#if those tags are scaring you before seeing the drawings

[cheesus-doodles]

A Friend In Me: Chapter 4

Yandere Platonic Toman

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Chapters 1 | 2‎ | 3

Masterlist

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my usual pink line divide no longer works because it messes with the tags ;^; have this divider from angelfire instead

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The world around Mikey came to a standstill. His ears buzzed with static, unable to process anything as his mind raced. In a sole instant, everything clicked together as if an incomplete puzzle finally being solved, and the Tokyo Manji Gang president could see the full picture, though the surprise at this revelation never made it to reflect in those abyss eyes. 

It made sense now, the blond-haired boy mused, watching the other five Toman founders burst into action in slow motion around him. He understood. Why you were attracted to two fighting delinquents instead of beating a hasty retreat like everyone else when you first met them, why you never seemed bothered by them turning up with small splatters of blood on their disheveled uniforms, why you could so effectively patch up injuries. You had never divulged or discussed your home life nor your childhood with them, and he had never bothered pressing you for details. Because why would he, when all evidence pointed to you living alone and having always lived alone? Having followed you home countless times to an empty house, you were always alone at all times of the day. No laundry or carelessly strewn clothes to be found, no closed or locked room that indicated another resident in your home. Even the pictures that decorated the walls and your bedrooms have always just been you and them.

“Hey!” From behind Mikey came a shout from Mitsuya, quickly followed by the telltale sounds of a tussle between the Toman Vice President and the Second Division Captain over you in the middle. “Don’t pull like that!”

You had grown up beside a delinquent. Your older brother whom you had never cared to mention was himself a fearsome and borderline insane delinquent - they had doubetlessly heard of Madarame Shion’s brutality and his supposed involvement in underworld crimes even before their paths crossed. Of course nothing they did would surprise or scare you if this was the normal behavior you were exposed to all your life. 

Abyss eyes turned to take in the expression on your face, the horror at what was happening slowly settling into your swollen eyes even as tears continued to streak down flush cheeks. Yet, all it took was the merest exposure to what was the normalcy of any delinquent’s life for you to break down - a telling-off, a by-far bloodless fight, nothing that would raise the eyebrow of a seasoned onlooker really. So how much did you really know? Did you know of their previous clash with Shion and the ninth generation of Black Dragons back when from the founding of Toman? He doubted it - your reaction to them after their fight would have been a lot stronger if you did. But most importantly, why didn’t you tell them earlier about having an older sibling?

A muffled shout from your still-connected call to your disgrace-of-a-delinquent older brother was enough to draw Mikey’s attention back to the current situation at hand, though he all but ignored whatever that goon had to say. No, you couldn’t know, he determined, because if you did, you would clearly see that they had no reason to fear a shithead like Shion. They had beaten him and his gang once already, what was a second time? But he could get the answers out of you later, once you were safe and away from this mess. For now, the Toman President mused, as time returned to its usual speed and the world exploded back into its full chaotic state, there were more important things to settle.

The mere thought of possibly losing you to this black-haired homewrecker you called Koko, or even worse, the loser of an older brother that they have already beaten to a pulp once; his heart raced. He couldn’t accept it. These weak-willed losers couldn’t be allowed to win him, especially not in a matter as important as this. 

Pivoting around, your watery eyes were helplessly fixed on the brawl going down right in front of you, phone clutched in a white-knucked grip. This was all for your own good. He was just protecting you from the wider world, the Toman President tried to convince himself, his slippered feet starting its ominous route towards the brawling four, his hands tucked almost casually into the pockets of his school pants. Your eyes immediately snapping to him and your lips falling apart as you watched him move.

Not because Mikey needed your support and your attention; no, he didn’t need you as much as you needed him. He was strong, the unshakable pillar of the Tokyo Manji Gang, not soft and weak and a crybaby like you. His heart wasn’t aching at the mere thought of never being able to see you again, never having you pamper and lavish him with attention and love and filling the hole in his heart - the palpitations was from excitement, the itch to fight and drive away the enemies of his friends.

He was the Invincible Mikey, and now more than ever, he needed to make sure that everyone knew why.

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Ninth Generation Black Dragon President. You heard Koko loud and clear right before the momentary tranquility went straight to hell once more, but now you could barely think amidst the cacophony. Individually, the words made sense, yet strung together, it became incoherent to your spinning mind. Too many, too much. Watching Baji once more take aim at the opposing delinquent, you staggered a step forward, your heart urging you to take action; do something, do anything. Before someone gets hurt again. 

You were yanked back before you could take another step, vaguely registering Draken’s voice snapping at you but nothing registering in your mind. Fixated on the fight going on its second round, the white of Inui’s uniform, combined with his sunflower-blond hair, seemed to almost glimmer in the sunlight as it caught your eye, and the memories you had long lost to the back of your mind came surging back to the front. You had seen that uniform before, having washed and scrubbed the blood from the white fabric before Shion moved out. It’s happening. Again. Any control you felt you had left over your own life was slipping through your fingers once more; the way of your life that you had so painstakingly built, the personality you had so carefully tailored, everything was falling apart in front of your eyes. All over again.

Those stunned expressions you just saw simply couldn’t be faked, you knew instinctively, not with how all of them wore the same look on their faces. For reasons beyond you, everyone present all knew your older brother, and vice versa. They all hated each other, and you were caught right in the middle. How could you have known that the only friends you had knew of and hated each other? What more could you have done? What could you have done differently?

Maybe you should have heeded Mikey’s and the other’s warnings about Koko. Maybe if you hadn’t gone looking for that CB250T. If you hadn’t-

Every breath became heavier and heavier, faster and faster, and you struggled to fill your lungs, the air sludgy and thick. The world around you was all too much. Too loud. You couldn’t-

A fresh pair of arms enveloped you, and you were pulled into a tight hug. “Breathe.”

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding, your body shuddering as the atmosphere instantly thinned out. You gulped down as much oxygen as you could, your sweating palms glistening in the light of the afternoon sun.

“Are you alright?” Mitsuya’s voice was calm, soft, those calloused hands gently running through your hair as he bodily blocked you from the fight that was occurring just a stone’s throw away.

Unable to speak, you simply nodded, wiping your fist on your shirt. I’m fine, you mouthed, though you knew that Mitusya knew it was a lie, your skin having turned several tones lighter from the lack of air. But you had other more important things to concern yourself with (at least in your view), as you attempted to look over your friend’s mob of purple hair. What had you missed? 

“Relax,” the Toman founder tried to convince you, resting one hand atop your head yet not forcing you down by any means despite Draken’s annoyed ‘tch’ from behind you, where he continued to hold on to you tightly. “Let them handle it.” 

Let them handle it? Giving a shaky glance you hoped was reassuring at Mitsuya, you turned your attention back to the fight, right as Kazutora broke past Inupi’s defense, his fist outstretched and jealous anger fully directed at Koko.

In a single blink, you broke free from both Draken and Mitsuya’s grip, your long strides closing the distance between you and Koko. “Tory, stop!”

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The last thing Koko expected was to see you flying towards him, putting your decidedly much more fragile self between him and the Toman founder.

”Fuck- Watch out!” 

An exceptionally hard yank from Koko had both you and him flying backwards, but the loud smack of a fist into the back of your head as the two of you fell towards the ground was unmistakable. His gut dropped. Damn it. Too late. Landing with an oof on the hard ground and you atop him, the infamous financier could hardly acknowledge the ache of his back, not while his thoughts were focused solely on you. “Are you alright?” What on earth were you thinking? He wasn’t exactly a delinquent but he sure as hell could take, if not dodge, a hit better than you - he just preferred standing behind others.

You winced, rubbing what should be a forming sore spot where you were hit. “I’m fine,” you assured, the momentary crinkle of your forehead as you carefully shifted tilted your head telling otherwise, though it was quick to evaporate as the realization of who cushioned your fall hit you. You scrambled to stand, but you were instantly tackled to the ground once more by a bawling Toman founder with black and yellow hair and nearly falling over again - Kazutora, if Koko remembered correctly.

”I- I-“ Barely able to speak, your own injury was forgotten as you instantly shifted to attempt to soothe the wailing boy with an undeserved gentleness. “I hit-”

”I’m fine, I’m fine,” you tried to reassure. “It barely touched me.” It was obviously the wrong thing to say, your voice quickly drowned out as Kazutora only cried harder, burying his face into your shirt, fists clenching bundles of your school shirt. 

Koko could only watch on as you caught his gaze, returning an apologetic one of your own as you did your best to soothe the bawling delinquent - a sight that he never thought he would witness. He did already have a good idea of what your self-proclaimed Toman friends were like, having been forewarned about how protective they were of you (some of your stories truly did raise an eyebrow or two). And sure, Inupi had whirled around at his alarmed shout with what should be an intent to help, but his attention had been forced back to the fight on hand almost instantaneously when Baji had attempted to take advantage of his momentary distraction to go in for a sweep; it's not as if his friend didn’t care at all. But expecting to have to throw hands was one thing, understandable even, given how he would be associated with Inupi and thus the Black Dragons, but this level of attachment? Were all these waterworks even real?

A set of footsteps stomping in his direction had the notorious financier look up, and straight at the Toman’s Vice Captain towering over him. But the other’s ire surprisingly wasn’t directed at him, and instead, you were bodily lifted by the front of your shirt, forcing Kazutora off of you right before you were shaken like a stuck salt shaker. “What the hell were you thinking?! That was insane!”

“I’m alright-” You barely got two words out before being cut off again.

“YOU ARE NOT OKAY,” bellowed back an uncharacteristically furious Draken, and you threw both hands up in surrender even as you continued to be shaken around like a martini.  “YOU COULD’VE GOTTEN HURT. OR KILLED!”

Kazutora only started to cry harder at his words, babbling incoherently as he tried to latch onto your legs.

At least the Toman Third Division Captain was on your side, stepping between a furious Vice Captain and you and prying you free with little effort. “You’re making it worse,” Pah said simply, echoing Mitsuya’s earlier words.

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“-ey! HEY! ” The vague screams of Shion echoed out from beneath you, alerting you, Koko and everyone else to the fact that you had yet to hang up on your previous call. Fishing around beneath you where your phone had most likely fallen earlier on, your older brother’s frankly annoying shrieking was finally noticed, now that the general mayhem had died down. 

And much to Koko’s annoyance, you visibly stiffened upon hearing Shion once more, like a bolt of lightning ran up your spine, and you bent over to gingerly pick up your dropped phone. He hated seeing you scared of someone as useless as Shion, a scumbag even Inupi wasn’t impressed with. If he could make your problem disappear, he would in a blink. Not that this would be right time to tell you this. 

The clash of delinquents had long driven off any last soul left that tried to wander down this street, the road deserted of passerbys of any kind. Even the wind had long died down, and Koko hastily dabbed away the sweat forming along his upper lip. “Ah, nii-san-” You mumbled out under your breath, though that was most likely more to remind yourself who you were dealing with on the other end.

“FUCKING FINALLY! YOU GET YOUR ASS HOME NOW!” 

Deflated, you looked defeated at your older brother’s orders, your shoulders slumping over. “I-”

But Shion was not done. “AND DROP THOSE TOMAN FUCKS, UNDERSTAND?”

And that was apparently where the former Black Dragon President crossed the line. In a blink, your phone disappeared from your grip as if by magic. You barely had time to react, the small, outdated electronic now clutched tightly in Mikey’s white-knuckled grip, a speed that took even Koko by surprise. When did he get that? Where did he even come from?

“I’ll kill you,” the threat from the Toman President was loud and clear, the sheer rage burning behind those empty eyes enough to have even Koko recoil. “You try anything funny, and I’ll kill you, right here, right now.”

A snort. “Try it, motherfu-”

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It was a loud crack, followed by a small fizzle, an unremarkable show that marked the untimely end to your device as Mikey crushed the phone underfoot without an afterthought. Your jaw dropped. Koko estimated you must have lost the equivalent of several months of work in one inconsiderate move. 

Not that the Toman lowlives you called friends knew, of course, seemingly failing to notice you staring on speechlessly as Baji proceeded to grind the heel of his foot into the electronic device, spitting curses probably meant for your brother. You no doubt knew full-well by now that they were pissed to hell and back, both at Shion and at him, but did they have to take this out on your poor, defenseless phone?

A shove from Mitsuya quickly broke Baji’s rampage. “Stop that!” The purple-haired boy scolded, as he pushed the other Toman founder away, earning himself an irritated “Huh?!” from the First Division Captain, though that did little to scare Mitsuya. “You’re making it worse!”

The breaking of your phone was of relative insignificance to Koko at least, watching you dejectedly shuffle forward to pick up the broken pieces of the devices to stuff back into your pocket; the short tranquility he got now from the previous chaos was worth the cost to replace it for you at a later date. Even better, he could get you a nicer model, something pretty and slick and get into your good books, perhaps convince you to get an additional number that only he would have? That would definitely put him ahead of the Toman boys, at the very least.

“Hey.” A short shuffle, and Koko looked up, his eyes instantly focusing on your outstretched hand.

Inupi had long stepped aside, not eager to be pulled back into this particular lover’s squabble, those blue eyes content with observing as the Toman founders were once more embroiled in pointless arguments once more. Complete with threats of violence and withholding of lunches, it was Mistuya this time that was caught in the middle, attempting to scold both Mikey and Baji with backing from Draken. 

You, though, had turned your attention instead to him. “Are you alright?” Your voice was soft, barely audible over the other loud voices. Even with all that happened, you hadn’t forgotten about him.

“Ye, I’m fine,” Koko assured. “Just a bit sore.”

Yet as he reached out to accept your offer of help, it was a sudden recognition of the situation he put himself in that rang in his ears and rattled his mind; the sensation much as if he was waking from a trance the black-haired boy hadn’t even realized he was in. Widened almond eyes met yours, the realization lighting up dilated pupils: if he had known any better, you would have been the last person he would ever want to court, let alone be in any sort of relationship with, coming laden with so much baggage. Anyone would be insane to want to be involved with a walking spark like you.

Alas, the sensation was momentary, and the thought of letting you slip away from him - letting someone Koko cared about be stolen away from him again - was accompanied immediately by a heart-throbbing sense of loss that came surging from his gut. Could he truly live without you to fill the hole in his heart? More importantly, did he dare to attempt to? 

Too lost in his thoughts, it was a subconscious catch of movement in the corner of his eye that snapped Koko out from his inner turmoil. It was of course you, though the disappointment was already written on your face as you began to pull away and straighten up, words tumbling free from pressed lips. “Ah- I’m glad,” you muttered, starting to turn away from him. “Hopefully it doesn’t hurt bad.”

How long had he been trapped thinking in real world time? Long enough for you to notice his hesitation, at the very least. Panic now kicking his reaction back into high gear, Koko all but threw himself after your now-retreating hand, catching it just centimeters away from where it had been, a nervous smile pulling at his lips. “Thanks,” was all his heavy tongue could stutter out, the black-haired boy trying desperately to pretend that nothing had happened as he pulled himself up, taking care to rely as little as possible on you. You said nothing, but the upturn of your lips told him everything he needed to know. You didn’t even pull away from him when he had surreptitiously intertwined his fingers with yours, quietly pulling both your hands behind him so the others couldn’t see.

See? There was no doubt - you wanted to be with him. The little moment however didn’t last long, as Koko forced himself to focus back on the issue at hand. He had to solve this issue before they could take you away from him. He couldn’t lose everything again. Wrecking his brain, the solution that Koko arrived at was surprisingly simple. 

Money. 

It was money that could have saved Akane, so maybe money could save you too? That was it. Money. Money could solve everything, couldn’t it? “How much?” Koko found himself blurting out before he could stop himself. Those two words were enough to dumbfounded everyone there, with eight pairs of eyes turning to stare at Koko. Were they really that surprised? Or just waiting for an offer?

“A hundred thousand yen,” the black-haired boy clarified. And he didn’t need to clarify what he was saying - a hundred thousand yen for them to give you to him. He didn’t want to fight, he was barely interested in being a delinquent as it is. All he wanted was you, no matter the cost. “I’ll give you a hundred thousand yen.” 

“What?” You were the first to speak, your slack jaw and furrowed eyebrows sending a throb through his chest. Damn, was his offer too low? You were priceless of course - no matter how vast Koko’s fortune was, you would always be unattainable - so were you going to think that he was being cheap? That you were only worth so little in his eyes?

Even Inupi had raised an eyebrow at his named price, and though the surprise was written all over his usual stoic expression, the blond-haired boy said nothing.

But before he could try and revise his offer, to make sure you knew just how much Koko was ready to spend on you, it seemed his words finally set in in the others’ much slower minds. “Do you think we’re just going to sell-” The vein bulged prominently on Baji’s forehead as he once more lunged forward, and would have reached his target if not for Mitsuya grabbing the back of his shirt. “You son of a bitch!”

“How fucking dare you?!” Kazutora snarled, and Koko braced himself for another fight as the duo-colored delinquent made to pull away from you.

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“Honestly why is it everytime there’s a ruckus, it’s always you, Mikey?” A new voice sighed out from behind Koko, catching all present by surprise. Those abyss eyes were an exact carbon copy of the Tokyo Manji Gang President’s, though the man that they belonged to was one that Koko was thankfully still on rather good terms with. “Can yall at least keep it away from my shop? Bad for business and all.”

By now, the once clear sky had filled up with clouds that blocked most of the light from the afternoon sun, the oppressing heat somewhat dissipating as the breeze picked up once more.

From where you were at the center of the mess, your ears perked up as if a dog recognized the word ‘snack’. “O-oji-san?” You sniffled a little, though you quickly pulled yourself together, rubbing your nose on your forearm. Eyes, though red and swollen, were now dry.

“I’m not that old!” Shinichiro froze right as the words left his lips, blinking as he stared back at you, the gears very clearly turning behind his eyes as he took in the entire scene that had unfolded right in front of his shop. “Oh,” the man mumbled, as if all the puzzle pieces had just fallen into place, gaze turning from you to Mikey before landing on Inupi and Koko. A pause, and he sighed, resting one hand on his hip. “It’s you, huh?”

Kazutora shuffled protectively in front of you in an attempt to hide your figure from the older man’s view, your arm interlocked tightly with his as he glared back. “You staring?” The sandy-brown eyed boy demanded, puffing up his chest the same way a cat poofed up its fur, a 180 from his childlike state just minutes earlier, the tears now all gone as he scowled at the newest entry.

This, however, only earned him a whack to the back of his head by Draken, after which the boy deflated. “That’s Mikey’s older brother, dipshit.”

Shinichiro seemed to barely notice the small squabble taking place, his hand dipping into his pocket to withdraw a small, slightly crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. Sliding the stick into his mouth and lighting up, the older man took a long inhale, his voice slightly raspy as he spoke. “So,” he started, looking at Mikey. “This is the buddy you’ve been telling me about?”

Yet before Mikey could answer the rhetorical question, Shinichiro had already turned to Koko. “And also your little birdie?”

“No.” “No.” Both Mikey and Baji snapped irritably together in response to the second question, with Baji seemingly just a hair’s breadth away from flying straight at Koko once more, his fist clenching with anticipation.

“He,” Baji very pointedly hissed out, sharp yellow eyes glaring across the aisle at Koko. “Needs to stay away.”

You meekly shuffled your feet, your eyes turned down towards the ground as your Toman friends turned on cue to shoot you a stink eye. Ah. Caught breaking the rules again. “Koko’s just a friend,” you offered weakly, though it didn’t seem to convince anyone. 

Koko could only feel the growing pit at the base of his gut as Inupi threw a similarly dirty look his way, though the sunflower-blond Black Dragon member still raised his pipe in defense. Fuck. To be fair to him, Koko reasoned internally, he hadn’t known about your ties to the Tokyo Manji Gang back when he was standing outside Inupi’s door in the rain, but he did casually fail to mention it even after he knew. Now that it was out in the open, there wasn’t really anything more he could say.

Shinichiro let out yet another ragged sigh as he took another breath, exhaling the smoke into a column that hung lazily in the still, humid air before speaking again, this time his words directed at you. “And you’re related to the Ninth Generation Black Dragon President? The one that Toman bea- OW!”

You were slightly confused at Mikey’s sudden move to stomp on Shinichiro’s foot, the abrupt sentence stop only leaving you to wonder. Was Shinichiro trying to say something that Mikey didn’t like? Shrugging it off as something you wouldn’t be able to find out anyway, the side eyes sent Shinichiro’s way were hard to miss. “Madarame is my nii-san,” you nodded, reaching down to gently touch the remnants of your phone jiggling in your pocket. “He moved out from our family home years ago, but it seems like he’s back today for some reason.”

Hopping around the pavement, the man’s expression was twisted in pain radiating from his bruised foot, with Mikey still scowling at his own older brother. “Ah, i-in that case,” Shinichiro managed to grit out as he shuffled back to lean against the glass windows of his shop. “You should go home and see what he wants.”

That turned out to be a highly unpopular opinion, and the disagreement your friends felt necessary to voice was made obvious even with the respect the delinquents had for Shinichiro, Mikey being the loudest in his protest. 

“No!” “Absolutely not.” “Are you crazy?!” “NO!” The torrent of disagreements were certainly surprising to you, and you blinked owly as you were physically pulled further away from Shinichiro, as if the older man was going to personally rip you away from your friends and bring you home.

Shinichiro, however, was undeterred by the outburst that half the neighborhood must have heard, waving his arms downwards in an attempt to restore the peace, waiting for the chaos to die down before continuing, his smoking cigarette lightly gripped between two fingers. “As I was saying, you should go home and see what Shion wants first, since he is your older brother. And then Mikey and your friends can meet you after. I’ll settle things here and then send them over, alright?”

It was phrased as if it was a suggestion, but there was no negotiation to be had. Now that Shinichiro was present, he was in charge. 

You seemed hesitant, but ultimately agreed. That did make sense to you, given that if Shion was planning to move back home, there were arrangements that would have to be made, and changes in your schedule. And with how much your older brother and Toman seemed to already hate each other, it would be better to allow tempers to diffuse before combining both halves of your life. “Alright, I’ll head home first.”

“What if she isn’t safe at home, Shinichiro-san?” Draken pointed out, his arms crossed, Pah nodding sagely along, joined by the frantic bubbling and wailing from Kazutora, who had done another u-turn from badass delinquent to bubbling and wailing mess, attached to your side like superglue and refusing to let go.

Mitsuya straightened out your school uniform for you, a more levelheaded presence though still physically blocking any view you had of Koko further down the street. “Are you going to be safe?”

You paused, your head cocking as you considered what Mitsuya was asking, before slowly nodding. “Madarame-nii won’t hurt me,” you tried to assure, though you didn’t sound very confident yourself. “I should be fine.”

“They won’t be long here,” Shinichiro promised, grabbing Mikey by the back of his shirt as said boy attempted to make a break for you, before he turned to almost effortlessly snag Kazutora in the exact same manner.

Koko’s heart sank when you turned away from him, but with Shinichiro’s stronger-than-it-looked hand resting on his shoulder, Inupi was already distancing himself from the Toman boys, all he could do was watch you say your goodbyes to your Toman friends before disappearing round the bend, with no say on whether he would ever be able to see you again. Maybe, maybe all he needed was more money.

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Fourteen years in the future, the atmosphere that blanketed the headquarters of the feared Tokyo Manji Gang syndicate was not too dissimilar to the delicate yet weighty tension outside of Shinichiro’s shop. It was by every account a gorgeous day outside, the bright afternoon sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows and catching in the gold trimmings of each and every fitting of the opulent home. Yet, the hallways of the penthouse were unusually empty of the usual black-tie suited gangsters and guards and the like that usually teemed this area, the deafening silence weighing down what was the epitome of luxury. But it was hardly a concerning issue to Kisaki as he stalked down the wide corridors, casting a shadow on the priceless art and other masterpieces as he swept past, the crystals that decorated the chandeliers hanging above chiming lightly as they jingled with the air conditioning. After all, he did know why everyone had been sent away, and he did hold a very slight responsibility for the cause.

His destination was at the end of the corridor, a simple white door fitted into wallpapered walls that stood out like a sore thumb amidst the lavishness, a curse from a different time that continued to haunt both him and Mikey. Because it wasn’t just the door that was a specter from the past, Kisaki knew. The sole rap on the door was a courtesy, and the suited man didn’t wait for a response to enter.

The room he stepped into looked ripped straight from a common suburban home, unfitting for a multimillion dollar house right in the heart of Tokyo, even less so for a yakuza boss with the entire underground world at his fingertips. Simple painted walls, a hardwood flooring, and well-worn furniture that had seen better days, things that Kisaki wouldn’t even give a second glance yet things that would get him shot between his eyes if his fingers lingered on them for a second too long. “Mikey,” Kisaki greeted, cutting a straight path to the single armchair turned to face away from the entrance.

There was no response from said man, abyss eyes staring blankly out clear, streakless windows into the open sky, though his gaze did turn to meet Kisaki’s as the door swung close with a soft click, the dragon tattoo decorating his scrawny neck contrasting greatly with his pale skin. A sky-high view of the city skyline worthy of the sky-high price, but again, not what he was here for. 

The Toman second-in-command held up a sheaf of papers, his other hand pushing up his glasses. “Need your sign-off on these.” It was rare for him to have to do such menial tasks as delivering paperwork - that is the sole purpose he pays for Mikey to have a dedicated secretary - but with it being this time of the year again, the reports were once more starting to be returned unsigned and unread.

Yet for all the effort Kisaki undertook to come here in person, it meant nothing to Mikey, the yakuza boss simply ignoring whatever his right-hand man had to say as he turned his gaze back out the window once more. The spectacled man tried again, taking a step closer. “Mikey,” he insisted, hand reaching out in an attempt to pass on the papers on hand. 

But it was the distinctive click of a gun’s safety being switched off that had Kisaki retract his hand as if burnt, the anger that had sparked in those usually empty eyes clear as Mikey swung around to glare at him. Throwing both arms up in surrender and under the other’s deadly scowl, he backed away slightly; an inch closer, and those reports would have brushed against the delicate decades-old fabric of the armchair. Your armchair. 

That heavy pressure was palpable as the silence weighed on the passing time. A heartbeat, then two. “What?” The biker gang president-turned-mafioso finally growled out, voice hoarse from lack of use - it must have been at least a week since he last spoke, Kisaki noted.

”Your sign-off.”

”No.”

Kisaki let out an exasperated sigh. “Mikey-“

”No,” Mikey repeated. “Leave.” And that was that, with said man refusing to look at him a moment longer, flopping back down into his armchair limply, the momentary energy from a rush of adrenaline dissipated back into the cocktail of depression and drugs the former delinquent had been indulging in.

There was nothing more that the second-in-command could do but to obey and leave. But he did understand the reason behind Mikey’s foul mood - it was just about a month out from both Shinichiro’s and your death anniversary, after all, even if both events were several years apart. Pausing at the threshold of the room, Kisaki used the moment it took to open the door to subtly glance around; it was rare that he ever had the chance to see the inside of this room. 

After all, the ghost that still haunted them was you. 

This was, or had been, your room, with every last item and detail having been painstakingly removed, transported and reinstalled when the yakuza boss had finally been convinced to relocate from what had been your home in the suburb for his own safety. That armchair, your bed and covers that Mikey still sleeps in, the wooden floor panels and the old plastered walls and ceilings. Even this blasted door which formally served as your bedroom door. It was all you. 

And your death hadn’t even been planned. Sure the spectacled man knew of your existence, but you had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and had been caught up in an attack meant for another.

Carefully closing the door behind him, Kisaki shook his head, letting out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The once strongman of Toman, the invincible delinquent, could conquer anything he set out to - the spiral into crime, the murder of his former friends, the whole of the Japan underground world. Yet twelve years on, Mikey just couldn’t let you go, long after you had breathed your last breath and torn the entire Toman apart.

The good thing was that at least Kisaki doesn’t exactly need the Toman boss’ approval to get things done around here; it’s far easier to ask for forgiveness than permission.

‎

‎

Back fourteen years in the past, you hardly had the time to worry about what time would eventually bring to your doorstep, knee-deep in your current problems. The moon hung mockingly high in the sky as you closed the door gently behind you, tweaking the knob slightly as it latched back into place to stop its usual click. Your efforts, however, were in vain, and you froze as the all-too distinctive sound echoed through the otherwise silent night. Carefully pressing one ear against the wooden front door, you held your breath, waiting to hear that distinct stomping of feet  down the stairs in your pursuit and the roar of your name.

The past weeks have been nothing short of hell. With your older brother Madarame temporarily moving back into your family home, it went without saying that you were no longer permitted to see your Toman friends going forward, let alone have them come over. Biting your lip, you would simply agree and say nothing more, careful to tread on eggshells around the volatile boy. With how closely your older brother has been monitoring your every move, you hadn’t dared to step out of line - you did previously have a front row seat as to what happened to the people around you the last time you dared to openly disobey.

Yet time and time again, it was Mikey and the others that persisted in swinging round to pick you up in the evenings against your brother’s orders in the one and half week since the fight, exactly as Shinichiro had predicted, even doing several very loud donuts that your neighbors would not appreciate outside your house just to make sure that Shion knew they were there. To your surprise, it was your brother who has done nothing more than scowl at you running out to meet them from the window like a disapproving mother before disappearing into the house, failing to even bring up your cheeky escapades the day after. Him and the Toman founders definitely weren’t on speaking terms, you determined, but there was more to it that either party was willing to say.

But all this was far from your concern at the moment. 

Tonight was one of those rare nights: with your brother fast asleep in his bed instead of out and prowling the streets, and the mobs of various-colored hair were nowhere to be seen lounging along your street, busy with a gang meet at Musashi Shrine. A rare chance to take advantage of this extraordinary situation where you have finally been left alone for just a small window of time. That is, as long as you didn’t get caught first - and your brother would 100% tattle on you to your friends if it would get you in more trouble.

The summertime heat was already in full-force by now at the start of August, and though the blazing temperature has at least cooled somewhat with the absence of the sun from the night sky, the humidity had yet to let up. Beads of perspiration that dotted your forehead trailed their way down your forehead as you waited, your heartbeat racing with every second ticking by. Was this it? 

A minute passed. Then two. And the inside of your house remained as quiet as the dead of night, the peace of your neighborhood unbroken. Heaving a sigh of relief, you quickly turned heel, fleeing down the lifeless main street before taking a corner at the first alley, coming face to face with a familiar grinning face waiting for you under the flickering light of a weary streetlamp. “Took you long enough,” Koko chuckled, both hands tucked into the pockets of his pants. 

“That’s not very nice!” You tried your best to put up an indignant front, but the facade collapsed into a wide grin too quickly for any part of it to be taken seriously. “Did I keep you waiting long, Koko? Sorry ‘bout that.”

The black-haired boy waved off your apologies, pulling himself up from the wall he had been leaning against. “Nah, it’s just been a few minutes,” he admitted. Offering a hand to you, you were glad to accept, gently intertwining your fingers with his as he led you through the dark alleyway, your duo’s footsteps barely echoing amidst the silent residential buildings. “Any place in mind?”

You shook your head. “Didn’t think about it cause I know you do.”

“Ah.”

You laughed as Koko rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. You did know him well enough to assume otherwise. Letting out a hum, you allowed the other to tug you closer to his side, to which you responded by resting your head on his shoulder. “So where are we going?”

If you could be honest with yourself for a moment, Koko was the breath of fresh air you had been looking for. It was a truly ungrateful feeling to harbor, especially towards your Toman boys who had been the ones to take you in and accept you as a friend, but he was an escape from the constant neediness and possessiveness. You did love them dearly, really, but sometimes it all just got too much for you, with the final straw being that particular incident outside of Shinichiro’s shop; you had never been frightened of Mikey or Baji or the others before, yet seeing them snap before your eyes at another that you held dear to you - it was all too much, on top of having to deal with new tension at home.

All you wanted was to be able to hang out with a friend you made yourself, someone you didn’t have to give constant attention to. A friend who wouldn’t put you on a pedestal.

“There’s a nice karaoke place in town,” Koko replied almost absentmindedly, his well-gelled hair bobbing slightly as it caught the occasional light as the two of you stepped out of the alleyway and back onto a main street. “We can take the train there.”

Your mind immediately thought to the last round your Toman boys had invited you to karaoke with them, the session ending with you having to cool heads when they started bickering about whose turn it was with the mic. “That’s a good idea,” you nodded. Those places were open pretty late, right? Plus a private room would make it a lot harder to get caught.

‎

The area the two of you ended up in was a location slightly outside of town, which you recognized as not being too far from Shinichiro’s shop - the now-closed small convenience store was the same one that Mikey had been dragging you past just two weeks earlier. This was definitely a more uptown area compared to where the bike shop was, you noted, the stores though all closed at this hour were steadily getting larger and more luxurious the further you and Koko strolled down deserted streets.

“It’s so quiet,” you found yourself musing out loud, earning a soft exhale from the other. 

You rarely venture to this part of Tokyo City, it being well out of your usual sphere of life with good reason, though even with the handful of visits under your belt, the difference between day and night was still starkly visible. A flood of business suits and their occupants busy on the phone, with the rare occasional student weaving their way through the crowd, these streets were hardly catered to a younger audience, the prices well out of the range of what any student could afford, and you would assume the same, even more so in fact at night. The last thing you would expect to find here would be a karaoke, but perhaps you simply missed it before.

“This way,” Koko tugged you through an unassuming door, tucked neatly between two shopfronts and one you would have completely glazed over. Up a dimly lit stairway and with a light knock from your friend, the well-worn steel door opened to reveal a backdrop of high ceilings and a chandelier, framing an elegantly-dressed lady ushering the two of you in, the door swinging shut behind you with a quiet click. You felt your jaw dragging across the floor, eyes glancing around and taking in as much as you could. What even was this place?

Shiny, polished granite floors sparkled with specks of yellow reflected from the dim lights above, the walls trimmed tastefully with gold and decorated with flourished wallpapers. The crystal vase in which an enormous bouquet of flowers had been professionally arranged, atop a spotless dark wood counter, combined with the staff here wearing full suits, was all rather intimidating.

Vaguely noting Koko saying something to the lady who had welcomed you at the door, his words blending into the soft classical background music, you were only grounded by the fact that your hand was still laced with his as you shrunk shyly behind him. Needless to say, you felt extremely out-of-place, dressed in nothing more than your usual outing attire having expected a simple date. Were they going to kick you out?

Not just yet fortunately, as you were led down a velvet-walled hallway instead, lined with doors that ran the entire length, before being ushered into the room right at the end. Koko had stepped into the booth first, holding the door open as you quickly followed suit, and much to your relief, the inside looked similar enough to a regular karaoke room. Letting out a sigh of relief, you settled on the sofa, patting the area next to you. “I thought it was going to be so different,” you admitted, snuggling in close to Koko as he sat down next to you. “The outside looks so fancy.”

Said boy laughed, shaking his head as he leaned over to grab two microphones off their stands. “I thought it would be better since it's unlikely you’ll be found here.” By your Toman friends, that is.

“Not that I don’t like it,” you hastily added, accepting the device from Koko. “It’s lovely, thank you. And I doubt they know this place even exists.”

“No way,” the financier rolled his eyes, earning a giggle from you. That goes without saying. “Come on, pick a song, I’ll order us some drinks.”

‎

Time slipped through your fingers, the minutes flying by without your notice. Though you barely had a sip of alcohol (Koko refused to let you have any more than a taste of his cocktail), you were sure that you were giddy enough from giggling the entire time, your newest plushie sitting snug on your lap. 

”I still can’t believe you managed to nail that song!” You laughed out, lightly tapping on the black-haired boy’s arm as you carefully stepped across the curb. “I sounded completely off, I swear.”

“No way,” Koko disagreed, a tinge of red brushed across both cheeks as his gaze fell away from yours, though from the alcohol or otherwise, you couldn’t quite tell. He has had several drinks, after all. “You were great.”

Definitely the alcohol, you mused to yourself, squeezing his hand lightly as you gracefully ignored his voice trailing-off. “Thank you for bringing me out tonight, Koko.” And you meant it - with everything that had been going on at home and with the Toman boys, you truly did need this break from the hum and drum of regular life, even if you didn’t know it before. “I really had fun.”

No response, and none was needed, the other only returning the squeeze of your hand, face still turned away from yours. Strolling down the quiet street, it was late into the night, way past the time that you were usually already tucked into bed, your lights turned off and usually accompanied by one (or more) of the Toman founders. Yet your life these past months have been anything but usual, and having been unable to see Koko without getting him into unmeasurable amounts of trouble that would most likely end up with him in the hospital, you did miss him dearly. You will deal with the consequences of a lack of sleep tomorrow, you determined.

The music of yester-hours still buzzing in your ears and a hum under your breath, it would have been a perfect ending to your night if all the excitement ended there.

“Hey assfaces!” 

A sudden loud voice from behind that reverberated across the silent night had you jump a foot into the air like a startled cat, and you whirled around to locate the source of the disturbance. Koko, though, seemed barely bothered, his light tugs at your hand urging you to keep walking before trouble found the two of you. Too little, too late; your paths were quickly being blocked by several punks with aggressive hairstyles that you quickly identified as delinquents, though they didn’t seem to have a uniform of any sort, with the attire consisting of a mix of ruffled school uniforms and streetwear. “Strolling through my territory, huh?!”

Your heart skipped a beat - did they know who you were? Were they looking for Koko? No, that couldn’t be it. You decided that being friendly couldn’t go wrong, maybe it’s just a case of mistaken identity. “Hello,” you greeted. “Can we help you?”

A jeer rippled through the crowd in response, and you shrunk back. That was obviously the wrong move. Worse still, your voice seemed to have triggered a memory recall. “I’ve seen you somewhere before,” the seeming group leader muttered, squinting as he leaned in towards you. 

The grip Koko had on your hand tightened ever so slightly even as the expression on said boy’s face remained relaxed, almost as if bored. He must have gone through this multiple times, you reckoned, as you tried to shift away from the other.

“Ah,” the recognition settled into the other’s eyes as he pushed his face into your personal space, and you recoiled at the spit flying out from his mouth at you. “It's the shitbag always hanging off of Mikey, aren’t ya you little thing?”

Uh oh.

Another wave of sneering washed through the gang, though this time, the scorn was audible.

“I got beaten up by those Toman fuckers last week!” “One of them burned my bike!” “He stole my lunch!”

Your heart dropped into your gut. Fuck. You never thought you would be recognized.

The head delinquent’s smirk only grew larger as the displeasure boiled over into calls for Toman’s death, and he made to grab at your arm. “You’re quite the cute thing. Those fuckers have good taste. I think I’ll have some fun fir-”

A loud crack! - and you whirled around to the sight of a delinquent crumpling to the ground, clearly having lost consciousness. And there was Koko, calmly withdrawing his fist, simply not having the disrespect. “I rather you pick on someone your own size,” he stated, as if it was another usual day.

Time seemed to have frozen for a second, with the rest of the delinquents present turning almost robotically to glance between Koko and their downed buddy, the moment bringing with it an unexpected peace. But alas, it did not last as pandemonium quickly broke back out, the hoodlums sent into an uproar. “I WANT BOTH OF THEM DEAD!” The gang leader roared.

Koko shoved you. “Run!” He yelled, as he started beating down whoever he could reach. “Get to safety!”

You took off, drawing half the crowd with you, that distinctive side-swept mob of black hair quickly disappearing behind a wall. Fuck.

‎

Shit shit shit- your feet were all but flying over the pavement at this point as you sprinted down the street as fast as you could, taking random rights and lefts in an attempt to shake off your pursuers. But alas, enraged delinquents weren’t as easy to lose as you had hoped, and the stomp of their boots echoing behind you only ate away at your gut more and more. The light of the streetlamps overhead flashed and disappeared as you bolted through each and every circle of illumination, the environment all but a blur - you were sure you were completely lost at this point, though all your mind was urging you to just keep running.

What on earth were you going to do now? What could you do?

Your thoughts wandered back to Koko whom you had abandoned on the main street as you took another shark right, and your heart clenched, the guilt already starting to gnaw away at your gut. The last glimpse you had, he had been surrounded by so many of those fierce delinquents; yes, he had taken one of those builds down easily, but with opponents of such numbers? Maybe you should have stayed, but you didn’t want Koko to have to not only fight but also watch over a useless you. And, you tried to reason, with you running off, you at least have managed to draw some of the crowd away to chase after you.

But now that you were on the run, easily recognized by the self-declared rivals of the Tokyo Manji Gang, you were no doubt only creating more trouble for Mikey and the rest of your friends. No matter what you decided, no matter what you did, you only seemed to drag more and more people you claim to care about into the mess that was your life. 

Turning down yet another side alley, your lungs were beginning to burn from effort, every breath you took becoming heavier and heavier as your calves yearned for relief. You couldn’t recall the last time you had to assert such consistent effort, but you urged yourself on, forcing yourself past your limits as the adrenaline rush slowly ebbed away. You needed a place to hide and rest, somewhere safe - but where could you go? 

Bursting out back onto a main street, it was a familiar white awning that caught the corner of your eye, and though now folded up, you could recognize the partially hidden words and logo anywhere. S.S Motor…you weren’t sure if anyone was still in the shop at this time of night, but it wasn’t like you really had any other choice now. The white awning was calling to you as if it was your salvation as you closed the distance in under a minute, slamming straight into the locked front door. Damn. The door wasn’t going to give way no matter the amount of desperate rattling, and you should have known better, yet here you were, wasting precious time.

Letting go of the worn brass handle, it was the bloodthirsty calls for your blood growing nearer and nearer, accompanied by thunderous footsteps, that had you hesitate to leave the minute safety that the indent of the shop doors allowed you, with each precious second passing decreasing the amount you would have had to continue your escape. But even if you wanted to, your body was already at the point of giving up - you were physically incapable of running any further, your legs urging you to give up as you doubled over, pressing your hands against your knees in a bid to catch your breath. This was it, you supposed. You were going to make more trouble for Mikey and the rest, and probably get beat up in the process.

You took a deep breath, steeling your nerves, and turned around. No, this was not the end. You weren’t going to give up so easily and disgrace your Toman friends here. You had fists just like them after all, you could at least put up some resistance.

The click of a lock opening had relief that flooded into your system when your name was called by a recognizable name. Looking down at you with furrowed abyss eyes was none other than Shinichiro, that signature bluish-gray overalls of his tied still around his waist, spanner in hand. “What ya doing here at this time?”

”Chased,” was all you could hurriedly say in the time you had, as you glanced backwards at a roar that sounded just a turn away. “CanIcomeinplease?”

Shinichiro seemed to understand almost immediately. “Hide and call the police,” he grimaced, holding the door open and allowing you duck in under his arm. But much to your surprise, the older man didn’t follow you inside, instead stepping outside to block the path and line of sight of the horde of delinquents who have finally caught up to you. “Can I help you?”

Scurrying behind a motorcycle and rolling up into a ball in an attempt to make yourself smaller, your shaking hands could barely grasp your small phone without almost instantly dropping it, and you struggled to make sense of the keypad through teary eyes as you followed the commotion outside through the commotion alone, scared to give any visible indication of your presence to the angry gangsters outside.

Demands for Shinichiro to step aside, to bring you out to them, the threats of death and torture, and all the while the man was attempting to calm the mob and diffuse the situation. He was depending on you, you tried to tell yourself, finally punching in the emergency hotline, the dialing and connecting noises sounding as if they were echoing through the whole shop and not just in your ear, as if those ruthless hooligans outside could hear.

But they must have sensed your panic, your fear like a predator in the dark woods. A scuffle, and your heart sank like an anchor as a loud clunk rang out through the dead silence of the night, followed by the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. Grabbing the nearest tool, you flung yourself out from your hiding spot, and sprinted towards the shop exit.

‎

‎

Your hands were still shaking as the blue and red lights of emergency responders illuminated the once-quiet neighborhood around you, the foil blanket that the paramedics had wrapped around you doing little to stop the cold from seeping in. Seated just outside of the parameter of the yellow crime scene tape that now lined the parameter of S.S Motor, you barely registered the policeman attempting to talk to you to get your witness statement, his words flowing like water past you, reverberating into an inaudible distant mess in your head. Those lifeless eyes were all you could see, that accusatory stare that haunted you no matter how hard you tried to push it away. The ambulance had already taken your victim away, the first responders claiming that he was still breathing and that they could still save him, but Shinichiro-san? 

He was already cold when the first sirens arrived.

And it was in this broken state that Mikey finally stumbled across you, his phone gripped tight in one hand. Black, empty eyes wide with what could only be shock as he took in the chaos that had unfolded outside of his older brother’s shop, his gaze eventually falling on you, a trembling and responseless form on the sidewalk, a splatter of blood across your once-pristine clothes. In an instant, the Toman President had pulled you to your feet and straight into a tight hug, your face pressed tight into the crook of his neck, much to the surprise of the officer. 

He didn’t need to say more. The last of whatever control you had left fell apart, and the tears trailed down your face, the hiccups uncontrollable. “M-mikey,” you wailed into his skin, your fingers gripping the back of his shirt as the past hour flashed in the back of your eyes. “I-I’m-”

“What happened?” The blond-haired boy’s hair was soft, hoarse, the disbelief clearly tinting his words. It couldn’t be Shinichiro underneath that cover, could it? It couldn’t be. But that call, this scene.

“I killed him,” you whispered out, pulling away, as you looked back down at your trembling hands. “H-he attacked Shinichiro-san, so I…I-”

There was only one covered body, yet two weapons. Mikey pulled away, eyes staring at you, trying to read your thoughts. You couldn’t have killed Shinichiro-san; so who? 

Those five minutes were burned into your mind. You standing from behind the motorbike to find one of the delinquents with a blood-splattered steel pipe in hand, and Shinichiro sprawled out on the pavement right in front of his shop, the blood trickling down the side of his head; something washing over you as you had grabbed the heavy wrench with two hands and bursting through the shop doors, swinging the tool with all your might. The connecting blow that reverberated through your bones, and the other continuing to stand for a moment longer, swaying, staring blankly at you before crumpling to the floor. The rest of the ruffians dispersed as the authorities approached, leaving you behind trying desperately to administer first aid and CPR to Shinichiro, all the while fervently trying to ignore the other boy downed by your hand.

“I killed him,” you mumbled again, your voice haunted as the tears flowed once more. “I-I didn’t mean to- I swear-”

But the last thing Mikey could care about now was some nobody. “What happened to Shinichiro?” He repeated, this time more firmly, both hands gripping you and pinning your arms to your side. “Why him?”

“Protecting me. Th-they’ve seen me with Toman…”

Mikey audibly snarled. “And why were you here? Why aren’t you at home?!” The boy all but shouted at you, shaking you vigorously. You couldn’t blame him. It was all your fault.

Your mind jumped to Koko, where you had left him fighting that group of gangsters back along the shopping street. You couldn’t get another into trouble - not when you had committed the ultimate scene. And with the turmoil boiling in your stomach, you did something you never thought you had the stomach to. The tears started once more as you pressed your face into Mikey’s jacket, fist clenching around the white fabric. “Was looking for a job so I-I can move out,” the lie slipped out from your lips, each word burning your tongue as you mumbled out. “Th-they said they pay well.”

A murderer. You thought you would be better, better than the clusterfuck that was your family. You had tried to be better, striving to be kind, thoughtful, open-hearted. Yet here you were, you thought bitterly. The rotten apple doesn’t fall far from the tree after all.

The policeman seemed to have heard enough, one strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder as the other shook Mikey off of you. “You need to come with me to the station.”

A liar and a murderer.

#tokyo revengers #yandere tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #yandere tokyo revengers x reader #mikey x reader #baji x reader #mitsuya x reader #kazutora x reader #pah chin x reader #mitsuya takashi #draken x reader #kazutora #sano manjiro #keisuke baji #draken #kokonoi hajime #kokonoi x reader #shinichiro #inupi seishu #shion madarame #yandere platonic mikey #cheesus drabbles

[acornwellian]

vent art from earlier tonight beneath the read more thing

i guess these are drawings about my mental health. but it might not be worth trying to explain any of the specific details

#nudity #dismemberment #if those tags are scaring you before seeing the drawings #dont worry its not like. a graphic image of a dead body #its like a cartoon ham leg cross section #i just want to be responsible #vent #i might delete this later idk

[nkogneatho]

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍

—cw: this is just hella angst and a lil fluffy, character death, jjk au but altered a bit, megumi is reader's son and toji and reader are couples so don't get this twisted because of the tags.

—a/n: please cry. or do inhave to cut onions??? no but fr i was sobbing hard while writing this because yaknow how much i love my man :(( please give feedbacks tho i love reading them.

your eyes were resting close. there was sense of guilt, panic and fear gnawing megumi as he sat on the stool next to your hospital bed. there were a million reasons he could've prevented this. a million. but what is supposed to happen, happens. if he rushed home quicker, you, his mother wouldn't be lying on the hospital bed right now. if only he would've been aside you, keeping you company instead of on a mission, he would've saved you from those corrupt sorcerers. but it happened. and now he was scared, praying every god to turn back time or save you somehow even when the doctor's had announced you wouldn't make it.

you fluttered your eyes open, and slowly adjusted your head to meet your son who was resting his face in his hands, probably sobbing.

"me-gumi..."

"MOM?" his voice was drenched in panic and fear but he eased it out, making sure not to startle you. "you're fine. you're completely alright. just rest and go to sleep okay?"

"since when do you lie to your mom?" he was stunned you caught his lie "i know...i know my body better than anyone else," you stated. his lips quivered in guilt. poor boy. why does he blame himself for everything?

"gumi?" he couldn't form words so he just replied with a hum. "it's not your fault. i don't blame you for anything."

"but—"

"you're the best son i could ever ask for. i know i didn't give birth to you, but not once i ever felt like you weren't my son...not on—not once did i ever feel like you weren't a part of my heart...", a tear rolled of his eye. "so don't blame yourself or you'll be insulting my heart."

"you are the best mother ever." you chuckled lightly because you remembered once he brought an essay home with the same topic. "my mom is the best mom in the world," in his crooked handwriting and drawing of you and his dad holding hands with him. oh right. dad. he knew it was his dad that he fought in shibuya when you told him when he was finally ready. he spiraled into a emotional mess to gulp everything and then your words finally cleared the blurry pictures he had in his head of his childhood.

"is there something you want me to tell your dad when i meet him?" megumi stopped breathing for a few seconds before he finally let out a sigh.

"tell papa...i am sorry." megumi and toji never really had that deep and close father-son bond. there as never a right time in their life.

"he is not mad at you megumi. we're—we're parents. we will always love our child even when they hate us. and you hated him for the right reasons." he was in the verge of sobbing. "megumi...look at me." he lifted his head to meet your eyes. "your dad loved you. he really did. and i am sure when i meet him...he will ask about you first."

"promise me you'll be my mom again in the next life?" he offered his pinky.

"i promise." you entagled your pinky with his.

"i love you mom." you smiled. you didn't say it back. you didn't need to. he knew that you loved him so much.

megumi gently took your hand resting on the hospital mattress and tucked it between his palms. he was warm. or maybe it was your blood running cold. colder and colder till you shut off your eyes, the smile disappearing as your muscles relaxed and heart gave up. megumi's eyes lost inq containing the river of tears and they finally rolled down.

*sounds of waves*

you opened your eyes to bright blue sky mirroring on the ocean, the waves emerging and lacing your feet, the sand tickling your toes. you looked around to find something else but it was all just...beach. till your eyes fell on someone they've been starving to see for years. your husband. the love of your life was right in front of you.

toji smiled and you exhaled in relief, but the exhale bought the years of pent up pain appear on your face, making tears fall constantly.

"i waited for so long, baby." god, his voice. you missed it so much.

you ran. you ran till you were in the arms of your lover, and toji embraced you like he would never let go. "i am here." you cried and he did too. his lips pressed against yours so tightly. he stopped to look at you and ponder at your beautiful face. a face everyday that he tried not to forget. he never could but now you were here finally.

"how's megumi?"

"that idiot. always blaming himself. did you mention how shitty i was?"

"he said "tell papa i am sorry, ha."

toji laughed.

"i did. but he still loves you." you both thought it was funny. "he's your son after all. doesn't show it, but he's stubborn like you inside."

"i am not stubborn."

"yes you are. you got yourself killed even when i told you not to. you left me alone to survive in a world without you even when i told you don't. do you know how hard it was everyday to live without you, toji?" your words getting a little unclear towards the end as you sobbed and yelled.

toji hugged you once again. "i am sorry."

"you should be!"

"i know." he kissed your forehead. "why don't you tell me what happened all these years while we take a walk on a beach?" your puppy eyes peered up at him. "we have forever now."

#jjk x reader #toji x reader #toji angst #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen #megumi x reader #megumi angst #jjk fluff #toji fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #toji x you #toji x y/n #jjk drabbles

[bratphilia]

grasp (w. afton x reader)

request: "I don’t really have a coherent story (just some thots) but i’d kill for some sort of smuttyyy ficlet that has the reader who is very short as in 4 foot 10 and has petite features (just like me 😵‍💫) being picked up and slung over Matthew Lillard!William Afton’s shoulder 🥴🥴 Include reader being scared and trying to wriggle free??? (due to her seeing or knowing something she shouldn’t have about Raglan) and some name-calling like ‘little one’, ‘good girl’ & ‘atta girl’ 🤤 - 🧸"

note: hi nonniebear!! i'm sorry if this fic is a little rushed but i tried to stay true to what you requested! hope you enjoy and feel free to keep sending in more ideas :)

pairing: steve raglan / william afton x reader

tags: bondage, praise kink, fingering, squirting, begging

fuck. you're really in for it now. 

this yellowish, decaying rabbit stalks towards you, and there are four, sentient and bloodthirsty animatronics behind you. 

you're stuck. 

even worse, the rabbit came from the entrance, so if you were to try to make your escape that way there was a likelihood of you running into his knife.

"please," you find yourself pleading. "please don't kill me."

the rabbit laughs menacingly and bends down to your level. "how about this? i'll give you a head start." 

without any further questions you bolt through the maze of halls and towards the office. you crouch down in front of the vent the rabbit was referring to and unscrew the bolts barricading it. thank god you're small enough to fit in the vents. this might actually work.

then you hear unmistakeable, thumping footsteps coming towards you. 

it only hurries your actions. your heart rate rapidly increases. the screws are so aged with rust that it's hard to—

the door opens with a loud thud. you scream at the noise, and again when you're being lifted off the ground. it's the yellow rabbit. 

it slings you over its shoulder with unmatched strength. you wail incoherent words and pleas as you pound the back of the suit with balled fists. 

"help me!" you scream out to no one. "somebody help!" 

the rabbit wordlessly carries you down the hall, to one of the locked doors you dared not to venture into during your shifts. it carried you down a couple stairs and then set you on a dentist-office-style chair. 

at this point tears are rolling down your face. eyes are shut in fear of looking your captor in the eyes. uncontrollable sobs escape your mouth, praying that these aren't your final moments. then the rabbit wraps both hands (paws?) around your wrists and holds them to the arm handles so that restraints can bolt around them. 

"oh, save it," he says, clearly annoyed with your crying. "i've heard it all before, you don't deserve to die, and all that."

your eyes shoot open. the rabbit's voice no longer sounds robotic and you realize you actually recognize it. 

in a very dramatic fashion, it's steve raglan. your career counsellor, a.k.a the man who got you this job in the first place. 

he almost looks ridiculous in the rabbit suit, which admittedly doesn't add much to his already sizeable frame, but you can't find the humor in the situation in which you could be seconds away from dying in. 

"why?" you find yourself asking, suddenly more curious than hysteric. "why give me this job if you were just going to kill me in the end?" 

"because you got a little too close to the truth, and for some reason, those brats up there were unable to take care of the job themselves," he snarls resentfully. he must be referencing the animatronics. it makes sense now— the kids in the drawings with the yellow rabbit on the wall. 

"it was you. you killed those kids."

steve gives you a horrible smile. one that almost makes you weak, with that dimple you recognize from many conversations in his office. "you finally figured it out."

he walks behind you, shuffling around in the suit, and you crane your neck around to see him taking it off. he's wearing a white tee and dark purple slacks. he's not particularly muscular, but not thin either. it's a build specific to middle aged men. you hate to admit it, but your face flushes when you notice how large his hands are. 

he catches you looking at him and smiles, cocking his head curiously. "see something you like, little night guard?" instantly you whip your head back around. your head is at a moral war with itself, with you being disappointed in yourself that you were actually checking out a child serial killer. 

but steve doesn't leave it alone. once he abandons the suit, he swiftly strides over you. he places both hands on your restraints, caging you in. you shrink into yourself. 

"i think," he says lowly, "i might have a different use for you, little one. one that we can both enjoy." 

you swallow, not saying anything. steve reaches a hand up to slide down your face then cup your jaw. his hands are cold to the touch and it sends shivers down your spine. 

you find your voice. "don't touch me."

"don't touch you? are you sure?" he says cockily and you can only glare at him in response. 

"what if i just..." he trails off, sliding the hands on his face down your neck, your chest, abdomen, and eventually your core. he presses his hand there hard, making you jolt upwards and whimper. "so you don't want me to touch you, is what i'm hearing?"

fuck. this undeniably hot serial killer has you at his disposal and you can't help but feel turned on. if you're going to die, and your chances really aren't looking good for you, maybe you should just...

"please," you murmur, closing your legs so they trap his hand there.

"please, what?"

you swallow. "please fuck me." 

"'atta girl." he grins from ear to ear. "y'know, all that begging you did earlier really did a number on me, but i must say i love this change of heart."

steve starts to undo the buttons of your slacks and begins to pull them down, leaving you bare in your underwear. it's at this point you realize how wet you are, and you try to relieve the tension in your core by squeezing your thighs together but he grabs your legs and presses them to your stomach. you're just so malleable to him.

he tugs off your panties and discards them mindlessly. "look at that," he marvels at your bare skin, "so pretty, little one."

you squirm against the restraints a little. at this point the anticipation will kill you faster than he will. you wish he would just touch you already, but you had to admit all his praises were only adding to your arousal.

steve decides to sit a little further down the chair and wordlessly plunges a finger inside your pussy. he goes deliberately slow, clearly gaging your reaction. "fuck," you mutter, and it takes all your strength to not buck your hips into his movements.

"you need this, don't you, sweet girl?" he muses, stopping the thrusting of his fingers, but still keeping them inside. "tell me."

"please, please, please..." tears coat your lashes from all the teasing. "'need it so bad."

he gives you a kind smile, one you haven't seen since you were back in his office. "good girls get what they ask for. "

steve slides in a second finger and begins to pump faster. it's an improvement but you find yourself needing more. you buck your hips up hoping he would get the message and he simply laughs lowly as he adds a third finger into the mix.

his pace gets progressively faster over time to your delight. the noises coming from your center is absolutely obscene. you can feel your juices dripping down onto the seat.

"ah — ah!" you cry out, feeling your orgasm nearing. "i'm coming — please, slow down—"

you squeeze your eyes shut. all the sudden the chair is abnormally wetter than you would have expected and— oh.

your face burns bright red. "i-i'm sorry..."

he's shocked, mouth agape and eyes slightly widened. then a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "don't you dare apologize, little one, let's try that again."

#william afton #steve raglan #fnaf #five nights at freddy's #fnaf smut #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf x reader

[2cupids]

pairing: gamer bf yunho x fem reader (ft. ys, wy, and jh)

word count: 1.2k

tags: mdni (17+), brat taming, light d.egradation and h.umiliation, cowgirl, petnames, mentions of other members and they basically listen to y’all fuck (they all get off to listening to you but wooyo is the only one who makes it obvious lol), a tiny bit of humor towards the end.

notes: this was about jongho at first but yunho’s been on my mind real bad lately and this was a drabble but i accidentally turned it into a fic. thank you in advance for reading. feedback is appreciated!

“don’t be shy now baby, this is what you wanted.” he’s exactly right but it doesn’t do anything to soothe the feeling of humiliation that’s coursing through your veins at the moment. “let everyone hear what a slut you are. give em a show!” he laughs, letting one of his big hands come in contact with your ass, a deafening echo filling your shared bedroom.

in all honesty, you did deserve this— to be humiliated like this. you kept bothering yunho while he was trying to play whichever silly game he and the other members had decided upon. he told you numerous times that he would do whatever you wanted after he got done playing, which was fair enough.

but, like the spoiled brat you are, you didn’t listen. you kept up your little game; teasing him and distracting him and almost causing him to get killed at one point. he warned you to stop but you refused, instead wanting to see how far you could go before you eventually pushed your boyfriend over the edge.

you eventually succeeded in doing so. the final straw was when you started to palm his dick through his sweats, resulting in him grabbing your wrist and forcing you into his lap as he paused the game and told his friends that you had a little surprise for them.

that’s how you got here; riding your boyfriend in his beloved gaming chair in a desperate attempt to get yourself off while his friends listen attentively in their respective areas to what’s unfolding.

through his headset, you can faintly hear someone utter something incoherent on the other side that’s accompanied by a high pitched moan seconds later. “you okay over there woo?” yunho questions, as if he’s worried for him, yet there’s not an ounce of concern evident in his voice as he flashes you a mischievous grin.

you can’t hear wooyoung’s reply but yunho nods his head and gives a small ‘mm hm’ in response to whatever he said.

yunho covers his mic with one hand, making sure no ones hears this but you. “naughty girl, look at what you’ve done. you’ve got my friends jerking off to you.”

the embarrassment and humiliation you first felt minutes ago slowly starts to fade away, being replaced by a different feeling. one that excites you, that stirs up something inside you. it’s the feeling of— arousal.

the realization hits that his friends are listening in on an intimate moment between the two of you, and that they’re touching themselves and masturbating to the sweet sounds of… you.

never would you have imagined that you would find people listening to you having sex arousing, the thought alone was gross and disgusting, but for some odd reason it’s causing more wetness to pool between your legs.

it unintentionally makes you clench around your boyfriend’s shaft, drawing a chuckle out him. “you like that don’t you?”

you let out a whimper in response to his question. your grip on his broad shoulders tighten as you roll your hips against his faster, as you feel your orgasm start to build up.

“aw, you close baby?” he coos, pressing a few small kisses to your jaw. “gonna let them hear those pretty moans of yours while you cum all over my dick? hm?”

you acknowledge his words and simply give him a weak nod of your head, scared no words will come out if you open your mouth. you look down at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to help you out, to touch you where you need him the most. he gets the message loud and clear but he needs to hear you say it— to beg for it.

“can’t read your mind, tell me what you need. talk to me.”

“touch me. p-please touch me.” your voice comes out frail and shaky. it’s embarrassing and pathetic but it’s gets the job done because no sooner than the words leave your mouth, is yunho’s delicate hand between your thighs, rubbing at your clit.

you continue rutting your hips against his, chasing your high. his name repeatedly falls from lips as your stomach tightens and legs tense, your fingers dig into his shoulder blades as your pussy spasms around his length. his hand stays on your clit, working you through your orgasm and it takes everything inside him to keep himself from cumming with you and filling your hungry cunt with everything he has to give.

as your brain clears and you come back to your senses, your body relaxes and you rest your face in the crook of yunho’s neck as you try to catch your breath and regain your composure.

it’s only a few moments after you’ve come that you hear a loud groan come through his headphones. you look up at yunho only to find that he’s already looking down at you and he busts out laughing. “hopefully everyone enjoyed themselves, especially you, wooyoung. whenever everyone’s ready, we can continue where we left off.”

you exhale, letting out a deep sigh as you bring your hands up to cover your face. yunho softly laughs at your reaction while rubbing your back to comfort you and put you at ease.

you raise up to get out of yunho’s lap and leave his warm embrace but you pause as you overhear what sounds like bickering coming from his headset.

“hey! if you’re going to do that, turn off your mic. we don’t want to hear you!” you hear what sounds like jongho’s voice and presume he’s talking to wooyoung.

then you hear yeosang chime in, appearing to agree with jongho, saying something along the lines of it “being weird.”

“what the fuck?!” wooyoung shouts. “now all of a sudden you two want to act like you’re holier-than-thou like you weren’t just doing the same thing! i just forgot to turn my mic off, what’s the problem? you guys are always doing stuff like this to me— i don’t even want to play anymore.” you smile to yourself in amusement, you can basically hear the pout in wooyoung’s voice.

jongho and yeosang backtrack on what they said and try to talk wooyoung into not leaving and that’s when you see your chance to get up. you maneuver yourself out of yunho’s lap with his help and fix your shorts back to the way they’re supposed to be. you turn to leave and go to the bathroom when you finally register something. he didn’t cum.

you turn back around, feeling guilty and wanting to return the favor. “why didn’t you—“

“i knew you would ask that.” he says while tucking himself back into his boxers before pulling his sweatpants back up. “don’t worry about that right now, just be prepared to be sore for the next few days. i gave you what you wanted, now go and leave me alone before i show you what real humiliation feels like. understand?”

he playfully raises his eyebrow at you but you can tell by the tone of his voice that he’s far from being as playful as he appears and you know it’s best not to try him. at least not at the present moment.

#ateez smut #jeong yunho #yunho smut #jeong yunho smut #ateez hard hours #kpop smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #wooyoung smut #yunho x reader

[hwallazia]

SURRENDING TO DESIRE

pairing: choi san x fem! reader

word count: 3k

tags: smut (mdni!), fluff, comfort, slice of life, idol!au, bf!San, dom!San, sub!reader, reader is slightly a brat, fingering, squirting, slight overstimulation, deepthroat, blowjob, hickeys, dirty talk, praise, slight degradation (reader gets called “slut” once), small aftercare, nicknames (baby, sweetheart, good girl, princess) lmk if I missed anything!

synopsis: after a very long year of hard work, San and you decided to spend the holidays in Namhae. But you happen to be busy even on vacation, barely exchanging glances with your boyfriend. Until one night, you find the moment of intimacy you needed with him.

| a/n: this one shot was inspired by an erotic audio. I’ll drop the link in here in case y’all want to listen to it | audio

Finally, that time of year had arrived. Those few weeks when you didn’t have to worry about anything other than spending quality time with your family, catching up with your friends, and traveling wherever you wanted for the simple purpose of resting.

And you couldn’t be happier to spend your resting days with San. You had both been so packed with work that you barely had time to see each other—despite living in the same apartment.

Of course you went out with San to celebrate the end of your work days for the year, a dinner at your favorite restaurant was the plan. You ate exquisitely and tasted the restaurant’s most expensive wines. While you were effortlessly shaking your red wine, San proposed that you spend the holidays in his hometown, Namhae, along with his entire family.

You knew how much family meant to San and all the time he spent without being able to see them because of his job as an idol. Of course San loved his fans, after all he would be nothing without the support of his beloved ATINYS, but he would give everything to see his family more than twice a year.

You couldn’t say no to him, not when his eyes were shining at the thought of spending his days off with the two things that made him the happiest man in the entire world: his family and you.

You very rarely went to the Choi Family house, but when you did, you were more than welcome. San’s mother reminded you of that tender and protective side of your boyfriend, always taking care of you and asking you almost everything about your relationship with her beloved son; while San’s father was more reserved, quieter. But that didn’t take away the fact that he was just as funny and chivalrous as his son.

San was definitely the perfect combination of his parents. And you were so grateful to get to call him yours.

San’s family’s vacation home was huge, and of course it had to be if it had to house such an extended family. You had really forgotten the exhuberant amount of nephews San had and how loud they were. Luckily, with the help of his mother and his sister, Haneul, you were able to put them to bed in their respective beds —not before singing them a lullaby though, sweet as dripping honey.

You sighed as the last of the children fell into the abyss of sleep after so many attempts. Mentally, you patted your back congratulating yourself on your work.

You closed the door of the room with all the caution in the world, not wanting to wake them up by the slightest alteration of the silence that you had achieved with all your effort.

You headed towards the kitchen, where you found your handsome boyfriend finishing washing the last of the dirty dishes. You positioned yourself behind his broad, muscular figure only to gently slide your hands along his waist. A small jolt ran through San’s body when he felt your touch, turning to look at you immediately.

“Fuck. Baby, you scared the living shit outta me,” San’s hand landed on his chest, a soft giggle escaping out your lips as you slapped his side gently.

“Language,” You said in a tiny whisper.

“Sorry. But I thought you were asleep?” Now his palms held your hips safely, his fingers drawing little circles on each side.

“Mm, I should, yeah,” Your arms moved and placed over his broad shoulders, “But I don’t want to sleep in an empty bed, you know?”

“Miss me, princess?” His voice, so sweet and husky at the same time it almost made you fall to your knees.

“Yeah, a lot,” You hid your face in the crook of his neck, leaving a little trail of innocent kisses, “It’s crazy how we only get to exchange glances all day.”

“Yeah,” He sighed but held his breath for a second, a little smile drawing on his lips, “What do you say if we” He held you even closer to his anatomy, “go to bed.”

You smiled against his lips and left a small peck on them, “Sounds good to me.”

San stretched his hands further so he could intertwine his fingers with yours and go to his bedroom to give that long and exhausting day an end. There were still a few dishes that he hadn’t finished washing, but he would take care of that tomorrow. He just wanted to put you to bed at that moment.

When you arrived at your shared room, San closed the door behind you and guided you towards your bed—queen size. He placed you against the mattress so gently, as if you were glass, and was on top of you, each arm on the side of your head supporting his own weight to avoid collapsing on top of you.

“You look so pretty right now,” San murmured. His hot breath hitting the flushed skin of your cheek.

A soft giggle rolled off your lips and San couldn’t help but watch them, watch carefully your every move. The way your lips parted only to show a row of perfect teeth, as bright as a pearl. He got comfortable as he laid on your side, hugging your waist and caressing it. His cheek resting on your chest.

“I really love you, so much,” He continued, “I know I don’t get to say it much since we’re so busy with work and stuff. But I want you to know that I genuinely love you and I can’t imagine a world without you by my side. You make me the happiest man and I promise to spend the rest of my days trying to make you the happiest woman.”

You didn’t have the strength to cry, you were exhausted from having dealt with your boyfriend’s nephews all day. But if you could cry, you would.

This was what you loved about San.

He showed you that he loved you in every way possible, and he reminded you every day through messages, words, chocolates, letters, in any way.

You felt like a woman being with him and safe in his arms.

He was the only man you wanted in your life. The only man you’d die for.

“Sannie,” You caressed his cheek softly, his eyes closed the moment he felt your skin touching his, “I don’t think you can make me happier than you already do.”

You left the sweetest peck on his lips, your palm still caressing his skin.

“I love you a lot more,” You struggled a little bit trying to wrap his muscular body with your arms, both of you melting into the sweetest hug, “Mine,” You whispered against his neck.

San laughed in embarrassment without opening his mouth, “All yours.”

You don’t know when you lost consciousness and fell into his arms, asleep like a baby. It was when you heard a child’s desperate cry that you opened your eyes lazily, realizing that San had been spooning you, his arms wrapping you in his warmth, keeping you safe. You managed to hear the voice of San’s sister in the distance, who began to whisper a lullaby to calm the awake child and put him back to sleep. Eventually you stopped hearing even the slightest sound, so you decided to go back to sleep.

Which was impossible. Because just a few minutes after you closed your eyes, you felt something half hardened hit the curvature of your ass. As soon as San shifted uncomfortably in his place, his member managed to rub even more against your exposed skin, rising and hardening with each movement. You knew it was normal for this to happen, but it had been a while since you played with your boyfriend.

Like the good girlfriend you were, you decided to give his erection some relief. You moved your ass back and forth mischeviously causing even more friction. A low groan was heard.

You continued your actions and San slowly woke up, you couldn’t see his frown eyebrows nor his lips, twisting in discomfort.

“Baby,” His husky voice sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t help but slightly arch your back, “Stop moving.”

“What did you say?” You started innocently bouncing on his hardened cock.

“Stop bouncing or I'll give you a reason to bounce,” He was half-asleep, but he always had the energy to put you in your place. And he never failed on it.

“But I already have a reason, don’t I?” You continued, “Your little friend has been up for a while.”

He brushed off what you had said as if he didn’t hear it, “Y/n, someone can hear us.”

“Not if we keep it quiet.” You paused briefly, allowing San’s mind to process your plan. As soon as you heard his sigh, you knew he had given up. You turned around so you could see your lover’s lost, sleepy gaze shining with the moonlight that entered the room as an intruder.

He grabbed your jaw gently and brought it closer to him to kiss your plump lips. The kiss began calmly, both feeling the warmth of the other even more. This sweetness didn’t last long though, it disappeared when San’s tongue entered your mouth without a warning and it started dancing with yours. A whimper left your lips when he pulled you by your waist, closer to him.

“Shh. Do you want everyone to know the needy little girl you are?” His fingers danced all along your belly, drawing doodles on it softly. When two of his fingers reached the beginning of your vagina, he felt nothing but your bare skin, “Ooh, not wearing any underwear I see. Trying to tell me something?”

“Maybe I just want you to shut up and make me cum,” You whispered against his lips dangerously. A low, lustful flame lit up in San’s eyes.

“You’re gonna end up begging me to stop, sweetheart,” His fingers started playing with your creamy mess, which started spilling off and dirtying the covers. “And guess what?” He inserted them with a single thrust. Their length was long enough to touch your g-spot faintly. “I won't.”

It didn’t take long for his fingers to start moving faster, your desperation to cum was beginning to build up in your lower belly, and you could feel it as a pleasant heat. Your eyes closing unconsciously. You tried to drown the urge to moan your boyfriend’s name by biting the inside of your cheek. You alternated between biting your lip and your cheek, loosening the high tension on your jaw when it started to hurt.

“Look at me when I touch you,” He demanded, and you couldn’t resist the moan that came deeply from your throat. 

Tension spread quickly through your limbs as you had broken the only rule San had told you not to break. Absolute silence. 

San didn’t say a word though, apparently giving you another chance to show him that you were a good girl and that you knew how to follow his rules, that you knew how to obey any order of his without reproach.

He tested you when his thumb pressed against your clit, moving it in circles. You were holding onto your last shred of sanity when his fingers began to repeatedly touch that sweet spot, and at the same time, his thumb pressed that pleasure button in the most exquisite way. You tried, you really did. But fuck, the pleasure was so intense that you were glad you were laying on your bed because your legs had given out a while ago.

“You better keep the volume down or I’m gonna go even harder,” His low demand penetrating your eardrums.

At that moment you felt how your shoulders were heavy, each one carrying a mini-you, one of them was whispering to you with the sweetest voice to be a brat and rail him up even more, while the other was trying to explain to you all the different reasons why you should shut the hell up and be a good girl for San if you wanted him to fuck you. You knew that San was capable of leaving you horny, with a big mess down your panties —he made it up to you, eventually. He always did. But you didn’t feel in the mood for it right now, you wanted to be fucked, and you wanted it now.

“S...San, Sannie. Oh my fuck,” You tried to articulate.

“Mhm?” You could feel his arrogant smirk even with your eyes closed from the satisfaction you were receiving with just your boyfriend’s fingers, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

You didn’t know he could pump his fingers into you even faster. But now you do. Because he did. His movements, so precise they turned your brain into mush.

“Use your words, sweetheart,” He murmured and you felt a heated wave crash into your insides.

“D...Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, baby,” Your breathlessness striking your voice down, “Even if I beg you to,”

You heard San mumble a “fuck” under his breath. Your body started trembling even more when you felt that that heated coil formed down your belly was about to reach its release.

“F-fuck! Sannie I’m so fucking close,” You whined, still trying to keep your cries at a low volume, “Fuckfuckfuck!”

“I know, baby, I know,” He cooed, “Just let go for me,” San removed his fingers from your warm inside only to rub his ring and middle fingers against your swollen clit. A satisfied sigh was heard when you started squirting on his hand, the silk sheets getting wet from your clear liquid, “That’s it. What a good girl,” 

San waited for you to come down your high while he kissed your neck and breasts, carefully leaving cute lovebites on them, only attaching his lips to your skin in places that you could easily cover with some clothing. Finally, after having regained your breath and the ability to formulate sentences, you looked down at the prominent tent that San had trapped in his pajama pants.

You were tired from the excellent session your boyfriend had just given you, but you felt bad for him and his little friend. It must’ve been painful that his big, cum-leaking boner had been left unattended for so long. 

“Need a little help with that?” You spoke seductively, hiding your tiredness. Because you knew that if you showed any signs of tiredness, San would immediately stop everything just so you could rest. He would then take care of his problem with a cold shower or with his poor, lonely hand.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He removed his short in the blink of an eye, amusingly.

A soft giggle from you resonated inside San’s ears, delighting in your sweet voice. You moved so you could be right in front of his mouth-watering erection. You decided to tease him a little bit because damn his cock was rock-hard, perfectly up.

“Could you be any harder?” You said while you played with his cock tip, rubbing your index finger on it. When you saw a speck of precum peek out of his slit, a smirk was instantly drawn across your face.

“Are you gonna keep playing with it or are you gonna put it in your mouth at some point?” He said, panting a little bit. 

He didn’t need to tell you twice. As soon as you heard his order, you were willing to take him to heaven with just your mouth, you wanted him to see stars and for his gaze to light up with white dots of intense, pleasure. You planned on giving him an eye-rolling orgasm.

You suck, lick and slurped everything you could put in your mouth, the rest of his cock was not neglected but getting the attention of your hands. A low groan from him made you quiver. Yet you didn’t stop working your mouth on his harden dick, already twitching inside you mouth.

“Holy fuck. You really are a slut for my cock, aren’t you?” Your doe-eyed gaze met his as his hand caressed your head softly. That drove him over the edge. And the slurp you just did right on his tip? He thought he was going to pass out. “Oh fuck. That’s it. Don’t fucking stop, baby.”

It only took a couple more licks along his dick and a light, gentle massage on his balls and San was already cumming inside your mouth. You received all the spurts of his hot cum gladly, happy that now you had both reached your own orgasm at least once.

You’d have time later to fuck properly, in your apartment, alone where no one could bother or interrupt you. After all, there was only one day left until you and San returned to the busy city of Seoul. Probably during the remaining day there will be naughty glances or touches, but who’ll notice?

Both of you, being tired enough, melted into an embrace, full of love and affection. San left messy kisses all over your face, you made a little sound in annoyance, trying to tell him to stop. A laugh slipped off San’s tongue, finally leaving a soft peck on your lips.

“You really don’t realize what it does to me when we’re cuddling and you press your ass against me,” And as the brat that you were, you were about to do to him precisely what he had told you not to do. And as if San had entered your mind and read your thoughts, he continued, “And don’t you even dare doing it,”

You let out an annoyed huff and replied, “You’re no fun, Sannie.”

“Me? You are the one that turns me the fuck on with that ass of yours,”

“Oh! So, is that my fault now?” A laugh threatened to burst out of your throat.

“Yes, it is,” He said like a little kid, with that childish tone of him that you could recognize even being blocks away. “See? Now I have another problem,”

You didn’t understand what he was referring to until you looked down and saw his cock, waking up again from its flaccidity.

A sigh left your lips as you smiled at San’s sheepish smile, “You really have no remedy, boy.”

And he turned you around, trapping you in his strong arms. Suddenly the fatigue you both had a few minutes ago disappeared.

This was going to be a long night.

#choi san #ateez smut #san smut #ateez #choi san smut #ateez x reader #san x reader #san ateez #choi san imagine #ateez scenarios

[highhhfiveee]

mint (mike schmidt x reader)

*minor movie spoiler that isn’t a spoiler fr but kind of is*

tags: suggestiveness, swearing, fluff

oi. this is my first official piece of fanfic on tumblr and i'm excited but also super nervous. i never knew what characters i wanted to write for as most of my fandoms are obsolete tbh (teen wolf and maze runner, i'm looking at you 💔) but after watching the fnaf movie and falling in love with j hutch like i'm 14 again, i wanted to try to write for mike!

i'm sorry if this story sucks tbh. i wrote it pretty quickly, did not edit it in any way (watch for grammar and spelling errors!) and i'm still trying to establish characters and plot and do all this silly billy worldbuilding, but i'll get better! i'm also taking requests for both fluff and smut, so if y'all would like to send anything for me to write, i'll def accept! like i said in my last post, i think i'm gonna redo my tumblr layout so i can feel like a true fanfic/misc blog lmao so ignore its under construction phase ((: i hope y'all enjoy this though bc i've been thinking ab mike schmidt all night

i have sooo many ideas, but between last night and this morning, i’ve been thinking of abby’s babysitter!reader (bc fuck max).

you’ve been channel surfing in the living room since you put abby down, working with her to lock down a nightly routine. ideally, she’d bathe, eat dinner (god willingly), brush her teeth, and then you’d be able to get her to lay in bed and doze off. some nights, this required dessert.

“you just brushed your teeth though. it’s gonna taste gross.”

“not if it’s one of those mint chocolate things you always have.” you straighten up, eyes squinted at the child before you; she meant the small, sometimes melted, squares of Andes mint chocolate you always kept. they’d always been your favorite, a guilty pleasure in this fucked up world.

you hadn’t been babysitting abby for long, and you didn’t realize that she'd been watching you crush the chocolates like it was light work. they were easy to eat, and once you had one, you found out how easy it was to eat another one, and then another one, and then another one until there was a mountain of crinkled foil next to your phone and chocolate smeared on your face.

"please, y/n. just one," you didn't exactly know if it was a lie. abby was convincing, able to break you down with her eyes, pleading and puppy-dog like. "please."

you cave, leaning down to brush her hair back from her forehead and place a gentle kiss on the skin. with pursed lips, you whisper, "fine, but tomorrow night. i have to get some more."

abby does nothing but smile, eyes fluttering closed. you stay with her for a bit like you always do--watching the way her chest rises and falls, and how her features twitched with slumber. features scarily similar to mike's.

of course she'd look like mike. they were siblings, no shit, but the resemblance occupied your brain. there was sweet abby, with her colorful clothes and scribbled drawings and persuasive aura, and then there was mike.

you shake your head, giving abby another kiss before exiting her room. you didn't need to think about mike. he wasn't what you were here for. you'd come to abby's school as an aide and after she'd privately confided in you about her home life, you knew you had to help her. you would do anything for her, even if that meant taking care of her while suppressing the overwhelming school girl crush you had on her older brother.

mike was a bit older than you, which didn't scare you at all. guys in their early 20s were rarely mature, doing anything they could just to fuck; but guys in their late 20s, mike specifically, had only ever shown you couth, surprisingly.

for nearly two months, five mornings a week, the sound of the door being unlocked would ring out. you'd turn to see sunshine pouring into the living room, enveloping mike's brooding figure in a radiant golden glow.

he'd hang his coat on the wall hooks, drop his bag down to his feet, and give you a small but warm smile. you'd try to not to embarrass yourself as you two made small talk, packing up your things.

you always left unscathed, but recently it'd been hard. you were always thinking about him, dreaming about him even; how his hair would feel between your fingers, how his hands would feel on your face, how his face would feel between your thighs.

the thought is washed away, drowned out by the sound effects of a loud infomercial when the door opens, and you're turning and squinting against the wash of pale yellow on your face. mike steps forward with a, "hey, y/n" and you meekly raise your hand to wave.

he hangs his hoodie up to reveal his shoulder blades flexing under an uncharacteristically tight navy blue sweater. you can't help but stare.

"just wake up?" his voice is raspy, but he's still facing the wall, rummaging in his bag for something.

"um...yeah. brain's still turning on," you lie, tossing the thick blue blanket off your body. you didn't sleep at all, kept up with your thoughts and the last of your Andes mints (though you loved her, you couldn't give abby your last ones).

"hm," he mutters, finally turning to you but keeping his hands behind his back. something crinkles in them and you raise your eyebrow at the tired yet amused expression he takes with you. it's enough to make your body hot and you awkwardly pull at the collar of your shirt, fanning yourself off.

"hot?" the gravelly tone sends you into a giggling fit, shaking your head as you shoot to your feet. you have to leave before you do or say something you regret.

"uh, yeah, it was s-super hot under that...um...blanket. i shouldn't have worn sweatpants to s-sleep," you stutter, nodding your head along with mike as he steps closer to you. this couldn't be the moment something happens, right? it'd been so casual between you too, very friendly, and he'd never shown any signs of trying to do anything with you before. why would he choose right now, so spontaneously?

he stands before you, the slightest bit taller than you. you're able to see every pore, every freckle, every microscopic detail in his eyes and lips.

you open your mouth, hoping your heart doesn't fall out, to ask what's happening, when he reveals a bag of Andes mints, one bigger than you've ever seen.

your mouth stays open in surprise. "wh-"

"abby's been talking about them. i wondered where she found out about them but--" he nudges his head towards the coffee table, where a small mound of green wrappers lay. you swear under your breath, cursing yourself for not throwing them away like you usually do.

"i'm sorry," you whisper, blushing beyond measure as you begin to frantically pack your things. "i should be more careful with that stuff."

"god, y/n, you're saying it like it's coke," mike chuckles. he sets the bag down on the couch and reaches out to you, placing his hand on yours as you shove things into your tote. "hey."

his voice forces you to stop and look up. you melt under his stare just like you do with abby. the puppy-dog thing must run in the family.

"i feel bad about not being able to pay you yet, and i really appreciate all you're doing. abby told me that you loved those mints, so..."

"thank you, mike," you say over the sound of your pounding heart. you didn't care about the money, you didn't need it. being appreciated by someone who made your heartbeat resonate throughout your body was payment enough. "this is really sweet."

"thank you, y/n. you don't know how much this means to me." You scoff, throwing your tote over your shoulder and looking down at your feet.

"i'm always happy to help." you and mike stand facing each other for what feels like hours, the air as thick as molasses between you. his eyes were squinted, low and dark and intriguing.

you wished you could read his mind. what was he thinking? did his heart do the same thing as yours, wacking against his ribcage with no end in sight? did he stay up thinking about you when he was supposed to be sleeping, imagining how you felt, what you sounded like, how you tasted---

"see you later tonight?" his voice rocks you out of your trance. he's not thinking about you. he's tired, wondering when you'll leave so he can fall into his bed and doze off.

"yeah. tell abby i said i'll see her tonight." your smile is tight as you exit the house, cursing at yourself as you get into your car.

you didn't know how long you could go on like this.

ya, i know this sucks and it isn't really anything but we're gonna work our way through these fics and blurbs to really develop a cute relationship (,: i will still be writing other fics for mike, and possibly using another babysitter!reader in a different universe, but as for now, we're gonna be rocking with these two (: (thinking that we’ll label her as 🌱🍫!reader)

all notes are appreciated (: thanks for reading!

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt fluff #faire is writing stuff #fnaf fic

[owliellder]

The Finer Details

Post DI! Leon Kennedy x f! Painter Reader

MDNI 18+

(Session 1, Session 2, Session 3, Session 4, Session 5, The Reveal)

Description: Leon realizes that retirement is in his best interest now that he's getting older. All of his accomplishments as an agent mean he's truly earned a painting to commemorate..

Warnings: Not Proofread, Age gap! (reader is anywhere between mid-late 20's and Leon is 40), Porn w/ Plot, Use of she/her pronouns, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Alcoholism, mentions of trauma/PTSD/depression, P in V smut (wrap it NEOW), Leon cries during sex 💔

Tags: Older Leon Kennedy, Younger afab!Reader, Leon is SAD but he is your muse, Crying, mentions of Leon masturbating, starts off with Dom! Leon and Sub! Reader, falls into switch territory because that man needs some serious TLC, Praise kink, Hickeys, Handjob, Nipple play, Oral sex (m! and f! receiving), and a heavy dose of Aftercare

Final Word Count: 22.6k

Author's Note: Ta-da! I put a lot of work into this last chapter, like actually becoming the president for a couple hours, but I really wanted to make it worth everyone's time for sticking around and reading all the way through.

Thank you so much for following along! All the sweet comments from you guys never fails to make my day!

^//v//^

Cross posted on AO3

The Reveal

Almost three months.

It took almost three months for Leon's portrait to fully dry after it had been varnished. You'd checked it almost daily after the two month mark due to Leon's constant pestering. He was understandably antsy, and admittedly, you were too.

There was a lot of convincing involved, but you managed to keep the man at home while you transported the painting to the White House. He worried it would be damaged en-route. Such a little worry wart.

Setting up the painting's respective spot a column away from Chris and Claire's seemed very appropriate; tall, fake bushes sitting on either side of where it would be placed, a warm yellow bulb lighting up the inside of the decorative archway, and the patterned golden frame where the canvas would forever be now hung empty in that portrait hallway, waiting to be pieced together and completed.

The shiny gold placard had already been screwed onto the frame, words zapped on it via laser:

Leon S. Kennedy

USSTRATCOM Agent from 1998 - 2011

D.S.O. Agent from 2011 - 2017

You knew how long he'd been working as an agent, but it was still baffling nonetheless. Nearly 20 years of non-stop intense and usually very traumatizing work, what a feat.

Moving on, you'd worked out the plans for Leon's farewell party with the President and a few coordinators over the span of a few days, making sure to store the painting in a secure room for the time being. It was to stay covered with a violet piece of velvet cloth up until the reveal at the party, no one was allowed to see it besides you, the President, and the various security guards working the grounds.

After another two extra months of waiting, the farewell party was drawing near. There had to be enough time given for invitations to be sent out to people, wait for said people to RSVP, and allow travel time. And at this point, Leon was busting at the seams; extremely nervous, excited, and even a little scared at the prospect of it all.

Your words from that second painting session all those months ago never left his mind: "Seeing the portrait once it's finished is going to be an incredibly emotional ordeal. It's a reminder that this is truly the end of an era for you, Mr. Kennedy..."

The man clung to that, doing his best to internalize it and mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He was hoping you were exaggerating, but from what Chris, Claire, and even Jill have told him about their experience after the fact, he knew deep down that you'd seen it all too well before.

What Leon failed to realize was that he wasn't alone anymore. Sure he had his friends to help, but he'd never had someone to come home to everyday.

During the last few sessions, he had asked to stay with you at your apartment, citing the potential aftermath of the party as reasoning. However, you really didn't need him to explain his reasoning, you would've let him. Even if he just felt like it, you would've welcomed him with opened arms.

Besides, he'd already been staying at your place for longer periods of time over the months. You'd visited his house a few times, but he made sure to whine and complain about how bare and boring it was. If you remember correctly, Leon had said, word for word, that your apartment "felt like a warm hug". With that, he shelled up with you in only a couple weeks before the painting had dried. He made special effort to learn your routine, wanting to give you the space that you needed while also maximizing his time spent with you.

Leon was an actual angel, you were wholeheartedly convinced. Some days you would come home after working on another painting to the man cooking dinner, having bought an expensive wine to share with you. When your hands would start to ache and your back and shoulders were sore from the long hours spent holding a paintbrush in an awkward hunched position, he would set aside anything he had going on just to give you all the massages, kisses, and love that you could ever want.

Nothing was ignored when it came to you and your wants and needs. Leon admitted awhile back that he felt guilty for intruding on your space, though you were very quick to shut that down. He was far from a burden, actually lining up more with a dream come true.

And just like he did with you, you spared nothing while getting to know the in's and out's of the man that occupied your mind, heart, and home. You learned his favorite meals, watched his favorite shows and movies with him, returning the massages when he would return from the gym, and paid extra attention to how he liked to be held at night. Who would've guessed that the Leon Kennedy loved to be the little spoon?

What you spent the most time on was making sure to listen when he suddenly went on tangents about his past. They really did haunt him. You would wake up in the middle of the night to him huddled at the top of the bed, arms wrapped around his legs and head between his knees as he did his best to cry quietly. All you could do for him in those moments was pull him against your chest, gently rocking him back and forth while whispering sweet nothings, just until he felt either ready to talk or ready to fall back asleep. If he just wanted more comfort, then that's what he got, obviously.

He was only recently put on a couple medications to help him better manage his PTSD and anxiety since he really had to cut back on the alcohol in order to take them the way he needed. Definitely worth it to both you and him seeing as his nightmares lessened in intensity and frequency.

Now here you were, straightening out Leon's tie for him since his hands were failing him, nerves getting the better of him. He had taken his meds a few minutes ago, wanting to have the full effect during the party to combat any destructive behaviors during it, so it was no wonder his hands were still trembling.

"You're going to do so well, Leon." You smiled, giving him a gentle pat between his pecs after tucking his tie into his suit jacket. He was staring straight ahead, eyebrows furrowed with worry as he stared at himself in the mirror. "You've made so much progress and I couldn't be any prouder."

He licked his dry lips before slowly looking down at you, giving you the best smile he could, which was really just him pulling his lips back tight. If it weren't for you constantly being around to encourage him and push him to get better, he would not be able to attend his own farewell party.

How had he managed to get so far without this level of love and care? Where would he even be without you? Hopefully later when his mind isn't racing a million miles per minute, Leon will be able to tell you just how lucky he is to have you in his life.

Leon watched you in the mirror as you walked around to stand behind him, straightening out his suit jacket in random spots until deciding to just wrap your arms around his midriff, pressing the side of your face against his back with a content sigh. He brought his still-trembling hands up to hold onto your arms, rubbing his thumbs up and down across your soft skin.

His eyes settled back on his own face after staring at your arms linked around him, letting out a shaky sigh of his own as he attempted to just focus on this moment. You were perfect, ethereal, a true work of art. He wouldn't trade any of this for the world.

It took some time, about an hour, before Leon's medication was starting to kick in. You were definitely a big help, he couldn't give all the credit to his meds.

His relaxed demeanor wasn't easy to spot, the man was just naturally rigid, but you waited until he let you know that he was ready; ready to go to his farewell party, ready to see the portrait you painted for him, ready to put in the effort into accepting the next chapter in his life.

The drive to the White House was seamless, having been picked up in a blacked out SUV that held four personal guards, courtesy of the President. Leon wasn't going to complain, he actually kind of liked the pampering effect that came with being driven around by a dedicated entourage.

Almost all good feelings were drained from Leon when the car finally pulled up to the front of the White House where more guards stood waiting to escort the two of you inside. It was still early in the night, but the sun had set long ago, making for quite the beautiful atmosphere.

He could see numerous party attendees walking up the stairs, dressed up in their fanciest outfits for him. He held your hand the entire way up the stairs and into the entrance hall with a grip that was sure to leave your hand hurting. No matter, you could tell he needed you. That vice grip he had was well worth it for his comfort.

There were quite a few more people than either you or Leon expected. It seems as if all available agents, young, old, and retired, had been sent an invitation for tonight, along with quite a few high-ranking government workers. Luckily, this was a private event; no reporters, no news, only those who had been fortunate enough to be invited.

The first to spot you two was Chris who quickly made his way over to pull Leon into a bone-crushing hug, giving him a few solid pats on the back before letting go. Leon only reciprocated the hug with one hand, the other refusing to let go of yours, though his grip had loosened by now.

"Where's Claire?" Leon muttered, leaning to the side to scan over the sizeable crowd. "She's.." Chris turned around to also scan the crowd, squinting a bit as he looked. "She's somewhere. My wife is with her, her family, and Jill."

Leon pursed his lips with a curt nod, humming quietly in acknowledgement before standing straight again. He glanced down at where his hand held yours, squeezing it again for just a second as if to remind himself that you haven't gone anywhere.

Chris had turned back around to see the small gesture Leon gave to you, a coy smirk on his face. "What uhh... what's all this, huh?" He subtly pointed between you and the other man, voice lowered.

Leon cleared his throat and looked around to make sure no one was close enough to hear despite the volume in the hall. "... M'gonna save that for the-.. the speech." Chris just nodded, crossing his arms before slowly turning to look through the crowd again. "Alright, well, let me go find the family and bring them over before you're swarmed." And with that, Chris made his way back into the crowd.

Unfortunately, Leon had been spotted by the rest of the partygoers before Chris could return with everyone. Many pleasantries were repeated while also returning small talk with the people he recognized, which was a lot. You managed to avoid most of it, only being questioned a few times due to the rather obvious hold the man had on you. Despite having attended the last few parties like this, most people unable to recognize you as the artist. A blessing and a curse.

The next couple hours were spent eating finger foods, conversing with whoever, and enjoying the way Leon started to flow with the event. He soon found his way to Chris, Claire, their partners and kids, and Jill which really helped him loosen up. He needed the more familiar faces, having now let go of your hand fully to talk more animatedly with them. You made sure to stick by his side as long as you could, letting out a soft laugh every time you noticed his quick glances over to you to check if you're still there.

The time eventually did come for you to part with Leon, signaling a couple guards to follow you down a few hallways until reaching the room where the portrait sat, still covered with the violet cloth. The decision to keep it back here for so long was made by the President, wanting less of a sudden reveal and more of a build up.

Normally it would already be hanging in the entrance hall, covered and ready to be revealed, but not wanting to risk any potential damage, you were asked to hold off bringing it in until the President was ready to give the speech leading up to Leon's.

It'd been set in the golden frame rather quickly with the help from one of the guards that walked down with you. You had the guard to hold it up for you so you could give it one final good look before he was instructed to lead you back. After recovering, you took the portrait in both hands, holding it close as you were escorted back through the halls and into the main entrance hall.

By now everyone had directed their focus closer to the center of the back wall. Next to where the President stood, your own art easel was now set up. That was mostly as homage to you and it wasn't like anyone besides you would understand that it's yours, though Leon did pick up on that little feature. He'd been staring at the back of that thing for months, counted the various old streaks of paint on the pale wood over and over.

It made his farewell all the more personal, struggling to mask the feeling of the ever-growing pit in his stomach from the friends he was still standing next to.

The sound of a mic being tapped drew everyone's attention in to the President, the volume in the hall quieting to a whisper, soon completely silent as he began to speak into the mic;

"Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you to honor and pay tribute to a true hero, a dedicated public servant, and a loyal friend who has served our nation with unwavering dedication for the past 19 years. It is with great respect and admiration that I address you on this occasion, as we bid farewell to a remarkable agent who has exemplified the very best qualities of service and sacrifice." As the President spoke, Leon held his breath, hands gripping onto his suit jacket to keep from trembling again.

At this point, you'd silently walked along the side with the guards from before, bringing the covered portrait up to the front before carefully placing it on your easel. "Throughout this nation's history, these agents have played an essential role in ensuring the safety and security of our nation's people and have consistently placed their lives on the line to protect the sanctity of our democracy. And today, we acknowledge one agent who has done so with unparalleled devotion."

"This retiring agent has been a silent sentinel, ensuring the continuity of our democratic ideals. Through countless hours of training, vigilance, and selflessness, they have demonstrated a level of commitment that is nothing short of extraordinary. But beyond their exceptional professional duties, this agent has been a friend and a confidant to those of us privileged to work alongside them. They have been a source of strength, a steady hand in turbulent times, and a symbol of the unbreakable bond that can form within the ranks of those who dedicate their lives to service."

You positioned yourself opposite of the President, placing your hands behind your back to keep your posture tall as you now smiled at the crowd, subtly scanning for Leon. His eyes were already on you when you found him, and your smile only widened further.

It prompted his own nervous smile, toying with the buttons on his jacket while turning his attention back to the President, wanting to remain respectful to his, honestly, very flattering speech so far. You followed Leon's eyes, seemingly having the same idea to just watch and listen.

"The sacrifices made by our agents often go unnoticed by the public, and that is by design. Their commitment to duty is matched only by their humility. But today, we pause to recognize and celebrate this retiring agent's dedication, valor, and sacrifice." The President continued to address the attendees in the room, giving you a quick nod before returning his focus to everyone in the entrance hall.

The President outstretched his hand towards Leon standing in the crowd, now staring at him with a prideful yet relaxed look. "To Mr. Leon S. Kennedy, our retiring agent and loyal friend, thank you for your 19 years of dedicated service to our nation. May your retirement be filled with the peace and contentment that you so richly deserve. You leave behind a legacy of honor and courage that will never be forgotten." The crowd of attendees clapped and cheered briefly, causing Leon to reach his hand up to wipe across his face. A poor way to hide his red face. He's done that before, hasn't he?

Once the crowd quieted back down, the President finished his speech with a classic, "May God bless you, your family, and may God continue to bless the United States of America. Thank you" before the crowd picked back up cheering and clapping. You clapped along with them, laughing at Leon's flustered expression. He could barely hold back his smile, not really have expecting to be so well recognized for his service.

Leon's queue to make his way to the front was when the President walked over to stand next to you, making sure not to block the covered portrait from anyone's view. He'd recited this speech to you countless times, even more to himself when he was alone, but all those eyes staring at him were causing him to fumble. He messed around with the mic once he was standing in front of it, and that was your queue to walk over and stand next to him, placing a loving hand on his forearm.

That's all he needed, just a little extra encouragement from the person he relied on the most. His speech was short and straight to the point, never having been a man of professional word, yet he still managed to slip in some words of praise for you and all the help you provided him during his rough patch earlier in the year.

Neither you or Leon had outright said it to each other, let alone to anyone else, but hearing him announce to the entire hall of people that you were his girlfriend made your heart soar. Speaking about you calmed his nerves, and he wanted everyone to know just how lucky he felt, like he'd hoped for earlier.

He bent over slightly to whisper in your ear, covering the mic with his hand to make sure it didn't pick up his voice. "Now, why don't you go ahead and show us all that masterpiece you spent months working on?" Oh, now you were the flustered one, giggling nervously as you gave his arm a gentle squeeze before walking over to where the painting sat on the easel.

"Ladies and gentleman," Leon's eyes followed you as he straightened his posture out, speaking into the mic once more with a wide smile gracing his features, "I'm honored to have the wonderful artist herself present my very own portrait to you." As he spoke, you carefully lifted the cloth from where it was draped over the painting, finally revealing the ever-awaited portrait to everyone.

Just like with Chris and Claire's, Leon was sat in that soft maroon chair, slightly off center, but his position was different with his right ankle rested atop his left knee, elbows on the arms of the chair while his hands rested in his lap, fingers interlaced. His smile was soft and partially crooked while he looked forward with relaxed eyes, a few strands of hair painted to sit in front of his brow. And to tie it all together, it had a lovely green background, a dark forest green as the base while a sage green was used to add texture. The vintage look had always been your favorite, and Leon fit it so perfectly. He was nearly timeless.

Many "ooo's" and "ahh's" were heard amongst the clapping from the crowd, along with a handshake from the President. Before you could turn to face Leon, you felt his arms slowly slink around you from underneath your arms, the weight of his head now pressing down on your shoulder. You could feel his grin when he tilted his head to kiss your jawline, beginning to gently rock you side to side. Getting to show off your work was always so rewarding, but just knowing Leon was handling everything so well was a feeling you'll truly never forget.

He was happy. That's all you ever wanted for him. The man has truly earned his portrait in that agent hall of fame.

The portrait was soon brought down to the aforementioned hall to be hung up and displayed for good, a few small groups trailing down to get a better look at it. Chris was the noisiest about it, telling Leon it looked like it belonged above a grand fireplace, to which said man agreed with.

Chris, Claire, Jill, and their respective families stared at it for quite some time alongside Leon and you. They all chatted while Leon stared quietly, taking in every little fine detail you'd added. You changed his position some, and did he really smile at you like that? He really did look lovestruck. Of course only he could tell that. Hopefully.

He surprised himself with how okay he felt after seeing the painting. You warned him multiple times that it would most likely be overwhelming and emotional, and while it was, it wasn't in a bad way. The most compelling thought he had right now was to just sweep you off your feet and smother you with love.

Leon asked one of the guards to take a picture of him with everyone, including you, in front of his portrait. Then, just a picture of you and him standing in front of it, easily becoming the background on his phone.

The party went on for only an hour or so more before people started to trickle out. You and Leon were some of the first to leave, saying all your thanks and goodbye's with hugs and handshakes.

The moment the two of you walked into your apartment he practically pounced on you before the door had shut, large hands gripping tight on your hips as he sloppily made out with you. He just had to show his gratitude for all your hard work.

Your lips tasted so sweet and your soft little moans were driving him wild, he couldn't help the groan that rumbled from his chest. Full blown sex had been held off by you, not wanting to rush him into anything while you helped him manage his problems. Honestly, he was glad you'd held off on him, because now that he was feeling like his own person again, it made waiting all the more fulfilling.

Leon hoisted you up into his arms after you'd kicked your heels off, holding onto the back of your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom. You wrapped your arms around his neck, giggling against his lips as he carefully navigated around the short hallway and into the bedroom.

You looked so good splayed out on the bed for him, that beautiful dress you chose was insanely flattering on you. It had to go though, so after yanking off his jacket he made quick work of your dress, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before pulling it up and over your head. Your bra and panties didn't last either. He'd only gotten to see you naked a couple times before, but god, he'll never get tired of seeing you this way, acting all shy like you weren't his favorite view.

Leon was so eager to get his hands on you that he neglected to take off his suit, opting instead to hover over you and bury his face into your neck. He wasn't a good artist, but he loved to cover your neck in shades of red and purple like you were his own little painting, akin to leaving his signature all over you.

He only pulled away once you tugged on his hair, listening to your begs and pleas for him to get his clothes off. As much as he wanted to prolong this night and tease you, he couldn't hold himself back. He needed to feel your soft skin against his.

"So perfect." Leon mumbled against your skin, licking and kissing his way up your stomach and to your breasts after practically ripping off his clothes. His hands found their way back to your hips, pressing them firm against the bed to keep you from squirming away as he nipped at one of your nipples, pulling it into his mouth.

He moaned as he sucked and circled his tongue around your nipple, his eyes falling closed. The other couldn't stay neglected, so he brought one hand up to pinch and tug at your other nipple, sighing when he felt your body press against his as you arched at the sensation. He loved when your moans would pitch, so cute.

His cock was pressed against the inside of your thigh, rutting against it when you would tug at his hair. Once he decided your nipples had enough attention, he sat up and grabbed the backs of your knees to place around his waist. The new position offered Leon the perfect opportunity to drag his leaking cock through your folds, pressing it down with his thumb so the tip would nudge your clit with every slow thrust forward.

You were so wet, so delicate. He could've fucked you right then, slid right into that juicy little pussy, but he needed to take care of you first. He would never forgive himself if he hurt you.

Reluctantly, the man pulled his dick away from you, letting out a poorly concealed whine at the loss. He ran his hands up your thighs before moving one hand so he could circle your clit with his thumb, the other hand back on your hip to keep you steady.

"L-eon~!" You brokenly moaned out, pleading to him with your watery eyes. You needed more; his fingers, his cock, anything. He couldn't say no to that, stopping his assault on your clit to drag his middle and ring finger through your drenched folds to wet them properly. He brought your right leg to sit over his shoulder, hand gripping the top of your thigh as he leaned forward, studying your face closely as he gently teased the outside of your slit with his middle finger.

He moaned with you as he slid his finger in, keeping his eyes trained on you as he started to tentatively thrust his finger in and out. "Yeah?" Leon whispered, licking his lips as you barely managed to nod. "Yeeeaah, there's my girl..." The rumble in his voice was music to your ears.

His ring finger was soon slid in next to his middle finger, switching between scissoring you and making a partial 'come here' motion with them. After only a couple minutes you were leaking all over his hand and the bed, the wet sounds of your pussy mixed with your moans making his cock jerk and drip with precum. Leon clenched his teeth as he slowly pulled his fingers from you, immediately bringing them to his mouth to suck off your juices. He let out an audible sigh after swallowing, repositioning his dick to slide through your folds a couple more times before nudging your hole with the tip.

"Look at me, baby..." Leon's hushed demand brought you to open your eyes, if only half way. He made eye contact with you before leaning forward further to kiss you, all the while finally pushing into you. He soaked in your gasp, his eyebrows furrowing as you tensed up. "Relax.. let me in~..."

"It's only me.." He panted, tilting his head to kiss the corner of your mouth as your eyes shut again. "It's only me, baby..." he repeated this a few more times as he eased his cock inside of you, the stretch only stinging for a moment before it turned to pleasure. He filled you perfectly, you could feel every bit of him, especially with his right hand adding a bit of pressure to your stomach.

Leon sat still for a minute to give you time to adjust, taking the way you moved your hips as a sign to move. He pulled out, all the way to the tip, before slowly thrusting back in. He managed to choke out a quiet "Fuck-.." when you clenched around him. "Taking me so well.. such a big girl~.."

He always knew just how to talk to you, making sure to take his time buttering you up. You were putty in his hands, and between his words and the feeling of him reaching so deep inside of you, you could barely think.

It didn't take long for him to start to lose his composure, the sound of wet skin slapping together filling the room as his thrusts intensified. "All mine. All for me." The grip he had on your thigh was sure to leave a bruise, but that was the last thing on your mind.

The hand he had pressing on your stomach moved further down so he could circle your clit with his thumb again, jaw tight as he looked from your blissed out expression to where his hand was playing with you. "Oh fuck! That's it!" Leon growled, eyes glued to your cunt as he plunged in and out of it. "Cream this dick, mamas~... Cum on my cock so I can fill this pretty pussy up.."

The way you gasped and moaned when you came was enough to warrant a noise complaint, but screw your neighbors. You needed this just as much Leon did.

"Oohhh fuck yeah.. Milk me, baby~... shit-" Leon's thrusts stuttered to a stop while pressed flush against you, abs flexing as he pumped ropes of cum into you. Once you managed to open your eyes, all you could do was stare at the man, flushed pink and sweaty, sitting between your legs. Both of you moaned in tandem as he pulled out, Leon groaning to himself as he watched his cum drip from your pussy. Truly a work of art meant for his eyes only.

He leaned over you again to plant a quick kiss on your lips, chuckling when he felt you smile. "Let me go grab something to clean you up, okay?" You could only nod in response, reaching your hand up to caress the side of his face before he stood up from the bed. He walked across the hall into the bathroom, wetting a soft rag with warm water before making his way back over to you.

Leon made sure to be gentle when cleaning you, the warmth from the rag soothing your tender skin. You were able to sit up on your elbows and watch him, using his gentle touches as a way to calm your still racing heart.

After wiping himself off with the rag, he tossed it over in the general direction of your laundry basket. It was a problem for later. Right now, he wanted lay back on the bed and pull you up so you could lay on top of him. Along with just how nice it felt to hold you, he loved the weight of you on him. So that's what he did, pulling you onto him after laying on the bed, running his fingers though your hair on the back of your head.

"Leon." You muttered against his collarbone. His eyebrows raised, yet his eyes were closed. "Mm?" His right eye peaked open when he felt you giggle. "What?"

"I love you." His fingers paused their ministrations at your words. You lifted your head up to look at him, growing worried with his shocked expression. "Sorry, is that too-" you choked on your words, stopped mid-sentence by Leon's arms suddenly squeezing the breath out of you with a very tight hug. He pulled you up just a little further so he could smush his lips against yours.

"I love you too!" He breathed out excitedly. "You don't know how long I've been waiting to tell you!" You tapped his arm and he immediately relaxed his grip, mumbling a small, "Sorry, my bad.." when you took in a deep breath.

"You're adorable, Leon." You shook your head with a smile, brushing the hair from his face to give him a much gentler kiss before settling you head back against his chest with a quiet sigh.

Leon was still a tough man, but you made him soft. Only ever soft for you.

Side note: I totally forgot to add in the pussy eating i am so sorry. i thought i did but it was literally just a thought that never manifested 😭

tags!: @greywardensaywhat @xkittiecatx @httpsuguru @httpsuguru @k-fallingstar @lysa1201 @bobastayhigh @pocketstoriesstore @agent-dessis-posts @klee-iii @missjoenowhere @mi-zer-y @bigtiddiesimp @finsternisle @sweets3rial @sodacolablast (there's a few of you that tumblr wouldn't let me tag for some reason)

#daily dose of dilf #he's not a dad in this #but that doesn't mean he's not a dilf #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #resident evil fic #resident evil death island #leon x reader #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy x fem reader #resident evil leon #leon kennedy x reader smut

[rimunagenius]

Wait For Me

Paring: Kayce Dutton x reader!

Words: 2.1k words

Warnings: Angst, fluff ending, curse words?? if that’s even a warning, mentions of branding and burning, abuse, over use of baby (i love it, i love imagining him calling me that, do nit judge me🤨😒)

Summary: Growing up you and Kayce were inseparable. You didn’t know the love you shared was more than friends until sixteen, but what happens when John pushes Kayce too hard, and your relationship hangs in the balance?

ఌ If you want to check out my other works for other fandoms and this one, check out my masterlist!!

A/n: no gender or body specification made in the story, so this could be read from any gender/personal preference. This is very self indulgent for me, I love Kayce Dutton and have since i started Yellowstone and I was deeply upset with the lack of fics for him so I had to take matters into my own hands while this godsend of an author writes my requests!!🥹 anyways, hope you enjoy!!

not my gif!!

__________

You knew it was stupid.

You knew you couldn’t have him.

You can’t love someone into loving you back. You knew it. He knew it. He knew it would never happen between you; he wanted it to. He did love you, too much, though.

This summer had to be your favorite on the Dutton Ranch. Favorite in Montana. Your favorite in the world, same thing. As long as Kayce was there, it was the perfect anything.

You had loved him your whole life. Ever since you were kids anything he would do would mesmerize you. His hair caught in the breeze when you’d chase him around the arena for tag, his smile when you’d tell the same joke he was tired of but laughed because he knew it meant something to you.

Somewhere along the way, you had fallen inlove. You always had been, but this time you actually knew what it was. You knew why. It was Kayce. Any woman would be a fool to not love everything about him.

But…

He had fallen inlove too.

“Oh my god! That’s not-“ You looked at the boy next to you, absolutely falling more inlove the more you looked. Having by far the funniest conversation all summer.

“Oh, please! That’s seriously what I told him!” He laughed, his body leaning on yours, his head halfway into your lap.

“Kayce, your such an idiot.” You looked down at him, his eyes already trained on you. Your chuckle had died in your throat as you saw the look in his eyes. He’s never looked at you like this before—you didn’t see the other times he had. Those moments were just for him.

Your hand landed on his forehead, sliding it back over the expanse of his scalp, his long hair following the pattern your hand tread on his head.

“Oh, yeah?” He said. His signature small smile already creasing the corners of his lips. “I’m okay with that. You still love me, though.”

You looked up at the sky, the stars illuminating your features, entrancing the teenager below you. He was looking at you as if you had hung them yourself. “The sky is beautiful tonight, Kayce. Don’t you think?” Your eyes following and connecting the dots in the sky as his eyes never once dared to move away from you.

“I do. She’s absolutely gorgeous.” In a quick second, he started to sit up, his absence from your lap, drawing your eyes down to him.

Your eyes caught his, as he immediately pulled you into a kiss. His hand on your cheek, your hand tipping his hat off his head, carding your fingers through the growing locks of golden brown locks.

This was just the start.

You knew now was different than when you both were just 16. You had spent two years with eachother, loving eachother. You didn’t think anything would tear you apart.

Kayce had started disobeying Mr. Dutton when you two had just turned 18. Something about them always butting heads and having different life plans. Kayce didn’t want this life, he wanted you, but not at the price John had been setting.

It was either you and the Ranch, or he’d be gone and forbidden to see you. You knew it was a crock of shit, John just trying to scare his son. And you had believed it. You should’ve known the youngest Dutton. Especially now that the behavior was super out of character.

You walked the rocky path up to the main house, on the Dutton Ranch, collecting the smallest size pebbles you could find to throw at Kayce’s window.

You approached the front of the house, stopping before the porch steps and launched pebble after pebble. You had gone through the whole collection and then some. He would come to the window by now, you thought.

He wasn’t asleep, his light was on. Then you heard yelling and screaming, crashing and smashing. You had saw a small glimpse of Kayce and John, and you had heard Lee, you think.

Then you heard nothing. Just saw John’s face in the window, looking down at you as he shut the blinds. You had started on your walk back home, worried sick, right down the road from the ranch before you heard the front door swing open, John dragging Kayce by the collar of his shirt.

They ended up behind the barn, you watching from a healthy distance to not be seen by Mr. Dutton, before you saw a burning orange ‘Y’ iron. The sound of burning flesh and muffled cries and screaming followed.

You obviously didn’t see Kayce that night but you had saw him two days after, breaking a horse.

You stood up on the bottom wood log of the arena with your arms draped over the top one. “Where have you been, baby?” Your boyfriend just looked up at you. A heartbreaking attempt at a smile casted over his beautiful face.

“Talk to me, Kayc. Is everything okay?” You knew it wasn’t. You knew what you saw, not expecting that from John.

“I’m fine, darlin.’ Don’t worry your pretty little head too much, yeah?” He looked back to the horse, grabbing the reigns and walking him through the exit of the arena, signaling you to follow him to the barn.

You didn’t want to pry, you knew he wasn’t okay but you’d let him tell you about it when he was ready. You knew Kayce would.

“Okay, handsome. You doin’ anythin’ later.” You tucked a small strand of hair behind his ear, fixing his hat that’s shifted.

“Nah, you wanna come over? Watch a movie?” He asked. You smiled at him and nodded your head. You leaned in for a kiss and turned your heel.

“I’ll see you later, cowboy.” You looked over your shoulder, Kayce eyes trailing up your body, his eyes eventually meeting yours. “You like what you see, Kayce?” You laughed as you were almost out of line of sight.

“Hell yeah, I do, baby.” His smirk as he watched you, slowly dissipating. He was dreading the moment he had to tell you. He had to do it soon, tomorrow.

That was yesterday.

Your movie had gone great but you should have known then there was problem. He seemed on edge that night, and his room seemed a little less lively since the last time you had been in there.

You walked up to the main house, opening the front door. John wasn’t home so Kayce said you could walk through the house and to his room.

That’s when you saw it. His shit packed and loaded into duffle bags. He packed his whole life away in bags. “What’s goin’ on Kayce? Why are you packing?” Your eyes wandered around the room. His dresser now vacant of any picture you two had, of him and Lee. His favorite picture of him and Beth now gone.

“Everything’s okay, baby. I promise.”

“Then why’s your shit all gone? Where are you going?” You couldn’t help the dampness growing in the corner of your eyes. The small quiver in your lip.

“Hey, hey. Don’t cry. It’s gonna be okay.” He cupped your face, forcing you to look him in the eyes. His eyes meeting yours, both damp and a little bloodshot like yours. “I just gotta go for a while, okay?”

“And your just gonna leave me here? Take me with you.” You pleaded. You didn’t think today of all days would start with Kayce Dutton possibly breaking up with you, and leaving you alone in this godforsaken state of Montana.

“I can’t, baby. Not where i’m goin’. Not this time.” He kissed your forehead and shifted his hands from your face to your waist.

“Kayce, where the hell are you going that you can’t take me with you? We haven’t separated since we were kids, why now?” You wiped the tears that fell from your eyes as you couldn’t dare tear them away from Kayce.

“I’m goin’ into the Navy. I don’t know when i’ll be back. But you have to listen to me-“

“The fuckin’ Navy!? Kayce are you serious!?” You yelled at him. He never once mentioned the Navy or any interest. It must’ve been John’s idea. They have been fighting more and more recently.

You thought it had been just father and son disagreements. But the thought should’ve clicked when the iron branded his son, your bestfriend, boyfriend, forever.

He belonged to his father. He had to do whatever he asked. It had to be John. You were pissed. “Was it John?” You whispered.

“No, sweetheart. It was me. I can’t take this ranch anymore, I feel trapped. All I do is eat, ranchwork, eat, ranchwork, sleep, repeat. I can’t do it anymore, baby. The Navy would atleast set me up with some cash so I could find a place of my own.” He sniffled as he held you, you stepping away from him to pace around the room.

It was his decision…he was leaving you.

He wiped his eyes, and in all the years that you had known Kayce Dutton and held him when he was sad, because he had done it for you, you haven’t seen him this torn up and emotional about something since his mother’s passing.

“But does that mean you can’t handle me anymore? I mean if your tired of the ranch, you must be tired of me, right?” You let a choked sob escape your lips. Stopping in your tracks, your legs feeling too wobbly to move another inch.

He immediately rushed to you, embracing you into the tightest hugs he’s possibly ever given you. “No, no, baby. That’s not it. I love you, with everythin’ in me, you know that. But-“

“But what? If your breaking up with me Kayce, don’t you dare think about saying goodbye as if we’ll never speak again. They’re always the hardest and i’m not doing that with you. I do not want to say goodbye to you. Ever.”

“Baby, you know I have to.” His big eyes even frowned with his face. The sad expression crushing you even more than humanly possible.

“No, you don’t! Why can’t you just love me from over there. It shouldn’t be any different, baby.” You grabbed his face. His eyes closing for a fleeting moment. Your cries getting harder and harder to bear quietly.

“Darlin’, I can’t ask you to wait for me in hopes i’ll make it home to you. I can’t ask that of you, and you know I can’t.” He inhaled a shaken breath, evident that this was hurting him as much as it was hurting you.

“Yes you can. You know that. I’d wait a million years and more for you, Kayce Dutton. I waited 16 years, didn’t I?” You laughed quietly, that didn’t hide the audible sob that also parted your lips.

“Godammit, sweetheart. I love you, nothin’ can change that. I’d die for you, i’d do anything for you, i’d go to the very ends of the earth for you, but please for the love of god; please stop making it harder to leave you than it already is.” Tears freely streamed down his face, him not bothering to wipe them away.

He was giving himself to you. All of him, and you couldn’t have asked for more from this man. He has always done this for you. He’s never hidden who he was, especially from you.

As you held his face, you sighed. His hand holding your hips, you could feel his fingers shaking on you. He didn’t want to go. If he was ever gonna leave he was damn sure gonna take you with him. This wasn’t how he wanted it to be.

“Kayce Dutton, I love you. More than you’ll ever know and i’ll spend my whole life showing you. I’d do anything for you, all you have to do is say what. Ask me to wait for you, and i’d wait for you.” As soon the words “ask me to wait” rolled off your lips, Kayce had his answer.

“Wait for me.”

You crashed your lips onto his, the kiss fast paced and full of emotion. The devotion his body poured unto you was otherworldly. You two stumbled back a bit from the force of the kiss. Your tongue meeting his in frantic greeting as you held onto him for dear life, and he held onto you like you were his lifeline.

As you both understood what this meant, what you two were signing up for, you knew now that there was no chance either one of you would be ripped away from the other. No fucken chance.

“I’ll wait for you. When you get back, i’ll be waiting here, you know exactly where to find me, cowboy.” You kissed his lips once again, and smiled, your arm around his shoulder and one hand on his face. His arms wrapped comepletely around your waist.

“I can’t wait, baby.” He kissed you once more and that was it.

You’d be here when he got back. He was going to come back to you. Whether he had to kill or crawl his way back to you, he was going to come home.

And you’d be right there, with open arms waiting. Just like you promised.

#tumblrpost #writers on tumblr #fluff #light angst #angst with a happy ending #kayce dutton yellowstone #kayce dutton x reader #kayce dutton #kayce dutton imagine #kayce dutton headcannon #yellowstone #yellowstone x reader #yellowstone x kayce dutton x reader #i love this man #i want him #i need him to ruin me #bye i love him #hot cowboy

[lazycats-stuff]

My latest obsession > motorcycles ,i know so many people call them death machines but i can't help but get heart eyes when i look at them, anyways i wanted to know how would the batfam react to the youngest family member batbro reader being like that? I'm especially curious about Bruce, will he buy a whole garage for his kid? Or try to steer his interest somewhere else? Also i think Jason will try to be reader's riding buddy <3

Fun fact, my mom also calls them death machines, but I find them cool. Although I would never get on one. I'm kind of scared of riding on one.

Summary: (Y/N) loved motorcycles. Bruce tried to be supportive.

Warnings: (Y/N) loves motorcycles, Jason is the biggest supporter, Bruce is trying to make his son happy.

There is a lot to say about motorcycles. A lot of people thought that they were death machines and extremely dangerous. While that much was somewhat true, it all matters that you are a responsible driver. And that you have a license of course.

And then there were people who absolutely adored and loved motorcycles. (Y/N) was one of those people and Tim has once compared (Y/N) to a golden retriever seeing his owner after 15 minutes for his love about motorcycles.

Now, Bruce couldn't really buy him motorcycles now. (Y/N) is minor and Bruce wouldn't be an irresponsible parent. And more so, he tried to shift his interests when he was younger. Bruce made (Y/N) try every type of sport there is to try. Nothing.

Then Bruce tried to arts. Drawing, painting, photographing, dancing... Anything that Bruce could think of, he did. But (Y/N) never wavered and he has never backed down from his interest in motorcycles.

Bruce now had no other choice but to support his son. He wouldn't buy him a garage full of motorcycles yet, but he would when he is older and when he has a license for driving it. Until then, there shall be no motorcycles in his garage.

Of course, the only person who had motorcycles was Jason. Jason absolutely made sure that (Y/N) rode with him. Of course with a helmet, because Bruce would have his head if he didn't make sure that (Y/N) is safe. Jason would also show (Y/N) how to take care of the motorcycle.

Dick always goes by the theory you need to be a good driver, aware of your surroundings and always careful. He agreed with Bruce about (Y/N) being too young for owning his own motorcycles, but has no issues with him driving when he gets his license, but Jason would have to mentor him first.

Damian just didn't know what to think. He wasn't always a fan, but if you need to go through a shit ton of traffic, you can. They have less space and you can put a lot of them in an average garage. He thought that (Y/N) was too young to even consider owning a motorcycle. Maybe it was just him being over protective, but he didn't like the idea of (Y/N) being hurt.

Damian is most definitely going to threaten Jason to make sure that his brother is safe. Also, (Y/N) can't drive a motorcycle until he is 21 years old at least.

In Damian's mind, that was the perfect age to start because the brain is fully developed then.

Tim just wanted his brother to be happy, even if that meant him having a garage full of bikes. But he will not drive a single one of them until he gets his drivers license and until he is an adult. Nothing before he is an adult.

Alfred thought they were cool, but he is too old to drive one. He knew that (Y/N) loved motorcycles more than anything, but he wanted him to be an adult to drive and to look into more interests rather than just focus on them. Of course, (Y/N) should be happy, but he should be safe too. Alfred would give him lectures about being safe.

Alfred was definitely going to give him a leather jacket, maybe with a bat symbol on the back.

And Jason? As mentioned before, he would fully support (Y/N) in his interest. He would be very honest about his experiences with motorcycles and how dangerous they could be. He would allow (Y/N) to tag with him on the motorcycle, but with a helmet and Jason would most definitely to a motorcycle showcases.

It was amazing how (Y/N) turned into a puppy when looking at them. Jason would just hang in the back as (Y/N) would ask questions excitedly. Jason looked into buying a motorcycle for (Y/N), but he knew that Bruce and the others would have his head for it.

So just waiting for the driver license and adulthood.

" (Y/N) can you come with me? " Bruce asked, Jason standing next to him. (Y/N) glanced up from his book, brow raised. " Did I do something? " (Y/N) asked quickly.

" No, you didn't now come on. " Bruce said and Jason walked over picking him up to put him over his shoulder.

" What the hell?! " (Y/N) screamed in shock and Jason just chuckled.

" Please, we know you don't want to walk. " Jason said, walking down. (Y/N) tried to pinpoint where he was going. Kitchen? Living room? He was shocked when they went outside.

" Jay, I don't have my shoes on! " (Y/N) whined, trying to squirm out of his grip.

" Listen, just relax. " Jason said, switching him up to hold him as a bride. (Y/N) looked around, frowning at the sun. He looked around before his eyes landed on a Harley motorcycle.

" Whose motorcycle is this one? " (Y/N) asked, completely confused, but none the less, he turned into a puppy, with his imaginary tail wagging like insane.

" Yours. " Bruce stated and (Y/N) got a whiplash from the way he turned his head.

" WHAT?! " (Y/N) screamed out, launching himself from Jason arms before running towards it, stopping to examine it. He didn't dare to touch it just yet, still worried that this was a dream.

" It this a dream? Or joke? If it is a joke, so help me God, I will kill you both. " (Y/N) threatened to the two and Bruce laughed.

" It's not a joke, I'm not that cruel. It's yours, but you can only drive here. And I have paid for you to start learning. " Bruce said and (Y/N) turned his head to fast that he must get whiplash. He ran at Bruce before jumping into his arms.

He wrapped himself onto Bruce like a koala and Bruce had to adjust his grip to not drop his son.

" How did you change your mind? " (Y/N) asked, smiling so widely that his cheeks started hurting.

" I see how you love them and I have more than enough resources to buy them for you. But you are not leaving the manor driving one until you get your license. " Bruce said sternly and (Y/N) nodded eagerly.

" I'm serious. " Bruce added and (Y/N) nodded again, still smiling widely. " Now, helmet is in the garage if you want to give it a little ride, but not out of the property lines. Don't forget shoes too. " Bruce said and let (Y/N) down.

(Y/N) hugged Jason tightly, before running towards the bike once more.

" Good idea B. " Jason said, watching as (Y/N) examined every inch of the bike. He was in his own world, ignoring everyone.

" I know. He really showed that it's not just a phase. " Bruce said, snapping a few pictures on his phone.

" Oh, we will be ride or die motorcyclists B. And I will teach him everything I know. " Jason promised to Bruce, who still didn't take his eyes off of his younger son.

" I know you will. "

#x male reader #dc x male reader #batfamily #dc comics #bruce wayne x male reader #jason todd x male reader #batman x male reader #batkids #red hood x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

[hazbinhazmeinachokehold]

Sorry if I’m a bother, if that’s the case feel free to skip over this one.

I freaking loved it! I’m now inspired to draw Sam with the overlords now! If it’s not too much trouble could I ask for Zestial, Charlie and the rest of the hotel’s reactions to Sam?

(Ooo!😳 what if for Angel’s it’s Valentino who tries to hurt him?! That could get messy!)

A/n: Nah dude you're fine! Though I don't write for Zestial (not that that's your fault I keep forgetting to put that in the rules.)

Warnings (?): nothing major happens but Val's here so warning for abuse. Also, Alastor is hurt in Husk's part and Val is hurt in Angel's part, it's nothing graphic but if you don't want to read about that skip those parts.

!!!not proofread!!!

Charlie: Just as cuddly as you! Gladly accepts any candy from you. She ends up getting candy from the hotel for you. Let's you tag along if it's safe (or at least what she assumes you can handle.) Despite being the princess of Hell it's a known fact that she's a pushover and usually refuses to use her powers. So it's not that much of a surprise when someone attacks her. What is a surprise is how you react. I'm going to be honest, she is at least a little scared of you now. Though she's pretty sure you'd only attack people when they hurt your friends. We’re about 80% sure they're harmless.

Vaggie: She ain't too keen on cuddles, but isn't totally against it. She's not great with kids when they're just chilling so she doesn't know what to do. Also, she isn't one for sweets but appreciates the gesture. You remind her of Charlie in a weird way (but like platonic obviously.) Vaggie got some crayons for today's bonding activity when some random sinner attacked Vaggie. Before Vaggie could defend herself the sinner was ripped off of her. She just stared dumbfounded as you took care of the sinner. Well, there goes her thinking you're like Charlie. I mean sure you seemed sweet when somebody attacked a person you liked. You became terrifying and did anything to defend them- wait never mind you're more like Charlie now.

Angel Dust: Kinda creeped out by you before you do anything tbh. You follow him around nearly everywhere and keep offering him candy, despite barely knowing each other. But he understands you're a kid and may have a hard time showing you care, but he sets a ground rule: NEVER follow him to work. It's not a place for kids to be, and you followed that! Valentino just couldn't keep his hands off Angel even out of the studio. You too were just at a park, it was night so no one was really around. Until Valentino spotted Angel, you didn't hear any of the words that were said between them. But you did see Valentino hit Angel and that was the end of that. Seeing you almost kill Valentino was horrifying but also very cathartic. After the initial shock wears off you get about 20 bags of candy and however much cuddle time you want.

Husk: He's pretty blunt about finding you off-putting. But you don't seem to care and still follow him around like a lost puppy. The fact that him insulting you didn't sour your opinion of him even a little bit concerns him. So he starts to look after you. Not because he cares about you! Just because it'd be messed up to let a kid get manipulated no matter who they are. He totally cares about you. He gives chocolate milk or any sweet drink you like at the bar. One day Husk decided to stand up to Alastor which seemed to be a huge mistake on Husk's part. It would have been if it wasn't for you walking in on the scene. The threats were made good on. Just towards Alastor instead of him doing them. Husk is a little shaken up but hey he's probably free now. Gets you any candy you want and shows you a shit ton of card tricks.

Niffty: Tbh I don't have much to say about her. She finds you interesting but doesn't give you much thought. Though eventually when you protect her she returns your affection. Because you are scary and small which are both things she is.

Sir Pentious: (this is while he's in hell btw) Not great with kids. Like I don't think the egg bois are kids but even if they are the only experience he has with kids is his minions. But he does try! He does care for kids. He'll get you candy and cuddle if you want. He used to try to take over territories a lot. He always failed but he still made a lot of enemies that way. So when one of them finds him and tries to hurt him while you're around? I mean if he still wants that territory he can definitely take it now. To be honest I think he'd find you cool, even if you're more than a little scary.

#hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #angel dust x husk #angel dust x reader #charlie x reader #vaggie x reader #sir pentious x reader #niffty x reader #child reader #platonic

[seravphs]

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — IDOL! GOJO x ROCKSTAR! FEM READER

Gojo loves the untouchable. You’re an off limits rockstar who thinks he’s an idiot. The only thing he can do is take that as a challenge, right?

wc — 6.8k

tags — non detailed mention of idol industry EDs, pride and prejudice type energy tbh, reader is a little superior about being in a rock band and not “selling out”, Gojo has an annoying habit of pointing out their hypocrisy, sneaking around because you’re public figures, nsfw jokes, minor nongraphic blood

Gojo’s not your usual type. He’s too pretty for that, with those long lashes like a doll’s. They’re stark against his pale skin when he flirts with you, peering alluringly at you through half closed eyes like the cheap tricks that get his fangirls to scream will work on you. 

He’s too easy to break for your taste, but from what you hear on Twitter, that’s why people like him. There’s something charming about the gap in his image that draws people in. People are dying for a taste of vulnerability because he's so cocky, but it's easy to make him beg.

There’s a million clips all over the internet of the moments he’s caught off guard, carefully hoarded instances in his career where a genuine embarrassed flush comes over his cheekbones, made into gifs and Tik Toks and YouTube videos. 

That’s not your thing. 

You like people with tough hearts and tougher reputations. People who could take the beating of public opinion without a flinch, not some soft spoken idol who needs his management to hold his hand through an apology. You like your fans, but they know their limit with you.  

It’s not love, not like with an idol. It would never be, you made sure of it. You’d quit before you ever issued an apology for dating someone. 

You hate to be a stereotype almost as much as you hate the idea of becoming a pushover, but you’ve dated a string of bad boy exes who were all exactly what you would expect for the lead singer of a rock band. A little rough around the edges, dark and smoldering. Men who would wear your red lipstick marks like a badge of honor. People who had never even heard of something like an idol image. 

Maybe that’s why no one saw it coming. You were safe, established. Gojo was out of your usual pitch. 

It’s too bad for the fans that you’ve always been a bit of a daredevil. Trying new things has never scared you. You’ve always been willing to test your limits to find the gold in the muck. That’s how you grow. 

That’s how you ended up here, sitting thigh to thigh with the boy wonder of the idol industry. 

“Aren’t you playing a dangerous game here?” You ask as he nudges even closer to you, far beyond what you’re sure his fans will permit. You’ve heard horror stories about the lengths people will go to if they see their idols even look at someone of the opposite gender. 

“Why, you scared?”

“You wish. You’re the idol here. It’s your reputation on the line.”

He smiles at you, saccharine sweet. “I don’t like letting other people control me.” 

That earns your begrudging respect, even if his bony knee is knocking into yours. He’s so lanky it makes you a touch concerned. Shoko’s girlfriend is an idol, and she’s constantly sneaking her food under her manager’s notice. 

That’s another reason why you could never be an idol. Letting someone else dictate your life like that sounds like hell. It was hard enough to convince you to be here in the first place. 

Your band doesn’t do promotion, least of all you. It’s all homegrown talent and homegrown fans, but you’re in stasis. Your growth has plateaued. Like all artists, you’re beholden to bills to pay to keep the music going. You’re big enough to know when you have to make sacrifices. 

It’s nothing personal. That’s just the industry, from pop stars to idols to bands like you. If nothing else, you all share the solidarity of giving anything for the music. You just think you have a harder limit for anything than idols do. 

The host kicks off the segment before you have time to do further analysis. 

“Welcome back to Hot or Not, the variety show where we pit your favorite internet heartthrobs against each other! Please welcome today’s guests - they may not be the duo you expect!” 

The camera pans to you and Gojo. His smile is instant, soft and natural, as real as if he were genuinely overjoyed to be here. You have to give him props for that, at least. He’s good at his job. 

As soon as the camera pans to you, his expression flickers and returns to bored disinterest. He yawns, his teeth pearly white. Veneers, maybe. His tongue flicks around the sharp tip of one canine, his smirk nearly fanged. There’s the feature he’s so famous for, the one that has him edited into cat reaction memes all across the internet. Kitty Gojo and his kitten fangs. 

He’s a grown man. You think you’d jump off a building before you let your teenage girl fans put cat ears on you and coo at you. 

To each their own, you guess. Gojo didn’t seem that perturbed by it. To be fair, he didn’t seem perturbed by anything. 

“Let’s start with Gojo! Remember, if you don’t feel like answering a question, we’ll put you in a surprise challenge with your partner.” 

“Sure,” he says easily. “I’m an open book.” 

“Let’s start easy. What’s your favorite song off your new album, Blue Spring?” 

Gojo makes a face. “Pass.” 

“Sorry, maybe you didn’t understand the question-“

“No, I got it. That’s boring,” he says. “Give me the challenge.” 

You’re amused despite yourself, and fighting not to let it show. There’s the troublesome personality you’ve heard so much about. He wouldn’t be half so popular if he wasn’t so pretty, but that attitude and that face made for a dangerous combination. 

The host is trying to salvage the situation with an easygoing laugh. Backstage, you hear someone mutter, “Gojo is gojo-ing again.” 

It’s all so funny until you realize he’s dragging you into his mess as they set up the challenge. 

Your host explains the rules too quickly for you to catch in their entirety, but it’s something along the lines of a staring contest. You’re supposed to do everything in your power to make the other lose a straight face, with words or actions. 

“Are you allowed to do this?” You joke as they start strapping the electrodes on you to measure your heart rate. 

“What do you mean?” Gojo’s mussing his hair up so he looks more artistically roguish. 

“You know, just being an idol and all. I figured you wouldn’t be able to do things like this without your fangirls jumping on you.” 

“Ah,” he says, scooting his chair closer to you. You’re knee to knee as they finish the last details of fiddling with machine. “You’re one of those types?” 

“And that means?” 

“You think I’m an idiot because I’m an idol.” 

“I didn’t say that,” you protest, watching the monitor to make sure your heart rate isn’t jumping with your words. It’s just a game, but you’re competitive. 

“No, but you’re thinking it. What else? Maybe you think idols are also soulless grifters?”

You wince. It’s not that you think so terribly of idols, per se, you just understand and recognize their need to please their company. They’re products before they’re people. 

“I got it right, huh?” He’s pleased with himself. 

“Am I wrong?” You retort. “You’re really going to tell me you love singing your overproduced pop music for the tween girls who will buy anything you put out as long as you’re pretty enough?” 

“Aren’t you here too? Lot of talk for someone who’s sitting right next to the sellout. You know what they say about birds of a feather…”

It’s all in a whisper, so no one else hears - or sees your startled reaction to find out the pampered show dog has a little bite in him. You could retaliate, but if you’re being honest? 

This makes you respect him more. 

He’s right, anyway. You did sell out by being on this show. 

The machine beeps. He smiles, slow and sweet - or at least it would be if you didn’t already know there was an edge to it. “I win.” 

“Wow!” You’ve never found the host more annoying. “That got heated at the end, didn’t it, folks? Do you mind sharing what Gojo said?”

You smile at the camera in a way that feels more like you’re beating your teeth. “It’s a secret.” 

You’re not mad at him. If anything, you’re impressed. The person you’re really disappointed with is yourself.

So he’s not what he thought you were. So he challenged your biased preconceptions on idols. So what? 

It doesn’t mean anything, but you can’t get him out of your head. 

The rest of the show is an easy and welcome distraction from your inner turmoil over the possibility of maybe potentially tolerating an idol. Throwing out witty answers and being neck to neck with Gojo in winning mini games is much preferable to having to experience emotions. It’s only when it’s over that the problems start. 

You watch as he gets up, biting your lip and debating to yourself. It’s only when he’s halfway out the door that you make your decision. You’ve always been a do or die kind of girl. 

“Hey. Want to get dinner?”

You just want to make sure he’s eating. No other reason. 

His manager frowns behind him. 

“We’re in a weird spot,” he says. “The only thing around are convenience stores.” 

“That’s fine,” you say. “We can get instant ramen.” 

“I’ve never had instant noodles,” Gojo says. 

“Seriously?”

“No, not seriously,” he scoffs. “Just what kind of lives do you think we lead?”

“Deprived ones,” you toss over your shoulder as you lead him towards your monster of a customized car. 

“Oh, no,” his manager is beginning, but Gojo is already sliding comfortably into the passenger seat. His poor manager looks nervously at you as you turn the keys. “Are you sure that thing is safe?” 

“Don’t worry,” you tell him. “If this thing crashes, I’m in here too.” 

You don’t think that reassures him, but your own manager will handle it. You pull out of the parking space and head for the road. 

Gojo’s impatient. He tries the handle almost before you’re done parking. You’re like that too - always ready to move. This time, you’re one step ahead. You lock the door before he can leave. He gives you a startled look and glances outside again, clearly weighing his options. 

“Relax,” you say. “I’m not a crazed fan. Put these on before we attract an actual stalker of yours.” 

You toss him a hat, sunglasses, and a mask. You’ve started keeping them in your car ever since you’ve been hanging out with Shoko and her girlfriend, who was famous enough to get recognized in the street for her autograph. He wrinkles his nose but obediently puts them on. 

It doesn’t do much to hide his overall air of Gojo-ness. He steps into the store like he owns it, which he very well could.

The steam rises from your bowls and coats Gojo’s sunglasses. You’re surprised he can see inside, but he has no trouble navigating. He tells you he has 20/20 vision. 

One thing leads to another and suddenly he’s bragging about his perfect grades when he attended school. He’s a natural genius, which isn’t really a surprise. 

“I thought you were supposed to be a bad boy,” you tease. His glasses are slipping down his nose. You reach out to push them back up before anyone notices. His eyes are rather remarkable, after all. Anyone would be able to tell who he was at a glance. 

“Me?” He gives a choked laugh. It sounds nice. You’ve haven’t heard it before, not during the show. He was more polished then. The ways in which he rebels against being an idol show up unexpectedly.  “Nah. That’s all Getou. He’s the one with a hidden face. You wouldn’t believe what he’s like when the cameras are off.” 

“Somehow I don’t believe you,” you joke. 

“I’m serious,” he whines. “I’m pretty sheltered. Grew up rich, you know?” 

Who doesn’t know? The Gojo name is pretty famous. One of the biggest conglomerates in the entire world, it broke major news outlets when the heir chose to be an idol instead of the next president. 

He’s always been in the public eye, but kept separate like art at a museum. You have a nasty tendency of wanting to ruin things that you’ve been purposefully warned away from. It’s sort of a thing of yours, a bad habit you haven’t put too much effort into breaking. The more impermissible something is, the more likely you are to try, like a cat knocking a glass of water off a table. 

Corruptible isn’t the exact right word, but it’s what comes to mind. You want to mess him up a little. Put your grubby rockstar hands on him and leave smears behind so his fangirls see his tainted reputation. You don’t, of course. It’s just a passing thought that you wouldn’t risk actually jeopardizing his career for. 

It would just be nice to see him live a little more freely. 

The temptation clears with the last of your noodles disappearing into your mouth. There are things that are off limits for both of you. Those are just the sacrifices you’ve made for your dreams. That’s all there is to it. 

It’s so good you sigh at the loss of it, mourning your empty bowl. Gojo’s almost done himself. The minute he finished his noodles, he lets out a breath to mirror yours, then laughs once he catches himself. 

“Come on,” you say. “Let’s get you home.”

You think that’s the end of it. There’s no reason to go any further. You met an idol and he obliterated your previously held prejudices. You’ll never meet again. 

That’s not quite how it works out. 

When your manager offers you another chance to see Gojo, it’s nonchalant. “Remember that idol you were partnered with on that variety show? I know you don’t like those types, but you seemed to tolerate him well enough. There’s another-“

A yes flies out of your mouth so quickly it’s embarrassing. 

Your manager pauses. His eyes narrow. “Didn’t expect you to be so eager, but okay.” 

Your face burns with embarrassment. This isn’t like you at all. Even with your exes, you had been cool and level headed. Always the prize, never the one to give chase. 

He’s interesting, you try to rationalize it to yourself. You like interesting. Life was mind numbing without a kick, and he was the latest thrill. It didn’t mean anything more. 

It’s another variety show. Apparently the two of you had been so popular as a pair that they wanted more. 

Gojo’s in the makeup chair when you arrive. The artist is scolding him for blinking while she applies his mascara. He’s whining about his dry eyes. 

“Don’t be a baby,” you say, dropping into the chair next to him. 

“But that’s what I’m best at!”

“You’re so weird,” you laugh. 

The makeup artist groans. “Please don’t encourage him.” 

Only Gojo would take that as encouragement. He rolls his eyes and receives a light swat across the shoulder for his troubles. You play around on your phone while you wait for her to be free, but soon grow bored. Instead, you watch her swipe powder across Gojo’s face and dab cream onto the apples of his cheeks. 

“Stop staring,” he says. 

“How do you know I’m staring? Your eyes are closed.”

“I can feel it.”

“Well, you’re wrong.” 

“You’re such a bad liar,” he says, and you know he’s just messing around at this point because you’re an incredible liar. It’s your best quality. 

Falling into banter with Gojo is as easy as breathing. It’s no trouble at all to replicate it on the show. From the shadow, your manager gives you a double thumbs up. Dork. 

Sometimes it’s hard to remember that you’re doing this to drum up popularity for your tour. You’re not the only one having trouble. Gojo pulls you aside after filming wraps up to give you his personal number on the phone he’s not supposed to have. 

At night, you get an alert that you’ve received something from Gojo. It’s not a message. It’s a notification that you can save three tickets to your digital wallet. 

A speech bubble pops up. 

Come to my concert, he says. I got you VIP seats. 

Gojo’s impressed you, but you still don’t know about the rest of his band. You’re not sure you want to watch pretty men lip sync and grind on the stage for two hours, but when you tell Shoko, she offers to bring Utahime. That’s conveniently three, so you might as well. 

VIP seats don’t include backstage, so you’re surprised when security comes to retrieve you. There’s no backstage pass for this concert, actually, confusing you all the more. 

Shoko flaps her hand dismissively at you, encouraging you on. By her side, Utahime is trying to feed her snacks. Satisfied that they’re comfortable, you follow the guard to Gojo’s dressing room. He leaves you there without a word. 

After five minutes of waiting for something to happen, you knock. Instantly, Gojo’s voice invites you in. 

He’s sitting in front of the dresser, fiddling with his earrings. You’ve noticed seven piercings in total - three on his right lobe, two on his left, and one conch on either side. Before you knew him, you would’ve been surprised an idol would be allowed to get so many. Now you know he bends the rules whenever he’s able. 

“Pass me that?” You hand him the disinfectant. “Thanks. I didn’t think you were coming.” 

“Then why’d you send me tickets?”

“Thought my roguish good looks and natural charm would win you over,” he says with a smile that says he’s only half joking. 

“You’re insufferable,” you say as you bat his hands away from his ear. “Let me do that.” 

His hair is soft as cygnet down as you brush it behind his ear. There’s something innocent about his expression like this, watching him from above. His eyes are closed, breaths soft and even as he waits for you. 

The silver pools in your hand as you thread it through his ear, a waterfall released when it hooks on. He wears a lot of silver, you’ve noticed. His stylists favor colors that should wash him out but only make him look more angelic. Pale blue silk trims his form, encrusted with embellishments to make him look prince-like. There are sparkles in the inner corner of his eye, soft blush on his cheekbones to make him look sweet. 

He’s anything but when his eyelids flutter open and he notices you watching. A smile almost cruel tugs at his lips. His hand reaches for you as if- 

There’s a knock on his door for the last curtain call. 

“That’s me.” He stands up, brushing his lap off without a trace of anything other than professionalism. He’ll leave you wondering what he was going to do. It’s terrible how good he is at this, though you suppose it’s his job to leave people wanting more. “Keep an eye out for me on stage, will you?”

It’s hard not to. Your eyes are polarized to him. Even when something else catches your attention, like fireworks or confetti, he pulls it back. Greedy, that one. 

You’re not the only one. The crowd lives for him. There’s something electric about him on stage. He naturally draws attention with that height and attitude and face, but what happens when he’s performing is inexplicable. You’d call it a religious experience if you believed in a god. 

Fate has never factored into your life, but now you’re starting to consider worship. Gojo performs like he was born to be an idol. 

Keep an eye out for me, he says, as if you’d have any trouble. You’ll dream about him tonight. The way his mouth fits so sensuously over the words of a love song snags your thoughts like a fishhook. Sick desires run through your blood, each more depraved than the last. 

You want to watch him shed his beautiful silk skin for you, become nothing more than man again. You must retract your prior confession. There’s no longing for the altar in you, only a love of sacrilege. 

Gojo asks for coffee easily, as if you’re two normal people and not celebrities with a lot to lose if you were caught together. You can’t let him outdo you, so you agree. These are the reasons why your manager curses your recklessness. Shoko calls it bravery, when she’s feeling sweet on you. 

The second message comes a second later. 

Gojo Satoru 11:25 I only said it to see if you’d agree Here’s my address lol can’t believe you said yes  Attachment 

You think he gives his address out too freely for a man worth 30 million. The feeling only intensifies as you get out of your car and thank your driver. His gates are pearly instead of the standard matte black, a stark declaration of wealth. He’s practically asking for an incident to happen. 

Security buzzes you in. Someone in a white dress - an honest to god maid - leads you to a mini kitchen where Gojo’s waiting. His hair is wet and dripping down his back where his powder blue shirt is darkened to a navy. You thought you had gotten used to overblown displays of money after your first three years in the music industry. Clearly, you were mistaken. 

He looks up as you enter, reading a trashy tabloid as he stirs whipped cream into a tall glass of something that looks more like a sugary heart attack than coffee. 

You’ve never seen his bare face, you realize. Even that moment when you had walked in on him and the makeup artist, he had been nearly done. He looks practically the same without makeup. People with genetic good looks like him only need to enhance their appearance the tiniest amount. 

What really strikes you is how earnest he looks, soft and open-hearted, though that might be because you’ve caught him in his home. This is what you wanted - him without his skin on, naked and without pretense. He’s wearing cotton pajamas and white slippers. 

“I thought you’d come later,” he says. “Sorry I got started without you. I was feeling something sweet.” 

“I’m early, though?”

“I’m always late,” he says with a one shouldered shrug. “Thought you might be too. Guess you’re not my perfect girl after all, huh?” 

You shove his arm off the armrest of his chair to perch on it, ignoring the perfectly good chair across from him. This is better, anyway, easier to talk to him. “Don’t be absurd. I’m everyone’s dream girl.” 

Gojo chuckles. “I like confident women.” 

There’s been a question on your mind for a while. You knew his group was popular, but all this? Maybe you should’ve become an idol after all. 

“Where’s the rest of your band? I thought idols shared rooms.” 

“Some do,” he says. “Not so much when you make it big. But this is my family home, so none of that applies.” 

Gojo Satoru of the Gojo conglomerate. How had you forgotten? It shouldn’t be so easy to ignore something like that. 

Gojo shifts the conversation easily, but you notice. So he doesn’t like the connection, then. “How was the concert?”

“Don’t fish for compliments,” you say, stealing a sip of his drink before it reaches his mouth. It’s too sweet for anyone’s standards. You spit it back into the cup. He takes it from you, eyes it consideringly, and takes a sip anyways. 

Your mouth drops. “You’re so gross.” 

“Only for you, baby,” he moans, humor like a teenage boy. “Call me names again.”

You roll your eyes at him. 

“It’s fine, it’s just saliva. Now tell me the truth. You couldn’t take your eyes off me, could you?” 

They’d probably sooner pop out of your head and roll away than leave the sight of him, but you can’t tell him that after all you’ve said about idols. Instead, you push off your seat to go rummage through his cabinets. He has a fully stocked coffee cart in this room and the very latest espresso machine, all to choose his diabetic monstrosity instead. 

“You don’t need to respond,” he says cheerfully. “Your silence tells me everything I need to know.” 

“Do you think you know me that well?” You shoot back. His fridge is so big you think you could fit into it. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve registered that he’s moved from his seat as well, and now stands just behind you. 

“Of course I know you,” he says. “I understood you the moment we met.” 

“You’re very confident,” you note. 

You have a weakness for confident men. 

“So you liked my concert. Can I come to yours?” 

You imagine Gojo in a mosh pit for a second. It sends you into a laughing fit while he stands there, bemused. You can’t shake the incongruous picture of him, with his face like a carefully crafted porcelain doll, getting rowdy and wild with your fans. Ridiculous. Never in a million years.

“We don’t have VIP seats,” you warn him. 

“So?” 

“So it can get dangerous.” 

“Aw, you do care about me.” 

“I care about the fat lawsuit your company’s going to send me when their moneymaker breaks his leg at my concert. It’s not happening.” 

“You scared?” 

“No, but maybe you should be.”

“Come on,” he says. When had he gotten so close? It’s distracting. “I know you’ll take care of me.” 

Gojo had invited you to his concert. It’s only right to return the favor. An idea starts forming in your head, though you’re not sure it’s a good one. You tell him anyway.

Usually when soundcheck is over, you have a little bit of downtime to relax backstage. You’re expecting someone tonight, however. 

A rough knock on the door announces Satoru Gojo, spoken in your security guard’s rough voice. Well, he really introduces him as pretty boy idol, but you can guess who it is. 

He looks discomfited, a rare occurrence, as he closes the door behind him. 

“What’s with you?” 

“You’ve got groupies,” he says, looking rattled. 

You fight a smile. 

“Don’t laugh,” he pouts. “They’re insane. One of them tried to chase me here.” 

You can’t help yourself. A giggle bursts out of you. When he tries to leave, you pin his hand to the handle and coo reassurances at him so he won’t. 

When you head out the door, he surprises you by grabbing your hand. It’s as nonchalant as anything he does, so you rise to the challenge he sets by refusing to react to it. You only separate once you reach the stairs; him to the spot you’ve made for him behind the barricade, you to the stage. 

This is one of your favorite venues, moody and atmospheric. The lights are dimmed to your preferred setting, but your eyes adjust quickly. Your crowd is restless tonight, shifting on their feet as whispers follow raucous laughter through the crowd. Noise on noise, the way you like it. 

The wood of the floor is a little sticky beneath your boots as you walk. That’s history gumming the soles of your shoes, generations of artists before you. You’re starting to feel it now, the electric thrum of pure joy in your blood. 

Shoko is strumming light tunes on her guitar to warm up, her eyes closed. You hope she doesn’t take it too hard that Utahime couldn’t make it tonight, though you know if she’s upset, she’ll channel into her music. 

The crowd settles as the hour draws closer. Shoko’s fingers are liquid now, running through chords effortlessly. You wrap the cord of the microphone around your hands, letting the tension build mindlessly. A stage is like home to you. The crowd plays in the palm of your hand, energy ebbing and flowing as you will it. 

It starts with a guitar solo from Shoko. By then, the crowd is already burning with excitement. The first burst of sound from the speakers has them roaring, cheering even though there’s no lyrics to it. The smallest smile touches her lips as she plays to the crowd, showing off exactly why she’s lead guitar for the greatest band in the world right now. 

You step in on her heels, your voice rising over the music. Back before you knew how this felt, you almost quit singing, annoyed by the sound you were forced into. This is more your tempo. The almost guttural curl to the ends of your words, the rasp of your hoarse voice - this is beautiful to you. 

The crowd is yours. Anything that goes on is within your jurisdiction, higher than any judge or god. You notice everything in your realm. 

People are starting to move now, their bodies falling victim to the music. Their mouthes form the vowels and consonants of the lyrics as their bodies shudder and jerk, chained to the rhythm. Bodies ricochet off each other, love taps of respect for your aggressive voice, soaring above it all. 

In the corner, there’s a violent eye of a storm. You think it’s a particularly enthusiastic dancer - perhaps a circle is about to form - before you realize what’s actually going on. 

A fight is breaking out. You catch a glimpse of snow white hair, realize it’s near the barricade, and your stomach drops. 

It’s Gojo and another man, ignoring the security guard trying to separate them. You try to stay professional and play through it, but then you see red. 

Gojo’s hand flies to his face, his nose dripping with crimson. He doesn’t look any more injured than that, but you’re angry enough to step in now. Shoko stops as soon as you hold your hand out, the music veering into a screeching crash. 

“You, in the black tee!” You realize you should’ve been more specific when what looks like the entire crowd looks down at their equally black shirts. “No, the one that just punched Gojo Satoru. Yeah, you, asshole! No fighting at my gigs! Especially not my guests!” 

He had the audacity to yell back. “I was just showing him a warm welcome!” 

You climb off the stage. Gojo didn’t show any fear while he got hit, but there’s concern in his eyes now as you drop to the ground by him. 

“Wait,” he says, “wait, wait. I don’t think you should-“ 

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, pushing him behind you until his back hits the stage. “Let me handle this.” 

You get in the man’s face. His eyes are bloodshot - drunk, probably. “Who do you think you are, starting shit at my shows?”

“You’ve sold out,” he slurs. Definitely drunk. “He doesn’t belong here.” 

“You don’t get to tell me who can or can’t come to my goddamn show,” you snarl, vicious and low. “Get out.” 

“You can’t-“

“Get out before I make them drag you out.” 

When he doesn’t move, you motion security over. “Does anyone else have any complaints?” 

The crowd is eerily silent for something that was moving like a beast with one mouth before, singing in unison. You clamber back on stage, turning around to grab Gojo’s hand. 

“What?” He says. 

“Up. Now.” Your tone brooks no argument. You haul him up with you. He stands awkwardly as you drag him towards your mic stand, your arm slung around his shoulder. There’s still blood on his face. 

“Gojo Satoru is a very dear friend of mine,” you announce into the mic. You see the confused looks in the crowd. Even Shoko seems wary. This wasn’t on the schedule. “If you're a real rock fan, you'd know that music is more than genre. I get it! I didn’t think idols were anything more than corporate shills either-“ 

“Harsh,” he whispers under his breath, unable to control himself even now. 

“But he proved me wrong. He’s a real performer, just like I am, and I expect the same respect for him that you give to me.”

This is your crowd. They listen. Someone whistles. 

You sit Gojo down, right by your feet. He gives you a bemused smile as the concert starts again, you moving around him like one of your props. He spends most of the concert lounging back, watching you through half lidded eyes. 

It might’ve been enough excitement for one night, but you’ve always been the type to push your boundaries. When the idea springs into your head, you act on impulse, not giving yourself too much time to think about it as you pull Gojo to his feet. 

You’re really manhandling him tonight, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He’s only a little startled as you pull the mic away from your face to get into his space. 

You misjudged the distance. Your forehead knocks into his, just enough to sting, but not really hurt. “Do you want to try something?” Your voice is a whisper to not get picked up by the mic. 

“Give it to me,” he says, and his smile is a bloody thing. 

When you angle the mic towards him, you’re careful about not hitting him this time. 

His voice works surprisingly well for rock. You weren’t sure he could pull off such a sound change, but he surprises you every time, matching you best for beat. 

When he pulls back, your hand snakes into his hair and yanks him towards you and the mic again. He sings wholly at your command, being jerked around by your desires. It’s an inferno on stage, sweat pouring down both your faces. Behind you, the crowd is screaming so loudly it nearly deafens you. 

Not a bad encore, you think as you towel off in your dressing room. Shoko left for a cool down with a bottle of ice water right before you, her post concert ritual, but the look she shot you says that you need to talk. You’ll deal with the consequences later. 

For now, it’s enough to have Gojo shaking with leftover adrenaline against you as you sit him down in your chair. You press a bottle of ice against his face, watching him shiver. He’s still pretty with all the blood. Prettier, somehow, like some teenage wet dream of a vampire from a young adult novel. 

You want to lick the sweat out of the hollow of his collar bones. Instead, you talk to him to rid yourself of your insane thoughts. It’s always a little crazy in your head after a good stage. 

“Well?” You demand. “How was it?” 

He tilts his head, considering. It makes you nervous. Now that you know how good of a performer he is, it almost feels like a test to receive his judgment. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he says, slowly. 

“That good, huh?” You smile, trying to ignore the aching pressure behind your ribcage. You shouldn’t care so much what he thinks. Why does it matter? 

“Yeah,” he says. “When are you free? I gotta plan our date.”

“Huh?” 

“That was so sexy,” he says. “I was thinking about taking it slow, but I’m not going to last if I wait. I want to date you. I want to marry you.” 

He’s starting to worry you. “Did you have a heat stroke or something? That’s really fast. Really, really fast, Gojo.” 

“I’ve never been more clearheaded in my life,” he says. You only believe him when the medic clears him of any injuries, even the nose. 

“We can talk about marriage later,” you say. “Why don’t you tell me about the date for now?”

Two weeks later, you’re Gojo’s plus one to his first movie premiere. It’s his debut as an actor, and it couldn’t be a better one. He escaped most of the negative pushback that usually comes with transitioning between those two industries, being naturally good at everything. Still, he had worked hard, and you’re proud of him. 

It feels like you’re the only one, because the man himself doesn’t even care about his accomplishment. He’s too busy being delighted about hiding in plain sight. The cameras flash at you as you walk across the red carpet, arm in arm with Gojo. Your stylist had coordinated with his. It could almost pass for a couple’s outfits.  

“You know,” he says conspiratorially. “When you defended me at the concert, I got hard.” 

“I didn’t need to know that.” 

“It was really hot.” 

“You know there are people who can read lips, right?”

“I wish they would figure out what I’m saying.”

“Alright,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Let’s get inside.” 

Dating Gojo is nothing like what you’d expected and everything like you’d expected. He keeps surprising you, doing wild things to get your attention that you never thought an idol would be willing to get their hands dirty with. He might be even more of a daredevil than you are, constantly pushing the boundaries of what you both can get away with before you’re found out. 

In a way, it’s almost like you’re asking for it. You’re both straining at the bit to claim each other. It doesn’t come as a surprise when it does happen, then. 

“Huh,” Gojo says over ramen. “We got papped.” 

Utahime, understandably, freaks. “What? That’s not funny.”

“Oh yeah?” You say. “Are the pictures good at least?”

“You know we always look good. Could’ve gotten a better angle, but whatever.” 

Utahime’s working herself into a minor tizzy in the corner. “Guys, I need you to be more serious about this. This is bad! This is so bad!”

Shoko looks up from her phone and chips on the couch, lying flat on her stomach. “Hate to agree, but she’s right. What are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” you shrug. “What’s the point? There’s nothing we can do about it. They have the evidence.” 

It had been a good run. Two blissful months of peace and quiet. Sneaking around had been fun, giving you that thrill you loved every time someone failed to recognize you and Gojo behind your stupid sunglasses. Still, it was bound to fail at some point. You’re honestly surprised it lasted for as long as it had. You can’t be mad. Two months is more than you could’ve asked for. 

“Well,” Gojo says. “Wee-llll.” 

“Spit it out,” Utahime gripes at him. 

You take another bite of ramen, content to let them argue without you. 

“There is something we could do,” Gojo hedges. 

“You’re so annoying,” Shoko says. 

“No one thinks you’re funny,” Utahime chimes in. 

“Hey! She thinks I’m funny!” Gojo frowns. “Tell them you think I’m funny.” 

“Sorry, babe. I never lie to my girls.” 

“Whatever,” Gojo sighs. “Guess you don’t want to hear my genius idea then.” 

“Don’t be a brat,” you tease, knuckling his head. He loves it when you roughhouse with him. 

“What if…” The hesitation is real this time. You can tell the difference between when he’s faking it or not. He’s a good showman, but you know him. You place an encouraging hand on his knee. 

“What if we went public first?” He says it all in one breath. 

You take a moment, turning the idea over in your head. It would wrest back control of the narrative to your team. Even if you might get backlash, it wouldn’t be at someone else’s hands, beholden to their mercy. You like it. 

“Sure,” you say. 

Gojo gapes at you. ‘That easy?’ His thoughts are written all over his face. 

“Why not?” You offer him one of your easy smiles. “I’ve always wanted to say you were mine, anyway.”

#sera writes #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader

[jungle-angel]

The Apples Of The Teacher's Eyes (Bob Floyd x Reader)

Summary: You and Bob have a little surprise for your students before the start of school vacation

Tagging: @bobfloydsbabe @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia Helena my dear, you officially have me desperate to write for Teacher!Bob and Teacher!Reader so any time you want a little short story or anything, don't hesitate to ask (lol).

"Alright my evil little henchmen, let's get down to business!" Bob announced, placing a huge, heavy old book onto his desk.

"To defeat the huns!" sang one of the students.

"Don't even start it Callum," Bob warned him. "I already had to hear it from the choir teacher and I don't need to hear it again."

Callum snickered as the students all moved the desks together while Bob fixed the chalkboard drawing he had made as well as the notes for the new lesson block.

"Alright," Bob announced. "So yesterday we wrapped up our studies on Ancient Rome and now we're starting the Vikings. How many of you guys in Mrs. Floyd's literature class started reading the Norse epics?"

Only a few had raised their hands.

"Ok so just a couple of you," Bob mused. "Well, we're gonna start right at the beginning by getting a lay of the land and the geography of the regions in this particular civilization. Then we're gonna get into key figures, battles, events and all that before we get into any kind of literature, music or mythology."

Bob's students couldn't have been more excited. Both him and you knew how to make these things come alive and jump right off the pages. The scratch of the chalk and the hushed whispers of his students were the best parts of his day, second only to coming home to you.

He knocked at the chalkboard with a free finger, his hand still holding the chalk with smears of stray dust coating his fingertips. "Here we go guys," he said. "Lay of the land.....what can you tell? Alonso?"

"Alot of ocean all around so it must've been a seafaring kind of society," Alonso Garcia answered.

"You would be right," Bob pointed out. "Anybody else? Birdy?"

"I remember from our geography main lesson that there were also rivers, fjords and lakes which made boat travel a staple part of life," Birdy O'Connor answered.

"What else? Elen?"

"I noticed too that there's lots of islands that fly off the peninsulas too," answered Elen O'Neill, the curly redheaded girl in the front row.

"All very excellent points," Bob answered. "Twenty points to Gryffindor."

The students laughed a little before Bob continued on with the lesson.

"Now if we remember too," he continued. "People were more likely to settle in and around the sea rather than further inland....."

"With a damn good reason," you joked, poking your head in the door and scaring the ever living shit out of Bob.

"MRS. FLOYD!!!!!" the students shouted.

"SHHHHH!!!" you shushed sharply, holding your finger to your lips. "Do not.....I repeat.....DO NOT wake the baby."

"Oh my Lord you brought the baby?!" Elen gasped.

All of your students clambered to see the little carseat you carried on your arm, carefully moving aside so you could set it on the desks that had been pushed together. Inside was yours and Bob's newborn son, August Robert, who was so tiny he looked like he was being swallowed up by his blanket.

"Oh my God he's so cute!"

"He looks just like Mr. Floyd."

"Look at those little cheeks!"

"Oh my God, I wanna get married so I can have one!"

Bob blushed and bit his knuckles when he heard that out of Elen and so didn't you.

Auggie started to squirm a little, a wakeful little coo making everybody fall quiet as Bob moved to unbuckle him and pick him up. "Shhhh.....shhhh......you're ok.......you're ok," Bob whispered, bringing Auggie carefully to his chest, blanket and all, the baby's whimpering quieting right down as soon as Bob began to gently pat his back.

You and the students couldn't help but take picture after picture on their phones of Bob with the baby, the besotted look on his face making you melt.

"Alright guys, let's get back into it," Bob announced.

"Aw c'mon!" groaned the students as they sat back down.

You laughed a little before Bob kissed you. "You're supposed to be at home resting Mrs. Floyd," he whispered, still gently rocking Auggie in his arms.

"And miss all of this?" you chuckled. "Hell no."

Bob smiled and kissed you again, loving the thought of you sitting in on the main lesson and the ooing and ahhing from the students as he both taught and rocked Auggie at the same time.

#top gun maverick #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #teacher!bob #teacher!bob x teacher!reader

[draftingnovels-imagines]

First Meeting \\ Werewolf x Reader + Vampire x Reader

Summary: The first meeting you have with your monster boyfriend

Tags: GN!Reader, Werewolf [full moon, trapped animal, bear traps (no wound descriptions), petting a werewolf, barista] / Vampire [high society events, waitressing, clumsiness, pet names, feasting, death (not graphic)]

Word Count: ~1200

Notes: I wanted to add a third "monster" in here but I couldn't figure out how to fit it in here. Maybe I'll introduce what I was thinking sometime later

Werewolf

The first time you lock your eyes is during a full moon.

You're making your way home. It's not that late, but it is rather cold outside. You're bundled up as best you can be in this weather. As you walk down the street, you hear an animal crying out in the brushes next to you. It's a loud, shrill sound. It sounds like it's in pain.

On any other day, you would have ignored the sound. However, something about it draws you close. It's probably a deer or something, right...? You go through the bushes to find a giant wolf. It towered over you, reaching up and away with fervor. Its leg was caught in a bear trap, and it looked rather bad. Nails dug into the dirt as it braced itself on a tree. Long fur swished as it tried its best to pull away and run, but it was to no avail. It howled again, loud and forlorn, before curling up. It looked resigned to its fate.

Then... it sees you.

It begins to snarl, bearing teeth and body shifting into a guarded stance. Was it truly angry or was it scared? You put your hands up. You don't mean any harm, but it doesn't know that. As you make your way over to the trap, it stays guarded but doesn't snap at you. It takes a minute, and a lot of strength, but you eventually open the trap and release the wolf. It limps out, standing at it's full, bipedal height. It suddenly dawns on you.

This is not a wolf. This is something else entirely.

For some reason, though. You're not scared. It's staring at you, lowering itself to be at eye-level. You reach out to pet it. It flinched at the thought of your touch, but eventually, it pressed its face into your hand. It's... warm, and fluffy. Like a large dog. You can't help but laugh. "Stay safe, alright?" You ask. It nods. Finally, it runs off into the night.

Probably one of the weirdest experiences you've had, but at least you saved it from whatever hunters put those traps up in the first place. You go to sleep to the sounds of howling. Before it was just annoying, but now you had a slight appreciation.

You wake up and go to a new coffee shop with a friend. They offered and there's no shame in trying something new!

It's packed. Clearly this is more of a hot spot than you two thought. The people behind the counter are working the hardest, but once catches your eye. He's at the counter is working on drinks for a moment before he comes up to the register. He looks tired, as if he didn't get much sleep the night before. His hair is messy and the bags underneath his eyes were deep.

"Hello. What can I get--" Once he focused on you, he cut himself off. His gaze felt familiar in a way you can't describe. You tilted your head in confusion.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It's you. From last night. It's really you! I thought I'd never see you again." His grin is bright. You blink in confusion before you recognized him.

He's the wolf.

"Hey! You're holding up the line!" Someone shouts behind you. You look behind and see that the line is going out the door.

Maybe you two should have your reunion later.

Vampire

The first time you lock eyes, you see something you're not supposed to.

High-society events aren't your thing. The people they bring are somewhat selfish. Even so, tending tables was a good gig, especially at the most expensive venue in town. It paid enough and it allowed you to get a glimpse into a life you'd never have.

You make your way through the crowd, passing out hors d'oeuvres to anyone who wants. Some thank you, others turn their nose up to you and walk away. You've been working her for a while. At one point, the comments used to hurt you, but now they roll off your shoulders. This particular party is strange, though, but it's something you can't put your finger on. The guests are all affluent but mysterious. Some of these names you've never even heard of. Yet the clothes they wear and the people they're with clearly have more money that you've ever seen. As you deliberate on it and make your rounds, someone bumps into you. Luckily, you don't spill anything.

"I am so sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going." He says, his tone seeming genuine. You chuckle. At least someone here was nice.

"It's fine. How are you finding our service here?" You ask, in your most customer-service tone.

"You don't need to talk to me like that, darling. I'm not above you."

Charming. Maybe asking him would get some answers. "Well, I am serving you and the rest of this party. Is it always this--"

"Dull? Oh, you have no idea. They try to have these galas once every few years, and yet they never really do anything with it!"

"I was going to say 'affluent.'"

"Oh." He clears his throat. "Er... yes. Sort of."

You briefly touch his hand and it's cold to the touch. He pulled away quickly, clearing his throat. "Already trying to get hands on me? You haven't even asked me my name yet." He chuckled. While he tried his best to be smooth, you could hear the nervousness in his voice. You went to ask, but were interrupted by your boss yelling at you for not being back.

Once meals are served, things settle down for you, save for refilling people's glasses. You're so close to getting a break! Unfortunately, you trip over one of the tablecloths and fall this time. The tray of wine glasses you're holding comes crashing down and makes a mess on the tile floor. You're not even sure what to do for a moment, frozen in shock. Other workers came and rushed you off, telling you to get a mop or something else to clean this all up. Luckily, your clothes weren't stained so you wouldn't have to get changed. Silver linings, right? Still, you go to the closet and pull on the knob. Locked.

...Locked? That doesn't make any sense. Why keep things locked up in case of a spill. Not thinking anything of that, you open the door.

You take in a breath and all you can smell is blood. It's pungent, and makes you cover your mouth. One of your coworkers, a girl you hadn't known well, lay still in the arms of a guy feasting on her neck. It's messy. It's repulsive. You can't even scream, it's so much. You just stand there in silence, eyes glued to the sight as he finishes the job. Once he's done, only then do you see his face.

It's one you were hoping not to see.

"It's you, darling."

#letters #vampire #werewolf #werewolves #vampire x reader #werewolf x reader #monster imagine #monster boyfriend #monster lover #monster

[thecuriousquest]

Brother Dabi with a reader that cowers, whimpers, cries, ect, ect whenever he touches her or raises his voice. Sadly he’s confused as to why she’s like that and just makes it worse (if you feel like adding comfort in the end that’s 100% up to you, I’m happy with whatever)

What Are You Really Afraid of?

Tag List: @issamomma @repostingmyfavs @chickennugnugnug @palesweetscherryblossom

Warnings: Platonic yandere themes, NSFW (physical abuse), Enji is abusive, past event of abuse briefly mentioned; the abuse mentions hair pulling (not sexual), slapping, beating with belt, and condescending behavior; hurt/comfort

Master List

Request Rules

—————————————————————————

Touya doesn’t understand why you’re so scared of him. Sure, he teases you like a big brother does. Sometimes, he can be a little rough while playing around with you. But all in all, he can’t fathom why you’re deathly terrified of him all of a sudden.

He has to get to the bottom of this.

When you come home from school, he decides to turn off the television and confront you.

You notice the heavy clunk of his combat boots drawing closer and closer. You take off for the stairs, but he cuts you off, standing right in front of them before you can even get to the landing.

“You and me are gonna have a talk.”

He grabs you by your elbow and drags you up to his room. He shuts the door behind him, locking it, trapping you.

When he turns back to face you, there are tears blurring your vision, your fists are clenched, and you’re trembling like a leaf in the wind. Seeing you like this when he hasn’t even done anything makes his heart clench with anger, but he forces himself to calm down. Taking a deep breath and counting to five in his head, he points at the bed for you to sit down.

“Go on. Sit. I want to talk to you.”

“Touya…please, I just want to go to my room.”

“And I want to know why you act like this when you’re around me.”

Taking a seat on his flannel sheets, you notice that he stays by the door with his hands shoved in his pockets. You aren’t sure if he’s trying to come off as non threatening or if he’s trying to show you that you won’t be able to run away from him by blocking your only exit.

“Good girl. Now, can you tell me what’s going on?”

It’s not that you hate Touya. You’ve loved him all your life. Sure, he can be rough with you at times, but he’s always been your warrior, your protector.

Recently, after a pretty horrible beating from your father while Touya was away with work, you just can’t look into his eyes and not see Enji. He shares those same electric cerulean orbs with your father. Your dad’s flames can reach the same cobalt hue as your brother’s quirk, and that thought is also unsettling.

But you know Touya isn’t like your father, but you can’t help but see him in your brother! It’s confusing, and it leaves your head and heart aching.

The tears finally flow over your lower lids, and you break down. Elbows resting on knees while your hands rake through vibrant, scarlet locks. Your father would scold you and tell you to sit like a lady, but Touya doesn’t say anything. Touya only stands there, shifting on his feet. You can tell he’s debating whether to give you space or solace.

“Hey, what’s going on? Y/N, I don’t understand-“

“Fucking shut up! Just stop talking!” You blow up at him. Looking into his wide eyes, you point a finger at him. “What would you have done if I didn’t want to come in here with you?!”

That question is rather unexpected. He doesn’t like the tone his baby sister is taking with him, but now isn’t the time for scolding. He doesn’t want to fuck this up.

“I would’ve just picked you up,” he admits. It’s what he usually does. All he has to do is sling you over a shoulder and carry you off to wherever he wants you to be.

“Exactly! You’d just pick me up. Just do whatever the hell you want with me. Just like Dad.”

And that, THAT, causes him to snap. He stands up straight, hands out of his pockets, and he stomps over to you.

“You think I’m just like that monster? Is that what you believe?”

It’s not…but isn’t it? Isn’t that what all this has been about?

“Well?” He’s calm but firm.

“Why do you two have to have the same eye color? Ever since he beat me and you came back, it’s all I can think about. I hate it! I hate that looking at you reminds me of what he did to me!”

And now he understands but it’s something that he doesn’t know how to fix.

Touya releases a pent up breath, his fingers combing through his mass of black hair. “Jesus, kid, what did he do to you?” he asks while taking a seat next to you on the bed.

You really don’t want to relive that night, the night a few days before he came back from a work trip. It’s just too painful.

Maybe it will help to vent though. Touya’s always been a great listener.

“He grabbed me by my hair and pulled me to his room. He slapped me and took his belt to me. I tried to get away. It only made him angrier. It was even worse when he told me you wouldn’t be there to come to my rescue. It was like he was taunting me.”

Hesitantly, he places a hand on your back, watching for a reaction. When you don’t try to pull away, he wraps an arm around you, letting you cry on his shoulder. You clutch his shirt.

“I’m sorry! I was just scared!”

“I know. I get it. Dad can be…Dad. I’ll never treat you like that, and you better get that through your thick skull.”

“I don’t have a thick skull,” you pout.

Touya snorts. “Yeah, you do. We all do. Even Shoto has a thick skull. Damn near can’t get anything through to him.”

This causes you to giggle at the thought of your socially awkward older brother.

You sit and talk with Touya-Nii a little while longer until he sends you off so that he can have a chat with Enji.

Said chat may or may not include Touya beating the living shit out of his father until he can barely stand or breathe.

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere themes #triggering content #triggering themes #my hero acedamia #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #platonic yandere dabi #platonic yandere big brother #yandere dabi x reader #yandere dabi

[thehistoriangirl]

Since ur doing blurbs too👀 TRICK OR TREAT! SURPRISE ME🤍🩶🖤

Yesssss, okay bestie, this is ur trick and treat :3

Hope you like it!

The Sweeter Trick

Viktor x gn!Reader----626 words---SFW

Summary: You have more than one trick under your sleeve to convince Viktor to go to bed.

Tags: Established Relationship | Domestic Fluff |

The clock had chimed midnight by now, its ticking the only company Viktor had while working on his new project.

Between the scribble of his pencil dragging among calculations and messy blueprints filled with fragments of eraser, Viktor heard the muffled rhythm of your feet against the wooden floor of the hallway. 

“Vitya…” you said, voice groggy; your figure almost shapeless with the oversized fluffy robe of your pajamas, almost like a cloak.

Viktor hummed turning to fully see you after settling his pen down, still comparing two equations to localize where the calculation had gone wrong. “Yes, my love?”

You sat in the armrest of the couch, leaning your body against the outline of the couch to rest your head against his. “Can you stay with me until I fall asleep?” you uttered, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “I’m scared.”

He sighed, pretending to be annoyed for the interruption, though you could hear the smile in his voice. “I told you not to watch that horror movie at night, dove.”

“But today’s the day to watch them!”

“It was,” he pointed out, always the smarty-pants. “It’s past midnight now. You should be in bed.”

“Please, Vikky, Vikky,” you said, pouting and giving him your best puppy eyes. "I'll fall asleep quick."

You saw his eyes flickering as he pondered his options; for once, the crouched position in the couch had given him a sore back, though he also wanted to keep going with his project before any idea could slip off his mind.

“I suppose I can take a small break,” he said, his muscles protesting when he stood up, a groan accompanying his stretches. 

He took the cane, pushing the four empty coffee cups at the center of the table to not knock them over as he passed from the living room to where you were standing in the middle of the dim hallway.

“Come, my love, let’s get you to bed,” he said, going straight to the bedroom where you had already prepared the bed in case Viktor went to sleep with you in his own will, unsuccessfully. Until now, that is.

Your boyfriend tucked you into bed, using your reflexes before he could scoop away, pulling him by the lapel of his shirt so he had no choice but to lay next to you with a sigh. 

Viktor called your name, almost naggingly. Though the sound stopped when you hugged him, making him the little spoon.

“Alright, you have your teddy bear, now go to sleep,” you heard him mumble, his breath drawing goosebumps in the crook of your neck. 

“A very handsome teddy bear,” you said, and he chuckled. 

“Goodnight, my love,” Viktor answered, his lips brushing your neck though his tone was more like a memorandum about you falling asleep than a proper goodbye. 

You looked down at him, his pale skin from days to not have gone to a walk outside, the purple eyebags under those striking golden eyes. 

Taking in his scent, of coffee and ink and citric, you kissed his forehead, bathing him in your warmth and dimming the lamp so the room was barely lit enough to see the pale skin peeking under his baggy night shirt, the hollow ends of his hipbone under the hem of his pajamas. 

When you finished taking him in, you heard Viktor’s snores filling the room, his chest moving a soothing and even motion. 

Smiling that your tactic worked, you slipped one hand toward the end of the blanket, wrapping it around his body as he scooped closer to you, his right leg climbing to rest in your thigh. 

“Goodnight, my love,” you said against his hair, nuzzling into his presence as you too, fell asleep. 

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