid and unbreakable, the words nothing more than a snarl spit in your ear, wet and harsh. “I won’t fuckin’ share.”

“Never, never, never,” you babble in time with the bouncing on his lap, head nodding in sloppy motions with each repetition of the word.

“Never,” he growls, teeth sinking into the flesh of your shoulder sloppily, excess spit dribbling from the corners of his mouth as he breaks the skin for the second time tonight and sucks hard, drawing blood from the string of tiny wounds.

It has another cry escaping your throat, whole face crinkling in a sordid mixture of pleasure and pain, head instinctually thrown back against your Daddy, automatically giving him more room to work. Drops of watered down blood drool down your back and Mikey takes a moment to admire them, mesmerised by the way they shimmer in the strobing lights of the club, before he licks at them with the tip of his tongue, leaving crude strokes of fresh spit in their wake.

He’s the motherfucking Boss.

And the Boss gets what he wants, where he wants, when he wants, always.

He’s really fucking you now, vicious and vigorous, your entire body juddering in his lap as his hips piston up, cockhead pounding against that sensitive mound of tissue buried deep within you.

Each thrust shoves another shattered sound from your tongue, splintered moans of his name and his title pouring past your lips in a jagged stream.

The knot your stomach has twisted itself into strains under the building pressure, growing heavier and heavier with each jackhammer into you, stretched taut and stiff and ready to snap.

It’s all so much, the ogling eyes and the ramming of his cock and the tightening in your belly, every muscle in your body coiled and aching for the ecstasy that comes with release. Your breath mangles with the mewls shoved from your lips with every slam up, sticking to your throat and you cough, wheezing past the splinters. It’s all too much, and—!

“M’gonna, m’gonna cum, Daddy!” you gasp, tears dotting the corners of your eyes, sparkling in spidery lashes.

“Yeah, baby?” he breathes, voice dropping to a ragged rasp. “You gonna cream all over Daddy’s cock? Huh? Make a mess on my cock surrounded by all of Daddy’s closest and most esteemed colleagues?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you nearly sob out, palms curling over his wrists, nails clawing at the delicate skin, desperate for an anchor.

“My dirty fucking girl,” he hisses out, sharp breath stinging your cheek. “Such a good—Ah—good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

You can no longer respond, rendered stupid from the ardor, potent pleasure corroding your brain and gnawing through your synapses. It’s downright intoxicating, it’s fucking insatiable, it’s simultaneously immense and insufficient, way too much yet not nearly enough, because you need more, you need more, unintelligible pleads shattering on your tongue.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, baby, gush all over Daddy, make a pretty mess on his lap for him. Show everyone in this Goddamn club how gorgeous you look cumming for me.”

And so you do, ever your Daddy’s best girl, body eager to obey its owner as your cunt convulses around him, copious amounts of slick cascading down his shaft to drench his thighs, sticky and sharp and so fucking sick as he continues to bounce you in his lap.

The spasming of your cute little hole draws the sweetest whine from the back of his throat, panted out against the curve of your ear, and another bout of warmth rushes to the apex of your thighs, earning you a shuddered little curse, the exhale sweltering against your sweaty skin.

You sound so pretty right before you cum, Daddy.

Three more pumps of his hips and he’s following, thrusts stuttering as he fucks up messily into you, cock throbbing almost violently and stuffing you to the brim with thick, hot cum. Strong hands hold you firmly in place, cockhead pressed flush to your cervix as he spills himself into you, as he forces you to take every fucking ounce of what he’s giving you.

And you love it, you love it, you love it, you’re telling him, sentiments pouring from your mouth in a jumbled stream, singular and continuous until your lungs run out of air, voice cutting off with a squeak.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” Mikey’s murmuring into your skin in response, lips leaving smears of sugary saliva just below your earlobe.

He allows you to sit on him for a moment, chest heaving against your back with ragged breaths, sweaty forehead pressed tightly to your shoulder. Tilting your head, your rest your cheek on the back of his skull, eyes slipping shut as your own heart begins to calm, cunt still pulsating irregularly around his shaft, almost as if it’s attempting to squeeze a few more drops out of him, his cock acting as a crude plug, keeping most of his cum buried inside of you.

Finally, his head lifts, pressing a tender kiss to the blood-encrusted bite glittering on your shoulder.

“Go get cleaned up in the washroom,” he mutters gently, pressing another string of kisses along your jaw. “Don’t wipe away any of Daddy’s cum; let it soak into your panties real nice and good, let them get really wet, and then snap a few pictures and send them to me. Can you do that for me, angel?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you slur out, nodding in loose, liquid movements.

“Good,” he pats your thigh twice. “Now, go.”

A small noise of affirmation sounds in your throat, head still nodding as Mikey helps you stand between his spread thighs, hands on your waist keeping you upright while you wobble on unsteady legs.

And the noise that you make as his cum and your slick surges out of you—something caught somewhere between a mewl and a whine, turned on and disappointed simultaneously—is the cutest thing he’s ever heard, a muted coo slipping from his own lips as your hands wrap around his, using them to further stable yourself.

He holds you for a moment or two longer, making sure you’re sturdy and your knees won’t suddenly give out, before giving you one final squeeze and releasing you, smirking a little as he watches you teeter away on rickety feet.

Initially, his plan was to have you capture a few naughty photos for him—pretty little things to stash away in his phone for later use, during the nights he’s forced to spend away from you, sitting in expensive cars or laying in lush hotel beds—and force you to wear the gluey, cum-drenched undies for the remainder of the party.

But then his phone is buzzing, and he’s unlocking it to find your cunt perfectly outlined by thin silk as it sticks to your folds, little clit and hole contoured and accentuated by the slick, shining fabric, soiled by a large, irregular patch of wetness, and oh, there’s no way he’ll be able to wait until you arrive home to fuck you again.

No, he needs to fuck you now, a sudden burst of adrenaline buzzing through his veins, little sparks and minuscule explosions that have him up and moving in under a second, cock already beginning to fill with life again.

Sheer, potent power permeates the atmosphere around him, trembling off his body in sharp bolts; dense, heavy, cracking with electricity.

The way the crowd instantly parts for him is awe-inspiring, their gleaming eyes full of terror and worship, hastily tripping over their own toes and ankles to move from his path as he strides toward the washroom, desperate to not be stung by his brilliance, desperate to get as close to the currents as possible without being scathed.

You’re just exiting the restroom by the time he reaches you, breath punched from your lungs as he backs you into a tiled corner, trapped between the cold wall and his scorching form, his hands splayed wide on either side of your shoulders.

“We gotta go,” he’s nearly panting out as he shoves his forehead against yours, eyes closed and noses nudging, straining cock grinding unceremoniously into your hip. “We gotta go, now.”

And, well, Daddy always gets what Daddy wants.

#mikey sano x reader #mikey sano smut #mikey x reader #mikey smut #bonten mikey smut #bonten mikey x reader #bonten x reader #bonten mikey x you #sano manjiro x reader #sano manjiro smut #mikey x you #bonten smut #tokyo revengers smut #SORRY ITS SO LATE HAHA PLS ENJOYYY #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x you

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cannellee · 2 months

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omg, i giggle like a schoolgirl whenever i read your abo hcs🤭

can i have bestfriend! mikey who comes over to the reader’s house (not realizing she’s in heat) and ends up mating & claiming her?

ty for all the juicy fics btw 😋

TOKYO REVENGERS OMEGAVERSE ☆

୨୧ alpha! mikey x omega! reader

— mikey claiming omega! reader

my masterlist : ☆

cw: sex, cockwarming, breeding kink

(it's only my third time writing full smut like this, so I hope it's not too bad!!)

you knew mikey since primary school, when innocent friendships bloomed easily. none of you knew your second gender yet, and you actually never gave it too much thought.

you grew up pretty close, the proximity of your houses making it easier for you to bond. mikey was carefree and seemed always sure of himself, these traits of his kept your future omega-self nearby.

being with him felt great. he was a kind friend despite his overly direct behaviour, he always got your back whenever school kids were being mean to you.

you guys were with each other through every stages of life. when you turned out an omega, mikey was quick to drive away students who wanted to have a taste of their freshly presented schoolmate. he was protective, never going overboard either.

it was safe to say you thought you guys would remain in a special relationship all your life. and mikey thought so too. for years, he had never seen you as something more than a friend, qualifying the protective position he took as nothing more than an amicable worry.

but lately, something had begun to shift within mikey. a subtle change that he quite couldn't put his finger on. at first, he brushed it off as nothing more than a passing phase, but days turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months and he soon began to realise that his feelings for you were changing in ways he had yet to understand.

it started with small things — the way his heart skipped a bit whenever you laughed, the way his gaze lingered longer than before when you smiled - has your smile always been this bright ? he slowly came to crave your scent, unconsciously leaning towards you and watching the way your soft lips would move each time you talked.

mikey felt a pull at his chest just by thinking of his dear friend with someone else. will they be able to treat you right, and keep you safe ? mikey was just worried. he wanted to hear your voice, to hear your secrets and make sure you were not seeing anyone.

it was a week off, so mikey called you. it wasn't unusual for you to talk over the phone, even if you had a house at a five minutes walk away from the other.

but you didn't pick up your phone. and mikey noted how uncommon it was, you always did. he tried a second time and when he was denied again, he just gave up, giving you some time. upon seeing his missed calls, you'll call him back.

but you didn't, and not even a text was sent his way. he tried multiple times after a while and grew worried. you never were this silent online, not answering him for a whole day was strange, to say the least.

so he went out, took a few brownies emma cooked with him to give him a reason to come over, and crossed the street to your home.

he didn't bother making his arrival announced ; none of you ever bothered for such formalities.

clenching the doorknob, he frowned at how it actually opened, half expecting it to be locked. still, he came in, quietly making his way into your house. it was silent and dark, with the windows all wide opened, a cold breeze hitting his skin.

confused at first, mikey softly called out your name, putting the snacks on the kitchen table and getting rid of his jacket, leaving him in his plain white tshirt. "y/n ? are you in there ?"

the absence of response pushed him to keep going, dangerously approaching your room. he stopped mid way, when a few noises came out from the end of the hallway. "y/n ? is that you, everything fine?"

as he stood right behind the door, mikey could now decipher the said noises. soft desperate cries, erratic breaths and an intoxicating smell embalming the air, seemingly seeping from every hole under your door.

mikey took a deep breath, connecting the dots and cursing himself for coming this far to you —you were in heat. the omega he grew obsessed with, was right in front of him, the wall, the only thing keeping him away from his growing urge to just burst in.

"m-mikey ? is it you ?" despite your weakened state, your friend was close enough for you to recognize a foreign smell inside your house. mikey probably didn't even notice his own pheromones started to spread, instinctively reacting to your erotic ones. fuck you smelled so good.

"I'm sorry I'll leave, I didn't know you were in heat". as overwhelming as his need to claim you was, mikey didn't want to risk your trust.

"n-no please mikey stay!" you were in a haze, too high off of your wish to to be taken to actually have any clear thoughts. and mikey knew that, but he didn't want to take advantage of you.

"I just came here to make sure you were doing fine, and give you some snacks emma made. I'll leave and lock your door, this isn't safe in your state. beside, I don't want you to regret anything, you're not thinking straight" it took a great reasoning for him to actually ignore his instincts screaming at him to just barge into your room and take you right here. breeding you until you're full of cum and exhausted to the point you can't walk straight. dirty thoughts are flooding his mind, the whole situation sending blood to his cock.

"no please, I know I won't ! I'm still clear enough to know what I want, they barely just started today. please mikey". pleas fell out from your mouth. and too overwhelmed by the consuming need for release, you can't even get up to pull him to your nest.

"or is it that you don't want to do it with me ?" mikey sighs heavily, body all tensed up. this sent a growl down his throat, you only whined in response, scared at the prospect of the alpha you desire not wanting to mate with me.

but, of course he does, that's the only thing he can think about right now. and whenever his own ruts hit, he's ashamed to admit your body is the image he pictures each time.

"please mikey, I just really need you right now. I wouldn't do it with anyone else if not you" you begged once more, voice growing even more desperate. a few salty tears rolled down your face at the frustration mikey was submitting you to.

and just like that, mikey was right in front of you. he took in your whole form, shaking and sensitive, desperately awaiting a touch.

you wore only your underwear, the heated room feeling too much. despite your opened windows, some hair stucked to your damp forehead, and the blankets were since then long gone, thrown out of your nest.

you looked heavenly in mikey's eyes. actually, you always looked perfect, not a day passed without mikey admiring your dreamy features secretly. but today particularly, something seemed different.

it was the way your eyes slowly looked up at him, lust and envy clouding your vision, and the way your body seemed to immediately attract him to you, legs spreading as if they had a mind of their own, your heartbeats quickening and scent getting progressively sweeter to tempt him even more.

there was no turning back. after witnessing such a delightful scene, mikey would never be able to turn around, close the door and act like nothing happened. you had him right where you wanted and he was more than willing to comply to your wishes now.

"please mikey, it hurts"

by now, mikey's instincts had fully taken over and an ardent desire burned inside of him, praying him to just take care of the delicate omega laying in front him.

"yes I know baby, and you did really great on your own, waiting for me to find you, all spread out and pretty". you reached out for him instantly when mikey came to join you, you emitted a satisfied purr, happy to finally have the alpha you longed for give in to your demands.

he didn't wait long before starting a short foreplay, kissing, licking and sucking every inch of your skin, leaving tiny bite marks all along your neck, insisting on your scent gland.

he brought his fingers to your entrance while continuing his assault on your neck and collarbone. he massaged it slowly, observing your reactions to know exactly where it felt good. he kept going for a few minutes before stopping, throwing away your bra and finally pushing aside your panty, giving more access to his hands.

and you felt one finger entering you, his mouth now sealed to your nipple. his tongue rolled against it, lapping expertly while drinking in your moans of pleasure. he kept bullying your heterogeneous zones, in hope to hear more of you, to see you completely break under him, just like he always wanted to see you.

"that's it baby, moan for me, let me hear your pretty voice"

and moan you did, especially with how three of his fingers were now sliding in and out of you with a sweet speed you couldn't get enough of. you had tears building up in your eyes and you watched as a string of saliva connected mikey's mouth to yours. his finger felt so great, and his mouth, now attached to your lips, turned you absolutely breathless. but still, it wasn't enough, you needed more.

"please mikey. I want you in me, please I want more" the friction of mikey's fingers felt good, but you were too far into your heat to actually need foreplay. the slick you produced was enough for mikey to just fuck you without any prep.

"I know I know baby, I'll make you feel so good don't worry" he stopped his movements, your fluids coating his fingers. he licked them, looking at your droopy eyelids.

you waited patiently for mikey to undress himself, throwing both his tshirt and your panty aside, before finally getting rid of his bottom. you watched eagerly his length revealing itself to you, a sight which only made you drool. and you could only wait for mikey to give you what you wished for, completely at his mercy.

you were now fully naked, squirming in front of mikey. he contemplated you again, your honeyed scent driving him crazy by the minute, and the way your pulsating core seemed to call out to him was very much a sight mikey could get used to if you let him.

"I've wanted this for so long, God you're so beautiful"

he let his hands travel all around your body, kissing you passionately while whispering praises of how pretty you looked.

"that's it baby, lay nice and still for me. you're doing so good". and you did, waiting expectantly, hungry for his touch and affection. you couldn't care less about your dignity, it just felt great to want him, obey him, beg him. whatever he had to offer your body, you would accept it with a smile on your face.

and with all his restraint, mikey entered you in one painfully slow thrust. you moaned louder, eyes shutting by themselves with the intrusion, and "yes, yes, yes" flowed out from your lips.

he didn't let you any time to adjust, he knew you didn't need any, and immediately started rocking his hips. he let out low growls of pleasure, mouth right next to your ear. you drank them in, feeling pleasure building up inside not only from the relentless pace he was going at, but the satisfaction that your omega had succeeded in making her alpha feel good too.

you were desperate for validation and release, clawing at his back with weak hands, legs spread wide open for your alpha. your tits bounced with each slap and mikey's hips connected with yours in a excruciatingly delightful manner.

with the way your brain was clouded with pleasure, you could only chant his name. if only you knew what your desirous pleas did to him.. knowing you'd let him to anything to you was a major turn on that kept mikey yearning for more.

"you're doing perfect, that feels incredible baby". reassuring you, he maintained his pace, capturing your mouth for a heated kiss before sucking on your skin, whishing for it to leave deep red marks.

fuck, mikey wanted to mark you, claim you and breed you in every way possible. he didn't think he would be satisfied with just one round now that he finally had you under him. he was going to take such good care of his precious omega, fucking you dumb until you can't think of anything else but him.

he felt you clenching around him, your tight hole pushing him closer to the edge. "just like that, good girl, you're gonna make me cum". and you so wished for him to cum inside you, filling you up to the brim with the seeds you desperately wanted.

slapping thighs, wet noises and erratic breaths were the only thing you could here. and the pleasure mikey granted you, the way his strong scent enveloped you and how his fingers found your clit again to help you chase your release made you see stars. not a single thought could make their way into your brain, all you could think about was the heavenly sensations you were experiencing right now and mikey's strong chest on top of you.

you begged for him as soon as you felt it come closer, scratching his back, mouth wide opened and tongue lolled out. your eyes rolled to the back of your skull and you thanked mikey for giving you this much pleasure. "that's right baby, take all of it". his thrusts were getting sloppier with each passing second, announcing your coming climax.

you both came at the same time, with a high pitched moan for you and a deep growl for mikey, which always managed to send shivers down your spine. you felt his cum flow inside of you, painting your insides with a white fluid.

and you took it all, just like he told you, hoping for more praises but too high off of his cock to do anything else. he kissed your temple, looking into your exhausted eyes while slowly going in and out of you. you both tried to catch your breath after bliss took over you.

"you did so good for me angel, such a perfect omega". you chirped happily in response, content about his satisfaction with you. you couldn't talk, heat turned you into a submissive mess.

you let him cuddle you from behind, cockwarming him to make sure you didn't spill any drops of cum, and you stayed put for him to do anything. he kissed your shoulder softly, whispering about how good and obedient you were.

he liked the calming feeling of his cock plugging your wet pussy, taking you like this felt so good and heightened his already possessive thoughts about you.

you were so perfect, you took your alpha so well and now you're staying still for him to pour his cum into you. he wanted to keep you all to himself, fuck you throughout all your heats and never let you go after someone else. the claim he put on you wasn't just out of sexual interest, but genuine love he had for you. and now that he had fucked you, it felt like everything was falling into place, his sense of purpose reaffirmed.

he had you, his lovely and delicate omega, waiting for her alpha to wreck her and turn her into a sobbing mess.

he looked forward to the rest of the day.

"now were not finished baby, we'll need a lot more if we want to go through your heat smoothly, right?"

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beeing1alive · 21 days

Text

Turning on Tokyo Revengers boys without knowing it pt.1

f.t.: Mikey (Manjirō Sanō); Draken (Ken Ryūgūji); Mitsuya (Takashi Mitsuya); Baji (Keisuke Baji); Chifuyu (Chifuyu Matsuno); Kazutora (Kazutora Hanemija)

Warning: Nsfw content, minors do not interact

Mikey:

can't help but get a hard-on when he sees you sitting on his motorbike

especially when it's summer and you're wearing short clothes

his gaze veils slightly, he draws the air through his teeth slightly and watches every movement you make

i'm not going to lie, he's never got hard so fast

Without hesitation, he ran over to you and sat on his motorbike with you, just to kiss you a little more intimately than he wanted to

you can always tell if he's Horney when he kisses you extremely kinky in public

Draken:

Gets hard the fastest when you wear his clothes

I think we can all agree when I say that he has a size kink

I mean, he just can't help it when he sees you in his clothes, which are obviously way too big for you

especially when you're wearing one of his shirts and otherwise just a pair of panties

his eyes would darken slightly and he would slowly move towards you to tell you that he has a big little problem in his trousers and that you could help him with it

Mitsuya:

jealousy turns him on immensely

I mean, I know he doesn't look it so much, but he gets rock hard in seconds when he sees you talking to another boy for a little too long

a chiselled smile appears on his handsome face and he tries as hard as he can to hide the ever-growing and pulsating bulge in his trousers, which he manages to do quite well

as soon as you and the boy are ready, he pulls you behind him, gently but firmly

the moment you arrive in a quiet corner, you are his

Baji:

nothing turns him on more than seeing you in a leadership position

I mean, when you assert yourself and do all those leader things

he'll sit still, his eyes veil slightly and he watches every little move you make

I'm not even lying when I say that he just sits there and a slight, barely noticeable blush spreads across his face as he notices his trousers getting tighter in a matter of seconds

Chifuyu:

gets hard within a few seconds if he sees you in short clothes

for example, shorts and a revealing shirt

he is just too innocent and would blush extremely and in rare cases get a nosebleed too

if he feels confident enough, he'll snuggle up to you from behind so you can feel his hard boner pressed against your bum, which doesn't make it any better for him

he'll gently give you a sweet kiss on the neck and tell you that you know how much it turns him on when you wear revealing clothes

Kazutora:

turns him on most of the time when you're sitting or lying on his lap

the first few times this happened, he was very uncomfortable because you felt it directly when he got hard and he can't hide it

when he's feeling very horny, he tries to move his hips against your bum to create friction

if you're also wearing short clothes, he'll almost come in his trousers at the slightest touch

I mean, that divine view of you, in short clothes, on his lap, pressed against his hard cock

he just can't help it, so don't be angry with him

Here is pt.2

Attention: The characters and the GIF do not belong to me. The credits go to the original owners. If you want anything to be changed or removed, please contact me.

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armxnh · 5 months

Text

if that ain't love then i don't know what love is

synopsis: he says i love you for the first time.

characters: shuji hanma, keisuke baji, manjiro 'mikey' sano

genre: fluff

warnings: none (i think...?)

masterlist.

shuji hanma

shuji hanma loved everything about you.

the way you looked, the color of your eyes, your hair- how you do your hair, the little dance you made before eating your favourite food, the smile you had when he bought you flowers just because he felt like it, your kindness- he just loved all of you.

but one thing he loved more than anything about you... was the way you looked when you were mad at him.

there was just something about the way your pretty face would turn into a scowled, your brows frowning and lets not forget the intimidating look you were sending him.

you looked like an angry kitten.

"you can't just climb up my window every time you get in trouble hanma-"

"shuji" he corrected you with a smile on his face as he ate the snack you gave him a couple of minutes earlier.

"-shuji! my experience in treating injuries has its limits" you were walking around your room rambling about how careless he was being, completely unaware of the fact that he was enjoying this, "you can't show up every night- what if my neighbours saw you- worse what if my parents saw you!"

"they won't see me-"

"maybe i should start locking my windows-"

"don't lie to yourself, princess... you won't lock me out-"

"you're right-! god you are so frustrating!" you groaned rubbing your temples, "but i am serious about walking in my room half dead- never do that again. i may want to lock you out but it doesn't mean that i want you dead- you're a person of nice company and i don't want you to die-"

shuji stayed quiet as you kept lecturing him on how careless he was... he let his eyes drifted from your face to your body... and most specifically what you were wearing.

you wore one of his shirt with your christmas pyjama pants- even if there was 7 months left before christmas- but the last time he questioned your choice in clothes he received the flowers he had bought you on the head so he kept his opinion to himself.

out of sudden, hanma stood up from your desk chair, walking up to you with a cocky smile on his face. "shuji? what are you-"

he grabbed the back of your neck, smashing his lips into yours. you stumbled back but quickly melted into the kiss, your lips moving in sync like they had done many times before, with his 'sin' hand secured behind your head while his 'punishment' hand was on your hip.

"god- i love you so much." he muttered when he pulled away before moving your face towards his again so he could press his lips into yours in a chaste kiss.

your face was warm and your lips swollen when you finally looked in the lovestruck eyes of your boyfriend.

i love you so much

"i love y-"

"i didn't say it because i wanted you to say it back, princes..." shuji placed his hands on your cheeks pressing one last kiss on your forehead, "i just needed you to know that i love you."

you looked up to your boyfriend with heart in your eyes, completely forgetting why you were arguing about. you softly smile at him before tilting your head up to press a kiss on his jaw.

"i love you too, idiot"

keisuke baji

keisuke never felt more stressed out in his life.

he just couldn't mess this up.

he had run every possible scenarios in his head- he was ready-

"hey, kei'! i was looking everywhere for you-"

never mind- aboard mission aboard mission!

"h-hey, (y/n)!" his voice cracked, "y-you were?"

you smiled wrapping your arms around his arm, pressing a kiss on his red cheek, "yeah, i thought we could eat lunch together, is that alright?"

as you walked down the empty hall, you realized that your boyfriend was being fidgety, looking round, not really paying attention to what you were saying, "is everything alright, keisuke?"

your question made the delinquent stop walking, he was clutching a bag with his right hand, hesitating to look at you in the eyes, "(y/n)... i-.."

"are you breaking up with me?"

his eyes snapped to meet yours, his free hand immediately grabbing your hand, "no! never! i swear- it's just that... i have- i need.."

"i'm playing with you... don't worry" you laughed at his expression, "how about you tell me what's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

pretty... she thinks i'm pretty...

keisuke hurriedly grabbed what was in the bag, pulling out a heart shape box of chocolate with a hand made card. he gave both of the gifts to you, immediately looking away once you realized what he had given you.

"is it our anniversary?!" you panicked, "i'm such a bad girlfriend- i forgot our own anniversary- oh god!"

"what no!" baji explained, "i just thought that you might like it so... just read the letter already."

you opened the letter your boyfriend freezing when you realized what he had gifted you, "y-you wrote me a love letter?"

keisuke rubbed the back of his neck, clearing his throat, "yeah... chifuyu helped me with the words and stuff so sorry if there's some mistakes or- why are you crying?!"

you threw yourself in his arms, "i have the best boyfriend in the world- thank you so much, keisuke!"

the said man automatically wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him, inhaling your scent, "i- i love you a lot, (y/n)"

"i love you too, kei'"

manjiro 'mikey' sano

it was one of those rare days where manjiro woke up of a nap before you. he tilted his head to the side trying to ignore the warm light streaming through the window in your room.

he blinked his eyes a couple of times, adjusting to the light, slowly registering that something was wrong.

that's when he realized that your back was facing him. he wasn't cuddled in your arms like how he remembered you two falling asleep.

he frowned, his eyes glaring daggers in the back of your sleeping self. he had never glared at you before- he never needed to. you were his light in the dark world he lived in.

but how could you do this to him? mikey tried to remember what he did wrong... did he kicked you in his sleep? did he accidentally bit you like he did that one time? (the time where he dreamt he was in a pool full of dorayaki).

a good 30 minutes later, you started to drift back to life, not yet aware of the state your boyfriend was in. you turned around, expecting to see a peacefully sleeping mikey, only to find him narrowing his eyes at you.

you were now fully awake, a smile spreading on your face at your boyfriend's morning self... even if he tried to look serious while looking at you, his morning hair betrayed him, "good morning-"

"are you mad at me?" what a good way to start the day...

you frowned at his words, "no, why? did you do something you shouldn't have?" then you remembered a nightmare he talked to you about not long ago, "did you have that dream where i ate all of your snacks? because i didn't-"

"what no-!" manjiro frowned with a pained expression on his face, "don't you like me anymore? is that why you turned your back on me?"

you suppress a chuckle that threatened to come out, "aw i'm sorry, 'jiro... i must've turned in my sleep... i won't do it again, i promise!"

he suddenly put both of. his hands on either side of your face, bringing you closer to him, "i love you a lot, alright? i need your face to be the first thing i see when i wake up- so don't turn away from me again- ever."

i love you a lot

those words kept repeating themselves in your head like a mantra.

"(y/n)? are you still with me?" manjiro asked you, bringing his face even closer to yours so that your nose were touching.

"you love me?" your face slowly growing hotter and hotter after every passing seconds.

"um? of course i do- didn't i made it clear when i shared food with you last week?"

you tilted your head to the side pressing your lips against his, making him hummed in content. "i love you, manjiro..." you mumbled when you pulled away for air.

"of course you do!"

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #manjiro sano #manjiro x reader #shuji hanma #shuji x reader #keisuke baji #kesuke x reader

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airbendertendou · 8 months

Text

you are in love! ♥︎

synopsis : various best friend!characters realizing they like you a lil more when they should [including bonten!sanzu, draken, senju, izana, aiura, saiki, satan, leon kennedy, and tamaki suoh.]

no pronouns used / gender neutral ; [name] used in place of y/n ; reader makes filipino food in izanas, im not from the philippines so pls don’t expect it to b accurate ; friends w benefits situation in satans ; reader dresses as sophie in tamakis but w pants and a shirt instead of a dress

song inspo ; you are in love by taylor swift

if you have a blank blog [no bio, no user, no header or profile pic, nothing reblogged, etc] do not interact with my content. you will be blocked.

——♥︎——

SANZU ♥︎

“big, scary bonten man,” you mumble to yourself. sanzu peaks at you over his shoulder as he cleans his gun, eyes narrowing at your tone. “never mean around me though, hm?”

he pauses, head tilting and pink hair following with it. you scoot further up the bed, laying against his pillows as he thinks. “i’m nice to mikey.”

“…that’s your boss.”

sanzu makes a show of rolling his eyes as he clicks his gun back together, satisfied with its new shine. “do you want me to be mean to you or somethin’?”

“why not?” you speak with a grin. the edge of the bed lifts as he stands, putting all his weapons away. sanzu pauses at your words, scrunching his nose in confusion. “definitely don’t look so mean ‘nd scary.”

huffing, he settles back on the bed, still sitting on the edge but a little closer this time. “i kill people, [name]. that’s pretty scary.”

you shrug, sitting up. your feet knock against his knees at the movement. “c’mon, haru,” you tilt your head back so that your neck is fully accessible, “do your worst.”

the room stills and you’re afraid you’ve pushed too far — afraid he might actually take you up on the offer. but something soft is pressed to the left side of your neck within the next second, lifting and latching onto different spots.

you gulp, feeling his responding grin against the middle of your throat.

the right side is given attention now, multiple kisses being scattered randomly. sanzu lifts his lips once more and places them on the base of your neck, his tongue and teeth making an appearance—

“ow, fucker!” you pull away from his touch with a scowl, your hand covering the new bite mark you’ve been gifted with. haru is grinning widely, teeth flashing in the light — you’re surprised you don’t see blood hanging on them. “didn’t have to bite me, haru.”

he shrugs, “wasn’t even my worst.”

you eye him, slowly dropping your hand from your sore and pulsating neck. “i feel sorry for your one night stands, then.”

sanzu hums, his right hand sliding closer to your hip and his body following until you’re face to face. it makes your cheeks heat ; makes you focus on the movement of his lips as he grins. “they won’t matter much anymore, anyways. have someone new i’m seeing.”

“oh yeah?”

“yeah,” his lips brush against your neck once more. sanzu tugs at your waist, bringing you closer to him as his voice softens into a whisper and settles against your ear. “if you’ll have me.”

DRAKEN ♥︎

a towel is handed to you, followed by a hoodie you know isn’t yours. draken’s cheeks flush, “in case you get cold.”

with an awkward wave, he leaves you alone. the shower you take is needed, warming you up and calming you down at the same time. no matter how long you’d known him, it was still the first time you’d be with draken all night.

the rainstorm appeared suddenly and disappeared as abruptly. it’d drenched you just as you and draken left the cafe you met at. his place was closer, he’d said, and he asked so quietly for you not to say anything.

it was weird until you got to his place — a brothel.

“alright in there, cutie?” you’d just stepped out of the shower when the voice followed you through the walls. “ken asked me to check on you.”

they were sweet, the women that surrounded draken. they made sure you weren’t hungry ; didn’t need any refreshments or anything as they led you to draken’s room. “have a nice night!” they leave with a giggle.

draken eyes the smile you’re wearing as you tug his hoodie comfortably around your neck. “somethin’ happen?”

“they’re nice,” is all you say in response. his cheeks heat up once more as he turns away from you, body stiffening. “are you ready for bed?”

“oh—“ he clears his throat and shuffles where he stands. “you can take the bed. i’ll have the floor.”

you shake your head, pulling the blanket back and patting the bed. “i don’t mind sharing. right or left side?”

that’s how you end up face to face with draken, staring absently into the dark as your combined body heat warms the comforter. you can feel and hear him let out a sigh, “you okay? all comfy?”

“yeah,” your voice is embarrassingly breathy. he lets out another huff before an arm is wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest. “oh— that’’s better, actually.”

draken lets out a laugh, “m’glad. goodnight, [name].”

SENJU ♥︎

“on the count of three!” senju jumps out of the dressing room adjacent to yours. she pauses, wobbling where she stands before straightening up. her head tilts, “it’s... something, alright!”

you pause, “you hate it.”

“...a little.” senju struts off, grabbing two of everything that catches her eye. she looks over the cloth she’s picked out, nodding in approval. “here,” she stuffs the fabric into your arms, “try this instead.”

you take a bit to figure out what she’d even brought to you — figuring which was the top and which the bottom — struggling to squeeze yourself in. once situated and comfortable, you gaze into the mirror.

it’s cute, watch senju told you to wear. the color is nice and balances your skin out, brightening it and making it glow. the bottoms fit your legs nicely, shaping and enlongating them. you hum in satisfaction, peeking out of the dressing room to see if senju’s done.

“[name]! let me see your outfit!” senju spots you right away. she gestures for you to join her enthusiastically. you open the door fully, scooting out until you’re face to face with her.

you hold out your arms nonchalantly, “ta-da.”

her eyes widen, mouth falling open ever so slightly. snapping it closed, she gulps, looking away before her cheeks turned color. you tilt your head, “senju?”

“yeah,” her voice cracks. the outfit she’s wearing is the same as yours — a matching moment, she went with. senju giggles nervously, “yeah. you look... pretty.”

prettier than she’d ever tell you.

IZANA ♥︎

the smell of lumpia and fried chicken coats the room around you. ran had just rinsed the rice, moving to mix together the rice noodles and shrimp for the palabok. kakucho is to his left, slicing boiled eggs so they could go on top.

you let out a sigh, nodding your head at the impressive menu you’d whiped together. filipino food was a little out of your comfort zone, an unkown taste to you. however, today was an important day — a special one. the oven dings, indicating the cake you’d made was finished.

fresh out of the oven, the simplistic chocolate cake looks and smells delicious. you slap your hands together, “jus’ needs to cool down and we’re ready to go!”

the front door opens suddenly, rindou’s voice calling out a warning as he enters. shion is right behind him, pink-faced and sheepish as izana steps in, hands crossed over his chest. he raises and eyebrow, “what’s this?”

“uh—“ kakucho adjusts the apron he’s wearing. it matches the one you’re wearing — ran refused one. he looks around, “surprise?”

“rindou! you were supposed to keep him busy!”

the blond shrugs, “he got bored.”

you sigh, closing your eyes as the food you’ve made is thoroughly examined. izana meets your gaze and raises his eyebrow in question once again. “it was supposed to be a birthday surprise.”

“...it’s filipino food.”

“yeah,” you wring your hands nervously. “you haven’t had it in a while, so i thought i’d try making it.”

izana looks over the food again, stealing a bite here and there as he goes. his eyes close ; his chest expanding with the comfort the familiar dishes bring. when his eyes open, they’re brighter ; more tender than what you’re used to seeing.

your left hand is raised, a kiss being placed on your knuckles as izana pulls you close. “thank you, [name]. this means a lot.”

you grin, “happy birthday, z.”

AIURA ♥︎

in the morning, right after she does her makeup and before her uniform is on, aiura looks to her crystal ball for guidance. just a way to know things will be okay ; the day won’t be weird.

through the crystalline sphere, she sees her hand clasped in someone else’s. giddy, aiura believes this means she’s found her chosen one. the one made for her ; the one who will love her endlessly.

“—has to be the one!” she’s ranting to an unlistening saiki, rambling about her peek into the future. kaidou slips from leaning against her desk at her words. aiura sighs happily, “i can’t wait to meet them.”

a faceless classmate interupts the moment. “some idiots are fighting outside.”

you go to look — aiura can’t even remember when you came into the room. you rub your eyes tiredly before they widen dramatically. “that’s our idiot! aren’s out there!”

people flood outside, pouring out to help their beaten and bruised classmate. aiura is frozen in her seat — how did she not see this? how did a fight just miraculously break out?

a touch breaks her out of her thoughts. you’re holding her hand — frowning and ranting as you lead her outside. aiura’s face heats — you’re her chosen one? her one and only happiness?

she gulps as she looks up to your face. this changes things.

SAIKI ♥︎

the day starts normally. kaidou tells saiki he’d spent the night fighting agianst the dark reunion — he was studying all night. kuboyasu fought the urge to threaten an older boy in the school — just barely. nendou had already asked to eat ramen — they’d just gotten to school.

saiki let out a sigh, eyes staring at the board in front of him. aiura had bought a new perfume that was clouding his nose, his thoughts — everything. she leans her head to the right so that she could meet his gaze. “what do you think, saiki?”

she’s met with silence. the chair behind him creaks as you sit down, a small laugh being let out as you do. aiura pouts your way, “[name], saiki’s ignoring me!”

you tap saiki’s shoulder lightly, just a brush of a touch, before turning to the blond. “don’t take it personal, aiura. you can just ask me what you want.”

“an angel,” she beams at you. aiura turns to face you fully, scrunching her nose at saiki as she goes. “i got some new perfume and nail polish recently,” she flashes her fingers at you. “cute, right?”

you lean in closer, chin barely brushing against saiki’s shoulder as you go. you let out a small oooh! at the sigh of her glitzed up nails. “super cute, actually!”

she squints, leaning in a little closer as she does. “you’re wearing a new eyeshadow, aren’t you?”

“i am!” you close your eyes completely, relaxing your face so she can see the color. “like it?”

“looks... familiar for some reason.”

saiki peers at you sneakily from over his shoulder, only looking at you from the corner of his eye. he whips his head around before anyone can see. it is familiar — it’s his exact eye color. it takes everything in saiki to not light up in flames at the thought.

SATAN ♥︎

you had been an acquaintance of satan for months now. he’d come to you when he felt upset ; when the only feeling he could name was rage. when the world was burning and erupting inside of him, boiling and spilling out of his seams. he often took his anger out on you — with your consent, of course. he’s bruise you, scratch you and leave his mark lingering in any way he could.

today, though… today was the opposite. there was an emptiness inside of him ; a devoid and barren system that left him feeling nothing.

satan came to you, straggling and stone-faced as he locked his fingers into yours. you’d gotten close during your times together ; he knew every sigh you made and every face you held. you did the same to him ; made him feel comfort and freedom in ways he couldn’t around his brothers. that’s why he usually came to you when any feeling hit — you didn’t feel suffocating the way the house of lamentation always did.

“you okay?” you’re on his lap somehow, thighs sandwiching his own as his fingers dig into your hips. you brush his hair out of his eyes, “satan?”

he lets out a hum. you jostle slightly, hips meeting his torso — satan let’s out a small groan and let’s his forehead fall to your shoulder. “need me to help you relax?”

it starts off slow, your kissing. the usual upkeep is messy ; tangled and rushed as your clothes are ripped away and your bodies pressed tightly. this time, satan is careful to turn your head the way he wants it to, his hands on your cheekbones and guiding your head left and right.

you’ve just unbuttoned his shirt when you feel it. tears, dripping down your own cheeks. you pause, pulling away and letting your hands lift from his shoulders and settle on his cheeks. you tilt your head, “satan?”

his fingertips welted into your back, molding themselves onto either side of your spine like a pair of faded wings. satan breathes in, his chest stuttering with the feeling. he sniffs, nose and eyebrows curving in confusion as he pulls further away from you. “what’s going on?”

“you’re crying.” you wipe underneath his eyes gently, frown on your kissed, puffy lips. “why are you crying? what’s wrong?”

“i… i’m not sure,” his lower lip trembles. satan falls deeper into your hold, his arms looping around your waist and pulling you closer to him. “feeling too much.”

his fingers dip underneath your shirt, and pull it up until you’re bare and exposed. satan smiles tenderly and you grin back, your own hands crawling up his exposed chest. “sure you’re okay?”

“good with you,” it’s murmured against your neck. satan sniffs again before nipping at your throat, opened mouth kisses trailing down to your sternum. “always good with you.”

LEON S. KENNEDY ♥︎

the bar you’ve found yourself at is starting to get boring. you leave after waving eagerly to your friends, shuffling on the sidewalk as you awkwardly pull your phone from its safe spot. a text from leon catches your eye — a mere thumbs up to the long paragraphs you’d sent his way. you scowl only to realize you’re closer to his apartment than you thought.

he wasn’t asleep — he never slept well — but he wasn’t fully awake either. hearing a tap on his door was strange, but leon let it be, assuming his neighbors had hit the wall on their way in.

until a long, drawn out whine of his name flew through the room.

swaying in his doorway was you ; eyes half-lided and your shirt falling down your shoulder. you grin his way, “hi, lee!”

“[name]. why’re you here?” he sounds gruff ; annoyed with the way you seem to always show up at his door. you know he isn’t, though, used to the tone his voice holds. leon holds his door open as you stagger inside, “been drinkin’ again?”

“mm,” you flop onto his couch, “birthday party. got bored. remembered you jus’ came home.”

leon quietly places your shoes by the door and grabs a blanket while you yawn. “missed me then?”

you let out another hum, pulling the blanket he’d given you further up your shoulders. slowly, your eyes peel open and you smile at him softly. “always miss you when you’re gone, lee. like when you’re home.”

home wasn’t something leon remembers. he moved around a lot now, going from city to city for his government affiliated job. home meant the presence of care ; of warmth. leon’s bare, empty apartment held nothing like that. crystal eyes fell to you when you let out a small hiccup, sagging to the right until your head fell on his shoulder.

“m’home for now, [name].”

TAMAKI ♥︎

haruhi adjusts the hat you’re wearing, making sure the blue blouse you’re wearing is tucked in properly. you shuffle in your spot nervously, fingers picking at your cuticles as she nods to herself. her eyes meet yours, “you’ll do fine, [name].”

“says you,” you frown. you stretch the neck of your blouse and clear your throat. “you guys are used to this stuff.”

haruhi swats your hands away, grabbing them in her own. “you will do fine. c’mon, it’s time to start.”

“welcome!”

tamaki doesn’t have time to speak to you ; doesn’t have time to admire the outfit you’re wearing before they’re greeting guests. his eyes stray to you again and again, his attention on you and not the guests who surround him. you go to every table, dropping off sweet treats and teacups as you go.

“—lly cute.” a girl is saying to him. tamaki blinks back into reality as his shoulder is touched. “right, tamaki?”

“could you repeat that, princess?”

her cheeks flare a bright pink as she straightens up in her seat. “i said you and [name] match. howl and sophie, right? it’s really cute.”

tamaki’s eyes find you again as you drop slices of cake off at the twins’ table. they giggle with you, tugging on your hat playfully before you leave. “we do match, don’t we?”

orchid eyes stay focused on you for the rest of the day. even after the club’s activities are over, and you’re helping clean up — he still stares. you finally look back, placing your hat on a table as you go. “yes, tamaki? you’ve been staring.”

“we’re sophie and howl,” his voice is light, faraway as he speaks. “did you notice?”

“only after i saw you.” you smile gently, watching kyoya tally up any and every cost. “a nice surprise for us both, i suppose.”

tamaki stares at your reflection in the window in front of him, eyeing the way you portray your chosen characters. his cheeks barely heat, but he still feels like it’s obvious to everyone. haruhi meets his flustered gaze and grins.

——♥︎—— i know nothing abt cooking n even less abt filipino food so i hope izanas was okay </3 hope they were all okay tbh

airbendertendou © do not copy, plagiarize, repost, or translate my content on any platform. if you see my content under any other name than my own, let me know. i only have this tumblr and an ao3 account under the same name.

#draken x reader #senju x reader #izana x reader #sanzu x reader #bonten sanzu x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #saiki x reader #aiura x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki k x reader #satan x reader #obey me x reader #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #tamaki suoh x reader #ohshc x reader #ouran high school host club x reader

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