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2kmps · 1 month

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PERSIMMON & INK ; PT ONE OF TWO

yakuza!getō suguru x tattoo artist!reader| 1/2 | wc; 12.9k

story summary; you're a tattoo artist hidden amidst the bustle of shinjuku city and renown with tourists. due to a misstep of your shady employee, you're visited one night at closing by an eerily beautiful man in a disheveled suit and no tie requesting an intricate back piece done traditionally. the undertaking slowly begins to unthread your life piece-by-piece the closer you get to him until there is no way out.

story warnings; dark content, yakuza au!, details about tattooing, traditional tattooing (tebori), money laundering, injuries to mc, implied death of oc, manipulation, power imbalance, a bunch of cultish shit, mc doesn't fuck around and is a hardass + sort of a bully to their employee, sex w/ injury, getō smokes, mc dogging on foreigners, implied stalking, prose + detail heavy, explicit sexual content, heavily implied homicide, graphic details of violence + wounds.

read the warnings! + mdni! events within this story are not indicative of my personal viewpoints.

thank you @ceruleansol for your earlier proofreading efforts! appreciative, as always!

a/n: this is part one of two. i strongly implore that you reblog & interact with this post! it helps out authors tremendously when you do!

A silvery peal called out to the little shop stifled in past-midnight silence. During regular business hours, it was a good sound to hear; it meant that your next client had parked their feet through the threshold behind a closed door and jittered a bell hanging by a red string. In this case, you hadn't been fast enough to flick off the neon signage anchored into the building outside, nor set the deadbolt to signal the shop had retired for the night.

You were still hard at work wiping down your workspace, the last appointment of the night having taken several hours longer than intended with a squeamish foreigner who couldn't bite his knuckles long enough for you to finish linework on his ankle.

"It's past midnight. Come back some other time," you said, inflectionless, unwilling to be deterred in your task. It didn't occur to you to even give this newcomer the time of day by looking at them. "I have all my information online. Email for appointment bookings."

"Oh, really? That's too bad," replied the stranger, voice traceless of the frustration you were accustomed to when turning people away at odd hours. "I was told this would be a better time to come by for a consultation."

That made you jolt upright, swiveling toward the man standing inside your shop. Strangely, you hadn't anticipated the way he sounded when he spoke—affable, syrupy, and an elegant, fluid stroke on glazed canvas—to be so different from how he looked—tall, lean, refined with a sort of edge to him that'd intrigue anyone in a room he walked into.

Apart from his appearance, something you couldn't be sure was real with him bathed in the faint neon-red glow from flickering bulbs filtering in through the windows, you were drawn to the somewhat disheveled suit he wore. It looked like something a salaryman uniformed himself in while sitting on his ass for twelve hours in one of Tokyo's skyscrapers.

He doesn't have a tie. That stood out to you at this late hour.

"I didn't tell you that." You suspected who did and let your voice rise above the pitch of the checkered wall clock and drone of an oscillating ceiling fan directly above you. "Kōji! Get out here!"

From the depths of your little shop, tucked away in the furthest corner behind a door painted the same morose gray as the walls flanking it, there was a great ruckus—a chair tipping over, a body smashing to the floor, and feet fumbling over and over again until a weaselly fellow skittered out into the parlor.

"Ye-yeah? What's up? Time to—"

"Get this guy scheduled for a consultation for next month." Nothing prepared you for the way Kōji's color sank out of his cheeks and neck when you turned toward him. You pushed onward boldly, "I'm booked out for the next few weeks. Since you told him he could come by whenever, take responsibility and get him out."

Kōji's eyes were so much bigger, the whites of them showing, knuckles turning stark when his hand grasped your forearm, and he hinged forward at his waist, bowing so low you thought he'd fall forward.

"Thank you so much for your patience." Kōji sprung back up, feet popping into the air as he whisked you away into the back office, still repeatedly dipping his head to this man. "Please, give us a couple of minutes, and we'll be right with you."

"No worries." The suit guy smiled at you, catching your gaze before the gray door was pulled shut in your face. "Take your time."

Inside the dinky space, surrounded by unsteady towers of boxes brimming with all the things your second-floor apartment couldn't handle without making the walls burst at the seams, Kōji still had a hold on you. This time, however, both his hands gripped your arms, hot and clammy on your bare skin.

"You can't tell him to leave." Kōji hesitated to take any stance against you, any tone that could be implicated as threatening or domineering. Even through his quivering breaths, he tried to sound firm.

You looked at him incredulously, neck craning back in hopes it got the message across. It was easy enough to sweep away his hands. "The fuck, I can. It's my shop. Tell him to get out."

Kōji let his posture sag, whittling deep into himself as his fingers came together to pick at minuscule slithers of skin that left raw spots around his nails. He shook his head. "Not someone like him."

"Kōji—"

He was trying hard not to stick the underside of a fingernail between his teeth. A couple months ago, he had told you he wanted to kick the habit because he couldn't stand looking at his hands. This job and his natural disposition worked against him—long hours pouring over finances and bookkeeping, tucked away in a tiny room with a humming desk fan and no windows, would be enough to drive anyone's anxiety through the roof.

It wasn't ideal for him, you knew that, and suggested that he move his workstation around the shop or to the front-end counter as long as he didn't disturb the flow you kept going with clients. Worse than the isolation was his aversion to handling any potential customer interaction.

That's what made this so odd to you, so strange that he simply reiterated time and time again, "We can't kick him out," anytime you'd try to get anything else in word wise.

You had to back up, put some pressure against the new pulse in your temples. Kōji let his gaze flutter around the room, never steadying on your face for long enough for you to get a better read on him. His hair and neck were soaked with sweat. Beads of it dripped from his brow onto his shoes, leaving glistening, branching paths behind that never quite dried before more took their place.

It came to you then, just as a guess but one with enough certainty that dread wound itself against your spine and made you fidget.

"Is that—is he part of a gang?"

Kōji did a lot of work to keep his eyes off of you, still, lips thin and wet with sweat that he lapped away.

No confirmation was a confirmation—you launched yourself at him, wringing fistfuls of his stiff button-up until it was tight against him. You felt the heat of his body through the fabric wrapped around your hands.

He was shorter than the man in the parlor, but still taller than you. His feet stayed planted on the floor as you brought his face down to your height. "Did you fucking tell the yakuza about my shop, Kōji?! Is he here because of you?!"

"No, no! Not me! Not me!" Kōji wailed, crumbling beneath your bulbous stare. "Not on purpose! I swear! I swear! It was an accident. I was at lunch with… some friends, and I mentioned that I was working here. I guess word got around!"

"So, you're having lunch with criminals now?!" You wanted to wring his neck. It was physically impossible to bring yourself any closer to him without tasting the salty drops on his skin. "Are you insane?!"

Since the start of Kōji's employment years ago, you knew that he was a leery character, and having him on board to handle the more mundane, unsavory parts of running a business wasn't your best call to judgment. Still, he was efficiently organized in a way that made sense. He was fast and dedicated enough in doing things right that you stopped asking yourself questions about what antics he did on the side.

Up until now, he had never brought anything from the outside in to disrupt your status quo, the fine-tuned, well-oiled gears that kept your business running and clientele coming around like revolving doors. This was an entirely different ordeal, though, and you didn't know how to handle it.

You let Kōji whimper around your fists for a while longer, releasing him only once you were ready for a deep breath.

"I don't care." you said, taking a wide step away from him as your fingers scouted through all of the pockets on your person. There was one stick of gum left in your hoodie that went straight into your mouth. "I don't care. Stop being a fucking wuss and fix your mistake. Get him out of my shop."

Kōji gasped, scuttling closer to you just as his skinny, knobby knees bent inward and trembled. The weight of his body nearly toppled you when he went down to the floor, hands on your clothes. "No, no. Please. If you—if you turn him away, he'll tell the others, and who knows what'll happen to… us."

The selfish little imp actually meant himself.

It killed you to acknowledge that he wasn't wrong. You knew as much about the movements and customs of crime syndicates in Japan as anyone else, probably even less than the regular citizen, but they were still criminals with tight fists on the economy and underground.

All it would take is one bad remark and everything you had worked for would be razed to the ground.

"Who is he?" You pushed him off by the shoulders. "Who is that guy?"

You didn't like his silence, how his face warped, and his eyes fell to the white tips of your shoes. "Kōji."

Slowly, he answered, "He's the kingpin of the Uzumaki-kai."

"Goddamnit."

He stayed sniveling on the floor while you scrambled around the back office, turning over boxes and water-stained folders for particular papers you needed to go forward. Once you had them, you blotted the tip of an ink pen on your tongue, ripping a piece of white printer paper out from the tray and beginning a frantic scrawl that you weren't even sure was discernible.

You weren't in that room with Kōji for more than twenty minutes, reemerging into the parlor to find him—Getō Suguru, boss of the Uzumaki-kai—still waiting for you exactly where you'd left him. Only now, the smile he greeted you with was smug, shoulders lax against the door with one foot hiked up on it.

He had heard the entire thing, all of your shouts and Kōji's perilous pleas. The walls weren't as thick as you wished they were.

"You should find a different artist who specializes in the kind of work you want." you said, spreading your array of papers out on the front counter. The pen dotted your tongue once more before touching them, a messy signature left behind on black condemning lines.

"I've looked at your portfolio online." He had come closer, eyes set on the motions of your pen flying across paper. "It's the best I've seen in Tokyo."

There was something in his words that rang sweet and untrue. With Tokyo being one of the foremost tourist magnets in the world, attracting domestic business and foreign intrigue, competition amongst tattoo shops during peak seasons was staggering. You were part of the cluster of shops preferring to bring in international clientele because they were lured with anything quick and easy and cheap.

Simply put, they were your revolving door. Kōji monitored your shop's social media presence well, eyeballing analytics, trends, and patterns in the algorithm, so you stayed a persistent pest on the front page most days. Whatever moves he pulled worked, filled the books until you were writing in last second, twenty-minute appointments against the seams in your spiral bound to keep tabs.

You'd see anywhere from eight to twelve clients on the worst of days, most of them coming from overseas to tour the city or countryside. Every one of them chose premade designs from a catalog you kept nearby, all work you had committed to muscle memory and knew so well you could do the line work without a stencil and let your mind float somewhere else.

These foreigners wanted memorability, everlasting art imbued with stories from their exotic balmy summertime getaway where they stayed in air-conditioned hotels and shops and harassed the locals because it gave them a swell of adrenaline, a sense of adventure from the belief that they were in possession of more culture now than they had been before.

They tried to talk to you about those things because when they'd first see you, stepping under the chiming little bell, there was a brightness in their eyes of knowing you weren't someone who belonged—just like them. After so many years in the business, you were conversationally fluent in several languages but pretended not to be for all of two or three.

"I'll do it, but—" You pulled yourself from that reverie, pen flipping through your fingers for him to take. "You have to sign a bunch of waivers and there are conditions."

Getō had waited for you in well-tempered silence for several minutes and maintained that even now with a neutral expression. "Can you explain them to me?"

"The waivers are pretty standard," you said, shifting your weight against the counter. "The first three are making sure you understand the risk of scarring, infection, colors bleeding together. Fourth one is a liability waiver."

When you reached the final piece of paper buried beneath all the rest, the one you had handwritten and hastily signed, his eyes were gleaming with intrigue.

"What's this?"

There wasn't much to it, really, just a single paragraph on a bleach-white background, one blank line below your signature with enough room for a timestamp after it.

You made sure it was in his hand before you spoke again. "This is a rigid waiver agreeing that if I do your tattoo, you can't tell anyone you're associated with about this shop.

Getō wore an aloof smile. "What are you implying? I never said—"

"Stop trying to make me sound fucking stupid." You winced after the fact, not intending for it to have come out so aggressive. "Either sign it or leave, please. If anyone finds out you came here, it could ruin my business."

All but the ticking wall clock, a jarring neon against a backdrop of dark walls, and the ceiling fan with its monotonous beat from spinning blades had kept your shop from catapulting into silence.

You hadn't realized it until now, not until Getō had taken many long moments to examine the papers you'd given him and wordlessly signed them, that your chest was starting to ache from how hard your heart rammed your ribs.

You couldn't believe this was happening.

A snare formed in your throat once he finished printing the date and time on your special waiver, pen aside, papers stacked together as he tapped them on the countertop so they were neat.

He held them out to you, still with a beguiling smile that betrayed everything he represented. "Could I get copies? I'd like them for myself too."

You smeared sweaty palms down the back of your sweatpants, flexing out your fingers over and over until you felt sure enough that you could handle those papers without trembling. This must've been how Kōji felt when he had walked in earlier.

"I'll be back." Your bow was stiff and slight, probably an affront, but he let you go, turning to find a home on one of your low couches in the corner and started perusing the pages of your catalog displayed crookedly on an acrylic table in front of him.

It was all you could do to not slam the office door behind you, to intentionally scare the soul straight out of Koji's ass for putting you in this hard spot. If he weren't such an integral part of keeping this place afloat, you'd have fired him ages—years ago.

"I need copies," was everything you needed to say to make Kōji rifle through his arsenal of ridiculous expressions. He shrank under your stare, sliding deeper into his seat behind his desk. "You still need to be back here at eleven."

"Yes, I know." he mumbled, handing you fresh copies after stapling them together. You let the warmth sit on your hands for a while. "Do you want me to leave?"

Truthfully, you didn't want to be alone with Getō. You wanted to yell at Kōji a little more.

"Yeah. Get out of here."

And he ran.

A part of you hoped that Getō would've gotten bored with how long this entire process had been just to sign some flimsy agreements and listen to you pitch a fit at your employee. You prayed that the fleeting glance Kōji had made to the corner of the room was to check, not to confirm.

You stepped out into your workspace, boldly expecting to see it bathed in nothingness and shadows—but he was still there.

Getō let the tip of his shoe, a pointy closed-toe, jerk with the sounds of your wall clock. His leg was crossed, your catalog still splayed across his thigh as he looked at your preset designs, work made to appease the masses and feed into their fiction of Japan. You had half the hope that he'd be turned off by them and change his mind.

"What you're offering here and what's on your website are completely different."

This guy was observant.

You didn't like that.

"I get a lot of travelers." It crossed your mind to rip the book out of his hands. "They're the ones who make up the bulk of my business. My website hosts my professional work. It's what I prefer to do."

He didn't look up, continuing to leaf through the pages with long, lithe fingers. "So, you cater to foreigners, then?"

"My shop is small. It's just me and Kōji here. This place has to stay running somehow." You weren't sure why you were explaining yourself to him. "If that's something that bothers you, I can shred these papers, and you can find another artist."

Getō let his smile return, closing the catalog to drop it back onto the table. As though to challenge your stubbornness, he took the copies from you and skimmed them one more time.

"Thank you." He moved those aside too, now wholly focused on you. "Do you have time tonight to hear out my ideas?"

You were facing the wall clock now; it was almost two in the morning. If he wanted something more complex, it would take hours to work up a sketch for him. And that was being so bold to believe he'd like it on the first try.

"Got a deposit?" you asked. "Nonrefundable, of course."

He paid you what you wanted right then and there, to your complete astonishment. The price you had given him was astronomical, an act of spontaneity that you decided you'd pose to him as a joke if he got mad or guarded with severity.

No questions.

No doubt.

Just the warm clip of folded yen from his pocket that he didn't even look over. The yakuza were historically a stingy bunch, but he didn't even do a second sweep, didn't try to double back on you, and didn't seem to care.

"Let me get my stuff." You left the cash off to the side on the acrylic table. It was your equivalent of a cat showing its belly good-naturedly.

The money was still there when you returned with a tablet stuck under the sweat of your armpit and two mugs of tea, an act of hospitality you didn't often invoke mostly because you didn't care. These were dire circumstances, though, and you couldn't put it out of your mind (or nerves) that you were walking on thin ice laden with eggshells.

"It isn't anything fancy." You put your things down before handing him his mug. "It's from some random box I grabbed at the store."

Getō gave his thanks and took it from you, first sips coming as soon as he could bring his lips to it. He made no mention about the flavor or quality, didn't look at it with any amount of suspicion. It simply rested there against his palms while he waited patiently.

He was defeating every stereotype of yakuza that you had adopted from the movies and media. If it weren't for Kōji being a scummy little rat who liked hanging around trash in his off time and believing all of his reactions from a while ago, you'd be convinced that Getō wasn't affiliated at all.

A businessman with questionable practices, maybe, but not a greater part of the underbelly of society.

"It's a sort of complicated idea." He rearranged his legs so they were spread wide, back sinking into the worn green leather. Another sip. "Tell me if I should slow down."

True to his word, the tattoo he wanted was ambitious, terrifyingly ambitious, and something better left to a specialized skill set, not someone who bounced around between commercialized brand characters and bastardized interpretations of The Great Wave by Hokusai.

"I'd like the dragon to be white." Getō was partway through his explanation, now sitting forward on the edge of the couch, an elbow pointed down on a thigh to cradle his cheek. He was invested. "The eyes, hm, yellow or gold. You can choose what'd go best for the inside of its mouth. I want the head of it in the top left—"

"Hold on." You sighed, managing a lukewarm drink from your tea. "So, to go about the white, there are a couple of options: we leave that space empty, so it'll be your skin tone. Most people get dragons that are red or green or black. It'd be better to try that if you—"

"It has to be white." He looked at you the same, but his words were razored in a way so slight yet unmistakable. "What else can be done?"

"Well"—the leather creaked against your back the deeper you dug into it—"I could do white ink. I could get it opaque, but the problem with it is that it fades drastically; you'd need it retouched every couple of years."

"I see." His smile was wider. "I like that idea. Let's go with that."

You frowned. "You do know that white ink is expensive, right? So the price is going to jack up, and there's more pain involved since I'll have to apply more pressure."

"That's fine with me."

More specifics for the work he wanted flooded in: He wanted to start with his back, covering every bit of surface from his neck down to his tailbone. Afterward, he would branch out to both arms and finish the design over his breasts. It certainly aligned with artistry you've seen done by yakuza tattooists; the entire point of them was to be seen by those who mattered, easily concealed to those who didn't.

Most of the real estate was going to the white dragon with gold eyes first, the rest of it going to freestyle characters from fiction such as kuchisake-onna and religious iconography that he pursued with quite a bit of insistence.

You sketched until four in the morning, arranging characters and wispy, dreamy clouds. Long whiskers floated away from the dragon's snout, while the teeth you gave it were more comically blunt and human-like rather than jagged and threatening, a detail he seemed particularly delighted to see.

"What's with the Buddhist symbols?" You had to bring out your laptop to research those, settling on a few he gave a nod to. "Are you some kind of priest? This is a pretty specific scene you're giving me."

"It came to me in a dream." he said.

What a weirdo. Your fingers ached and cramped by the time you finished the draft, stylus leaving deep impressions in your skin that you were sure had knocked bone a few times.

From up close, you weren't too partial to how it looked like an amalgam of things surrounding all of the labor you put into specifics of the dragon, but when you moved it away, it came together like some hazy dreamscape.

"I should tell you why I chose you in the first place," was what he said when you spun the tablet around for him.

You had the device facing you again, pen notched through your fingers to apply some simple colors to the design. "I thought it was because you were enamored with me and my online portfolio."

Getō stared at you, humoring your joke with a smile even though you didn't see it. He stayed slouched over his thighs, fist moving to the side of his head to keep him upright.

"I'm looking for this to be done traditionally."

The tablet flattened on your lap, stylus rolling off of it onto the floor. You couldn't believe you didn't think of this. If he really was part of a crime syndicate, of course he would want all of the work done traditionally.

"That's going to bring in a whole host of problems." You let your thumb hover dangerously close to the trash bin button in the top right of the screen. "First of all, the overall cost of this is going up by twice what I've already quoted you."

"No worries." Getō shrugged his shoulders. "I've done my research."

But you weren't done. "Healing time will be reduced, but some of my clients have told me it's more painful than a machine."

"I'm not 'some' of those clients." he rejoined.

You were suddenly wishing your tea wasn't cold so you could disappear into it for a while. The tablet ran hot on your thighs, dragging your eyes back down to the drawing, thoughts flitting through what it'd mean for business, expenses in versus expenses out, and how committing to this would solidify you as a yakuza artist.

It would be inescapable and follow your reputation into the ground if Getō ever spread word about it.

"This back piece is going to take me a really long time to do for you. A machine cuts that time in half." Maybe you could beg him to change his mind.

He wouldn't budge. "Yes, I'm well aware."

"So"—fine then, you'd give him something to reconsider—"you know for the sake of longevity that traditional isn't going to be the best? Machines are able to apply more force into the skin and move faster. Because you'll be relying on me instead of a machine, your line work will start to bleed within a few years and your color is going to fade pretty significantly, too."

If he was dissuaded, Getō never let on because he grinned. "You were the right choice, after all."

That ended the discussion and your night. Your eyes felt dry in their sockets, rolling them towards the wall where you read a big black number “5” on its clear plastic face. Getō didn't share that same urgency. He hadn't even checked a watch or a phone the entire time he was with you.

"Remember," you said, your tone daring, "you signed an agreement to not tell anyone about this place. I expect you to keep your word."

"Of course. I wouldn't consider breaking it in my wildest dreams." Effortless and gentle, he said this to you with fondness that felt oddly misplaced. "After all, we prefer choosing our artists. And, now, you're mine. I'll see you soon."

You locked the door after him without saying anything, losing track of his body through the window as he went somewhere under the shadows cast by taller buildings close by.

This time, you made sure to flip off the neon signage that had been glowing outside all night long.

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The Uzumaki-kai had started out under a different name in the forties, one seemingly redacted from all publications shortly after the change. It had a tumultuous history with frequent power shifts and internal disputes that had left it nearly eradicated by the seventies until Yorimitsu Asahi climbed to the peak of the hierarchy. Within ten years, membership tripled, revenue increased into the billions, and nearly all records of their exploits had dropped off the edge.

Kōji had hit a dead end in his research for you, an attempt to give you some peace of mind in what you were dealing with. The idea was to hit the ground running, so when Getō came back around, you'd have some vague notion of what to expect. But all you were able to do was skim the surface of an, allegedly, power-hungry and morally depraved bunch of men and women.

The most recent details of their movements dated back two years ago, whereas the more credible sources haven't reported anything for nearly seven. In the earlier articles by a journalist gone undercover, they had a significant hand in the economy, mainly through casinos, prostitution, and ties to religious institutions.

You had to let out a groan because Kōji hit a wall—again. All of the latest news you could find were just sensationalist reprints about how they were actively scouting people, or giving charity to orphans, and where the yakuza ranked in the world amongst other crime syndicates.

"Hey." Getō was standing in front of you, just on the other side of your counter. "Ready to get this started?"

Snapping shut your laptop had been an instinctual response. A flush of adrenaline in your veins was chased away by the cold creep of fear reaching up your spine. This wasn't the same as mom catching you watching porn or a teacher hovering close enough to see you cheat.

This was the chill of knowing you were digging into things you shouldn't be.

"Wel—welcome back." You didn't mean it but bowed your head low anyway. "I never got a chance to schedule you in. It'll take me a while to set up, if you'd want to come back another day."

Getō had his hands in his pockets, posture relaxed just like the last time, and looked around the small square footage of your shop. It was big enough to arrange a few compact pieces of furniture in the corner, give breathing space for a couple of bodies in the middle while you worked on them, and the front-end counter where you sat.

You made use of decorative shelving to display all the things that customers wanted to see: bottles of ink, strange art, little trinkets to give the place some interest so you wouldn't have to be. Everything else was shoved into the back office to clog up Kōji's space or upstairs in your apartment where you could fit it.

"No." Getō took a walk over to one of the shelves, a collection of inks you had arranged by color family. "I'd like to start today. I can wait for you to set up."

"Okay." You licked your lips. "Yup. That's fine. Kōji!"

With Kōji's help, what would've taken you close to an hour to prepare for Getō was whittled down to about thirty minutes. Just one look and the smarmy guy took on a more diminutive attitude, convincing you that if you were to walk away and come back, he'd probably be spit-shining the tops of Getō's shoes.

At least he wasn't sweating all over the floor again. You could watch the fragile flattery without completely twisting in disgust.

"One thing you didn't do last time was confirm that you were happy with the sketch." You had Kōji fetch your tablet and bring it up to show him. "Also, I refuse to start unless you have payment upfront. That was something else we didn't discuss."

"Th–that's a joke." Kōji sputtered.

You looked straight at Getō. "You're yakuza asking me for an extremely elaborate piece done traditionally with a lot of white ink. I have a right to want to protect my time and resources."

"I agree. The sketch is perfect." Getō said, fluid strides bringing him less than a couple of feet away. "Do you prefer cash or card?"

You were seeing him in the daylight, not awash in flickering neon or shrinking away into shadows, and he was absolutely breathtaking. It made you think how easy it'd be to lure someone into the Uzumaki-kai by his looks alone.

Payment had been seamless enough, a quick transaction that Kōji verified before scuttling out of the shop for the evening. You were left with this man, this dangerous, handsome man, to undress in front of you, casually peeling layers of his suit away until the first slithers of pale skin sent your gaze to the instrument in your fingers.

Getō only removed his jacket and button-up since his back piece alone would take months to complete, a damning thing to realize once you thought about it.

This just felt too real.

This was really happening, and all you wanted to do was blame Kōji for putting you in this position.

"So, what you're going to do is lie down." You slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and gestured to the massage table behind him. A white sheet had been placed over the black leather underneath. "If you need extra padding, let me know. Since we're building this entire piece around the white dragon, that's what I'm focusing on for now."

He leaned his weight against the table, hands back in his pockets. You tried keeping your eyes off his chest, off of his defined pectorals and abdomen, away from the thickness of his arms. The knowing smile inching onto his lips proved that you had failed.

"I'm going to be using a projector to position the image on your back, draw it out with a marker, and start with the needles." You could finally show him the thing in your hand. It was a long glazed stick with a metal ferrule attaching a row of sterile needles at the tip. "You'll feel me stretch your skin and start poking. It makes a weird sound because of how it needs to be angled, how it goes into the skin."

You took a breath, and he actually laughed.

"That was a mouthful." He hinged forward, bringing his face closer to the rod. "Not quite as 'traditional' as I thought it would be."

"There are modern adaptations to everything. It used to be bamboo, this is made from persimmon." you said, lowering the instrument onto a silver tray next to all the others of varying sizes. "What makes it traditional is the technique applied. I guarantee your buddies aren't going to back-alley places in Japan and having someone stab their backs with unsterilized needles tied to a piece of wood."

His dark eyes followed your path to the projector, watching you flip the switch and cast an image of the dragon on the table. "You never know. Some of them just don't know any better. They don't always have the best show of judgment. They need guidance."

You had something to say to that but thought better of all your organs and didn't. "Cool. Get on the table so we can start."

The landscape of his back was as defined and lovely as the front of him. You waited until the white dragon was scaled down to the appropriate size and positioned over him to touch his skin, letting your fingertips soak up all his warmth.

"We'll see how far I get today," you were saying, dragging a narrow marker tip across the broad sprawl of him. "It's going to take me longer than it usually does, and I don't really go longer than eight-hour appointments."

"There's plenty of time." This guy had infinite patience, it seemed.

And when the time came for the first prods with your needles, you paused to ask, "Need a break? Want some background noise?"

"I'm talking to you," he said, pulling a few straggling pieces of ebony hair over his shoulder. "That’s enough for me." It sounded ridiculous when he said it and worse when it replayed in your head. "What made you want to practice traditionally?"

You were already in several jabs, wiping down between them to keep a visual of what you were doing. "My mentor is one of the best traditional artists in Japan. I learned everything from him. He used to work in Osaka, I'm not sure about now. I lost contact with him years ago."

"That's too bad." he said. "Have you thought about looking for him?"

The last thing you were interested in was talking about finding people with yakuza, so after a few more pokes along the middle of his back, dipping into that pretty region that made his waist look so waspy, you decided to flip the script.

"What about you? Did you just dream about joining a gang, or…?"

He shifted his cheek to his arms, looking along his nose at your hunched shoulders. "Would you believe me if I gave you an answer?"

You dabbed his skin. "Probably not."

There wasn't much of a lull in conversation before he was onto the next topic, steering away from the niceties onto the real things he wanted to ask. You had been around the block a time or two; you knew the look people got when they had certain questions stewing inside their heads.

The only thing that ever stopped them was the devastatingly desperate aversion to kicking up dust and drama in public, and probably because they weren't yakuza.

Getō was the opposite in this scenario, so you lost.

"Where are you from?" There it was.

You sucked in a breath. "Gifu prefecture."

"That's not what I meant." He was still observing you with all the self-possession of a saint, but also unflinching obstinance that you couldn't get out of by hijacking the conversation again. "You weren't born in Japan, were you? Isn't it pretty bold of you to play off foreigners' lack of awareness for profit?"

As you swiped at the traces of ink and blood that coalesced into a single ugly bead, you noticed he hadn't winced once the entire time you pushed ink.

Would he if you stabbed him a little harder?

"That's a long story." Stab. Stab. Stab. His expression remained beautiful and pristine. "I don't feel like answering it."

He smiled. "Hm."

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The game of twenty questions spilled over from one session into the next, weeks apart, yet Getō always remembered where you both left off like he was troubling himself to commit all the contents of a crumpled-up list to memory. Sometimes, between a peaceful interlude that rendered conversation bare, the flawless terrain of his back stretched between your fingers as your needles sunk deep, you'd think to yourself that had he been any other man—you'd be impressed by the effort.

Unlike other scenarios that leaned in your favor, boorish foreign men left unanswered when they'd talk about your body—where were you hiding tattoos? Under your clothes? Can we see? They'd laugh with one another because they almost always traveled in groups. Questions morphed into ugliness when they translated silence to incompetence; quips turned lewd and derogatory, but you no longer existed to them because you couldn't talk back.

That luxury of feigning ignorance wasn't packaged with Getō, having had lured that nugget of trivia out of you by the end of his first session. He never said those things about you, never let his inquisitiveness or eyes roam like you already had him. It was disgusting how being beneath his stare made you feel so vulnerable, stripped down to nothing but your underwear without that ever happening, without him ever having touched you.

You told yourself you'd be relieved the second this piece was finally finished, and he'd be gone from your shop for good.

"How long have you been a tattoo artist?"

But, still, for now, this little game with him continued, and he led the way.

"About ten years." No one had asked you that before, so it took you a few seconds for you to respond. Even then, you weren't entirely certain that was right. "Yeah, probably about ten years."

"Hm." Getō was in the habit of making that sound to quite a few of your answers. "You don't look it."

You jolted upright in your chair, fingers lifting away from his back just as you gave your tongue a reproachful click. All it would take would be one hard open-palm slap right against the sorest spot on his back to put him in a world of hurt and permanently fuck up the ink under his skin. You'd absolutely have your throat slit or neck snapped at the gallows, but it would be well worth the risk at this moment.

"What the hell is that—"

Getō's mellifluous laughter made your anger whittle to heat behind the ears before any words even made it out of his mouth. He tried keeping his back still. "Haha, sorry, that came out wrong. I meant: you look too young to have been doing this for ten years."

Good recovery. Smooth man.

You weren't nearly as amicable. "Aren't you too old to be playing pretend with a bunch of other guys?"

He let air out hard through his nostrils, lips pulling his smile wide enough for you to see the wet glisten on his white teeth.

"Fair enough."

Time crept along like that for the pair of you, multiple sessions coming and going with inconsequential banter that was always more upsetting to you than it ever was to him. Somewhere along the way, you had been convinced that Getō was unflappable—impossible to rouse to anger, regardless of the times your clap-backs had taken a personal edge, aiming to bury deeper than any of your needles could reach.

It was enough when he'd frown, his pretty mouth pressed firm and drawn down. Oddly, when he'd look at you like that, it was reminiscent of something wholly unsettling, pulled from some deep recess in your memory that you couldn't quite put a finger on until it happened again one evening.

You had taken things a bit too far, reminding yourself that it was better to keep your distance from him. All it would take was one wrong comment on one bad day for this rapport to come crashing down on you with every bit of the same force as a tsunami, ruining everything you had built.

Getō had decided he needed a break, something uncharacteristic in the months you had spent with him as your client, and got up from the table. He couldn't go far without covering his back, so he stayed wedged between the inside and outside, trapped in the door and setting off the delicate, jangling bell overhead more times than you were comfortable with.

He had looked at you before walking away, though, that frown marring his visage, weighing down his beauty with cavernous shadows around his mouth. You acted like Kōji in that moment, feeble and pathetic, withering into a smaller version of yourself so maybe he'd show mercy.

Between those tense minutes, until he returned to the massage table, you figured out what made his disapproval so familiar.

It was like burdening the weight of a disappointed parent, like knowing you had failed another test in school, and your teacher was delivering results with that same sort of dissatisfaction while peeking over their glasses at you.

You felt like you were being reprimanded in the way only someone with influence on your life could have.

It really rubbed you the wrong way.

"Sorry." It was a hard word for you to say. Getō was on his stomach again, cheek pressed atop his arms so he could look at you. "Sometimes, I get carried away. Guess that's what I get for spending all my time with Kōji."

Cue a loud sneeze from the back office.

His placid smile was a relief to see. "You should get out more often and see other guys."

There was no disputing that fact. Besides your mainly male clientele, Kōji was the only man you were in any regular contact with. Life had a way of keeping people apart, widening the gaps of time from months into years, wearing away at those delicate threads of friendship until they were all but frayed and irreplaceable.

It was simply the natural progression of adulthood, and it was boring and terribly lonely. Tattooing made your life easier, numbed you to becoming just another downtrodden drunk hunched over a glass full of glowing gold, lusting after the bare minimum of affection from anyone.

This job kept your head above water, just enough so you could forget all of that and spend your time exactly how you wanted to—

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

His question hit you full throttle, stealing the breath from your lungs as though he had landed a fist into your gut. It was just a few nonchalant words, an easy way to keep the conversation flowing, yet it had set your heart aflutter. You heard the rhythm of it ricocheting in your skull. It was suddenly so much harder to hold his skin taut, fingertips slipping inside the nitrile gloves you wore.

"A boyfriend?" A word that sat heavy on your tongue, unfamiliar, flustering you. "I don't have the time for that."

Getō shifted on the bed, something he usually didn't do without warning you beforehand. You let him get situated, taking that moment to also change your gloves beneath the table after patting them dry on your thighs. The skin around your fingertips had swelled and indented from moisture, further augmenting agitation.

He was gazing ahead now, narrow chin cradled in a slot made by his fingers. You couldn't tell what he was looking at since you kept so much stuff mounted on the walls to detract attention from you. It could've been anything.

You did think his vision aligned with your catalog of preset designs, though, leaving you just a little more self-conscious than his question had already made you.

When he did say something, his smile didn't quite reach how despondent he sounded, "It seems like no one has the time anymore. We've all lost our way."

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Getō came by astonishingly early one day with the earthiness of a good brew wafting all around him. The shop had been open less than an hour, giving you just enough time to unlock the entrance and flip on all the signage before he walked in.

The little bell signaled him, both your eyes and nose lured by the cheery sound of it as well as the scent. You had expected to see Kōji at first; it wasn't unlike him to show up before his scheduled shift. Years of cubicle servitude had a way of battering people into automated drones. Workers like him might as well have been walking on conveyor belts their entire lives—going somewhere without actually getting anywhere.

Kōji also only survived off of his thirty-two-ounce thermos sloshing with coffee. Sometimes he'd share with you so you wouldn't need to deplete the shop's supply or climb two flights of stairs to your apartment to make some, but more often than not, he was halfway through that gigantic flask by midafternoon.

So to see that it was Getō taking languid strides up to your counter with two coffee cups, palms wrapped around slithers of cardboard to keep his skin from blistering, you had to correct a grimace.

"Getō." You used his name tentatively, always sparingly. It tasted unwelcome on your tongue, like the smoky bitterness of charred meat or the tang of vomit that burned through your nostrils and made your mouth salivate. "I didn't have you down for today. I have other clients coming in later."

"I'm sure they don't mind rescheduling." He smiled as usual, but the finality behind his words sent quakes down your spine. "I don't know how you take your coffee, so I just asked for cream and sugar. I'm more partial to tea, but sometimes it just doesn't give the kick I'm looking for."

You meticulously avoided his fingers as he handed over one of the cups. The lid was marked with your initials, an act of thoughtfulness you would've been moved by had he—once again—been anyone else.

For Getō, he simply watched you with a tired, satiated smile as though the very notion of buying you coffee was worthy of some ovation. For you, seeing those black lines smear and spear outward across the white lid as dainty wisps of steam escaped wherever they could felt damning.

"How is it?" he asked, lips caressing the lifted rim of his own beverage. "You can be honest."

He sipped at the same time as you, pacing himself so your cups tilted simultaneously, eyes locked on tight, evaluating your slightest flinch. A hot trickle reached your tongue and crawled down your throat, feeling as though it were blooming out into your lungs and veins. It was known by him as well, like sharing the same experience, tipping the same cup and tasting those faint traces of one another, emulating warmth against your lips and in your mouth, lessening whatever uneasy longing he had started to spur inside of you.

You didn't know if the shudder that rattled down along your back came from the penetrating depths of his dark eyes or the bitter drink sinking into your cheeks, making you pucker.

Time forwarded for you again after that. The wall clock continued its eternal rotation, bustling bodies passed your shop, and you had lost those few seconds as though trapped in a dream.

"Did I add too much sugar?" Getō acted the same, perfectly pleasant smile seeming more like a fastened feature to you these days. "You sort of winced."

You set the cup down, ducking away from the front counter to collect your things out of the back office.

"It was actually too bitter for me."

Kōji came through the threshold about an hour later with some semblance of urgency, nearly knocking the door wide enough for it to slam into the wall. All of the color bled out of his cheeks, leaving his face a ghostly hue once he realized he was on the receiving end of Getō's stare. You were hunkered over his back, hands at work with the long stick and needles.

"If you break something, it's coming out of your paycheck." you drawled, so thoroughly enveloped by the black tracks left behind from your ink that you didn't notice Kōji's uneasiness turn into dewy skin and a beading forehead.

"I—can I talk to you in the back for a second?" Kōji hung onto every word, testing the sound of them while gauging Getō's quiet expressions. "There's—you need to see something."

"Kōji, seriously?" You didn't think you needed to point out Getō, or the fact that you were pulling ink from a glob on your glove. "Just tell me later, dude."

His face stretched as though wounded. "It's important. I swear. I wouldn't be asking if—"

"Is there a reason why you can't say it in front of me?" Getō had his nose pointed at Kōji, arm turned red beneath his cheek as he simpered. "Nothing's stopping you from telling us both right here, right now."

The scrawny man melted into himself, fingers fiddling together in a brave attempt to keep his teeth off of his nails and open sores on his cuticles. Whatever thing he had wanted to say was abandoned in that moment, stifled in his throat by a few words from the man on your massage table.

Your fingers halted, hovering over Getō's back as you took in the tone of his remarks to your employee, contemplating with a frown to threaten to throw him out.

"Don't talk to him like that." The leather underneath you groaned as you sat up straight on your stool. "This is my shop. You're not going to disrespect my employ—Kōji!"

He had already rushed away behind the somber gray door into the back office.

"Kōji!" You swiveled away from Getō, instrument an afterthought on the silver tray at your side. Seconds later, you swung back around. "You need to leave."

Getō, who had watched the entire thing from his arms, suddenly lifted his head and shoulders up, face weighed by surprise.

"What?" His eyes were wide. "Come again?"

You didn't falter. "Get the hell out of my shop. We're done for today."

His confusion mellowed into something undefinable, an expression you couldn't read with eyes that tracked across your face as though trying to catch a bluff. Nothing familiar remained in his gaze, the cold snare he held you in for several seconds, the depths of him black as coal and empty. For those few beats, until he looked away, you had held your breath without realizing it and heard blood gushing in your ears.

"You live in the apartment above here, right? On the second floor?" Getō still had his back to you, fingers fussing with the buttons on the front of his white shirt. "You should be careful."

Every ounce of courage you had gathered just moments before was suddenly sucked dry, stolen from your bones and spine, making your posture crumble on the stool. Dread wrapped around you like freezing, creeping tendrils that made the fine hairs on your neck stick out, put a knot in your throat that might as well have been his fist.

"How—how do you know that, Getō?" You were halfway out of your seat, fingers resting against cool metal and close to your arsenal of needles mounted to persimmon dowels. "Are you watching me?"

"Mm, not quite." He turned around while finishing the last buttons, expression void of that easygoing smile and mirthful glint in his eye that you had come to rely on from him. Without it, it was like you were freefalling into the unknown without a net to catch your back. "You should fire that assistant of yours soon."

"Kōji?" You had thought that same thing many times, but hearing it from someone else was an insult. "He's been here for years. He does his job. Who do you think you are to come in here, harass my employee, and tell me to fire him? This is my shop. Before you're anyone, you're a client who I have every right to refund and turn the fuck away."

"I suppose that's true." Getō said, rounding the table, coming into such close proximity to you that you could smell faint remnants of coffee on his clothes and breath, saw the late morning glow filtering in through the windows give his eyes a golden glint. "It's only a suggestion, but you should take it. I don't want to see you take the fall for things he meddles in."

You frowned. "What does that mean?"

He showed you one of his good-tempered smiles instead of answering, an easy way to stop the conversation before it could snowball into something else, dragging you deeper into his world more than what you already are.

There was a part of you convinced that he wanted to submerge you into that gross underbelly with him all the way, steal you below the surface, take you away from everything you'd ever known. But when the light would return to his eyes, just like now, and he looked upon you with such fondness, trying to smother your inquiries with lips pressed thin and tight so as to seal all his secrets behind them, you weren't so sure what his intentions were.

Some of his weight was suddenly on your shoulder, collected in the palm of his hand cradling the roundness of it. His fingertips pushed into the fabric, pressed divots into your skin and burned where he squeezed.

"Take care of yourself." Getō said, surprising you one last time by using that same hand, the very peaks of his knuckles to skim your cheek on his way past. "I'll see you soon."

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Firing Kōji was never an option, no matter what he involved himself with after work. There would be no business for you to spin signage for in the mornings, a studio to keep tidy, leather chairs to polish and preserve, and no stuttering neon light to bask under in the late hours of silence before returning upstairs to your bed.

Long ago, you had decided it made more sense to simply not see what didn't involve you directly, what didn't benefit you, because it was easier than acknowledging that the person you'd chosen to run everything in the background probably wasn't ideal. You'd known for years that his dealings outside your shop erred on the wrong side of the law, most likely, but it didn't matter as long as you didn't have to know exactly what it was.

As long as no one found him out, traced his employment to your tattoo shop, and turned your revolving door of clientele into thin, dwindling trickles, you'd force yourself to forgive him for whatever misdeeds he committed. He came into work on time every single day with his coffee flask and messenger bag, made no complaints about his workload and worn-in swivel chair that sometimes squealed when it turned, and didn't try to usurp the business from you.

He was the perfect employee and still was, even weeks following the incident with Getō. Every attempt you had made since then to get information out of him about that day was thwarted, distracted by numbers, stock invoices, client bookings, and asking if you wanted yakisoba from the little old lady down the road for lunch.

Kōji had decided you were untrustworthy now, a fact you were well aware of and unsure of how to handle. Less because he was your only employee—and, regrettably, the closest confidant you had in your life at all—but more that the entire ordeal left you uneasy and bothered.

He was doing something he shouldn't be, and Getō already knew about it and where you lived. Things weren't adding up, and you were the only one left in the dark.

One Sunday afternoon off left you with plenty of time to mull it over while packing around armfuls of groceries. A mid-autumn breeze was fabricated by cars passing through the city, throwing your hair in disarray, catching crisp bursts of air under your collar to leave you colder than you had been seconds ago. Your body was lulled into a relaxed state from the wind rocking your body left and right, pulled by the invisible force of it.

Your eyes stuck to the crosswalk sign, waiting for it to turn green, for the cluster of scuttering bodies to trot their way across and clear the area so they weren't stranded there until the next rotation. Their idle chatter hardly registered to you while you stood there next to them—colors of clothing, small domes of umbrellas, the drone of passing car engines felt so far away and surreal to you.

Everything seemed to vanish except your heartbeat when the light finally changed, eyes drifting down toward something that had an inexplicable pull on you, first as a slither of all black that grew tall and eventually into the shape of a body. You felt like you were searching through a sea of pines for that one glimpse at something that had caught your attention.

It was then that you realized what had you so engrossed was the unfaltering stare of another. You nearly collided with a man in a beige coat two feet ahead of you when you saw that it was Getō standing at the other end of the crosswalk.

Why is he here? Is he following me? You didn't give yourself the time to ruminate before ducking low behind a group of teenagers eagerly discussing their new idol obsession. A couple of the girls were in gyaru fashion, something you'd expect on a day trip to Harajuku, not on the west side of Tokyo near Shinjuku.

They paid little mind to you lingering entirely too close to them, using the shelf of a boy's shoulder to hazard a peek out at the scene until you had reached the end of the crosswalk with them. They dispersed in all different directions, sharing casual partings before you could think of where to go next, legs suddenly snared to the concrete when Getō called out from nearby.

"Hey, what a coincidence to see you here."

"Is it, really?" You tried remembering where you were in Shinjuku.

The red-light district, Kabukichō, the typical yakuza stomping grounds, wasn't far from here. It was one of those things that was easy to forget once the novelty of living in the area wore away, but it always meant something to someone else. That group of kids flashed in your mind briefly. It might've been their first time exploring a place like Shinjuku by themselves.

Getō came closer with his hands buried deep in his pants, the other half of a black sweatsuit that was too large for his frame. You tried to keep your eyes moving around a thinning crowd, steeped in uncertainty of how different interacting with him on the streets would be to piercing his back with needles.

"Are you heading home?" He saw your discomfort before the bags on your arms, his tone softening in the same way you expected it would for a frightened animal. "Do you need help carrying—"

"Hey, Suguru!" Another man showed himself through the intermix of bountiful bodies, his shape hidden beneath similarly slouchy, loose folds of clothing. His voice carried a similar pitch as the other, albeit inelegant and insouciant, with a head that was fully white and eyes so terrifyingly blue you guessed he had to be mixed with something.

For those few seconds you spared him a glance, you were set awash in a sensation of familiarity—a distant type of it. The same sort you'd expect to have while watching a movie with the appearance of an actor that startled you because you knew you had seen him from somewhere, but you couldn't place just exactly where.

If it hadn't been for his petulant seeming disposition on arrival and slothful bearings that ruined his posture and any semblance of class based on his bizarre, exotic beauty—you would have thought he was a model or someone of status, at the very least. His voice was annoying, however, and somewhat nasally as he complained about being left behind when Getō had noticed you skulking from afar.

Getō handled him benignly, almost disinterestedly, despite all of the speaking that coalesced into something even you stopped caring about. You made up your mind to use the distraction as a way to get out of this brush in public, spun on rubber soles, and almost began away until Getō broke apart from him and took the straps on one of your bags.

"Hold on"—he didn't let go despite how your features purposefully deformed from his nearness, a brazen attempt to look ugly to him—"you're a long way from home. Let me carry a few bags to help you out. Gojō, I'll see you around."

"Whaaaaat?! Seriously?" complained the other, making a whale of a noise that didn't match his relaxed stance. His bones seemed to collapse into the heaps of fabric he had stuck his arms through that day.

You tried putting opposite pressure on your bag to reclaim it from Getō, though he got what he wanted in the end. "I don't want to trouble you. I can carry these myself."

"It's no trouble." Getō insisted, still with obscene patience that overwhelmed your dogged determination to avoid causing an awkward shift between the two men.

As it was natural in Japan, jumpers and coats and pretty umbrellas wove through your motley bunch without being too distracted by the scene. They all had somewhere to go, somewhere to be, however truly inconsequential their destination was. It would've demanded too much of their concentration and willpower to look at everyone who made a ruckus in the streets of Shinjuku, but maybe they paid a little more attention because Getō and Gojō were beautiful, and you were like the hapless protagonist in a drama.

In that moment, however, you felt equal parts unfortunate that Getō bunched his long fluid strides to shorter ones to mime the pace of yours as he walked away from Gojō alongside you, all but two of your bags on his arms, and equal parts secretly enthralled by the experience and that you had been chosen over whatever former objective the two men shared.

"What was the point of us coming to Shinjuku if you're just leaving me here?! You suck!" Gojō's voice was carried by the false autumnal breeze whirled up by cars and gas exhausts, loud and strange because the urgency behind it had dropped off long ago. Now, it just sounded like he was calling after you both in casual parting like someone would from their doorstep down the road.

On that same fake wind, somewhere farther away but still close enough to see the uneven tips of Gojō’s white hair fluttering out away from his scalp, you could've sworn you heard the shape of your name—the pronunciation of it unmistakable—with all the same inflection Getō uttered when using it with you, weaponizing it so your ears would perk and be forced to hear him.

"I'm not doing any more of your tattoo until next week. I hope you know that." You had walked most of the way with him back to the studio. Seas of somber, dark concrete crosswalks with white lines and faceless beings in sometimes nice clothes had shrunk from a hearty basin of converging intersections to a gentle downstream trickle of interweaving streets that housed residences and hidden businesses. "Sunday is my only day off. I don't make exceptions for anyone."

Getō stayed with you the entire time, his movements a little more sluggish than you were used to seeing since you didn't have the same leg reach as him. He could probably open up his arms and touch buildings on either side of the street with the blunt nails on his long fingers.

You wondered, briefly, to your shame, if he could wrap himself around you twice if you were to do it first.

"I know," he said, an affable smile in his eyes and curved onto his lips. The look of him grew even brighter when he noticed you were staring, your face blemished by creases and lines and uneasy, fluttering eyeballs that conveyed your distrust and intrigue all at once. "What? You don't believe me? My back is still healing from the last session. I think you went deeper with the needles than previous times. It's taking longer."

You probably did bury ink deeper into the pretty flesh on his back because he upset your employee—your only employee, your safeguard to a successful business.

"Remember, you signed a waiver about infection. If there's too much redness and swelling, you should get it looked at." It wasn't often any interest to you to give unsolicited advice outside the shop, but Getō was your special exception. "I'm not going to touch your back again until that's completely ruled out. Besides, the dragon is done, so now we're just adding all your weird folklore and buddhist iconography."

"Hard to believe we've made it all these months." he said, now standing with you outside the building you rented for your studio and second-floor apartment. Despite the nylon straps on his arms digging cavernous divots into his black sleeves, he didn't act as though he were carrying around bags of lead like you felt you with yours. "I couldn't have chosen a better artist. I wasn't lying when I said your online portfolio was one of the best I'd seen in Tokyo, by the way."

What he said still sounded so sweetly untrue, but you unlocked the old door with a grimy brass key and let him inside to take his shoes off in the entryway and climb the stairs behind you to the second floor.

"I never have guests, so I don't really have anything for you. Coffee? Tea? Water? I may have some orange juice left." Every inch of tiny countertop and kitchen floor was swallowed by plastic totes and your bodies. It didn't occur to you at that moment to try putting some things away first to make more room, so you stumbled through the mess for your one-cup coffee machine that doubled as your tea kettle. "Sorry for the mess, I guess. I spend most of my time working, so I don't get the chance to clean up very often."

Getō betrayed no emotion, didn't seem afflicted in the slightest by the state of your apartment, and kept the curl of his smile fastened all the time. "Tea is fine. I'll just take whatever is easiest for you."

Minutes later, he politely sipped from the rim of your favorite mug, one hip implanted into the edge of the counter, staved off from helping you unload your groceries because you told him it'd be weird for a yakuza boss to do that. He still tried to take some boxes of stuff and stick them in your cabinets when you weren't looking, though.

“Did you tell that guy about me?” The sound of your voice, sudden and suspicious, was enough to startle Getō into a wide-eyed stare. He asked you what you meant, so you told him, “That guy back at the intersection you were with. Who was he? He knew my name. I saw him. Is he one of your gang friends?”

The alarm sank out of his expression, tension in his shoulders along with it. Despite the severity of your questions, he barely seemed to register them seriously and resumed stacking things on shelves to clear the countertops.

“Getō.” you pressed.

“No.” He closed the cabinet once he finished and came to you, undaunted by the obstacles spaced out on the floor. “I didn't tell him about you. I've kept my word. He's an annoying shit who likes snooping around my business.”

“Then, how did he…”

You receded into your thoughts, now trying harder than before to recall who that man was. His identity was tilted there on the edge of your memory, one word or phrase or image away from awestruck revelation. When it finally happened, seconds later, Getō was in front of you, heavy hands on your upper arms as though keeping you upright, and face bright with intrigue.

“Wait. Wait. Wait!” You cried out. “Gojō as in financial Gojō? As in one of the richest families in Japan, Gojō? Gold spoon baby Gojō?”

Getō gave a jubilant laugh as though delighted by you figuring it out on your own. His hands rose higher on your arms, capping your shoulders in warm weight that felt as refreshing as it did unusual. You couldn't remember the last time someone had touched you like that.

“He's my best friend—my only one. I'm not surprised he was able to figure out I was getting work done at your shop.” He said lightly, but doing nothing to assuage your doubt. “I know you don't believe it, but he's good to know if you need help. I'll give you his number so you—”

“I don't want it.” you said with feeble resolve. “It’s already a pain in the ass enough to have yakuza hanging around all the time. I don't need some trust fund baby to know where I live, too.”

Your heart wasn't in those words, finding that all you could concentrate on was the space of his palms encapsulating your shoulders, deft fingers leaving marks in your clothes as though trying to feel your skin through fabric. He didn't allow himself to roam you, but the taut muscles in his hands revealed a sort of composed restraint that was close to snapping.

He said your name once; a low, raspy sound in his throat that seemed so much like him yet unlike anything you had heard leave his mouth before. His eyes were darkened by his lashes, mesmerizing you in some dreamlike haze that only intensified when he stooped his head to kiss you.

His lips found rhythm with yours; slow, at first, to test the feeling and how much either of you actually wanted this. You responded with quiet sounds, a sigh and a moan, followed by the spread of your arms reaching around his neck to bring him closer, feel him more.

Getō backed your body against the countertop and leaned forward on his hands behind you to press down harder into the kiss. The blunt edges of your fingernails dove through black downy hairs on the back of his neck, trailing further down the ridges of his spine, molding to the ridges of his vertebrae that pushed up below the surface of his skin.

Goose flesh marked him all over, breath stuttering in your mouth like he was stifling pleasurable sounds of his own. You expected more self-control from a man of his status, yet there he was melting into you and sucking the air from your lungs while tasting your tongue with the roughness of his.

There was an ache between your legs, unabated heat which you had forgotten could be stimulated by another person. You weren't ashamed to take care of yourself when the need arose, although even those instances were far and few between and lacked this same urgency—this need to have another person wrapped up in you, touching you, devouring you.

You thought about how bad of an idea this was, how Kōji would react if he knew how weak your willpower truly was. It made sense to expect someone like Getō to exert his influence over you like this, for him to give into his every impulse without fear of consequence because there simply was none for him. He was above needing to restrain his inhibitions if that's what he wanted in the end.

“I can make you feel good.” He said apart from your lips, now pressed into the underside of your jaw after stretching out the neckline of your shirt. “Tell me what you want. I'll do it. I've wanted you since the beginning.”

What would happen if you told him to strip off your pants and get on his knees? Would the kingpin of the Uzumaki-kai obey someone lesser and bow and swallow the nectar from your body? Would he laugh at your brazen attempt, call you a wretch and drag you away for trying to make a mockery of him?

“Just… touch me.” Those words were not your own.

“Where?” Getō’s hands left the countertop to pile underneath your shirt, hands a light caress against the skin on your lower back. The heat of them made you flinch. “Here? Tell me where you want me.”

Something about this was too surreal, stirred unease in your chest and hundreds of quivering butterflies in your gut. It had come on as suddenly and dimmed the lust in your groin, lifted the fog from your eyes and cotton in your brain. It left you pliant in his arms, yet far away in mind as you searched those deeper recesses of yourself for an answer.

Getō noticed the disconnect and passionless kiss, your lips barely taking shape against his, and lifted his hands off of you.

“What's wrong?” He asked.

“I—” Something about you. “I don't know. This is just unprofessional. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done it.”

There was still darkness in his eyes, emotions shimmering through them despite an effortless smile he secured on his face. It was an eerie mask this time around, but your vulnerability and reddened, bruised neck kept you from saying anything on it.

“I should be the one apologizing.” Getō said with that unshakable calmness of his. “I didn't have the intention to push myself on you. I just thought…” He tilted his head a little left, tempting you to lean with him. “I thought we wanted the same thing.”

You couldn't answer that truthfully because then this would never end and he'd wind up in your bed. Had he been any other man, you'd have stripped him down to nothing and let him ravage you as he said he would.

But, you couldn't because he was your client.

You couldn't because of who he was.

You couldn't because he liked to keep his secrets close to his chest, and while you had your neck exposed—warm, sucking lips at your jaw and on the small swells in your throat when you'd swallow—you realized you couldn't trust him not to sink his teeth in and rip out gore and stringy sinew and let you bleed out on the floor.

He knew that distrust, had probably seen in everyone he’d ever known, yet he kept that smile which had grown stiff.

“It's not a good idea, Getō.” Because there's something off about you. You're a wolf masquerading as a shepherd. “Of all people, you should know that.”

Getō said nothing else as he was led downstairs and let out into the brisk evening air. Briefly, you worried he would feel the chill through this baggy sweatshirt and had to think better of fetching him a scarf for the trip back to wherever he belonged.

You stayed behind the door near the stairs, leaning through it far enough for him to reach out and stroke your face with the peaks of his knuckles. It was a fleeting touch, perhaps an attempt to not overstep as he had before.

And then, just before he pulled away, he said something familiar, “I'll see you soon.”

━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━━◦○◦━◦○◦━

a/n: so i started this project late last year, i think. i put it aside after i started working on my original android x reader oneshot (which is posted and y'all should read it *hint**hint*) but i'm picking this back up to finish it.

originally, i was going to post this in its entirety once it was finished (est. 20k-22k), but decided just to get this out of my face and do the other half separately. if y'all wanna see the second half and conclusion to this please reblog and interact with this!! if i don't really gauge any interest in it, i don't really see the point in putting my time into finishing it.

the second half has the sex scene and all the drama and stuff.

anyway, deuces!

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skelliko · 2 months

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Hi Skelle! ☆ How r you? I hope you have a nice day/night! 🫶🏼 I want to request something.. my request is can you make like a full (not a mandatory) headcanons of how the guys will act if they have a crush on someone? Like how they behaviour will change, how they first meet the reader immediately think “yep, she’s the one”, where, and overall how sappy they can get when they have a crush 🥹 i would like them with baji, kazutora, chifuyu and haitani brothers.

Feel free to ignore this if you feel this is too much cause I don’t wanna stress your cute 🧠💐🎀🩷 brain 🧠💐🎀🩷

Lmao

a/n: hope this is okay, sorry for the wait. i didn't intend to make these all be in a school setting, I had tried to do some in a workplace but It's all I could think off without making it basic 😕

★-Tokyo revengers

๑-context: first interaction + how they act/feel with a crush

๑-featuring: Baji, kazutora, chifuyu, ran, rindou

°- kazutora hanemiya

-- kazutora was forced to stay behind the classroom to finish his work that he hasn't done, the teacher was sat in front of her desk doing whatever a teacher does there while everyone else but him exit out the room. however when you were on your way out you slickly slid a small, folded up piece of paper on the side of kazutora's desk which certainly didn't go unnoticed by him.

-- his eyes went right at you and watched as you walked away almost expecting you to look back at him but you didn't. to then occasionally glance at the teacher to make sure that she doesn't look up as his hand slides towards the note to carefully and quietly open it up. anything could have been written on the note but since he was so focused to not get caught his mind was blank and didn't assume anything right away.

-- the piece of paper held all the answers to the worksheet that he was supposed to complete. to avoid any suspicions from the teacher he immediately placed it flat on the desk underneath his palm to collect himself and not get too ahead of himself, I mean what if the answers are incorrect and your setting him up for longer detention? eventually he risked it and wrote down all the answers that you had given him and handed in his work. and sure enough you become a life saver there, he was able to get out of there quicker than he first anticipated.

-- eventually he came up to you "hey, thanks for the... you know. but why'd you give me 3 incorrect answers? thought you were supposed to be smart" he said it in a almost teasing way, not upset at all about the incorrect answers. but you replied with "because no one would believe you to get them all correct without being forced to do them again" and that right there is the moment that he realised what kind of smart and mischievous person you are, enough that you've captivated his thoughts for the rest of the day and onwards.

• normally he'd get pissed off when forced to stay behind in class, but now, his mind is flooded with you that he's getting stayed back more and more just so that your hand can brush over his desk and give a semi warm piece of paper that you've held safely in your palm on the way to his desk to get him out of a situation that he put himself in, it almost feels like holding your hand. are you aware of what he's doing? probably, but that won't stop him. he also keeps all the pieces of paper even tho they serve no purpose, but knowing that you were the one that gave it to him changes the perspective of those little scraps.

• he has a major urge to be around you, he's craving your presence and voice and he always feels some sort of ache is in body from just thinking about seeing you once the weekend has passed. also the same thing goes for craving your physical touch such as a tight hug or maybe even a scalp massage but he knows that won't happen any time soon but the crave is still there, it's like a maladaptive daydream.

• he also looks at you different compared to others, with you it seems like kazu is looking at an angle with gorgeous white wings and a stunning outfit, whereas with others it seems like their just ants. big difference there.

-- sure you've been in his class for a while but that was the first time you've actually interacted with each other, other than a quick eye contact from looking around the room. there's always that one classmate that you haven't talked to but once you do it changes so much more than you first intended.

• he feels his emotions to a certain extreme level and cause of this he tries to hide it as much as he can otherwise he grows too expressive without realising it. and that can easily make his feelings seem obvious if not tamed correctly. he tries to act casual despite his stomach is turned into a butterfly sanctuary, his palms are grown sweaty, and his breath is held in to get rid of the feeling of jumping about and smiling like a complete idiot. mentally hes turned into a little kid with red cheeks just because his crush smiled at him, someone give the kid an ice pop otherwise he'll overheat. no seriously he's burning up like a fever just being near you.

°- Keisuke baji

-- Baji was getting into some sort of escalating argument after school had ended, him and two guys were getting a little rowdy but because of Baji being in his nerdy disguise at the time he couldn't risk in making a scene

-- but then that's when you butt in and stand by Baji's side. it was certainly a shock to suddenly see you appear beside him and hear you verbalise your opinion and defend him like that against these two delinquents even though he could have easily defended himself despite the circumstances, he could have walked away and led them somewhere else but no, you brought yourself into the bickering before he could act on it

-- Baji was gonna speak up to cut you off and try and get you away from the slight hazardous situation but you certainly had a lot to say and that just caused him to keep quiet. were you not scared? if you weren't for yourself then he was surely scared for you. he wasn't mad at you for getting involved, instead he somewhat gained respect for you and he had to hold back in smiling.

-- though he obviously couldn't let the situation keep going so he had to quickly drop the whole argument by speaking over you and basically drag you away by your sleeve gently. his feelings didn't grow immediately right there and then but they did develop quickly over a short period of time.

• thinking of you? his cheeks are sore and he brings a hand up to his mouth to suppress it and as if to hide it even though there's no one around to hide his smile from. he doesn't know why he does that but he just does.

• if someone were to be told that baji giggles when you message him they wouldn't believe it, that whole image for them is nonexistent when it comes to Baji, wouldn't even consider it. but this man really does, he tries to stifle them and keep a calm exposure however when he's laying down on his bed he has a wide smile plastered stupidly on his face and when he feels an excited, giddy feeling he can't help but feel a small laugh escape. when he tries to hold them back it almost feels like his chest is being tightened. your suffocation him without even being there, imagine a potential news title 'baji Keisuke suffocated due to feeling giddy about a crush'

• not much of an artist, can only actually draw simple outlines of certain objects such as pain flowers or stick men, but that doesn't stop him from picking up a pen or pencil and start to doodle, nor does it stop him to have your features flash in his mind and him draw you as a stick figure or even a wobbly blob. he sometimes zones out in class when doodling and when he catches himself in drawing you he quickly scribbles it out before anyone or you sees.

°- chifuyu matsuno

-- its raining outside on a school day and you don't have an umbrella nor a hood to cover yourself so due to that you chose to stay behind in your empty classroom to wait out the rain just so you don't get soaked. you chose to stay behind and do something captivating that it even caused you to lose track of time, luckily Chifuyu walked past your classroom and saw you there, it's at least a few hours past school hours (don't ask what he's still doing here)

-- he curiously came up to you and mentioned it however even after those few hours the rain hadn't left and it was still pouring the same weight as it had at the start, and due to the sudden passed time you had no choice to head home even if it means getting drenched. but upon chifuyu hearing your reasoning, there was no way he was gonna leave you walking out in the cold rain while he had a perfectly good umbrella, even if he wanted to leave he just couldn't bring himself to.

-- so he did the first thing that came to mind and that was to try and offer his umbrella to you. at first it seemed convenient for you but then the thought of him going out in the rain with nothing bothered you, so obviously you declined. bit of "no it's fine" here and there but after some of those you both came to an agreement to share it.

-- halfway through with you both walking underneath the same umbrella and chatting away to avoid the awkward silence he walked you home without you realising, he had to turn a corner ages ago but willingly chose to stay with you since you both were having an interesting conversation. and sure enough, thump-thump-thump his heart is racing, ever since then you've been on his mind.

• he feels so much about you, butterflies in his stomach and the need to move around because if hes sat still he'd probably snap in half from the excitement that he can't handle when the thought of you appears. he can explode from the overjoy of interacting with you as if it's a rare thing to happen even though it really isn't, you're just that special. he definitely jumps around and about in his room and punches the air silently whilst trying not to cause too much noise. making a whole new cardio work out.

• whenever he's reading his manga and romance comes in he can't help but picture the two characters to be you and chifuyu. he flicks his eyes between the two characters repeatedly even if he's been on the same page for 5mins, he'd still play out the scenario of them being you two. I mean that whole first encounter almost seemed too cliché to not have come straight out of a movie with unrealistic standards. but no, it all really did happened which causes his mind to go in places that you two are almost casted together and made to talk, as if the universe is setting you both up.

• passing your classroom at any chance he gets just to try and get a glimpse at you but while doing so his heart paces like hes just ran a marathon, he hasn't even seen you yet but the anticipation is killing him. and even when it rains on school days again hes not heading straight home but instead he's making his way to your class to see if you're there again waiting for the rain to leave, always hopeful and wishing that you're empty handed without an umbrella or a hood.

°- ran haitani

-- your in an empty room scribbling something in a sketchbook, using both hard and light pencil strokes. doesn't bother ran at all that you're here doing your own little thing but what actually does is that you're sat in his usual seat. normally he wouldn't try to intervene, especially if it's something this petty plus he wasn't all that desperate to stay here for long but even then, he still walked up to you.

-- first instinct that you had when hearing his footsteps was to close your sketchbook shut before looking up, clearly you don't want no one seeing your personal work/drawings. this little thing perked ran's interest, he doesn't know much about art in the form of paper and pencil, but he's still intrigued as to why you chose to hide it that it made him forget about his petty emotion of you sitting in his seat.

-- in short term, he ended up seeing a few of your pages and the reason for it is cause you despise your own work, despite continuing drawing in your own time you seem to always criticise yourself and think harshly on them. but in his eyes he can't help but be in awe of them, he cant understand what's so bad about the drawings. next thing you know he's asking for a drawing of himself, you didn't seem too bothered by the idea as you were about your skill wondering if you could even pull it off but ran managed to convince you.

-- sitting in a chair in front of you as a muse, meeting eye contact as you looked at his features repeatedly to get the right shape of his eyes, nose and lips. him purposely moving a little to see if you'd say something about it and trying to peek over your sketchbook book to see your progress only for you to move it away out of embarrassment. it took a short while but finally seeing himself on a page in dark grey lead made him feel something, not necessarily a major attraction but appreciation even tho he's the one that pressed on the idea.

-- and that's when the butterflies hit, it's a major delayed reaction but the giddy feeling hit after being the muse and grasping the fact that you were able to draw him this well from you analysing his features, something about this made him more seen than he already is. maybe a confidence boost? who knows, even he himself can't figure it out exactly other than feeling warm from the inside out about you.

• no matter how hard he tries to relax around you he always feels blood rushing in his body making him become tense whenever you two have an interaction as small as just saying hi to each other, and once you both pass he sighs out air as if you've caught his breath and didn't let go, though he also ends up smiling after that sigh but it's more or less a mix of a nervous and happy smile, one that makes you to be unsure if you're supposed to be excited or scared.

• i reckon hes a yapper once he gets comfortable enough, anything that comes to mind he can talk and talk about it with you like his life depends on it, but once he's finished speaking he only then realises the things he's said and regrets it all even if the topics he's talked about aren't all that bad but he still gets embarrassed of himself for letting himself get carried away like that to the point where afterwards he speaks in a much shallower tone "...I don't know why I said that, ignore that" it's kinda cute tho.

• you got him twisting and turning, losing focus in certain activities and even his sight of where he's going. at some point he was walking but his eye view was so focused on you that he ended up walking into the metal, water foundation and he had to embarrassingly play it off hoping that no one had seen the doofus walk right into it as his head was turned 80° in your direction.

°- rindou haitani

-- you and him happen to share the same taste in music and favour the same band/Artist, he knew this by overhearing a conversation you had with someone and that made him perk up a little but not enough for him to engage in the conversation. he'd silently listen in to hear what your favourite song is and guess if your a hardcore fan or just a regular

-- despite rindou not being the one to come forward about the mutual interest that you both have, it was you that needed up going up to him after hearing his music escape though his earphones from how loud he set the volume to be. sure he was a little embarrassed after you mentioned it but once you both started talking about the band, something had opened him up as you talked about it with enthusiasm while he was agreeing with everything that you were saying and adding his own little comments, you were both constantly on the same page.

-- hes gained a small interest in you but not enough to catch feelings and be attached, there's plenty of people with the same interest as him and even though he can't find many it doesn't mean that you should be on top of the list. yet.

-- those previous, tamed feelings were immediately thrown out the window after hearing you sing his favourite song when you thought you were alone, he didn't mean to intrude but when he quietly walked in a room to get something he ended up hearing your voice singing along to a favoured song, you immediately became his favourite cover. your tune and enthusiasm had him captivated and stuck. he didn't get the item but instead but he stood outside of the door listening until you stopped.

• when you suddenly appear and make yourself known he gets a little spooked and drops whatever he was holding in his hands (mainly depends on what the item is, as in if it's not fragile and just a pen) its the type of scare that makes his mind go 'oh shit they're here, act cool, act cool' you can just walk into the room and when Rindou looks up to see you its like his whole body does a nervous shut down for a split second. he's normally not like that at all so when that became a common occurrence he swore he was starting to become insane.

• only you're allowed to touch his glasses or gloves or in fact anything that belongs to rindou. sure his brother is an exception but that's to be expected. if anyone else tried to touch his stuff he'd more than just swat their hand away like an annoying pest, but with you? he feels warm and giddy about you picking his glasses up and trying them on yourself, heat rushes up to his face but he always tries to act cool and casual. he just can't shake the thought that you've worn his glasses that he's wearing right now, it almost feels like getting a high five from your favourite celebrity.

• anyone would probably assume Rindou to be a little heartless from him occasionally being nonchalant around others and sure that's true enough but with you? he's flustered, cannot specify enough of it, poor man can't even go a day without his lungs constantly shifting in volume from the way you get him so nervous. he's even grown to stutter a little, not a whole lot but enough for it to be noticed once in a while and each time he looks back on the sentences he's said he always cringes at himself.

♡----

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bad268 · 6 months

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Hey. I love your blog. It's amazing. Is it possible for you to write about actress reader x colby brock. Like they are each others favorite and Sam and colby invite her to one of their investigations. Like in one of her interviews found out that their her favorite YouTubers and colby might ask her on a date?

Thank you so much 💗

Tweets (Colby Brock X Actor! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Sam and Colby & Co.

Requested: Clearly (I had a little too much fun with this one lol)

Warnings: none.

Pronouns: First person (I/me)

W.C. 1087

Summary: An unearthed tweet leads to shocking revelations (with a best friend's intervention).

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^@/Colby's insta from November 16, 2023)

It all started with a resurfaced tweet from 2015…

I can’t say it was a lie, but it was before my big break, and I didn't have a manager running my social media accounts 24/7. I was just a normal teenager on Vine with time to kill. And now, I thought it was coming back to haunt me, pun intended.

That was until I received a DM from Colby himself asking me to be a part of their yearly tradition, Hell Week. At first, I was starstruck, but I would have been crazy to decline.

So that’s where we are now: preparing for the Conjuring House. A place of extremes. A place I told myself I would never go to because of how insane it is, yet here I am. And, of course, it’s going to be for a week.

I was invited to Sam and Colby’s place to go over the specifics of the trip. I had just finished filming my latest movie, which was coincidentally being filmed in Las Vegas, so as soon as my scenes were wrapped up, I set off for their house.

By the time I got there, everyone else who was invited was already there. At least, I assumed with the number of cars in the driveway. I was still in stage make-up, but thankfully, I had changed into something more comfortable before I left the set. I grabbed my backpack before jumping out of my car, locking it, and walking up to the door, ringing the doorbell.

Almost immediately, the door is being opened, and I am face to face with Colby. After a beat of us just staring, speechless, at each other, I cleared my throat. I chuckled nervously before saying, “Hi, apologies for being late. Filming ran a little longer than I originally planned. I hope I didn’t hold you all up too long.”

“Nah, don’t even worry about it,” he dismissed quickly as he stepped aside and ushered me inside. “Come in, and I’ll show you where you can put your stuff. You’re staying and going with Sam, Seth, and me to Rhode Island, right?”

“If that’s still alright with you guys,” I replied, walking in step with Colby up the stairs. “I don’t want to impose on your personal spaces. I can go home, just say the word.”

“I would never kick you out,” he laughed, leading me down the hall and stopping just before the end. “Here is your room. There is a bathroom attached. It’s right next to the closet, and if you need anything, my room is right there.” He paused as he pointed to the room at the very end of the hall. “I don’t care if it’s the middle of the night. If you need anything, let me know.”

“I’ll feel bad if it’s the middle of the night, but I will keep that in mind. Thank you,” I replied as I walked in to set my bag down on the vanity. “I’m just going to take my make-up off and meet you guys downstairs if that’s alright.”

“No problem,” he said, “We’ll be in the living room and we’ll either order food later or go out. We’ll see how everyone feels.”

“Ok, cool, thank you!” I said enthusiastically as he left down the hall. I closed the door over as I walked deeper into the room. I grabbed out my micellar water, cotton pads, and hydrater before walking into the ensuite to clean my face. As I set them on the counter, I noticed a piece of paper.

It was a printed screenshot of Twitter. A specific tweet from Colby in 2016 read, “Give me a chance y/n.” The back of the paper had its own handwritten note.

“You have been Colby’s celebrity crush for years. I know you posted a tweet in 2015 asking if he was single, and I don’t know if it was a joke or not. I didn’t show him the tweet, but I can say he’s single now if that tweet is still true. Please just get him to shut up. -Sam”

I chuckled at the note before quickly cleaning my face to head downstairs. Everyone was sitting on the couch or on the floor facing the TV. Everyone except Colby. I glanced around the room, trying to find him, only to see him standing in the kitchen. He was looking through the fridge, so I walked up behind him.

“Can you hand me a water?” I asked, startling him in the process. He jumped up straight, sucking in a quick breath as he snapped around to look at me. “Did I scare you or is that residual energy from the Conjuring House?”

“No, I just…” he trailed off for a second. “Yeah. I wasn’t expecting you down here just yet.”

“Kinda like how you didn’t expect me to see this?” I teased as I pulled the paper out from behind my back. Colby’s eyes grew wide as his jaw dropped. He stammered, trying to come up with a reason behind it, but he could not get a cohesive thought out. “Don’t worry. I’d give you a chance.”

Colby stopped entirely. I could see the gears turning in his mind before he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He opened his eyes, immediately meeting mine as he reached out to take the paper from my hands, setting it on the counter. He held my hands in his as he closed the distance between us.

“Y/n, will you go out with me?” Colby whispered as he bit his lip in nervousness.

“Of course, I will,” I whispered back as a smile spread across both of our faces.

“How about after this meeting we get out of here and do mini golf and dinner?” He offered, leaning his head down to rest our foreheads together.

“I will take you down,” I laughed as I leaned more into his body. “Truth be told, I’m great at mini golf.”

“Okay, lovebirds, we get it,” Sam interrupted from the living room. “We get it.”

“Shush, Sam,” I quipped back as I snapped my head to look at the group on the couch, still holding Colby’s hands. “You’re the one that left the note in my bathroom.”

“Wait, there’s a note?!” Colby shouted as he immediately let go of one of my hands to flip the paper over, reading through the note. “Sam, I told you this in confidence!”

~~~~~

#colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock imagine #colby brock #sam and colby #actor reader #actress reader #colby x reader #colby x y/n #colby brock x you #colby x you #bad268 #ship268 #thing268 #youtuber oneshot #youtubers #youtube

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cxlamarisalxmi · 11 months

Text

Being Miguel’s legitimate daughter that he left behind and hosting Venom [FEM]

[Platonic Drabble]

c/w: cringe writing, angst

—

[Unedited]

“How dare he?”

You ignored the symbiote raging in your head as you watched your father Miguel finish the battle with the Green Goblin variant. Binding him with glowing red organic webs and aligning him up and over his shoulder.

“How dare he return here?!”

“Venom,” you trailed exasperated. Obviously you weren’t happy at all to Miguel either but he hadn’t even seen you yet so what does it matter? Originally you and Venom had fully intended to take down Goblin and inform Peter B. Parker there was a variant in your dimension. (Don’t ask how you know him).

But then Miguel showed up instead, and honestly you should’ve expected that he would because he was the one who led the spider society. And he was among the first to know of any anomalies or unusual readings in any dimension.

And only Jessica and Lyla were a witness to the internal conflict inside him at the prospect of going to his daughter’s dimension. The daughter he abandoned in favor of a different one, a different daughter, a different universe… a different life.

He was absolutely certain that you hated him and you did, you held such bitterly angry and maliciously hateful feelings for him for such a long time. When you were young all you felt was confusion for his disappearance, but as you grew older and as time passed those feelings turned from rage at his betrayal… to utter heartbreak and despair at his departure.

For the longest time you’d believed that you’d done something wrong, because what had tog done that was so bad? What had you done that was so wrong? You didn’t mean to.. whatever it was you didn’t mean to.

Eventually you had come to learn that this was not a fault of yours, but of Miguel’s. You didn’t do a damn thing wrong, and you didn’t deserve this. Nobody did.

So you grew in the suffocatingly isolating darkness that was hate and grief. And as time passed you built walls thick and tall surrounding yourself, barbed defenses to protect your broken and vulnerable pieces. Behind those steeled doors you also tucked away the last part of your inner child, to keep her safe and protected.. from ever feeling this abandonment again.

When you were fourteen you’d found Venom, and at the time you had been living on the streets for close to two years. At fourteen is when you had very nearly quit on life, being alive was pain.. constant hurt that was very close to swallowing you whole.

Venom had stopped you, not because they had talked you out of it but more so because you were intrigued by the way they had glided across the ground. Even more so interested by the way the deep onyx goop slid up your hand before sinking into your body.

And you’ve been together ever since, the constant babble of the alien grated your nerves slightly but other than that you’d grown to love having them attached to you. And you wouldn’t change it for anything—

“[Y/Name]?”

You froze, previously having turned away from the scene of Miguel opening a glowing golden portal on the street below your perch to make a swift exit. But his voice had stopped you, and you’re not sure why you had even bothered to halt in your tracks.

“Wonderful,” you spat with toxin, “you remember my name.”

Miguel shouldn’t have been taken aback by your response, and he shouldn’t have been thrown off by your bite. He didn’t deserve to feel confused as to why you had responded to him so aggressively— because he knew why you had.

“Of course I do, I gave it to you.”

“Right,” you replied boredly before you were moving forward intent to leave the conversation there.

“[Y/Name]!” He called, and again you shouldn’t have given him even a second of your time but your broken and guarded heart longing for answers seemed to work your feet for you.

“[Y/Name], keep moving. Or I will. He does not deserve your time. He does not deserve you.”

“Did you ever wonder if I had even survived after you left? Did it ever cross your mind even once if I was still alive?”

“I checked on you regularly.”

“I see, the technology to travel through the multiverse also grants you the ability to peer into the lives of people you have ruined.”

You still hadn’t turned around, refusing to give him any sort of indication that you had actually cared about whatever it was he had to say.

“Look, I-I know that I’ve screwed up. I know that I hurt you—”

“Hurt me?” You chuckled humorlessly, a hitch of pain in your throat and fire on your tongue. “Hurt. Me? You may have before.. but you’ll never hurt me again.”

Venom had come through on the last word, enunciating the end of the sentence with a snarl. Ferocious and purely built from the pure emotional pain they could feel coming from their host.

Miguel subtly flinched at the deep growl in your tone, not enough for you to see but enough of a twitch that your heightened senses had picked up on it.

And you chose that moment to make your escape, stepping forward and utilizing Venom to vanish within the pitch black abyss of the shadows. The added darkness provided by the night sky and waning pale moonlight casting deeper shadows aiding Venom in helping you disappear entirely.

“[Y/Name] wait!—” Miguel reached out expecting to touch flesh but was met with nothing.

He stepped back, looked left then right then both directions once more before he exhaled tiredly and leapt back down to the road below. He lifted the Goblin and threw him in before jumping in himself, the portal closing behind him leaving the desolate street in utter darkness once again.

You had watched, this time from the gargoyle statue attached to the side of the roof’s lip on the building above. Venom formed off your shoulder, their head with white eyes and a mouthful of razor sharp teeth complimented well by the black ink of their exterior. And their head stretched off your shoulder by several tendons and tendrils still attached to your body.

You met his blank, milky white stare as he spoke.

“He will return. Whether he wishes to talk or— something more.. what will you do?”

“I made my feelings clear, if he returns. If I see him in my universe again. We. Kill. him.”

You watched as Venom’s grin grew exponentially at your sinister promise. The ominous threat on Miguel’s life exciting him after all the years of trauma and pain he had inflicted upon their host Venom wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth in and never let go.

And if granted the opportunity he would seize it with little to zero hesitation.

Every Spider-Man needs a nemesis, no emotionally richer story than having that nemesis be your own daughter.

“You are sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“You’ve grown cold. Sinister.”

“I am what he made me.”

—

a/n: I’m a little stoned and had this abrupt idea— 🫢 this is weak and maybe a lil’ cringe.. I know that, I’ll make it legit when I’m not baked 😐👍🏽

#across the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara #miguel o’hara x platonic! reader #angst #venom x platonic!reader #venom x teen!reader #venom #x teen!reader #x platonic!reader #miguel o’hara x teen!reader

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weaselmcdiesel · 2 months

Text

Want to help me with an assignment by talking about your pet?

Hi!! I have an assignment to make a piece of art using crowdsourcing. My idea involves collecting a lot of text about people's pets! Anything about them, what you like about them, a description of their personality or appearance, something funny they did--really anything. In the end, I want to use all the text to make something interesting (I haven't decided the specifics yet). I'll upload the finished project here when it's done! (it's due a week from now, March 12th)

How to be a part of this project:

Reply to this post or reblog and put in the tags or in the post itself anything you want about your pet. You can also send me an ask if you want, but I will not post any of these asks.

If you want to speak about a pet that has passed, please indicate somewhere in your reply that it has passed. I intend to use that information in the piece itself.

You can include a picture of your pet ONLY IF YOU WANT! Pictures aren't necessary but I might figure out a way to incorporate them.

Important:

The text you provide is not going to be credited to you/your url, everything will be anonymous.

I'll be reblogging this every now and then to help get a lot of different responses :) Sorry if you get sick of seeing this post! Also, if you don't have a pet or you don't want to talk about your pet, it would help out if you would reblog this anyway! But ofc, you don't have to.

#weasel speaks #i really don't know what tags to use for this #pets #pet #crowdsourcing

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just-aake · 5 months

Text

Your Special Day

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: You celebrate Natasha’s special day with small surprises for her.

Warnings: fluff

Words: 1160

The alarm on the phone rings, waking the red-haired agent from her slumber. After turning off the shrill sound, her hand automatically reaches over toward the other side of the bed, only to sit up in confusion when she finds an empty space.

The area still retains some of your warmth, so you couldn't have left too long ago. After getting dressed, Natasha comes out of your shared room and is immediately greeted by a sweet smell seemingly from the kitchen.

Making her way to the area, Natasha finds the source of the smell—a small spread of breakfast laid out on the table. A ding from the coffee maker signals its completion, and Natasha is pleasantly surprised when she recognizes the scent of the finished drink.

Someone, probably Stark, had used the last batch of her favorite brand of coffee, and she hadn’t had the time to pick up any more, so for the past weeks, she just settled for drinking one of the other basic coffees available.

Judging from the still-warm breakfast and the timing of the completed coffee, Natasha could tell that this meal was planned precisely for when she would usually have woken up.

The only thing missing was the person who was behind this meticulous planning.

After calling your name and not seeing any signs of you anywhere, Natasha spots a piece of paper under the plate with your familiar handwriting.

Got called in for a meeting with Fury. Nothing serious. Take your time and enjoy your breakfast! Love you, Y/n

Natasha's lips quirked up into a soft smile at your words. Looking back at the homemade breakfast you made especially for her, her heart warms at your gesture. Tucking the note safely away in her pocket, Natasha decides to listen to your words and enjoy the meal you prepared for her.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After finishing her breakfast and arriving at the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Natasha walks through the halls toward her workspace, intending to work on the piles of mission reports that she needs to complete by the end of today. It's not a difficult task, just tedious with the amount of paperwork required to fill out.

Maria appears from the corner heading in the opposite direction of Natasha. When she glances up from her tablet and notices the agent, she stops and greets her.

“Afternoon, Romanoff. I got those reports of yours. Thanks for finishing them so quickly,” Maria tells her appreciatively.

Natasha gives her a confused look, wondering if she is referring to the reports that she was just on her way to complete.

“My reports?” Natasha questions.

“Yeah, L/n gave them to me this morning,” Maria explains.

Natasha’s eyes widen slightly in surprise at the revelation.

Not noticing her expression, Maria continues swiping through her tablet while humming in thought.

“Looks like there’s not much else that needs to be done right now,” she looks back at Natasha with an impressed look. “I guess that means you can take it easy today. Enjoy your day off, Romanoff.”

“Thanks,” Natasha replies distractedly as Maria leaves.

She stands there in wonder, touched by what you’ve done for her today. Natasha contemplates what she should do now that she no longer has any work to complete.

You haven’t seen or replied to her text messages yet, which probably means you are still in your meeting with Fury.

A familiar voice pulls Natasha’s attention from her phone as she looks at the person speaking to her.

“So, do you just stand there all day, or do you actually do hero stuff in this place?” Yelena asks casually as she taps the walls of the headquarters, nodding her head at the durability.

“Yelena, what are you doing here?” Natasha asks curiously at yet another nice surprise that she has received today.

She hasn’t seen her little sister in person for a couple of months now, ever since Yelena decided to explore the world, leading her team of Widows in helping where they can.

Yelena shrugs nonchalantly, replying, “Considering what day it is, I figure I could take some time out of my schedule to spend with my sister and ‘catch up’ about what’s happening in our lives.”

Yelena raises her hands in air quotes around the words, as if repeating the phrase from someone else.

Natasha raises a disbelieving brow at her, knowing that there’s more to the situation.

At her expression, Yelena rolls her eyes and mutters under her breath.

“Plus, your girlfriend was kind of scary when she called me,” she admits, shuddering at the memory.

Natasha grins amusedly at the information, figuring that you had a part in this surprise also. She gestures with her head at Yelena to follow her.

“Come on, I’ll show you around, and you can tell me about the hero stuff you’ve done,” Natasha tells her with a small smirk.

Yelena shoots a similar expression back at her sister and follows after her, excited to recount her adventures and spend some time together again.

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

After saying goodbye to Yelena, Natasha comes back to the Avengers compound to find a delicious scent emanating from the kitchen again.

This time, however, when she makes her way to the area, she is glad to see your familiar figure standing in the room.

You look up at her entrance, your smile widening when you see that it is her.

“Welcome back,” you greet her. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, it was almost perfect,” Natasha replies casually as she moves around the counter to be closer to you.

Your brows furrow as you discreetly pull out your phone to glance at the list of things you had planned for today, wondering what you might have missed – homemade breakfast, favorite coffee, completed reports, no additional work, Yelena, and now dinner.

These were all just simple gestures that you thought of doing for her today. You know Natasha doesn’t like to make a big deal about this day in particular, but you still wanted to at least make it a little more special for her than usual.

You scan your list again, wondering what it is that you must have forgotten.

Suddenly, Natasha’s hand covers your screen as she pushes your phone away, and she raises her eyebrows pointedly at you.

“It’s you, Y/n,” Natasha explains amusedly. “Being with you makes today perfect.”

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise at her words, wondering how you forgot something so simple.

Looking at your expression fondly, Natasha places her hands on your waist and pulls you close to her, leaning in to press a soft kiss on your lips.

Pulling back slightly, she rests her head against yours as she looks into your eyes filled with love.

“Thank you...for everything,” she tells you sincerely.

You give her a soft smile, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in close again as you whisper against her lips.

“Happy Birthday, Natasha.”

~~~~~~~ ⧗ ~~~~~~~

a/n: thank you for reading!

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x you #black widow x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff

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mothdruid · 2 years

Text

Morning After

pairing: robert ‘bob’ floyd x fem!reader

summary: while at the hard deck you meet a shy guy, but get him to loosen up with some shots. when you two walk home you learn who he is, Bob. Bob goes on the fuck your brains out that night, even stays over at your place. he quickly leaves in the morning, only for you to meet back up somewhere unexpected.

wc: 4.5k

warnings: 18+, smut, mdni, fluff at the end, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal fingering, blow job, cum play, spit play, pet names (angel), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, bob fucks.

a/n: i've been cooking this one up for awhile and had it as an idea for even longer. this is my little crack at the bob fucks idea.

“What are you? A wallflower?” The words come out of your mouth with a particular tone, not one that you had initially intended. Alcohol always tends to do this, making you a bit more loose and unaware of your actions. It was such a drastic change from your normally reserved nature. Phoenix had always teased you about it, saying you became a completely different person when you drank. Eyes narrowed at you behind the glasses, his eyebrows knitting together. But there was a confused smile to the questioning look, one that made your heart flutter.

“I don’t really know what that means.” A rosy flush tinted his cheeks, taking a drink from his beer bottle. You raised an eyebrow, questioning his reply. A gentle smirk pulled at his lips while he looked at your expression. “What?”

“Are you being serious?” All of it was too cute. The way his lips curved into that half smile, words barely forming in his mouth. He took a sip of his beer while shaking his head no. “Like you know,” you nudged his arm with your elbow while your brain buzzed, “someone who knows everything but isn’t a part of it. Stays on the wall of things.” He raised his eyebrows again, biting at his lower lip while you watched him.

“I mean, kind of.” A bit of nervousness laced those words, pointing out that you might have hit some form of nerve. A pang of guilt shot through you, the weight of your words finally catching up.

“Hey, I’m really sorry. I… I shouldn’t have said anything.” A soft look settled on his features, taking in your apology.

“No, you’re good. My friends are alway on my ass about not putting myself out there. I don’t mind, it was just an observation anyways.” You couldn’t help but stare as he adjusted his glasses, pushing the wire frames back up the bridge of his nose. You offered him an awkward smile before taking a drink from your beer. You leaned up against the wall next to his chair, the two of you silently deciding to watch the room together. It had seemed that your friends disappeared from the bar, or maybe your brain just wasn’t registering them anymore. That’s when an idea popped into your brain.

“Do you wanna go do a shot? Maybe two?” He was mid drink of his beer when the words hit him. His eyebrows knitted together slightly, a look of thought on his face. You watched the him intently, finishing off the drink in your cup.

“Ah, sure.”

“Eight hours? How?” A tone of shock was laced in your words, your facial features reflecting the same level of shock.

“It was a big lego set! Like,” he paused for a moment to think, “a lot of pieces.” The two of you laughed at the thought of it. The both of you were five shots later and giggling all over the bar of the Hard Deck. The two of you had chatted about mundane things at first but slowly ventured out. The conversation had covered movie favorites to TV show horrors. Lego sets were the new topic, a personal favorite of the new man that had captured your heart tonight.

The two of you were beyond the point of driving, making you thank yourself for getting a rental unit close to the bar. You knew this man wasn’t able to drive either, not sure whether his friends had also ditched him like yours had. The intention of the night wasn’t to bring someone back home with you. But after being the one who suggested the shots, you felt obligated to take care of him. Bringing him home would be simply that, taking care of him.

A source of warmth brushed your thigh, pulling you from your thoughts instantly. The look on his face had changed when you weren’t paying attention. It was a soft look but different from all of his other ones, but with a hint of lust. A heat filled your cheeks, his eyes meeting yours. His hand settled on your thigh, not leaving its place this time. The warmth from his palm radiated into you, making you borderline nuclear.

“This is gonna sound weird, but do you wanna crash at mine?” It was his turn for his cheeks to fill with heat, a blush blossoming over them. Lips parting slightly then closing again, his words not forming in his mouth. Panic had started to creep its way into you. “If you don’t want to though I get it-”

“I’d love to.” A flutter in your chest was all you felt, the panic melting away. He hopped off his bar stool, the hand on your thigh lifting off for only a second. He offered his hand out to you, taking it as you got off your own bar stool. The both of you fished out bills to leave the bartender before leaving.

The cool air was sobering, helping your brain start processing that you were bringing this man home with you. This man that you hadn’t learned the name of yet. “Wait, wait, wait.” The walk had barely started, the both of you on the shoulder of the road until you hit the sidewalk. One of his eyebrows cocked up, a questioning look on his face. “You’re not gonna kill me right? Cause like I don’t even know your name, and now you’re coming home with me and I just have too much going to die like this.” Word soup. Another favorite trait you acquired when drunk.

A strong silence hung between the two of you, a car passing by to break it. A giggle started emanating from him, making it your turn to have a questioning look. The wrinkles near his eyes made your heart warm, the almost undetectable shake of his head catching your eye. His arm wrapped around your shoulders, pulling you close into his chest as he started walking the two of you down the side of the road again.

“I’m not gonna kill you, I promise.” A small pause had you, metaphorically, on the edge of your seat. “But my name is Bob.”

Bob stumbled through the doorway behind you, hands low on your back. Bob walked a little bit further into the foyer of your house. After you closed the door you pressed your back onto it, you watched Bob lean against the wall. His jaw was tipped up towards the ceiling, staring into the dark abyss. Your fingers crept over to the light switch, flicking the switch and illuminating the area.

“Wowza.” The light seared Bob’s eyes, him squeezing them shut. A giggle crept up inside you, pushing off the door you walked over to him. Bob rolled his head to look at you, opening one eye open. “What are you laughing about?” A big smile tugged at his lips, his body turning to meet yours. The two of you burst out into a laugh, his arm reaching out and pulling you closer to him.

Heat bubbled up into your cheeks, cerulean orbs staring into your own. A gulp was audible, not sure whether it came from you or Bob. One of his hands trailed up, a finger ghosting over your cheek. The warmth of his body covered yours, sending a small shiver down your spine. Your gaze flicked to his lips then back up to his eyes. Bob leaned in close, his hot breath caressing the shell of your ear. Suddenly, he was pulling away from you, hand gently resting on your face now.

“I.. I’m sorry.” A worried look had settled onto his features. Your hand covered Bob’s as you looked at him.

"Sorry for what?" Alarms had started going off in your brain. Did you do something wrong? Was bringing him back a mistake? Was he actually going to kill you?

"I…" A softness gathered in his eyes now. "I was gonna kiss you." Your heart fluttered at his words, the heat in your cheeks burning more intensely. “But.. we are inebriated.” It was cute, his use of such a technical word. You shifted a little bit closer to him, only mere inches in between your bodies. You moved to the balls of your feet, pressing your forehead to Bob’s. That perfect cerulean gaze meeting yours.

“Kiss me.” There was a small pause before you felt his lips met yours. It was a gentle kiss, one that you would have expected from a man like him. Bob slowly backed you up against the wall, his one hand staying on your cheek while the other moved to your hip. The hint of alcohol still lingered on the both of you, becoming drunk on each other now. His hips pressed towards you, pinning you against the wall.

Fingers threaded into Bob’s hair, bumping his glasses and making them go slightly askew. His tongue moved over your bottom lips, asking for permission to slide into your mouth. Your lips parted for him, allowing his tongue to swirl around yours, exploring your mouth freely. You pressed your hips into his, rolling them up against his. The hand on your cheek moved along your jaw, pushing back some hair back from your face.

Slowly the two of you undressed each other. A trail of clothes led from the foyer to your bedroom; you flicked the lights on when you passed the door frame of the room. Both your brains were still in a haze from the alcohol. His lips were like fire against your skin, nipping and mouthing the skin of your neck. One hand cradled your face while the other wrapped around your body; palm pressing between your shoulder blades. The pressure of his palm kept you pressed tight against him. The edge of your bed pressed into the back of your knees.

You climbed onto the bed, waiting for Bob to meet you on it. The only article of clothing left to take off were his boxer briefs. You sat on the edge of the bed, fingers toying with the band of his boxer briefs. Bob’s mouth was slightly agape, watching your fingers hook under the elastic band. His cheeks reddened even more, gaze stuck on your fingers as they started to drag his underwear down. His cock sprang free, tip glistening with a small amount of precum.

“That feels so good.” A shaky breath left Bob as he felt your tongue lap at his cock. His hand rested on the back of your head; guiding you slowly as you started bobbing up and down his cock. You looked up at him through your lashes, seeing him adjust his glasses. A moan fell from his mouth every now and then.

You let your spit start to drool down your chin, gathering at the curve of your jaw. Bob brought his free hand to your mouth, groaning while his thumb gathered the drool on your chin. He moved his thumb around your lips, stretched out around his cock as you looked up at him.

“I could stare at you like this forever.” Bob let out a raspy groan when you pulled off of him, tongue dragging along the underneath of his cock.

“That so?” It was the first thing that passed your lips, a small challenge to him. Bob smirked, his thumb rubbing spit on your bottom lip.

“Let me taste you.” Bob’s words were barely above a whisper, almost begging you. His thumb stayed on your lip as you nodded. He sank down onto his knees, both of his hands trailing down your chest. You draped your legs off the bed, him settling between them. His hands palmed at your breasts, thumbs rubbing your nipples. He leaned in, taking one of your nipples into his mouth.

Bob felt like he was in heaven when your back arched, pressing your chest further into his face. Having someone of this beauty want him? It shocked him. But he kept swirling his tongue around your nipple, his other hand trailing down to your clothed cunt. He let out a moan when he pressed his fingers against your cunt, feeling how wet you were.

“Got this wet from blowing me?” Bob questioned, kissing down your sternum and stomach.

“Got a little excited,” you lifted your hips to help him pull your panties off, “at the idea of you inside me.” Bob kissed his way back up your leg, starting at your mid calf and ending on the inside of your thigh. His lust blown eyes stared at you through his glass. He flattened his tongue and dragged it through your folds. You dropped your head back, holding yourself up on your elbows.

Bob kept up with these languid licks for only a moment longer. He started flicking his tongue against your clit, making you whine loudly. Bob brought his arms around your thighs, locking you in place against his mouth. He kept up his assault, randomly alternating the flicks and stroke of his tongue. At some point you had laid back completely on the bed, back arching hard when he sucked on your clit.

“Oh my..” Your mouth was agape, moans and his name flowing freely from it. His right hand left your thigh, snaking up to your breast and squeezing it.

“You sound like an angel.” Bob moaned, keeping his focus on your clit. His other hand left your thigh, coming down and pushing a finger inside of you. Your walls clenched around the finger, him thrusting it in tandem with his licks. Your hand moved down to his hair, almost catching his glasses in the process. Fuck, those glasses were really doing a number on you.

A second finger entered you, then a third quickly. They were pushing and prodding against that sensitive spot inside of you. “Bob,” you looked down at him, “please..”

“Let go, angel.” It quickly became too much, your orgasm rocking through you. You clenched around his fingers like a vice grip, his tongue giving languid strokes to your clit. Your legs began to shake as Bob kept going, not stopping anytime soon. His fingers kept working you while he started flicking his tongue on your clit again.

“Fu-ck, Bob!” You grabbed at his hair, pulling it hard enough to get his mouth off you. His fingers followed soon after, an empty feeling replacing them. Bob audibly gulped as he looked at you, shaking and already thoroughly fucked. A small kiss was pressed to the inside of your thigh, Bob resting his head against the expanse of your exposed inner thigh. The thin metal frames of his glasses pressing into your skin. A comforting smile was on Bob’s lips, making your heart melt as your orgasm finally started to subside.

“That… was amazing.” You whispered as you laid back on the bed, your hands settling on your stomach. Bob placed a few more kisses on your thigh, moving up your stomach to meet you face to face. Your hands cupped his face, pulling him down into a kiss. Your fingers played with the metal frames of his glasses slightly. There was a small devilish smirk on his face when he broke the kiss.

"I'm glad you liked it," his arm snaked under your lower back, "but I'm not finished yet." There was that confidence he liked to keep hidden away. His arm tightened around your waist, hiking you up on the bed more. Bob had you in the middle of your bed quickly, settling himself between your legs.

"I shouldn't need these anymore." Bob took off his glasses, setting them on the right bedside table. Bob leaned down and captured your lips again. His forearm was near your head, holding up a majority of his weight. Your legs were spread out for him, one of either side of his waist. One hand traveled up and down your sides, soothing and calming you while moving his cock closer to your cunt.

"You ready?" Bob questioned with a peck to your cheek.

"More than ready." Bob brought the hand from your side down to his shaft, lining himself up. Bob kept his eyes on your face, watching how your eyes fluttered when he ran himself through your folds. The head of his cock rubbing on your clit, sending small waves of pleasure through you.

"Bob." It was a plea. You didn't want teasing, you wanted him stretching you out. Bob bit his lower lip and nodded, the tip of his cock pressing at your entrance.

The stretch of his cock had your head thrown back. Bob let out a soft groan when he sank inside of you. Your warmth welcomed him more and more until he bottomed out. His eyes followed down your chest, watching your chest rise and fall. He brought his hand to the side of your thigh, hiking it up further on his hip. Bob nuzzled into your neck, nipping and kissing at the skin.

"So tight." Bob practically whimpered, his hips slowly pulling back just to slowly press forward. The slow thrusts were agonizing. One of your hands threaded through his hair, your other arm draping around his shoulders. Just as you were about to say something, his thrusts picked up.

Moans poured from your mouth, the head of his cock zeroing in on the sensitive spot inside you. Your walls were clenching hard around him, encouraging Bob to fuck you a little harder. Bob pulled back from your neck, watching your face for a moment. "Wanna see you."

Suddenly, his thrusts stopped. Bob got up and sat back on his heels, keeping your legs spread wide apart. You were at his mercy now, your entire body on full display for him. "This way I can see all of you."

Without hesitation Bob pressed back into you, resuming the pace he was previously at. That sensitive spot being targeted once more. Your hands dug into the comforter underneath you, back arching with pleasure.

It felt like his whole world was spinning, watching you underneath him was beyond intoxicating. Bob watched his cock push in and out of you, watching it stretch you open. The way your tits bounced with every forward thrust had his mouth watering. Groans flowed from him as he watched you become more fucked out.

"You're so fucking pretty." Bob grabbed your legs and set them up on one of his shoulders. His arms tightened around them, keeping your legs closed and tight. The sounds of skin smacking and your wet cunt filled the room. You felt that familiar sensation of an orgasm approaching.

Bob knew you were close again, the clenching of your walls signaling it. Bob started thrusting harder, pounding the sensitive bundle. "Bob, I- oh fuck! Bob!" You tightened around his cock, your orgasm crashing hard. His cock slid in and out of you, fucking you through your orgasm.

"That's it, that's it angel." Bob cooed, talking and fucking you through it. But his hips never slowed, keeping you at some form of high still. Bob moved your legs so one was on each of his shoulders. He watched himself fuck into you for a moment, his eyes flicking to yours.

Bob’s head fell back, his thrusts never faltering as he let out a loud breath. You dragged your hands down his abdomen, “Bob, oh my-”

“One more, I need one more.” The hand on your left calf moved to your clit, thumb rubbing tight circles on the sensitive bud. He started thrusting faster, keeping the circles tight and quick on your clit. The tightness in your abdomen had already returned, the overstimulation pushing out a rolling orgasm.

When your insides clenched around his cock this time Bob lost it. His hips started to stutter while whimpers fell from his lips. Your hands were both now gripping the comforter, borderline screams falling from your lips. His whimpers turned to groans as his orgasm arrived. Bob pulled his cock out, leaving you empty. He pressed his cock between your folds, rubbing it between them. He unloaded himself all over your clit and cunt, spreading his cum all through your folds.

Bob whimpered out a small ‘fuck’, watching himself fuck his cum through your folds. Your hips shook with pleasure, the slick wet feeling of his cum making you clench. Bob’s hands moved to your legs, rubbing the outside of your legs soothingly. He stopped his movements, looking down at you with an equally fucked out look. You finally registered his new look.

A deep red blush covered his chest to cheeks, hair tousled and messy, with a thin layer of sweat covering him. He sat back on his heels, tilting his head to the side and cocking an eyebrow. His chest was rising and falling fast as he regulated his breathing. “Sorry..” Your eyebrows knitted together at his apology, wondering why he would be apologizing.

“Why?”

“Was it too much?” Bob asked, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your knee. You took in a deep breath, trying to regulate your own breathing.

“No, it was really hot.” You smiled as he removed himself from you. Bob laid down next to you, staring at you as you looked at him. “Huh?”

“Nothing, I’m glad you enjoyed it.” You rolled your eyes, surprised that the man that just fucked your brains out would think he didn’t please you. “Uh.. where can I.. clean up?”

It was cute, watching him now slightly awkwardly ask for the clean up. You nodded your head and started sitting up, Bob quickly getting up to help you. Your legs were still shaky as Bob helped you walk to the bathroom.

The two of you cleaned up, Bob being as gentle as possible when he cleaned his come off you. The warm washcloth helped soothe the now slightly raw flesh between your legs. Bob quietly waited outside of the bathroom, waiting for you to pee so he could help walk you back to bed. Bob helped you back to the bed, the both of you slipping on your undergarments and you putting on a big t-shirt before climbing under the covers. The two of you quickly fell asleep, Bob holding you from behind tightly.

The loud noise of the alarm woke the two of you up. Bob sat up swiftly, surprised by the unfamiliar surroundings. You reached out, hand soothingly rubbing his thigh. “Hey, it’s okay.” Bob gave you a weak smile, laying back down next to you. The two of you laid there for a few minutes before getting up. You watched as Bob gathered his clothes, dressing himself after finding them all.

“Do you wanna stay for breakfast?” Bob shook his head no.

“I’d love to,” he moved to grab his glasses from the side table, “but I can’t. I gotta go get ready for work.” He offered you a weak smile, hating having to turn down your offer. You gave him a smile, getting out of bed and walking him to the door. You gave him a goodbye kiss before he left.

“Maybe I’ll see you around?” You asked. Bob gave you another smile, a blush creeping onto his cheeks.

“Yeah, maybe.”

Your morning moved by quickly, shower, breakfast, memories from last night, driving to work. The typical things in your routine. You sat in your car before getting out, thinking about the events of your night. God, you really hoped to see Bob again. If not, at least he gave you a memorable night.

“Quiet this morning, Howler.” Phoenix teased while zipping up her flight suit. “Where’d you disappear to last night?”

“Home. I went home.” You zipped up the front of your suit.

“With?”

“You wouldn’t know him.” You really didn’t want her to know about your escapade last night. Halo chuckled at the two of you.

“Chances are high, if he is a pilot I mean.”

“That’s why.” The three of you giggled as you all finished up. All of you made your way to the hanger, seeing the typical two person tables set up. A few people were already sitting down at the tables. Hangman, Coyote, and someone you didn’t know. They turned around and it hit you. Bob. The man how fucked your brains out was sitting in front of you. His eyes flicked between all of you, landing on you last. They were glued to you, making you stop in your tracks. Of course this would happen, why wouldn’t it?

“What? You scared, Howler?” Jake yelled out, eyes drifting down your stare to Bob. He cocked an eyebrow, staring at the both of you. Hangman didn’t say anything else, turning to make a snide comment at Phoenix. You swiftly made your way to the table behind Bob.

“What the fuck?” You whispered. Bob was bright red, his embarrassment obvious. The confidence he had last night being tucked away.

“I didn’t.. you’re a pilot?” Bob questioned, adjusting his glasses and trying to keep his gaze low while the two of you talked.

“You are too, apparently.” Bob smiled awkwardly, giving a small nod. You couldn’t help but admire how cute he looked like this.

“Gonna introduce me to your friend?” Rooster joked when he sat down next to you. Bradley nudged your arm with his elbow in an encouraging way.

“This.. this is Bob. He is a..”

“WSO. I’m a WSO.” Phoenix pulled that chair next to Bob out, a big grin on her face. Fuck, she knew.

“My most recent backseater.” Her grin painful to you. The teacher started the class, silencing the conversation you all were having.

The class felt like it dragged on. You needed it to end, needed to talk to Bob. Privately. When all of you were dismissed you leaned over your table, getting a knowing smirk from Rooster and Phoenix. Bob turned around when you tapped him on his shoulder. His cheeks were still rosy, making you wonder if he had been blushing all class. “You, me, private.” Bob nodded and got up, the two of you awkwardly excusing yourself from the group for a moment.

The both of you were silent in the side hallway for a moment. He was facing you on one side of the hallway, you leaning against the other side. “So..” You lead.

“I’m sorry, I should have told you.” Bob apologized, making your heart break a little.

“Don’t apologize. I didn’t say anything either.” You said, not wanting him to feel bad. There was nothing wrong with either of you forgetting to mention that you were pilots. “It’s not like we knew we’d be in this group together.” Bob took a few step towards you. His right hand grabbing your left hand, fingers lacing between yours. A smile crept on your lips at his affection. It was something you could get used to.

“At least now we get to see each other again.” Bob’s words were sincere and full of affection. His heart fluttered as he watched you.

“Yeah, I guess we do.” You heard some footsteps, the both of you looking down the hallway to see Natasha.

“Hurry up you two! We are getting ready to head up!” Once she stepped out of sight Bob pressed a kiss to your cheek. It was your turn for a heat to fill your cheeks at the gesture. A happiness spreads through you, glad that he was going to become a constant in your life.

#robert floyd #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #robert floyd smut #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #robert floyd fluff #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader smut #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #top gun x reader #bob floyd top gun #bob top gun #top gun maverick #lewis pullman x reader #lewis pullman

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devildom-drabbles · 1 year

Text

Snippet - Last Name

How would each of the demon brothers react to MC saying that they’ll give him their last name?

“There aren’t any demons or angels that have last names, right?” MC randomly questioned the demon brother they were spending time with. “Why is that?”

The demon explained how the beings in the Devildom and Celestial Realm were given one-of-a-kind names to distinguish them from others, unlike how many humans can share the same (first) name. As such, having a second name was unnecessary. Titles were more common to further establish their individuality, such as “Morning Star” for Lucifer and “Jewel of the Heavens” for Asmodeus when the two of them were angels.

“Do you wish you had a last name?” MC inquired.

The demon was mostly indifferent on the matter, but he did mention how he particularly liked MC’s last name.

“In that case, I’ll give you my last name someday,” MC remarked in a casual manner.

He opened his mouth to reply but paused upon realizing what MC might’ve been implying. A human typically would only share their last name with someone else when they were getting married to that individual.

Lucifer felt a surge of pride in his chest at the notion that MC intended to offer their last name (and their hand in marriage) to him alone. Still, from how nonchalantly they had presented the notion, he had to make sure that both of them understood it in the same way. “You’re aware of what that would mean for us, right?” he asked them. “It’s not something to take lightly, even if I’m not human.” After watching MC nod their head confidently, a small grin tugged at Lucifer’s lips. “Good. Seeing as how you already belong to me, MC, it’s only natural that your last name would become mine, as well. I look forward to when that day officially comes.” (Time to start planning a real marriage proposal, Lucifer thought to himself.)

Mammon managed to choke on his saliva when he pieced together what MC likely was implying, which, on the bright side, provided him with an excuse as to why his cheeks were flushed. All the money and rare treasures in the Devildom could never compare to the value of having MC’s last name all to himself. “Th-The Great Mammon accepts your gift!” he declared once he finished coughing. “If you’re gonna give your last name to anyone, obviously it’s gonna be me. That means no one else can have it, got it? No changin’ your mind, either! A-And...don’t take too long to hand it over to me, ‘cause I’m ready to take it anytime.” (Well, first, Mammon just needed to narrow down the best ring to give MC from his secret growing collection.)

Leviathan could've probably rattled off the long title of a human world anime that had a scene similar to this—that is, if he wasn’t currently short-circuiting in front of MC. “Y-Y-Y-You’d give your l-l-last name to a gross shut-in otaku like m-me?!” he asked incredulously. “You mean it?! Are you sure?!” Once MC reaffirmed their promise, Levi was certain he could die happy (but not right now!). “Oh man, it feels like I just unlocked the highest ranking class in an RPG! MC, I’ll wear your last name proudly and do everything I can to make sure you won’t regret choosing me to have it! ...Uh, when I do get your last name, I mean.” (Levi started focusing more on anime and game content that included marriage as references for how to be a good husband for MC in the future.)

Satan was left dumbfounded for a moment as he processed what MC was telling him. “So then, you’re saying...you want to marry me at some point, correct?” he bluntly questioned them. MC confirmed his suspicion, which brought a light blush to his face coupled with a pleased smile. Although there was no record of a demon and human ever marrying each other, he couldn’t deny that he also wanted this with MC. “All right. I’ll make your dream a reality, and in return, you’ll share your last name with me. This means we’ll spend the rest of your days together, too. Let’s build a love so strong it’ll be the envy of all romance novels and poetry.” (Afterward, while he was researching human marriage customs, he suddenly wondered if the cats he wanted to adopt with MC would also acquire their last name.)

Asmodeus squealed and bounced cheerfully in place before wrapping his arms around MC in a tight embrace. Normally the concept of being permanently tied to someone would be unappealing to Asmo, but those qualms became nonexistent when it involved MC. “I love you so much, MC! I’ll make you the happiest human in all the three realms as Asmodeus [Last Name]! Oh wow, my name was already gorgeous by itself, but with your last name added to it, it’s even better! Come on, let’s get a pre-engagement photo together. I can’t wait to brag to everyone on Devilgram about this.” (Since MC already offered him their last name, Asmo decided that he’d be the one to get them an engagement ring. But if MC buys him one, too, he certainly won’t complain.)

Beelzebub’s eyes twinkled with pure joy at MC’s promise. “Really? I’d like that a lot, MC,” he told them. His words may have been a bit of an understatement, considering MC’s declaration filled him with so much glee that it was enough to satisfy the seemingly endless void in his stomach. He couldn’t hold back his wide grin as he took their hands in his own and continued, “When I have your last name, we can finally be our own family. We’ll wake up together, make breakfast together, go out for lunch together, eat dinner together... Oh, yeah, I guess we mostly do that already, but it’ll be even more special than it is now. Hehe, I can’t wait.” (Despite the frequent distractions of thinking about wedding cake, Beel did take active steps to ensure that he’d be able to actually receive their last name.)

Belphegor perked up in surprise from MC’s words, the constant nagging urge to sleep vanishing in an instant. He feared he may have accidentally dozed off mid-conversation and only dreamed of MC wanting him to have their last name. Fortunately, the look on their face assured him that he had been awake, so his expression softened into genuine delight as he replied, “Okay, I like the sound of that.” Rather than ending it there, his mischief (and inner excitement) got the better of him, causing him to add, “Although, if you’re planning to give your last name to me, then that also means I can take it anytime I want, right? Even if it’s sooner than you expect? Because I might just do that.” (Belphie now had an unusually high level of motivation to take the next step in his relationship with MC.)

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patrophthia · 1 year

Text

willow | regulus black

pairing: regulus black x hufflepuff!reader

genre: fluff fluff flufff, just people being happy and shit, so fluffy i feel like poop for writing it while im single (when is it my turn to be happy) not beta read

word count: 3.8K

originally posted on my wattpad

— from bee: this takes place in sycamore girl timeline!

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

regulus didn't think to lift his head up when someone sat down besides him. the class was about to start, there was only a limited amount of seats so, really, he couldn't have cared less about whoever decided to sit to his right. he had more important things on his hand —like whether the characters in the book he was reading will end up with one another or continue to beat around the bush.

as he was about to reach the good part, the professor clapped his hands, starting the class. regulus shut his book, intending to put it into his bag when he looked to the side. there she sat, talking to her friend who was on the other side of her as she pulled out her quill and ink.

class began, neither of them starting conversation since it wasn't needed. every once in a while she would mutter something low under her breath, her eyes narrowing on the blackboard before she turned to him and cleared her throat, asking if the words on the board was what she thought it was and he would help before they went back to what they were doing.

"hey, is canada real?"

regulus turned to her with an incredulous look, brows knitted together trying to gauge whether she was joking or not. finally, he answered. "no."

"thanks," she replied with a smile, and turned back to what she had been doing.

the professor then began droning on about the lesson —one that regulus knew through and through, solely because, the book he was reading (a romance though he would never say it out loud) was a modern retelling of the event they were learning. he shut his notebook, pulling out the novel he was reading previously and continued where he left off.

it wasn't long before she finished as well, shutting her book and trying to tune into the lesson but only to feel as though she was being lull to sleep. to her left was regulus black, sitting handsomely as he always did with a hard cover novel (the dust jacket of it removed) in his elegantly pale hands.

the spine didn't hide the title of the novel though. false god, it read. she smiled knowingly at this. the book was about two sorcerers playing lovers when they despised one another, an enemies to lovers romance.

"heaven is when you touch me and hell is when i fight with you," i confessed, staring into her dark brown eyes. "but i can't help but feel as if we're being led by blind faith."

salazar, this novel is sickeningly sweet.

"i know that look."

regulus brows tightened slightly, tuning into her voice besides him and yet, not giving her his full attention.

"they confessed to her, didn't they?"

the slytherin looked over his book, peeking at her to find her smiling at him. clearing his throat, regulus asked, "you've read this?"

"yup," she said quietly, not wanting to be caught by the professor. "it's written by one of my favorite authors so i kind of had to."

regulus tilted his head slightly. "how'd you know what part i was at?"

"i had that same look on my face when i read it."

had she been watching him read? "oh." he let out, there was a pause before he spoke up again. "did they ever end up together?"

"if i told you that, i'd be spoiling you." she pulled out a piece of paper from her book and began drawing out lines before turning them into small boxes, pushing the parchment to the middle of the table, she looked up at him with a sheepish smile. "how about a game of tic tac toe instead?"

somewhere along the lines of tic tac toes and [name] ranting about the recent novels she'd read before lending it to him, regulus became quite fond of her. he had found himself —more often then not— missing her presence when he was with any of his other 'friends.'

it also didn't help that whenever she flirted with him —something he knew she did because, she liked seeing him get flustered after she said something mildly suggestive to him. he had always thought she was pretty ever since he'd first met her in first year (it was hard not to notice someone when you shared classes with them) but it had never been something that stuck as prominently in his mind as it did now.

the news of one of the black brother being engaged spread like wild fire at hogwarts, everyone —and he meant everyone— began bothering him non-stop. wanting to know if they could get an invite to the wedding (the answer to which he always said no to.)

today had been no different, every single person he'd encountered had asked for an invitation. he was tired of it and if anything he longed for the next class he had. the one he had with her. the one where she sat next to him and talked to him about anything but the lesson or the dreaded wedding.

she got to class five minutes later than him like she always did and smiled the second she spotted him, there was a skip in her step as she made her way over. "i just found the best novel ever."

regulus lifted an eyebrow, the corner of his lips curving upwards, giving her his full attention.

"right so the novel is called seven, it's written by the same author who wrote false god," she started, eyes drifting towards the door once a while to make sure that the professor wasn't there. "it's about two childhood friends who was separated when they were seven due to family issues from the guys' part. it's so beautiful, regulus. you'll love it."

regulus. they way it sounded so soft coming from her lips had him feeling things he'd never felt before. he would never tire hearing her say his name.

there was a content look on his face, listening and listening as she brought the fore mentioned novel from her bag and handed it to him. "i even annotated it for you. the pink are for the lines that i loved and the green is for the lines i think you'd love 'cause you're a slytherin and all."

he took it in his hand, eyeing it carefully. he flipped the cover over, seeing her hand writings scattered all around it —some of it being her gushing over the characters. he looked back to her, grey eyes going blue with affection.

"i'm not giving it to you, of course," she remarked, voice straining. "i'm only lending it to you."

"i know," he said all too quickly, making her normally extroverted demeanor (when it came to him, at least) falter. "i promise i won't steal it."

she laughed awkwardly, trying to ease any tension off of her shoulder. "you better not, i've only got one copy of it."

"then i'll buy you a million more." he promised, then smiled, adding, "if i happen to lose it, of course."

" 'course."

as he turned to his side, planning on placing the novel into his bag so he wouldn't misplace it. she called out. "hey reg."

reg. regulus noted. that was a new one. he liked it, he really did like it. he let out a hum of indifferent acknowledgment, not yet facing her as he tried not to show just how much the nickname had effected him.

"would you like to go out this weekend?" there was short second of silence, it wasn't long until she picked up once more. "like on a date?"

before he could even stop himself, he blurted out. "i have plans tomorrow."

"oh."

regulus couldn't help but feel like he was being stabbed in the chest by how deflated she sound. he didn't spare a second when he turned to face her, not wanting to drown in his own guilt. "but yes."

"yes?" she repeated unsurely.

"yes," he concurred. "i'd love to go out with you —on a date. what seems to be the problem is that i have plans to meet up with dear brother's and his fiancée, and i don't want you to spend your weekend waiting for me—"

"reg, i'm perfectly fine with waiting." she cut him off. "although, you nearly made me cry with your 'i have plans tomorrow' i thought you were rejecting me."

"i would never reject you." how could he? not when he had been waiting for something between them to happen for the longest time.

•••

sirius and his fiancée bid their goodbyes with knowing smile, leaving him be as [name] made her way over to him. the booth was pretty much empty with him being the only one sat there, cheeks tinted pink as he waited for her to be seated down.

she took the one opposing him, smiling at him prettily. "you look nice."

"i look nothing compared to you," he countered almost shyly. and then, clearing his throat, regulus asked her, "where'd you want to go?"

"i was going to ask you that," she replied, feeling small under his gaze. "should we just walk around until we figure out what we want to do?"

regulus smiled at that. and with a nod of his head; he stood up, standing awkwardly besides their table. she stood up as well and as they made their way out, she stopped, buying two bottles of butter-beer for them to enjoy whilst they made their way to the next location.

hogsmeade wasn't as pack as he had expected it to be. sure, they were hundreds of teenagers around his age walking around with thick scarves signifying their houses colors walking around but, —unlike every other time he'd been to hogsmeade during the weekends— he could still see the road before him rather than it being a field of hair.

he turned to the side, intending to look at her only to find her already watching him. "where do we go from here? left or right?"

regulus thought about it for a second. no matter where they went, he'd still be happy, he was with her and that would be good enough for him.

"your choice."

the date went as well as he could've imagined it to. regulus followed after everywhere she strayed, smiling and giggling brightly at whatever caught her attention. and by the end of the night, regulus had walked her back to her common room and (with all his inner gryffindor courage) kissed her good night.

he'd turned his back at the speed of light right after, hiding just how truly giddy and flustered he'd felt. fuck. regulus black might be in love.

•••

march rolled around, along with it came both remus lupin and james potter's birthday. both of which, the marauders had threw parties for and both of which, regulus had been invited to.

lupin's party was fun; regulus had enjoyed it to bits, it was a small party with those only in the marauder's close circle invited to. potter's party was the exact opposite, loud music and booze could be seen every he turned.

regulus had been waiting for his girlfriend when he spotted sirius' fiancée and her friends come in. he'd join in on their teasing about sirius' (not) crush on his fiancée and quickly caught onto how his dear brother's attitude change when he found out that she was a light weight.

"don't worry darling, i know how to have fun without getting drunk." whipped.

it was clear that sirius was staying sober for his fiancée (that he definitely didn't have romantic feelings for) if it wasn't clear by how he had kept his eyes on her the entire night, then it was extremely clear when james —the reason he'd said he'd stay sober for, asked for his help and all he did was tell him to sod off and went to her aid.

the man was in love and he didn't even know it.

when [name], regulus' favorite person, arrived, he'd had to tear his eyes away from her just so he could converse with other people at the party. she looked so beautiful and he was so, so, so lucky to have her be his girlfriend.

"what are you looking at?"

"you," he answered slyly. did someone spike the punch? why is his words flowing out so easily? what is this. "you're the prettiest girl, i've ever seen."

there was a look on her face, somewhere between shying off and laughing at his words. he'd always said nice things to her, things that made her weak in the knees and completely drunk off of him.

but something, something about him being slightly intoxicated and gushing about how gorgeous he thought she was, made her feel dizzy (all in the good way, of course).

"my love," regulus called out after a moment, grabbing her attention. "would you come to my brother's wedding?"

"as your date?"

"of course, as my date. as if i'll ever let you out of my sight," he replied, words slurring the tiniest bit.

she cracked out a winsome smile, nodding. "of course, i will."

•••

the wedding day came soon enough and sirius made it clear, very clear, so clear that if anyone dared to go against his wishes he would personally hunt them down himself. that everyone he cared for —including regulus himself— would have to get ready at the potter's house because, it is where he'd be and he would need the emotional support to go through this.

the women took over a side of the house, getting all dolled up with the help of one another while the men made snacks and gave sirius pep talks. regulus was sat next to lupin, both chewing on the snacks that potter had prepared and listened to sirius bugger longbottom with as many questions as he could.

longbottom always answered, being the only married man in the friend group made him the most suitable source for answers to sirius' inquiries.

"but isn't scary?" sirius questioned, brows knitting together as james fixed up his bow tie. "sharing everything with one another."

"not really," longbottom answered carefully. "it's scary at first, yes, but after a while it's a very comforting thing. knowing that you can share your inner thoughts with your lover and not be judged."

"but she's not my lover." sirius frowned. "we're just friends."

"then it makes no difference," longbottom said with a small smile. "i was friends with alice before we were a couple —not that i'm trying to force anything between you two of course. what i'm trying to say is, if james is a friend to you and you could share anything with him then you can definitely share everything with her."

"you're not getting cold feet are you?" regulus asked, his tone slightly teasing.

sirius turned to him, his face unreadable. "of course, not. i could never do that to her, not when she's been nothing but lovely about all this."

"not when you think she's so pretty," lupin chirped in lazily.

"that's because, she is."

"sure, she is," remus murmured, making sirius turned to him sharply. remus clicked his tongue, the corner of his lips edging upward. "i never said she wasn't."

"you didn't, but your tone was patronizing." sirius smacked potter's hands away, making him scowl as he backed away. "and quite frankly, i don't appreciate my wife being spoken about in that tone of voice."

"my wife." potter repeated loudly. "are you sure you're not in love with her?"

"what makes you think otherwise?"

"i dunno," potter said stupidly, "maybe because of the way you talk about her."

"or the way you look at her," lupin added. "we could go on for days, mate."

"do you lots hate me or something?" sirius grumbled. "you're always teaming up against me, is it funny to you?"

"it is." came a more feminine voice. the men turn, all finding their dates (except sirius) standing by the door way. "it's the most comical thing ever to hear you deny your love for your fiancée."

"i hate you guys," sirius grumbled. lily and sirius continued on with their banter, but regulus was no longer listening, finding himself too awestruck at the sight of his girlfriend.

she stood besides mckinnon, donning the prettiest he'd ever seen. she smiled upon feeling his gaze on her, an action that made regulus want to do nothing but kiss her until she was breathless. instead, he stood up from his spot and made his way over to her.

"you look handsome," she commented once they stood toe to toe. of course, he did (not that he was trying to be conceited). he made sure he looked as best as he could if he would be having someone as beautiful as her in his arms.

"thank you," regulus said softly, eyes kept on her as he spoke. no words will be able to explain just how divine she looked. and so, regulus chalked it up to a simple compliment. "you look lovely."

"i try to, for you."

bullshit. even if she wasn't trying —and he knew this for certain from all the previous time he'd spent with her; bundled up in her dorm with bags under their eyes as they hovered over her desk and conversed about their projects, heads on the pillow once they wrapped up, looking as though they were on their dying breath— she'd still look lovely.

•••

the start of regulus' seventh years went as well as he hoped. sure, he was drowning in assignments during the first week of classes but he had a girlfriend. and that makes up about seventy percent of it.

he'd grown accustomed to having meals with her by his side so it was no surprise when he was the first thing she found when she made her way into the great hall with a letter in hand.

"guess what," she started up excitedly, taking the seat opposing his. regulus supplied her with a what? encouraging her on. "i got an owl last night."

"who's it from?"

"just your sister in law," she said as casually as she could but the enthusiasm was not lost in her voice. "would you like to know why?"

"yes." he humored her, filling her goblet up with water. "i would like to know why, please."

"well." she placed the opened up the letter and placed it down. "sirius confessed in an overly dramatic way about whether she loved you more than she loved him, long story short they ended kissing. moral of the story, our favorite couple is no longer getting a divorce."

"i could write a romance book about that."

"please don't," regulus murmured, reading the letter for himself. sure enough, there —written in ink— was the details of the said confession and how they would not be going through with their divorce as they try to navigate their new relationship. "oh no."

"oh no?" she repeated, tone drastically different from his.

"oh no," he said once more, as if agreeing to something. "sirius talked about adopting me, if they stayed married that might just happen."

"that's stupid, regulus. she would never agree to that."

"you underestimate just how persuasive sirius can be, my love." he took a sip from his mug, his tea now cold. "he managed to convince her into marrying someone as horrid as him, adoption won't be as hard."

"you say that like he's the worst man to ever exist." he gave her look. one that was practically asking her if she was testing him. "besides, she married him for the money. she won't get anything out of adopting you."

"yes, she would."

"and what would that be?" she asked, mildly uninterested.

"me."

"and that's a good thing?"

regulus mouth dropped into a small O. the black had always had a flair for the dramatics and he was no exception. "yes," he said with full offense. "how could you ever think otherwise. i'm your boyfriend."

"i just—" she shrugged. "—you're not all that."

regulus was gasping now, eyes full with hurt. "i don't think i want to be with you anymore."

"is that so?"

"no." he denied with annoyance.

the grandfather clock rang, signaling the start off class and the pair stood up. regulus standing besides her as he waited for her to pack up her stuff.

the couple shared their first class, so it was obvious for them to walk with one another. once arriving, regulus headed towards the middle table; not too far away and not too close to the professor. he sat first, tapping the empty seat that was by his side for her to take.

she took it, smiling when her friends took to the table in front of them and began conversations with one another. class soon began, the professor droning on about the lessons when regulus found himself in a position he'd never been in before.

her hand was dropped to the side and he'd never wanted to hold something as much as he did now. he was practically begging for her to take his hand but he was too prideful to admit it.

"it's rude to stare," she said quietly, and regulus was distinctly reminded of their first encounter. same classroom, same seats. how history repeats itself never fails to amaze him. "even if you're staring at their hand."

he teared his eyes away, playing oblivious. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"right," she murmured as if she believed him. "did you want to hold my hand?"

"yes."

she took his hand at his answer, intertwining their fingers and placing it comfortably on her thigh before she turned back to the lesson.

time will age as will the both of them, and despite how greedy and selfish it may sound. regulus hoped it would never remove the memory of her smile when he'd first saw her.

life was a willow and it bent right through her wind.

#regulus x yn #regulus x you #regulus x reader #regulus black humor #regulus black fluff #regulus black x reader #regulus black x you #regulus black x yn #marauders era x reader #🧳: my writing

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bellaxgiornata · 5 months

Text

Under the Stars

Pairing: Frank Castle x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: Frank finally convinces you to join him on a camping trip and he intends to make sure that you fully enjoy it.

Warnings/Tags: 18+; smut, oral (fem receiving)

a/n: I've finally finished this little smutty fic for Frank! I needed to just finally let it go and share it because I've been writing this piece for far too long. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

Frank Castle One Shot Tag List: @heimtathurs @linamarr @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @mattkinsella @shiorimakibawrites @xxdrixx @leikelle @pinkratts @1988-fiend @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @stilldreaming666 @will-delete-this-later-probably @yarrystyleeza

Resting comfortably along Frank’s chest with your head burrowed just beneath his chin, you rose and fell in sync with each of his slow, rhythmic exhales. Your eyes remained fixed on the night sky above as you listened to the sound of Frank's even heartbeat in your ear that was pressed against his chest. The sound only further relaxed you in his embrace, your own arms tightening their hold around him.

The pair of you had set up camp at this campsite earlier today, though truthfully it had been Frank doing most of the work setting everything up. You had spent the afternoon enjoying the view of him bent in half, admiring his ass in his jeans as he put the tent together. You had attempted to help him, but mainly you'd stayed out of his way so you wouldn't mess everything up.

Now it had grown late as a smattering of stars dotted the black sky above. As you lay cuddled against his side, you could feel the day's exhaustion finally hitting you. The hike you'd both taken earlier had worn you out even if it had been enjoyable spending all that time alone with him.

This camping trip was the first one you’d ever let Frank talk you into joining him on, even if he’d mentioned bringing you along with him plenty of times before. But now, lying beneath the stars with only the sound of the crickets chirping as you cuddled up beside him, you could see what he meant by it being peaceful. It was just the two of you out here surrounded by nature with no other distractions. Nothing but uninterrupted time together.

It was perfect.

Frank’s fingers continued to gently trace a pattern along your shoulder, just over the fabric of the shirt you were wearing. He’d been absently doing that since you'd both laid down among the grass a bit ago and you couldn't help but to focus on the steady loops his fingers continued to draw along you. Smiling in contentment at the repetitive gesture, you sighed audibly as you slid your leg over Frank’s thick, solid one beside you, relaxing further against him.

“Okay, you’re right,” you admitted, breaking the silence. “I could get used to this. It is very relaxing being out here all by ourselves, just surrounded by all the pretty scenery.” Poking your finger into his chest, you added, “Though I’m still not so sure about that coffee maker you brought. I can’t see how it’ll make good coffee in the morning.”

Frank chuckled warmly, the sound a sweet, rumbling vibration against your ear still pressed to his chest. Your smile only grew wider in return, your hand flattening along him and affectionately running back and forth over the expanse of his broad chest. You could feel the muscles beneath his black tee-shirt, each and every defined, hard bit of them under your palm.

“It’s just coffee, honey,” he replied in his deep voice, shifting his head so he could look down at you. “It doesn’t need to be any of that fancy shit to get the job done.”

Turning your head, you glanced up at him, taking in the teasing smile just barely present on his lips. Even in the dim moonlight from above he looked exceptionally handsome as he gazed fondly back down at you, his warm, brown eyes full of affection.

“And that,” you said, tone teasing, “is where we differ, Frank.”

“Well either way,” he replied, his hand sliding down your shoulder until it landed on the swell of your hip, easily drawing you all the way up on top of himself next, “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Though I think I could make this even more enjoyable for you, sweetheart.”

" Frank ," you whisper-yelled, your eyes darting around the pair of you as you steadied yourself with your hands on his shoulders. "We can't do that here!"

Frank laughed beneath you, both of his hands gliding over your hips before they landed on your ass, gripping it firmly in his palms. He grinned up at your surprised face before you felt one of his large hands lightly tap your ass. You couldn't fight back the giggle that slipped out of you–you loved this playful side of Frank.

"No one here but us, sweetheart," he pointed out. "We can do whatever we want. Next campsite is far enough away that it doesn't matter. No one'll see us."

He bit his lip, a sly smirk sliding its way across his face before he ground his hips upwards into you. You sucked in a sharp breath at the feel of his already hardening cock, eyes widening at the unexpected gesture.

"Though I s’pose they might hear you," he teasingly rumbled out.

Heat burned low in you at his words, your hands tightening along his shoulders, fingers digging into him. Frank’s tongue slipped out between his lips, your eyes watching as it slid along his bottom lip while he cocked a brow at you.

"What d'ya say, honey?" he asked. "Want to enjoy this camping trip even more?"

His large palms began kneading your ass over your jeans, taking their time as they moved in sync with each other. Your eyelids fluttered as your hips involuntarily ground back against him, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. Frank damn well knew how to work you up.

"What'd you–" you paused, gasping when Frank slowly ground himself up into you again with that cocky grin on his mouth. Blinking rapidly, you tried to finish your sentence instead of focusing on the wet heat growing between your thighs. "What'd you have in mind?" you breathed out.

Before you knew what was happening, Frank had rolled you onto your back, one of his hands carefully cradling the back of your head as he did. He’d climbed atop you just as fluidly, straddling you beneath him with a mischievous look on his face as he gazed down at you, the moonlight softly washing over his features.

"Oh I know somethin' you’d like, honey," he replied cheekily.

Leaning down, Frank closed the space between you both before pressing his warm lips to yours in a delicate, slow kiss. Your hands roughly tightened their grip on his shoulders, your nails digging into them as you eagerly responded to his mouth. Tugging at him desperately, you attempted to draw him further flush to the front of yourself, your mouth moving hungrily against his as you quickly found yourself growing wetter from anticipation–it had been a few days since you'd last seen each other and had a chance to have sex. But despite that, Frank only continued his leisurely pace, sensually sucking your bottom lip into his mouth as you whimpered beneath him, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards against him.

Frank's solid thighs easily held you in place beneath him as he continued to straddle you, making the impatient squirming of your hips useless. His tongue danced along your lip in his mouth as your nails clawed helplessly at his thick, broad shoulders in return. Soft, desperate whines slipped out of you at the attention his tongue was paying you, but you were too far gone to be embarrassed about the pathetic noises you were making. You just wanted him already.

The sound of a zipper undoing soon met your ears over the silence of the night, though it took you a moment to realize that Frank had unzipped your jeans with one hand. Seconds later you felt him slip his warm hand inside the denim. You loosed a pleased moan when the pads of his fingers slid over your underwear, your eyes instantly snapping shut when he brushed over your covered clit.

Finally releasing your lip from between both of his, you heard him chuckle lightly. Your eyes flew back open at the sound only to be met with the sight of a pleased Frank grinning down at you. He began rubbing his fingers along your covered mound in a delicious, slow drag back and forth, his eyes focused along your face as it twisted in pleasure at his touch. With the sight of him above you swathed in the moonlight as his fingers continued to tease you over your underwear, another moan managed to tumble out of your lips. Frank seized the opportunity, abruptly leaning forward and pressing his mouth back to yours before swallowing the sound of pleasure down as his tongue pushed its way inside your mouth.

Lying along the grass, you began desperately grinding your hips upwards into Frank’s hand, your fingers curling around his shirt in sheer desperation. Soft whines and loud, panting gasps began to fall out of you as his fingers increased their pace against you, your mouth moving fervently back against Frank’s in a silent plea for more. You could feel your arousal further dampening your underwear with the way he was touching you, your body aching for more of him now.

Unexpectedly, Frank broke away from your mouth and you grunted an irritated noise of protest. Your head rose up from the grass, your lips chasing after his mouth with hunger in your eyes, but he only offered you a soft peck in return. With a frustrated groan your nails slid further down to claw at Frank’s back, your hips grinding harder against his fingers as you squirmed helplessly beneath him.

“ Frank ,” you groaned.

"So wet already for me, honey," he purred back at you. "Y'know how much I love it when you get like this."

You whined, your head falling back in the grass as you huffed out an exasperated sigh. “Don’t tease, Frank,” you begged. “That’s not nice.”

He shook his head at you, amusement shining in his eyes. “Not teasin’, sweetheart,” he assured you. “Just takin’ my time. Promised I’d help you enjoy this trip even more, didn’t I?”

His hand gradually began to continue its delicious movements, gliding back and forth over your damp underwear. As he did, his other hand grabbed the hem of your shirt before pushing it all the way up and over your breasts. When it was finally out of his way, he grabbed onto the edge of your bra before sharply yanking it down and releasing your right breast to the slight chill of the evening. A faint surprised gasp slipped out of you as the cold danced along your newly exposed skin, goosebumps raising across your bare stomach.

Frank’s attention focused downwards, a satisfied smile gradually drawing itself across his lips. He began to gently pull at your stiffening nipple, tugging it between his calloused thumb and index finger. The sensation sent a burst of pleasure through you, your hips yet again squirming beneath his other hand's tantalizing movements. You wanted his fingers or his mouth or his cock on you or in you and you wanted it now .

"Frank, come on," you panted out, writhing beneath him. "Please, baby. Stop–stop teasing me."

“Relax,” Frank murmured, still grinning back at you. “I’ll get you there, sweetheart. No need to be in such a hurry. Just gonna take my time with you.”

For another moment, his calloused fingers gently toyed with your nipple, alternating between lightly tugging at the hardened peak and gently but firmly pinching it between his fingers. When you were biting your lip between desperate whines of ‘please, Frank’ he finally lowered his head towards your chest, his fingers releasing your nipple after a final, teasing pinch. Cupping your breast in his large hand, he gradually drew his lips towards you, but the moment his hot breath grazed over your cold skin, a shudder raced through you, your nipple further stiffening.

His warm, wet lips soon wrapped themselves gently around the sensitive peak just before he tenderly sucked it entirely into his mouth. You moaned at the contrast of the heat of his mouth to that of the light chill of the night as your back arched up from the grass towards him. As the tip of his tongue lightly circled your nipple, you felt his other hand glide up towards the top of your underwear before his fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric. Your eyes pinched shut in response, your right hand flying up from his back and tangling in his dark hair as you expelled a breathy sigh.

Frank rumbled out a deep moan against your breast as two of his fingers gathered the slick between your folds, clearly pleased with how wet you'd become from his teasing. At the sound, your left hand fisted the fabric of his shirt, desperately grabbing at him as waves of pleasure coursed through you. Your eyes squeezed tighter shut when both of his fingertips gently eased their way inside of you.

" Frank ," you breathed out.

Frank's teeth gently bit down onto your nipple at the sound of his name and you sucked in a sharp breath as white danced across your closed lids. Your fingers tightened in his hair at the pleasant sting that shot through you while his fingers gradually sank all the way inside of you.

“Feels so–so good,” you whispered out. “Please don't stop.”

He released your nipple from between his lips with a soft, wet pop . Eyes fluttering open, you saw him gazing up at you as his face hovered above your chest. A self-satisfied smile sluggishly spread itself across his face, his lips glistening with his own saliva. Without warning, his fingers slid out before he thrust them fully inside of you. Your head rolled back along the grass, a moan flying out of you immediately.

“That's my girl,” he praised softly. “So good for me. Lettin’ me take care of you like this.”

You bit your lip, your eyes focused on the stars shining above in the dark. Frank's thick fingers continued to pump in and out of you as you felt his other hand slip your left breast from the confines of your bra. A gasp fell out of you as his fingers began to tease your other nipple.

“You like that, d'ya?” he purred.

You nodded your head frantically along the grass in response. “Mhmm,” you hummed out. “Yes.”

“But you want more, don't ya, sweetheart?” he asked.

Your eyes snapped shut again when you felt his fingers hit deep inside of you, curling perfectly to hit the right spot. Stars danced across the back of your eyelids, as many as there were along the night sky as yet again you moaned out. Everything he was doing felt amazing.

“Yes,” you panted out, answering his question. “Need you, Frank. Please.”

“I got you, sweetheart,” he assured you.

Bottom lip rolling further back between your teeth, you felt his lips encircle your left nipple. His fingers continued their avid movements inside of you as he continued their pace, pumping them into you over and over. Every few thrusts his fingers would hit the right spot before both of them curled until you were a writhing and moaning mess along the grass beneath him.

It wasn't long before you felt that coiling pleasure tightening deep in your gut. Your breath was coming in fast and hard by the time he finally released your nipple from his mouth. Though he promptly began to place lingering, open-mouthed kisses in a delicious trail that gradually moved down towards your stomach, the sensation causing your toes to curl in your shoes. The closer his mouth neared your aching clit, the more breathless you felt yourself becoming.

When he finally reached the place you needed him most, his fingers slowed their pace inside of you. Frank's plush lips lightly kissed the sensitive bundle of nerves and your hips jerked up towards his mouth at the faint touch. Raising your head from the grass, you glanced down at the sight of him between your thighs as his fingers briefly slipped out of you, both of his hands working to pull your jeans and underwear halfway down your legs and out of his way. As if he could feel your eyes on him, his head tilted upwards just enough that he could look at you beneath his lashes. The little smirk that crossed his lips had your cunt tightening involuntarily around nothing, a slight whine leaving you at the loss of his fingers.

“Gonna take care of you, honey,” he promised. “I got you.”

You hissed out a sharp breath between your teeth, your head falling back along the grass beneath you as he eased his fingers back inside of you. Seconds later you felt his hot breath blow across your clit and your hands flew out to your sides, gripping tight to the blades of grass next to you as your breath came in even shallower.

“Thatta girl,” Frank praised gently.

His lips wrapped around your clit as his left hand grabbed onto your hip, pressing you down into the grass and holding you steady the moment you began squirming beneath him. He was switching between sucking your clit into his mouth and lapping sensually at it until your eyes were rolling back behind closed lids, your breath entirely catching in your throat. Your hips were frantically trying to fight his firm hold to keep you still, bucking up against his face. His hand only tightened on your hip as he moaned against your cunt, burying himself even further between your thighs as his nose pressed hard into your pubic bone.

Between the wet sounds mingling with Frank’s own deep and muffled moans vibrating against your cunt and the way his fingers once again increased their pace as he fucked you with them, you soon felt yourself teetering on the edge of your climax. Right hand releasing the grass beside you that you'd had in a death grip, you reached out and grabbed onto his hair yet again.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” you breathed out in a flurry of curses.

Your back arched along the ground despite Frank still holding your lower half firmly in place beneath him as his mouth passionately focused on your clit. That familiar warm, tingling sensation began to race its way up from the base of your spine until you felt it heat your entire body. You felt ready to float off the ground if it wasn't for the fact that Frank’s hand was keeping you in place beneath him. As his lips once again sucked that sensitive nub into his mouth, a cry of pleasure flew from your lips and you came hard, falling over the edge of your climax.

Frank quickly withdrew his fingers from inside of you, replacing his lips with them as they rubbed tenderly against your clit, working you through your orgasm. His mouth switched to focus on your soaked entrance, his tongue eagerly lapping up everything that spilled out of your cunt as your whole body slowly sunk into the ground. Frank didn't let up with his ministrations until he’d pulled you through your orgasm and you'd begun to gasp and whine from overstimulation.

Gradually your eyelids fluttered open again, spotting Frank on his knees between your own as he sat upright. He was smiling triumphantly up at you as his hands landed on both of your quivering, bare thighs, your slick apparent on his lips and chin in the moonlight. You sent him a blissed out smile in return, your body feeling limp on the ground as you tried to catch your breath.

“If this is what camping with you is like,” you began slowly, panting hard, “I've really been missing out.”

Mischief danced in his eyes as his hands released your thighs and grabbed onto the hem of his shirt. You watched silently as he pulled it up and over his head, tossing it carelessly to the side. Immediately your eyes raked over his muscled and bare torso in the dim light of the night.

“Don't worry sweetheart,” he replied with a devious grin, “this trip isn't over yet. And I'm not quite done makin’ sure you enjoy it.”

Eyebrows raising high onto your forehead, your lips parted in surprise. Frank let out a deep, amused chuckle at the expression on your face as he gradually drew himself up over the top of you. Before his lips were back on yours, you briefly made a mental note that you needed to join Frank on camping trips more often.

#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle #frank castle x fem!reader #the punisher

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gaysindistress · 6 months

Note

Hiya ❤️ would you maybe do buck imagine for my bday tomorrow for me? I'd really need some distraction atm. One where you have a crush on each other but of course don't talk about it. Then one night you enter the living room all dressed up for a date and buck is totally flashed by you, until you ask for his opinion for it. When he realizes this is for another guy he gets all bad mooded and leaves. Then instead of your date, you head to Buckys room and decide to finally make a move and kiss him and admit your feelings, which leads to also sleeping together and lots of cute Bucky afterwards? 🙊

Hi babes!!! Im so sorry I didn’t reply to this sooner. I wanted to wait until I finished the fic before I answered. I left it more suggestive but there’s plenty of cute Bucky!!

Warnings: cursing and suggestive content

“I told you to stay back! Do you ever listen?” Bucky sneers when he spots a furry of black rush past him into the open courtyard.

“Yeah just not to you. I’ve learned to tune out your voice,"I plainly state back, tucking myself behind a cement pillar after making a mad dash across the courtyard.

“Would it kill you to put your ego aside for one mission? For…” he’s interrupted by the rain of bullets coming his way and he drops down to the ground, “Sam do you copy?”

“Loud and clear,” he answers through their earpieces, “It looks like there’s about five guys shooting at you. Want Redwing to take them out?”

Bucky’s nose flares at the mention of the godforsaken machine but concedes, “Cover her and I’ll do it.”

“Excuse me? I don’t need anyone’s…” a shriek cuts me short and the sound of my own bullets confirms that I do, in fact, need help and Redwing is on it within seconds, taking out the offended men.

“What was that?” Bucky tries not to sound mocking but it’s just too good of a moment to miss.

“Shove it, Barnes. You’re the one who doesn’t immediately think of his bionic arm because he’s right handed.”

“Sam you told her about that? That’s it. Both of you are fired when we get back.”

We chuckle at his false threat and focus on the task at hand; getting inside of the looming concrete building, extract the intel, and get out in one piece.

“Sammmmmmmmmm…”

The man glances up from the book he is reading at the sound of his name being drawn out, “yesssssss y/nnnnnnn?”

“I need to talk to you,” I nervously whisper, twisting around to see if anyone is in the room. Slipping his bookmark into the book, Sam sets it down and sits back against the couch, gesturing for me to take a seat.

“I swear to god if this has to be with robo cop, your free therapy sessions will come to an end,” he teased me but comes off harsher than he intended and he cringes when my face falls.

“Oh it’s okay. I’m sorry to bother you,"I quickly try to recover the social blunder I’ve made but he grabs my wrist and tells me to sit my ass back down.

“You’re not bothering me and you know better than to take me seriously,” he gently chides me as he pulls me into his side, “what did he do now?”

Fingers twist in uncomfortable angles as I ring my hands together in my lap. Regret starts to fill me and pushes against me like the strong coastal winds, trying to shove me off of the couch and out of the room.

“Nothing. I just…I just hate it, ya know? I hate the whole shitty back and forth we have and how he’s always such an asshole but only to me. I hate that…” I trail off and lean my head on Sam’s shoulder, “I hate that I can’t just tell him how I feel. At this point just getting it off my chest is all I want; I don’t care if he feels the same. I wouldn’t even care if he rejected me, as long as I just didn’t have to live with this disgusting school girl crush.”

Sam chuckles, “have you tried talking to him?”

“We are talking about the same person here, right?”

Although I can’t see him, I can feel the eye roll and heat it in the sarcasm that drips from his voice.

“I will shove you off this couch, I’m trying to HELP you,” he jokingly pushes me away causing us to both laugh, “if you won’t talk to him, then why not move on?”

My laughter dies instantly.

Move on?

Move fucking on?

“It’s not that simple,” I snipe at Sam and he hisses from the fake burn of my words.

“It was a suggestion. You don’t have to listen to it,” he says with mock defensiveness.

Another fit of laughter overcomes us and I fall into his lap, completely unaware of how this might look to others. That is until we hear a snort of disgust from the doorway.

The owner?

The one and only Bucky Barnes.

I scramble off of Sam and clear my throat, embarrassed that Bucky walked past.

“Come on, Sam. You can do better than her,” he says with a scowl before striding down the hallway again.

Sam’s jaw tenses and he’s muttering to himself as he stands, taking off after the super solider. He pauses at the door, “I’m sorry for him.”

“It’s fine,” I mumble but it’s not convincing enough.

“No it’s not and I’m going to kick his ass for it. And for the record I think you should at least try and date other people.”

I give him a small smile as he turns and takes off after Bucky, shouting the whole way that he better be ready to get his ass whopped.

Try and date other people.

It feels deeply wrong to even think about dating other people but Bucky clearly isn’t in a place to even hear my feelings for him.

I pull my phone out and open the most god forsaken app to ever exist; Tinder.

The profile that Yelena and Natasha helped me make has several matches and unread messages but I haven’t had the heart to respond or even open them. Scrolling aimlessly, I pick someone random and message him back.

I have to at least try no matter how loud my heart is screaming at me.

Nelly Furtado and Megan Thee Stallion have been on repeat for the last three maybe four hours. I’m sure everyone is annoyed and would be banging on my door, shouting at me to turn it off if Sam hadn’t told literally every single person in the tower that I had a date. Tony clapped me on the shoulder, congratulating me for getting out there while Yelena and Natasha demanded to know every detail about this mystery man. I promised Sam that I wouldn’t forget this and he better be ready to lose next time we spar during training. His usual smile dropped as the fear of god struck him. Well the fear of ME struck him.

Smoothing my dress down, I cock my head at my reflection in the mirror. I have to admit that I look stunning in the simple fitted dress that Natasha practically ordered I wear. It’s a tie dye pattern of cream and red with thin straps and a scoop neckline that shows off the star pendant necklace that Tony and Pepper gave me when I first moved in. A “welcome to the tower and good luck” gift as he put it with a teasing smile. Simple hoops line my ears and two matching bracelets adore my wrists however the simplicity of my outfit feels over the top. I’d changed my shoes about 40 times and settled on a pair of tan platform sandals but something is nagging at me to change again.

I check the time and curse under my breath when I see that I need to leave in 5 minutes, which certainly isn’t enough time to change everything. The thought of canceling occurs to me but I know I’ll never hear the end of it.

Checking my reflection one last time, I grab my phone and shove it in my purse before leaving my room. Normally I’d be able to tell if someone was in the common living room but I’m too distracted by hyping myself up for this date to notice that there is someone sitting on the couch.

A certain asshole who never fails to piss me off but also makes me fall for him even more to be exact.

I come to a halt when I feel his presence and duck behind the wall, praying he didn’t see me. Peaking my head out, I’m relieved that he hasn’t and my heart clenches at the sight. Bucky looks so peaceful sitting on the couch dressed in a hoodie and joggers with a well loved book in his lap. Although his hood is pulled up, his ruffled hair peeks out, having grown longer and longer with each passing day. When I first met him, he was damn near bald with his short cropped hair but he’s let it grow long enough that he has to push it back every now and again. I jokingly offered him a hair tie during training one day after I saw how frustrated he was getting with it. He snatched it from me with a grumble and sported a unicorn hair for the remainder of training. Sometimes I think I see that black hair tie on his wrist but he’s all too eager to get away from me for me to properly look.

“I can feel you staring, pervert,” his voice cracks from not being used in hours and I flinch at the sudden noise.

“I’m not staring,” I weakly mumble and step back into the living room.

He hasn’t looked up from his book, still reading the pages as he speaks to me, “yes you were.”

I roll my eyes and stick my tongue out at him which of course, he somehow sees. It’s beyond me how he can literally sense everything except for my feelings towards him.

His piercing eyes flicker up at me for a brief moment and back to his book before doing a double take.

“Where are you going?”

His question catches me off guard and I scowl at him, “what are you? My dad?”

His jaw twitches but he says nothing.

Satisfied that I got the best of him, I push my luck and ask him, “how do I look? Would you want to go on a date with me?”

Apparently that’s a big fucking mistake because he’s up and storming out of the room like a fucking child without a single word.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mumble under my breath and go after him, “Barnes! I asked you a question, don’t you know it’s rude to storm off and not answer when someone asks you something?”

The behemoth of a man still says nothing as he continues to stomp down the hall.

“Bucky!” I shout at him and he stills right at his door. His left hand is gripping his door knob and I can hear it crumble under its strength. He doesn’t turn to look at me. No no he turns his head just enough to side eye me as he spits out, “fuck off, Y/N.”

The use of my first name takes me back. He never calls me y/n, not even when he’s furious with me for not falling orders. It’s always my last name, Agent, or some rude nickname and on very rare occasions when he’s flirting with me to be a dick, doll.

“Excuse me?” I scoff at him, crossing my arms over my chest.

“I said fuck off,” he grits out as he rips the door open and tries to slam it shut but my hand stops him.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that, no matter how much you hate me. What is your deal anyways? All I did was ask if you liked my outfit which shouldn’t matter to you anyways,” I tell him as I shove into his room. It’s his turn to be taken aback and he stumbles backwards when I push through.

“You’ve made it very clear that you despise me and I, for the life of me, cannot figure out why,” my pent up frustration and anger come spilling out as I continue to tell him off, “I was nothing but kind and friendly when I first got here but you? You were a dick from day one and only to me! You didn’t treat Yelena or even fucking Sharon that way. It was just me and it got worse! Oh my god it’s gotten so much worse and whether or not you want to believe it, I’m a person who has feelings! I can’t even begin to count how many times I’ve cried in the shower because of you. It got so bad that I would cry myself to sleep like a fucking idiot and someone had to sit with me until I fell asleep so I wouldn’t throw myself into a goddamn panic attack. Poor Sam almost moved in because he was the only one that could calm me down. Did you know that?”

He’s staring at me with wide eyes but not a single emotion crosses over them. It makes me unbelievably angry that my outburst doesn’t even phase him.

So I keep going, “and you want to know the worst part? The day I got here, Tony was showing me around and he brought me into the kitchen where everyone was eating. You were there, flirting with Sam just to piss him off but you looked so happy. You were laughing and smiling so much that Tony, fucking Tony made a comment about how that was the happiest he’d seen you in a while. You hadn’t seen us yet but when you did, you gave me that charming Brooklyn smile and it was all over for me. From that single smile, I knew I was screwed because I’d caught feelings for you. Not that it mattered though because within a matter of hours, you lost that smile and were so awful. I tried so hard to make you like me but nothing. If anything it made you hate me even more but no matter what, I’ve always had these…feelings for you that I don’t want anymore. I don’t want to look at you and feel my heart breaking because you don’t feel the same way. I don’t want to pick apart every person I talk to because they’re not you and I hate that they’re not. I don’t want to cry to Sam about how it feels like a piece of me is dying when I’m not around you but you want nothing to do with me. I don’t want to feel like this anymore, Bucky. I can’t… I can’t feel like this.”

By the end of my confession, the tears I swore I would never shed again have fallen. They ruin the makeup I spent an hour putting on, pretending it was a date with Bucky because thinking about Miguel makes my skin crawl. I know I look like a mess but I don’t care. I’ve said my peace finally and while it’s embarrassing and I know I’ll regret it later, it’s done. Maybe now I can move on or at least find comfort in knowing that I won’t have to face Bucky again and live with these disgusting unrequited feelings.

He’s still said nothing, hasn’t moved or otherwise acknowledged that he’s heard me. He just stands there, staring at me with a clenched jaw and completely still. The only noises that fill his room are my sniffles and the subtle whirring of his arm as he clenches his hands into fists.

Of course he wouldn’t say anything. Why would he? It’s not surprising but hurtful regardless because I would’ve hoped he’d find a shred of kindness to show me under all of that hatred.

I shake my head as I turn to leave, unable to deal with him and with the fact that I’m now late for my date. My phone buzzes and I’m greeted with a rather rude message from Miguel about how unattractive it is that I’m late and didn’t even give him a heads up. It takes everything in me to not scream as loud as I can and throw my phone against the wall. Instead I settle for angrily shoving it back into my purse while more than a few foul words fall from my lips.

A cold metal hand clasps onto my wrist as I pull open the door and I look down at it in shock.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bucky whispers, his grip gentle but inescapable all the same. I want to tear myself away but he’s touching me. My heart begins to pound at the connection between us and I let out a shuttered breath.

“You can start by apologizing for how you talked to me,” I manage to say with a voice that is steadier than my breathing.

“I’m sorry, doll. Not just for that but for everything. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I’m sorry I made you cry and made you think I hated you. I’m sorry I ever treated you the way that I did. No one deserves that and especially not you,” he says in a low voice while slowly closing the distance between us. His hand slides up my arm until it rests on my bicep and he asks for me to come closer too with a soft squeeze.

“I know actions are louder than words and if you’ll let me, I will do anything you ask of me to make it up to you. All you have to do is ask, doll and I swear I’ll do it,” his voice cracks with emotions that I never thought he could feel. Tears brim his eyes as he looks at me with such hope that I feel my own threaten to start falling again.

“No,” it shocks me just as much as it shocks him. His hand loosens and falls to his side.

“No,” I breathe out, “I can’t…that’s….Bucky I just admitted that I’m in love with you and that’s all you have to say? I appreciate the effort but it’s not…no it’s not enough.”

“You’re in love with me?”

Disbelief laces his words and I let out a scoff because he can’t be fucking serious right now.

“Don’t… don’t make me say it,” I stammer over my words as my sobs get caught in my throat.

He blinks at me for a moment before repeating it more to himself than me, “you’re in love with me.”

I wait with bated breath as he processes the revelation. He takes a sudden step forward and I take one back out of habit. Pain explodes onto his face as he steps back again and I swear to god I’ve never felt my heart break as much as it is now.

“Don’t play with my emotions, Bucky,” I hiss, the words harsher than I intend

“Jesus fuck,” he mutters while running a hand through his hair, “do you really think I’d do something like that?”

An answer materializes on my tongue but I can’t say it and he learns it from the struggle in my eyes.

“Wow, I…I can’t believe that you think that low of me.”

“No, I don't because I think the world of you.”

He shakes his head, “don’t play with my emotions either, doll.”

“Considering that I don’t know what they are most of the time, I don’t think I could even if I tried.”

There’s a shift in the tension and I can’t place what. Bucky straightens his shoulders and looks at me with a new intensity. He attempts another step in my direction and when I don’t back away, he begins to prowl towards me.

“I’m not good with words.”

“Trust me I’m aware.”

“I haven’t been able to think about my own wants and needs until recently.”

He backs me into the door but stays a foot or so away from me.

“Where are you going with this?” My voice is whinier than I’d hoped and I pray to god he doesn’t notice.

But he does and the smile that hooked me in the first place overtakes his face.

“Anywhere you want me to, doll. If you want me to give you space, I’ll give it to you even though it’ll break me,” he whispers seriously, “If you want me to grovel until we’re both old and forget why, I’ll gladly get on my knees for you right now. If you want me to show you how I feel, all you have to do is say yes.”

Hesitation creeps up on me because I know what I want and what I want is not what I need.

“Yes.”

Bucky takes the final steps and pins me against the door, both arms caging me in so I have nowhere to go. My hands fly up to his shoulders as he leans in, not quite letting our lips touch.

“I’m in love with you too,” he whispers against my lips before his descends upon mine. I half expected him to devour me but it’s unhurried, slow and languid as our lips move in sync. I can feel his love in the way that his tongue slides against my bottom lip before slipping in. He’s gentle with me as his hands move to cradle my head and pull me impossibly closer. He's apologizing for the tears and angst I’ve felt as my phone rings and he silences it without breaking our kiss. He’s showing that he’ll spend as long as it takes to show his love for me as he urges me to wrap my legs around his waist and takes me to his bed.

My phone rings again and he lets out a frustrated growl as he breaks our kiss to answer it. He rolls his eyes at the name that flashes and presses the answer button with a little too much aggression.

“Hello?”

I can’t hear what Miguel says but Bucky’s replies are very clear.

“This is her boyfriend.”

“Since when? Since right fucking now.”

He hangs up and tosses my phone to the other side of his bed.

“Boyfriend, huh?” I tease however it falls short when he dips his head to my neck, licking and sucking at my skin.

“Have a problem with it, doll?”

“Not at all.”

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes fic #marvel imagine #bucky barnes fanfic

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tired-teacher-blog · 1 year

Text

A wonderful morning

Characters : Aizawa/ Fem reader

Genre and Warnings : NSFW/ 18+/ Fingering/ Dirty Talk/ Hair pulling/ Sexual Intercourse/ Fem squirting/ Aizawa smacks your butt once/ Drabble

Notes : Not a valentine's special or anything like that, but a sexy little thing to post for the occasion

Please do not read if you're a minor

Masterlist|Second Masterlist

_ "Wai.. wait.. Shouta, what are you doing?" and it sounded more like a whine than the intended annoyed protest.

_ "Oh, is this too much for you gorgeous?" this bastard knew what he was doing, and feigning innocence in the middle of fingering your cunt while bending you over the kitchen counter, wasn't fooling anyone.

_ "We can't.. doing it here is a little.. breakfast, I need to finish.." you stumbled over your own words, eyes shifting to the buttered piece of toast that landed on the floor when your hubby decided to surprise you from behind while you were in the middle of making your meal.

_ "We can't? Well, you say that, but then dare strutting around the house with nothing on but my shirt? You're asking for it honey." he stated mockingly, pumping his digits faster into your heat.

_ "This is not.. it's not funny!" you cried out frustratedly, squeezing your eyes shut as you struggled to keep yourself up on shaky legs.

He said nothing after that, and instead sneaked his free hand under your shirt -his shirt- hiking the garment further up around your waist, and leaning on your back so his breath was tickling your neck.

You were exasperated, incredibly so, but something about him manhandling you, turned you on a bit too much.

Your whimpers soon turned into eager moans while your hips shamelessly met his thrusts, and his fingers were no longer enough to quench your aching need, "Shouta, stop teasing me please.."

_ "What was that? Come on speak up princess," his sinful fingers curled to press against that familiar sweet spot inside of you, "oh listen to this, you're making all kinds of indecent sounds down there, I must be doing one hell of a job."

Asshole.. that's what he was, but there was no strength left in you for stubbornness, "please, just put it in damnit!"

His amused chuckle fanned over your shoulder as he replied with a soft, "as you wish beautiful" before lowering his sweatpants and freeing his raging cock.

Your back arched in anticipation, and his name left you in a slur at the feeling of the smooth head rubbing against your glistening clit.

Frankly, he was barely holding on to his sanity at that point. Your shameless mewls.. flushed delicate skin.. perked up luscious bum and fluttering cunt.. everything about you drove him mad.

_ "What are you doing to me?.." he breathed out, brows knitted together and head tilted back as he slowly stretched you, oh-so-deliciously around his shaft, "look at that, your pretty little cunt is devouring me whole."

Your mouth fell open but no words came out of it, only eager wails managed to escape you as he withdrew to the tip and slammed back into your heat with a husky "fuck".

One of his hands moved to grip your messy hair, pulling you forcibly to crash your lips together in a hasty kiss..

His growing despair was evident in the bruising clutch he had on your waist and the slew of curses leaving his lips each time your hips met his own in another hard plunge.

The counter dug into your belly a little deeper with each thrust, and your legs were barely able to hold you up as is. It was all a little too much to handle but a little too arousing to consider stopping, you wanted him to go hard on you, to ruin your insides and rearrange them in the process, you wanted to see and feel more of the unusual rough side he rarely ever shows, and so you pleaded, "harder! Yes yes yes.. don't stop! Please Shouta!"

And who is he to deny your wishes?

_ "I got you gorgeous, brace yourself for me yeah?" words had barely managed to leave his mouth before his hand left your hair and slid around to press against your glistening clit, fingers slowly stroking the sensitive rosy nub and hips rolling deliberately to hit that delicious spot within you.

Your vision blurred and your whole body trembled as you were almost driven over the edge, "keep going, please."

You pressed your cheek against the cold surface of the kitchen counter as your mouth fell open in a hopeless attempt to catch your breath, and you could feel that familiar warmth pooling within you, reflecting your nearing blissful release.

And all of a sudden, his large warm palm struck your butt cheek roughly, growling your name as he did so. It surprised you -shocked you in fact-, so much so that your legs have finally given out as you gushed all over the fingers still fondling your clit.

You spasmed violently as you rode out your orgasm, grateful for the arm holding you tight and preventing your fall.

_ "Fuck.. look at that, you're drenched." the smirk lacing his teasing words was too obvious to ignore, and the fingers ravishing your swollen clit have finally slowed down and moved to clutch on your thigh, lifting it up as his thrusts quickened.

_ "You like it when I'm a bit rough huh? Look at the mess you've made underneath us." his voice was deep and his pushes were erratic, hips slamming against your own and twitching cock grazing your sensitive core, over and over and over again.

You were in a haze, too consumed by an overwhelming pleasure to care for your messy floor.

Your eyes rolled back and your moans turned into pleading cries as he fucked you deeper.

_ "Damnit, I'm cumming!" he hissed darkly before pulling out of you with an almost regretful grunt, and releasing his pearly seeds all over your bum.

He held you still, caging you in his arms as you both tried to alleviate your raging hearts and labored breathing, and you could feel his tense muscles relaxing at last.

_ "How are you feeling sweetheart?" he purred into your ear, placing the softest kiss on your reddening shell.

_ "I'm okay, but I hate you." you whined playfully, grateful he was unable to catch the smile threatening to escape you, and giving in at once when hearing the sound of his intoxicating chuckle.

_ "I'm sorry honey, but you're irresistible," and all of a sudden, you felt yourself floating as he picked you up in his arms, "just relax and allow me to take care of everything." he murmured sweetly and you could -at long last- see that beautiful face you so much adored..

The face you couldn't help but cradle gently before whispering a soft I love you.

#aizawa shota x y/n #aizawa shota x reader #aizawa shota x you #aizawa shota smut #aizawa shouta smut #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta x you #aizawa headcanons #aizawa smut #aizawa x reader #aizawa x you #shouta aizawa imagine #shouta aizawa x reader #shouta aizawa headcanons #shouta aizawa smut #bnha smut #mha smut

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sweetnsour1 · 2 years

Text

7:49

Fluff, Bakugou x female reader

You pulled at the thread of your jeans, and tugged another piece to tie into a knot, sealing the hole that seemed to widen with each wash. You cracked your knuckles to give them a new task, anything to keep your gaze from the semicircle of chairs in front of you. You wriggled in your seat, glad they had at least given you Kiri’s recliner.

“So, y/n…do you know why we’ve gathered here today?”

You bit your cheek, hoping that the help me text you had sent when you’d first been guided into the chair of honor had been read. You looked up to four pairs of eyes staring at you. All shared the same determined and worried expression.

“Hmmm…an intervention?”

“Basically.”

“Ow!” Sero rubbed at his head as Mina settled her hands back into her lap.

“It’s not an intervention, dummy.” Her tone softened as she smiled at you. “We need to have a talk.” You raised your eyebrows in place of a reply. Kiri continued where the pink hero had left off. You wondered if they had rehearsed.

“It’s about Bakugou.”

“Oh? Is he okay?” You were surprised the conversation had turned to this. If it was about him why were you the one in the leather seat.

“No, he’s not okay! He’s gonna die alone!” You laughed as Kaminari flung his hands around so roughly that poor Sero got smacked again.

“He seems happy to me.” Your words sounded more defensive than you'd intended, but he really had seemed happy. His tone had softened. His shoulders weren’t hiked up so often. You no longer skirted around him in the halls when he had a bad day. You didn’t hesitate to leave things on his desk in exchange for the many coffees and treats he left on yours. Were they seeing something you weren’t? You looked back down at the denim threads, choosing two others to tie. They’d get sealed together in the next wash.

“Yea…that’s why we’re here today.” Mina waited until you looked up before continuing. “He’s happiest...around you.” You focused on the pink finger accusing you, avoiding her wide eyes.

“Oh…” You felt a vibration from your pocket, but they seemed so earnest and so worried…you couldn’t ignore them.

“Y/n…we just think you and Bakugou should give it a shot.“ Kirishima’s deep voice was leveled as always, but you tucked your smile away before meeting his worried face.

“Is that so? Why don’t you talk to him about it?”

“We tried. The jerk said it’s none of our business.”

They missed how you smiled at the pouty way Sero echoed Bakugou's familiar words, all four turning to the door that seemed in danger of breaking under the weight of the knocks.

Kaminari jumped behind your seat, peeking over your head. Sero was prepared to tape the door shut until Kirishima nudged him back so he could open it. Mina stayed put, rolling her eyes at the chaos one unexpected arrival had created.

He was still in costume, clearly prioritizing this after patrol rather than heading back to the office. Dynamight ignored them all, shouldering the two men out of the way as he made a direct line for you. You laughed at the gasp from behind you as Kaminari hit the floor and crawled to the safety of Mina.

You hummed, waiting for the handsome hero to finish searching your face for any signs of distress. He wouldn’t find any.

“You’re okay.” You nodded, confirming his results. “Good.” He ran his hand over the top of your head, turning to face the room while his fingers slid down to rest against the back of your neck.

“The fuck are you idiots doin’ to my girl?”

You bit your lip hard to keep from laughing. You had never once seen all four of them go quiet at once. The game nights, house parties, work meetings, vacations, trips to the amusement park, shopping, were always a loud scene of Bakugou herding the cats that were his best friends. It was unusual enough for all of them to be having the same conversation, but silence? You never would’ve imagined it was possible.

Kirishima was the first to escape his petrified state.

“Your girl?”

“That’s what I fuckin’ said.”

“You’re telling me that you successfully convinced that beautifully hilarious angel demon of a woman to go out with you?” Even from your low vantage point you could see his face turn pink.

“I didn’t have to convince her of shit. Dating me isn’t a fuckin’ chore, raccoon eyes.”

"Seems exhausting to me." She winked at you, all sense of seriousness gone from her demeanor now.

He didn't get a chance to argue more as the room began to echo with a stream of questions. You heard everything and nothing, looking up in surprise when your boyfriend was able to answer not only all of them, but in order.

"Seven months on Saturday. She asked me. That ramen place I asked you about. Not answering that, ya damn perv. Because it wasn't your fuckin' business." He bent down, leaning over you as he released the recline of the chair. He hummed when you kissed his neck, turning to receive another on his lips. "Come on, let's go home." You winced as four voices yelled variations of the same question.

"You two are fucking living together?!?!?"

Inspiration for this was sent in by the lovely @bub-ss

Masterlist

#bakugou fluff #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bakugou x female reader #katsuki bakugou #bnha imagines #bnha fluff #bakugou imagines #bnha #x reader

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blippymilk · 3 months

Text

John Dory x Kpop Fem! Troll

A/N: The reader is a female Korean pop troll. She is John Dory’s girlfriend during the events of the Trolls: Band Together movie (and so forth but you get it). I know the request doesn’t say K-pop but the user that sent this let me know. Please forgive me for any mistakes, I am NOT fluent in Korean at all!

Warnings: Slight cussing, mentions of death (yk Floyd)

This is also a lot longer than I intended but I was quite interested actually

I hope you enjoy 🥹

You laid back in your bed shifting under the covers to find the right spot. You placed your sleeping mask on, as you rolled towards the empty space in your shared bed. You took a breath and let your body relax as a small smile graced your lips. Your beauty sleep being so abruptly interrupted by your boyfriend busting the door to your room open. “아 젠장!” You screamed. “WAKE UP Y/N! We’re going to save Floyd!”

________________________________________________________

You sipped your tea at the dining table, wrapped up in your heavy blanket. Your boyfriend had just told you the story and the plan to go save his brother Floyd. Apparently he had been captured by two pop singers under the names Velvet & Veneer.

Once finished with your beverage, you placed your mug in the kitchen sink and headed over to your boyfriend who was driving ‘Rhonda’.

“Sorry again about that scare babe.” John Dory said turning to face you as Rhonda kept on the road. “Mhm” you said giving him a small peck on the lips. “That’s it?” He frowned as you scoffed. You sat down in the passenger seat next to him (yes there is one bcs I said so) and stared at the road in front of you. The looks of the setting around you was a lot different than what you knew truly.

“So Mount Rageous? Ever been there before?” You asked your boyfriend. “Nope.” John replied, still a little sour. “Then how will we know what it looks like then?” You questioned. “Different? Guess we’ll find out.” John said taking charge of the wheel again.

…

Mount Rageous was something different alright. It was so bright, and shiny, and full of color, and teens. Lot’s and lot’s of teenagers. The people that lived in Mount Rageous looked different too. The had an extremely skinny build, several types of hairstyles and colors, and most of them in colorful rompers and head pieces. They were always dancing whenever music was on, so they were a little bit like trolls in a way.

Once you and John searched around, you found the live concert area of Velvet and Veneer. They were no different from to say the least, they looked like Mount Rageons too. But they had shiny crop tops and shorts/skirts, diamond bracelets, and beautiful voices. They’re music was catchy you had to admit, but until further notice they were the enemy.

You and John snuck into their dressing room and found Floyd trapped inside a purple, stable, diamond bottle.

“Floyd!” John spoke as he looked up. “John Dory? I can’t believe it, I’d never thought I’d see one of my brothers again.” He smiled. Then he tilted his head back when he saw you, slightly behind John and waving. “And who’s this?” Floyd’s smile growing a little wider. “My girlfriend!” John said with a proud smile. “Hii!” You said still waving at Floyd as he wave back. “She seems sweet.” Floyd whispered to John through the bottle. “She’s definitely that! But what’s going on Floyd?”

From there Floyd explained Velvet and Veneer’s plan. Apparently they were using Floyd’s talent to sing and stay on top as the hottest celebrities in Mount Rageous.

It was almost embarrassing to watch your boyfriend attempt to break his brother out the jar. “John stop! The bottle is made of diamond, and there’s only one thing powerful enough to shatter diamond.” Floyd spoke. “Right, a diamond shattering diamond hammer!” JD said as you face palmed. “No Johnny,” you sighed, “It’s the perfect family harmony.” You and Floyd spoke in unison.

“Our voices sound like garbage, we’re dying out there! What we need is more troll!” A girl spoke as the automatic doors slid open. John picked you up and released his hair up towards the vent you both entered in. “We’ll be back with the bros, you have my word Floyd!” John said before you both disappeared out of Floyd’s sight.

When you made it back to Rhonda you worried for John, he seemed a little discouraged. “What are we gonna do JD?” You asked him sincerely. There was silence for a moment before John spoke boldly, “We’re going to find my brothers.”

________________________________________________________

You hummed quietly as you watched John Dory’s brother Branch, look over his ‘Clue Board’. You were going through album photos of Brozone with his girlfriend that you had clicked with named Poppy. “Oh my gosh Branch! Denim Tuxedos! Ahhh!” Poppy squealed holding a photo. You giggled at the way she fan girled over her boyfriend. It reminded you of yourself when you first began dating John.

“So how are we finding Bruce guys?” You snapped out of your thoughts, as John Dory walked over to you. “Not to worry because I got this!” He held up a postcard that said ‘Wish you were here’. “Seriously?” You and Branch spoke in sync. “Come on it’s definitely Spruce, I mean he’s the only one I know who talks like that.” John said matter-o-factly. “It’s not even signed.” You said. “And there’s no return address. This could be form anywhere!” Branch concurred. “All we have to do is find this sunset!” Poppy spoke. “Liking that optimism Poppy seed, one word Branch keeper.” He said as Branch stormed away to the front of the bus to talk to the bus driver. Did I forget to mention the bus driver was a 1 foot 2 inch sparkly baby troll with glasses and the bars of Eminem.

You pulled John aside to talk to him. You’d noticed that for the small amount of time John has been with his brother, he’d been treating him like the child he’d once taken care of. “John you should stop treating Branch like a baby ok? He’s an adult now, let’s treat him like one.” You explained. “What are you talking about? I’m not treating him like a child, he knows that I just love him. You don’t understand the brotherly love babe.” John deflected, not surprising you at all.

…

Once you guys found Bruce (and gave a little performance) you were on your way to find Clay. You’d decided to head to the front and control the radio after JD had given you a cold look for seeing you fan girl over the name Clay.

You finished humming the last lines of ‘Russian Roulette’ before it went off, and set your hand on the dial to play it back. “Again!” “NO!” John shouted running up to you and blocking the radio station. “That’s five times this week.” John Dory groaned. “Yeah, and it’s usually six, now move.” You said trying to move him which caused bickering between you both. “Damn, you two fight like a married couple.” Bruce was walking back to the steering wheel with Tiny Diamond, after taking a coffee break. “What? No we don’t.” John stuttered trying to hide his faint blush. “I think he would know, he is married ya know.” Tiny said with a little sass.

“They’re perfect for each other.” You heard Bruce whisper to him.

…

You and the rest of the group stood in frozen shock, as a light pink troll excitedly buzzed around you. You’d gotten off the bus, walked into a dark abandoned golf course, got jump scared by a clown, and now you’re being greeted by someone who’s almost two times more energetic than Poppy. It was nice that she’d welcomed you all in after the scare with food, and drinks, and beautiful lights.

“These fries are awesome! They would really go great with a burger!” Bruce said as a ear shattering scream left you all squirming. The trolls around you had run away as if something was about to attack. “What in the world?” You spoke. “Yea we try not to use that word around here,” Viva started going up to Bruce, “It’s just that burger sounds a little bit like…bergan.” Another shriek in the distance cut her off. “We call burgers,” You all looked up to see a troll with green, fluffy hair, emerging from a dim lit area, “Meat circles.”

“No way!”

“Clay?”

“Hey how you been man?” Clay walked up to Bruce. “CLAY!” John shouted for his brother. “Hmm, John.” He said coldly as John’s jaw dropped. You tried to hold back your laugh a little bit, but you failed and John shot you “hurt” look. After Clay was done talking to Bruce, John Dory spoke again, “Well if you won’t talk to me, maybe you’ll talk to my girlfriend huh?” John said out of pure pettiness as he brought you foward.

“Oh cool! You’re John’s girlfriend? Nice to meet you, I’m Clay if you didn’t know.” He smiled and put out his hand for you to shake. John’s jaw dropped (again) at this as you shook Clay’s hand, “I definitely know who you are! You’re like the best dancer ever! And so talented.” You said excitedly as Poppy started jumping up and down excitedly behind you. Clay smiled (a little nervously) as you finally let go of his hand. As Clay made his way over to Branch he gave John a little thumbs up (which may or may not have made him feel proud).

…

“Are we ready to practice brothers? Errrm- and ladies?” John asked pointing at you and Poppy as you nodded enthusiastically. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” Clay said sneaking in a little bit of a silly robot move, as you and Poppy shrieked in awe. That was quickly put to an end as John gave you a side eye, and Branch just blatantly stared at Poppy.

You all attempted to practice singing the hit Brozone song: Perfect, before John Dory stopped everyone midway. “Dude what are you doing?” Clay asked taking the shades of his face. “It’s not good enough, Clay you need some sillier robot, Bruce we need more smolder in those eyes, Branch maybe a smaller diaper?” John went on and on. “If this diaper was any smaller I could taste it.” Branch fumed. “Calm down JD, you’re acting like you’re perfect.” You said quietly to soften the blow. “Actually, you were a tad pitchy yourself.” JD said tapping his chin, which set you off a bit. “See now you’re being bossy.” Clay butted in. “Way too bossy and controlling !” Bruce told him. “In what way? John asked. “You’re 20 something year old brother is in a diaper!” You stated. “I’m doing this for Floyd!” John shouted. “Are you? Or do you just want to tell us what to do again?” Bruce shouted.

And from there it was just so much commotion. Eventually you separated yourself and sat down covering your ears, hoping to block out all the bickering. “Let’s just get this over with so we can go save Floyd!” Branch spoke. “Branch is right, let’s get this done so we can all go our separate ways.” John said. “Fine.” Clay agreed. “What?” Branch asked as you looked up. The boys went on about how they planned to save Floyd then go back to their own lives. “What you didn’t think we’d all live together? Sitting around roasting marshmallows?” John Dory joked as you gave him a stern look. “Oh I’m sorry is that funny to you? That I might actually want us to be a family again?” Branch as before telling Tiny to pull over.

From there Branch told his sob story and exited the bus, Poppy right behind him. You watched them and looked back at John who almost seemed to know your next step before you went through with it. “No ____ don’t…” John said as you shook your head. “I just need a break ok? Tiny Diamond, grab your bike.” You said exiting the bus, Tiny right behind you.

________________________________________________________

“After that luxury vehicle!” Poppy shouted as the van (Rhonda) took off. John, Clay, and Bruce had all been captured alongside Floyd by Velvet and Veneer. The two popstars had subtly hidden the trolls in their matching gem shoulder pads.

You were specifically after Veneer since he had John Dory in his right gem. You, Rhonda, Tiny, Poppy, and Branch were all after Velvet and Veneer. Shifting through the crowds and trying to dodge the multiple cars driven by teenagers, eager to see their favorite pop stars. “No respect for the blinker at all!” You and Tiny said in unison.

The duo were now on top of their car singing, giving a “live road performance”. You guys were trying everything; Branch attempted to grab Floyd before being knocked off by Velvet, Tiny had given Branch a…substance and more. “Uh guys what does the end of the road mean?” Tiny asked as you all froze and looked at the cut off road in front of you, plastered with the word ‘END’. “예수께서 운전대를 잡으세요 (Jesus take the wheel)” you whispered before you all fell off.

You landed back on a platform somewhere, as Velvet & Veneer abandoned their car and got away on a yacht. “Oh no!” Poppy said as she looked around. “Let’s hustle!” Tiny said before clicking the swirly orange button on JD’s van. You were carried across the sky by the three eyed entity you’d all met earlier. He dropped you off as you all fell out the reality, and onto a motorcycle driven by Bridget and Gristle. And surprisingly along with them, Viva was along side them.

…

You and Viva took her elastic hand and stretched it across the sides of the boat, causing Veneer to trip and fall backwards. You both grabbed his gems, you taking John Dory, and Viva retrieving Bruce.

Still Velvet and Veneer managed to get away, taking an escape route to the top of their yacht as Velvet finished off her high note. The other trolls had managed to retrieve Clay, but Velvet still got away with Floyd. “Are you guys ready for an encore?” Velvet shouted as their fans whooped and hollered. “It’s like she just wants to kill him!” You exaggerated.

You all huddled together as Branch pulled out a pep talk. As one thing led to another, you were all singing together. You finally saw the results of a perfect family harmony, and for the first time before too.

Soon Floyd was ejected from Velvet’s shoulder pad, as he floated up in the air along with the rest of you. Hitting the last note of ‘Better Place’, a wave was sent all through Mount Rageous, causing Velvet and Veneer to fall off the high platform of the boat.

You all slowly floated back onto the boat as you watch a clear, slightly blue, version of Floyd float back down as well. Branch caught him as you all rushed over to his lifeless body. “Floyd.” Bruce sighed. “Oh no.” Clay shed a tear. “I built that bunker…without the ten story water slide…” Branch said softly. You didn’t have time to question because you were all met with a familiar voice, “But, how will we shower?” You looked down to see Floyd fading in.

“Floyd!”

“Floyd! No way, yeah!”

…

“Anddddd tax evasion, I’m gonna have to reposes your yacht.”

“Fair enough, prison it is!”

You watched as Velvet (angrily) and Veneer (calmly) were being hauled off. “And sorry about that fall! Don’t take it personal, you just had my man.” You finger gunned Veneer as he nodded before being taken off the boat.

Just at that John Dory approached you, “Hey babe? I just want to say I’m really sorry for all that bickering, and if I was a little bossy.” He said as you chuckled. “And I’m sorry for butting into you and your brother’s personal lives.” You sighed laughing a bit. John smiled before pulling you into a long awaited kiss. You were shocked by the sounds of cheering off in the distance. Once you pulled away you looked around to see the commotion, and there was Branch and Poppy also getting intimate (kissing 🤨).

John laughed as you both walked past them and over to his brothers, “Get a room you two!”

________________________________________________________

#trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 band together #trolls 3 #request #john dory x reader #john dory #clay trolls #floyd trolls #bruce trolls #veneer trolls #velvet trolls #veneer and velvet #velvet and veneer #you gotta work hard #fanfic

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