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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 6 months ago

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You're Special to Me

Can you write a fic where Remus keeps on comparing himself to roman (negatively) and the other sides also doing it, albeit unknowingly. It’s alright if you can’t, no pressure! – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: self-esteem issues, self-doubt, remus has some abandonment issues

Pairings: platonic creativitwins

Word Count: 3761

The others have a nasty habit of comparing Roman and Remus. It starts to get grating after a while. Good thing Roman's always thought his brother was the best.

“Remus?”

Remus pokes his head out from under the whale carcass, adjusting the brim of his rain jacket to see Logan wading dubiously through the trail of viscera from here to the door. “Oh, hey, Pocket Protector, whattya need?”

“We had a brainstorm scheduled to start five minutes ago.”

“Oh, yeah, I was wondering when you were gonna show up.”

“Yes, so if you wouldn’t mind—wait, ‘show up?’”

He tosses a chunk into the piranha tank and the water froths up. “Yeah. You asked to have a brainstorm with me, so I was waiting for you.”

“Ah, I see. Typically brainstorms are held in the study or the living room.”

“Yeah, Ro’s are.”

Logan blinks. “Hm?”

“ Roman’s brainstorms with you are in the living room or the study or whatever. That’s ‘cause he can do the whole write-stuff-down-talk-it-out thing. I gotta be doing something.”

Logan dodges a spray of…something Remus isn’t going to name but rhymes with a really frizzy hairstyle, clutching his notebook to his chest. “Would you opposed to having a brainstorm in one of those locations if you bring something to do?”

“Peachy keen, Lolo, but there’re rules about me bringing my projects to places.”

“That is true,” he mutters under his breath, “is—so I take it you would prefer to have the brainstorm here as you…work?”

“Yep.” When Logan doesn’t say anything for a moment, Remus lowers his bone saw and glances over at him. “Is…is that okay?”

“Well, I’m going to have to change my state of dress, and take audio recordings that I’ll have to transcribe later, but yes, I believe that is acceptable. You’ll have to give me a moment to change.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.”

Logan nods and weaves his way carefully around the mounds of blubber starting to grow around Remus’s work station. Remus watches him go, a chunk falling slowly off of his shoulder, before he looks back at the carcass. He still has a few hours of work to properly strip it to where it’s usable, and this kind of work is nice for brainstorming ‘cause it’s mostly rote at this point, but there’s a sudden greyness to everything. Like if he raised his tools and tried to keep going the whale might turn to paper in front of him.

He sits there amidst his carnage, the faint sound of the piranhas nibbling away in the sloshing water behind him. He looks down at his hands, at the calluses and old scars. The bone saw lies limply across his knee.

Logan didn’t seem angry that he’d misunderstood what he wanted, but he did seem disappointed. Like he really wanted Remus to not be doing this and come to the study to do the brainstorm. Like Roman. But Roman’s process wasn’t Remus’s process and Logan had asked specifically to brainstorm with Remus.

The familiar sound of rain boots squishing through viscera brings him back, glancing over to see Logan wading through toward him with a recorder in one hand and an umbrella in the other.

“Whoa, cool jacket.”

“Thank you, I had Virgil help me design it after the one you made for him.” Logan brandishes the recorder and eyes the whale corpse. “Well, shall we get to it?”

“I’ve already got a few ideas.”

Remus bounces up and down on the balls of his feet, barely resisting the urge to flap his hands. This is it! He’s finally been allowed to join in on the communal baking day where everyone gets to make their own dessert for movie night. He stayed up late last night thinking of all the delicious things they could make and finally, finally got his list down to just five options. He’s really leaning toward the strawberry fruit tart but the lemon squares look so good but the pumpkin spice cookies would be so much fun to decorate—

Something shoves him gently into the wall and he grins as Roman ruffles his hair a little too hard.

“Roro!”

“Hey, Re, you look excited.” Roman chuckles as Remus chews excitedly on his costume collar. “You ready?”

“I’ve been waiting all day for this!”

“Roman? Is Remus there?”

“He’s all yours, Padre.” Roman winks and ruffles his hair again. “Go get ‘em.”

Remus bounds into the kitchen, startling Patton a little as he sets something on the counter. He reaches into his pocket for the piece of paper—he even wrote it on paper this time to make it easier—and opens his mouth to explain his options, when—

“Good, I wondered where you were. Could you go ahead and measure the white sugar out for me?”

Remus pauses. Patton looks at him expectantly, holding out the cup. He takes it slowly, glancing at the containers and bowls already amassed on the counter. “Uh—what?”

“The white sugar. Granulated sugar, if you’d prefer. It’s in this one over here—“ he indicates a white paper bag— “and it just goes in that bowl there.”

A bit of grey flickers across his vision. “But we haven’t chosen what we’re making yet.”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t tell you. We’re just gonna be making chocolate chip cookies.”

He frowns. “Ro said we get to choose what we make.”

Patton’s smile twitches a bit. “Oh, I just figured it would be—since we always have chocolate chip and it’s your first time—the others have already made their choices, they did it yesterday—“

Patton keeps talking as the list in his hand slowly greys out. They did it…yesterday? And didn’t tell Remus? But Ro said that he could pick…

“…so I figured this would be the easiest.” Patton’s still talking. “But if you really, really want to make something else, then—“

“No,” he grits out, shoving the list in his pocket and going over to the sugar, “I love chocolate chip cookies.”

“Oh, good. I’m glad, I love them too! Yeah, so that just goes in there.”

As they bake, or as Patton tells Remus what to do and watches him carefully as he does it, he can’t help thinking that this isn’t at all what Roman said it was like and how he doesn’t…really want to do it ever again. But at least he can eat as much of the cookie dough as he wants while Patton isn’t looking.

“…hey, Snakey?”

Janus looks up from his book with the patented what-did-you-do-how-much-of-your-mess-am-I-going-to-have-to-clean-up expression and Remus squirms under it. He raises an eyebrow.

“Would you teach me how to dance?”

The expression morphs into one of surprise in an instant. He sets down his book. “Certainly, I can teach you. What for?”

”There’s a, uh, thing in the Imagination next month that me and Ro are putting on and we, uh, part of it’s a ball thing.”

“Mm. Will the rest of us be invited?”

“…I think so? I dunno, I need to talk to Ro. We, uh, no one else knows about it yet.”

“Ooh, a secret, I do love those.”

“Are you gonna help me or not?”

Janus chuckles, getting to his feet and holding out a hand. Remus takes it and blinks as Janus takes them to a room in the Imagination he’s never seen before. Which in and of itself isn’t all that weird, because there are plenty of things that Ro makes that he never sees, but this one feels…familiar, almost. Like he’s seen it in a dream or something and only just now actually being able to picture it clearly.

At the very back of the theater, hidden in the shadows, some of the red seats look a little faded.

“Alright,” Janus says, “we’re going to learn a very simple waltz.”

“Okay. What do I do?”

“Well, you’re part of Thomas, and Thomas knows how to do a box step, which means most of it is already in there somewhere.” Janus taps the side of his head. “So, put your arms around me—no, no! Remus, put me down.”

“You said put my arms around you.”

“Not like that, like this.” Janus takes one of his hands and puts it on his waist, holding the other one out to the side. “Don’t—we’re not about to charge someone, Remus, relax.”

He goes all noodley and Janus sighs, making him stand back up with his arms not held out like he’s brandishing a weapon. Once they’re standing in a way that he approves of, he starts explaining how the steps work.

“Can you show me your box step?”

“While I’m holding you?”

“Good point.” Janus takes three very large steps backward and folds his arms. “Go ahead.”

Remus does his box step. Janus looks at him with his head tilted and sighs again. Every time he sighs a few more seats get a little greyer.

“I suppose it could be worse. Now, here’s what I’d like you to do: hold onto me, yes, like that, and do your box step. I am going to do an opposite box step and we are going to just try that, okay?”

Remus nods, looking down to make sure he doesn’t step on Janus, and starts his box. Janus moves back but he’s moving in a way that makes Remus have to let go.

“Hold onto me.”

“But you moved.”

“We’re dancing, Remus, we’re going to move.”

“But you—okay.”

Despite Janus’s patience—and fond exasperation that sometimes isn’t quite as fond—Remus can’t help but get hot behind the ears at how his body just doesn’t seem to want to do any of this. But every time they turn to face the back of the curtain, he sees memories of Roman dancing effortlessly in the big palace ballroom and he grits his teeth.

The curtains have gone grey by the time Janus calls an end to the misery of a lesson.

“C’mon, Emo, you can do it…” Virgil’s next inhale is almost a whine. “Shh, shh, it’s…it’s okay, just…just try and breathe.”

“It’s not working.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re panicking—“

“I know I’m panicking! Knowing I’m panicking doesn’t help!”

Remus winces as Virgil almost shoves him away, He goes, because when someone’s having a panic attack and they let you know you’re making it worse, then you leave. But he can’t pull away too much because Virgil is hurting himself and that’s why he got summoned in the first place.

“Little spider,” he tries again, and Virgil lets him shift a little closer, “I’m…I don’t know what to do.”

Not the thing to say when someone’s having a panic attack. Virgil sobs again, curling up even tighter, beginning to make small hitching noises whenever he can draw breath.

“Remus? Virgil? What’s—oh. Oh, no.”

”Ro?”

Roman hurries toward them, falling to his knees next to the shaking pile of Virgil, immediately pressing a kiss to his head and going to wrap his arms around him.

“Wait, he doesn’t want to be…” Remus trails off as Virgil immediately clings to Roman, latching on like a limpet and refusing to let go.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay, Stormcloud, I’m right here. Shh, shh, shh, you’re alright, you’re safe, nothing’s gonna hurt you right now.”

It’s not fair of him to be jealous when Roman gets Virgil to calm down almost right away. It’s not fair of him to be resentful that Roman’s who Virgil wants when he’s upset. It’s not fair to be upset or offended by what someone needs to come out of having a panic attack. That’s not cool, it’s not right, it’s not fair to Virgil or Roman or himself.

But Remus watches Roman cuddle Virgil and press gentle kisses to his forehead, and he looks down at his own hands that still have some Kraken slime on them from when he got summoned, and he sinks out before Virgil’s feeling all the way better.

He hates himself a little more for it, but not as much as he hates himself for not being the person that Virgil wanted.

It would be easier if Roman were shitty about it.

If he made a point to hold it over Remus’s head, or if he tried to help out of pity or pushed the others into including Remus when it was obvious that no one really wanted to, it would be better. But no, Ro doesn’t even seem to know it’s happening. Which is shitty in and of itself, but the others don’t even realize they’re doing it sometimes and it’s never where Roman is anywhere within earshot. It’s just glaringly fucking obvious that Remus is not Roman and everyone else fucking knows it.

It would be better if they weren’t both Creativity. It would be better if Roman and him weren’t constantly lumped together. It would be better if he was actually capable of truly hating Roman.

But he can’t. Because Roman’s his brother and he loves him more than he hates himself.

He doesn’t hate himself, not really. He loves his energy, loves his drive, loves his willingness to do whatever, explore whatever, be whatever, he wouldn’t want to be like anyone else because then who would be him? But he hates the way that the version of himself he wants to be is the exact fucking opposite of everything he has to be in order to not be always a little bit worse than Roman.

Even his fucking Kraken prefers Roman.

He’d shown up to Ollie’s pond with his favorite chum and the ball with the holes big enough for his arms so they could play catch, but Ollie had sniffed around and seen that there was only one of them—and it wasn’t Roman, and he’d drifted off into the corner of the pond to sulk. No amount of coaxing or bribing had been able to make the Kraken do anything more than half-heartedly chuck the ball not even halfway across the pond.

Remus left before he started crying and went to the dark underwater sea cave deep underneath the black tower’s subbasement. He shifted enough so he could breathe underwater and curled up in the thick kelp forest where no one would be able to find him unless they poked around with a flashlight. The kelp dissipated the sound waves of his sobs, a tentacle in his mouth to muffle them even further. Along the bottom of the cave, tiny tetra fish nibbled at his scales.

He’d stayed there for at least an hour before he realized that no one would come to look for him, so he’s been drifting ever since. Every so often the tears return, the kelp absorbing them as readily as ever, at least until they taper off again and he just floats there, in the water while the fish nibble the dead skin away from his scales. There was something comforting about the greyness of the water, how smooth and quiet it was, how easy it was to just look at the shape of the kelp and the movement of the fish and just drift…alone.

Yeah, it’d be much easier if Roman was shitty about it. But he isn’t, and that’s just another way that he’s better than Remus.

+1.

Remus doesn’t even have time to lie down and close his eyes before someone’s grabbing him around the waist and sinking him into the Imagination. They crash into a pile of pillows and he gets a mouthful of one, spluttering.

” Ro!”

”Hey, you always do it to me! Payback time!” He barely gets himself free before Roman’s throwing a pillow at him. “Now arm yourself!”

“What—“ he dodges Roman’s swing— “hey!”

“No talking, only pillow fighting!”

Remus manages to get the big green pillow up in front of his face just as Roman launches himself off another pile and come barreling down at him. He rolls onto his side and swats Roman across the face. Roman yelps and laughs and swats him back.

“You’re not winning this time!”

“I didn’t win last time! I— ack!”

“C’mon, Re, I know you can do better than that!”

“Oh, it’s on.”

The two of them turn the pillow piles into a war zone, launching projectiles and themselves from various places until Roman gets Remus’s arms pinned and he can bap him lightly in the face over and over and over.

“ Ack—ppth—Ro!”

“Do you yield?”

“Yeah, yeah, you— pffthp— I fucking yield.”

Roman chuckles and presses a big smacking kiss to Remus’s cheek, rolling off of him and sprawling out across the pillow carnage with a contented sigh. Remus winces, pulling himself into a sitting position, grabbing one of the plushier pillows to hold.

They’re in one of the higher tree canopy tents, he realizes as he takes in their surroundings without the distraction of plush warfare. Overlooking the massive waterfalls with the help of the full moon and the soft glow of the amber lanterns overhead, he can spot a few of the others in trees surrounding the falls as the rush and roar of the water fades soothingly into the background. The soft sweet smell of fresh water wafts upwards, mixing with the cool night air. He curls up a little more, hugging the pillow, watching the water rush by.

“So,” Roman grunts as he sits up a few moments later, “are you gonna tell me what’s wrong?”

“What? Nothing’s wrong.”

“Mhm.” Something pokes his side and Remus yelps. “You sure?”

“Yes! Yes, I’m sure, I— eep!”

”You really sure?” Fingers keep poking and kneading his sides and trying to get under the pillow. “You really, really sure nothing’s wrong?”

“I said no!”

He moves without thinking. One second Roman’s sitting next to him and the next he’s sprawled near the other side of the tent. A horrible itchy guilty mess starts building in the back of Remus’s throat and he looks away before he can watch the shutter fall over Roman’s face.

Because that’s why Roman did all this, isn’t it? He noticed Remus was upset and because he’s a good brother, he took him to their favorite sleeping spot and had a pillow fight with him and asked him if he was okay. Because Remus isn’t like Roman and he didn’t appreciate any of it and then he just shoved Roman away when all he was doing was trying to help and he really is just the worst brother ever, isn’t he?

”I could’ve done that better,” he hears softly before the gentlest arms wrap around his shoulders and there’s a warm chin on his left one, “I knew better, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it worse.”

“You’re fine.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, Re, I just—I’m worried about you.”

“…you are?”

“Yeah. You’ve been—you’ve been kinda grey lately, you know? I’ve tried asking the others if they know what’s been going on, but they don’t—whoa, hey, hey,” Roman whispers when Remus starts to sniffle, “hey, c’mere, let me cuddle you, hey, talk to me, what’s going on?”

“‘M sorry, it’s not your fault, promise—“

“Hey, hey, uh-uh, none of that, you’re okay.” Roman pulls him into a weird pretzel ball of limbs and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Does it have something to do with the others?”

“…it’s not their fault either.”

“Now I think we both know that might not be entirely true.”

“‘S stupid.”

“It’s making you upset, Re, it’s not stupid.”

“But it’s true!”

“What’s true?”

“You’re—you’re better than m-me.”

Roman goes very still for a second, then he pulls back and cups Remus’s face in his hands. “What the hell do you mean, ‘I’m better than you?’”

And just like that, the whole sorry story comes driveling out of him. About how Logan didn’t really want to do the brainstorm, about how Patton didn’t let him pick what he wanted to bake, about how he couldn’t comfort Virgil properly, about how hard trying to learn how to dance was, even how Ollie didn’t want to play with him. And Roman looks at him and his face falls and then he’s shaking his head and squishing Remus’s cheeks a little.

“You’re not worse than I am and I’m not better than you. We’re different, and that’s fine and good. Who gives a shit if Logan got a bit messy, you’re the one who can multitask way better than anyone else here. You have the discipline to actually train with all of your weapons and you can fight with all of them. And who the hell does Patton think he is that he can regiment who can bake what? I’ll bake with you next time and we can make whatever the hell you want. And as for Virgil—you know he only started coming to me because he missed you, right? I’m serious,” he continues when Remus’s eyes almost bug out of his head, “he said that your energy was really comforting when he was growing up and I have a similar one so he started coming to me. Don’t tell him I told you that, though.”

“I won’t,” he mumbles, but he’s still too caught up on everything else.

“I don’t give a shit what they all think, you hear me? I think you’re incredible and you’re my brother. I’m the only one allowed to start our stupid sibling rivalry shit.”

”What about me?”

“Fine, you can start it too. But only us, okay?”

Remus sniffles. “But then why didn’t Ollie want to play with me?”

“Because you don’t sneak him treats when you play Toss.”

”Wait, you what?”

“Uh, I mean—“

Remus grabs a pillow and thwacks Roman over the head with it. Roman bursts out laughing and half hugs, half tackles Remus to the ground.

“You’re fucking great all on your own, Re, you don’t need anyone else’s approval.” He leans up a bit. “But you always have mine, okay? I’m always gonna think you’re the greatest.”

“Even when I put slime in your bed?”

“I’ll get you back by putting dragon splines in yours.”

“You better not.”

“Don’t put slime in my bed, then.”

Remus gives another sniffly little laugh and Roman ruffles his hair. They both lie down to look at the waterfall, arms wrapped around each other.

“…hey Ro?”

“Mhm?”

“You’re the best brother ever.”

“No,” Roman says, booping Remus’s nose, “ you are.”

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#sanders sides #dragonbabbles #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #janus sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders

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succubusyuyu · 2 years ago

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can’t get out of my mind for mark and nipples play cause he would be so obsessed with groping and nibbling them 😮‍💨

oh anon you got me thinking about this the whole day so I just came with something...

[18:20]

tags: mark x reader, smut, food play, a little fluff

it's your birthday and mark knows you're not that into parties to yourself, so he just plan a special day for you. he buys you a beautiful floral dress to use on your special day, he brings breakfast in bed for you, he takes you to a park full of flowers, to the shopping, buy you your favorite ice cream and favorite junk food, buy you another gift, a pretty necklace with a green heart who matches your dress and when it's already afternoon when the day is almost over he takes you home where he have a strawberry cake ready for you, your favorite.

"happy birthday, baby." he takes you to the couch, kissing your hand and bringing you to sit on his lap, "let's eat your cake, it's your favorite." you smiles, because yes it is and he remembered, "you remembered." you say, leaving a peck on his lips, "of course I did, baby, I remember everything about you." he cut one piece of the cake with the fork and bring it to your lips, you open and hums at the delicious flavor, some chantilly get lost on your lips and he prompt licks it clean for you, you smiles against his lips.

"i remember everything, i remember you like flowers, and you didn't have a favorite movie, yet you always want to watch howl's moving castle," his lips travel to your neck, "i know your favorite lotion is the cherry and hazelnut one, which i love, make you so much more delicious," his tongue licks a flat line from your neck to your shoulder, you shivers, "mark-ah", he smiles against your neck.

mark takes one piece from the cake and eats it himself, his chantilly dirty lips places kisses against your collarbones, to your shoulders, and come back cleaning with again, lips making a path along your skin, "fuck, you tastes so fucking good, baby." he slides the dress's strap from your shoulders, one by one, until they are pooling at the curve of your breasts, and leaves more kisses, more and more, "want more, kitty?" he asks and you nod, not knowing if is kisses or the cake he's taking about, anyway you get both, a piece of cake on your mouth and kisses along the beginning of your tits, he sucks at the skin as if your skin is delicious as the strawberry you found between the cake, "is it so good, marklie?" you teases and he smiles against your skin, raising his eyes to look at you, "it's delicious, baby, you're so delicious, so hot, my delicious girlfriend." he says groping your titties, his fingers found easily your hard nipples over the soft dress fabric, pinching it, hard, just as he knows you like.

"mark-" you moans, as his lips start to travel further and his head is basically between your titties, your hand finds the way to his hair and your fingers run through the black strands, bringing him to where you want the most and he does, his teeth drag the fabric until your breasts are exposed and his mouth attacks your nipples, he is fast, as if he's hungry, nibbling at your nipples, making you moan loud as he sucks and grop your tits, and you're enjoying it so fucking much until he's moving away and you're whining. "mark yah, why, baby?" you whines and he smirks. "just want to eat a bit of your cake, baby," he takes a piece with the fork, "it is delicious just like your tits, love." he says as he takes the chantilly top from the cake and spreads along your areola, you gasp at the cold sensation of the sweet chantilly, and soon at the sensation of his tongue running along the areola and twirling around your nipple, "can you come just by me sucking at your titties, baby?" he asks, but the smirk lifting the corner of his lips, says he isn't asking, he knows you will.

#mark x reader #mark hard thoughts #mark hard hours #mark scenarios #mark smut #nct 127 hard hours #nct 127 smut #nct scenarios #asks open

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venusandsaturnsrings · 2 years ago

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Its me the your savior who wrote Doberman childe.... anyway this isn't about childe its about

YOU VENUS WOOO

Ill admit I'm a virgin to, venus dw being having a bunch of disabilities and being plus sized in America is not fun tbh</3 But I was thinking about getting you the cutest pink lingerie<33 then making you weak it under ur clothes just so I can touch touch in a bathroom stall somewhere :(( all I wanna hear is ur cute little moans as I lick cold strawberry frosting off your nipples <33 or I saw ur posts about wanting to be someone's little fucktoy/house wife I wanna come home everyday to the house clean and you all dressed up pretty with your cunny ready for me to admire and toy with (ofc you can't cum till I say so) you calling me mommy then whole time :(( I'll prasie you for being such a good little house wife maybe I'll even let you cum more then once <33but if you've misbehaved I'll stuff ur mouth with my used panties and hold a toy to your clit because only good girls deserve my mouth :(( making you dress up as a stupid little lamb girl with the ears and a but plug tail <33 making you recite different things and each time you get something wrong you get either 5x slaps to ur ass or pussy </33 dressing you up as a pretty little cow girl so I can milk you of ur cum and pull all your nipples till ur sobbing:(( also breeding you!! Ofc since I don't have a cock I can't rlly but I'd get one of those dildo that squirt things out <33 I just wanna mark up ur pretty little thighs :(( making sure everyone knows ur mine </3

OH I have a question if I send u a message on my main can you send me pics so I can gush and compliment you :(( cause I think I saw one of ur older posts saying that u can't show some pics on tumbler itself-chubby darling anon duh <333

UUUWWEEEEUEUEUEUE!! ME ME ME ME ME!! hehe you’ve got me blushing i luvv attention!! my dearest anon, i luv u too!!

ahem… i’m feeling very very Normal right now and definitely not hot and bothered nope nope!! i’m a virgin by my own standards but i’m a bigger gal and not american so it’s a bit different for me!! i’m more a victim of ppls fetishes than anything which is fine as long as i’m into it and them!! ^u^

but ah… i must admit to my pussy throbbing every time i reread this hehe you’ve nailed me down in many different ways!! i desire being only a lil housewife and piece of fuck meat :3 head empty nothing up there besides being pat on the head and cunny!! i promise i’m a very very well behaved lamb girl!! most of the time!! when i want to be!! i live for praise so even the slightest of such has me drooling and brain dead…

hehe ur more than welcome to message me!! i’d love that!! my dms r always open for everyone!! we’ll have to see about those pics tho i don’t send that to just anyone!! :3

#uweeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!! venus fuck meat!!!!!!!#dolly housewife breathing fleshlight :3 #i am merely an object #i feel very Normal over ppl that like being called mommy #like yeah!! mommy!! i’m ur good girl mommy!! :3 #chubby darling anon my beloved <3 #chit chats

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vampyr3wife · 1 year ago

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random q's xD

fav fruit!

what is your clothing style/aesthetic :0?

advice for life ?

what was/is ur dream job and what is it now?

all for now :D!

Hii anon! My fav fruits r watermelon, strawberries, and most berries rlly :3

I’ve never really found a name for my style.. I’ve just always loved mixing cute + creepyish looks. Morute (morbid/cute) is kind of fitting I guess but not exactly. I also appreciate fantasy elements.. ah,, I just love to dress up. I get inspo from so many places it’s hard to find a term that fits perfectly !

Advice for life… hm. Idk how to word these random things but. The more u learn abt ur generational trauma the more u will learn abt ur own behaviors. U may have the worst relationship of ur life at 19.. avoid it. And also, that old man does not love you. You must learn to stand up for yourself n set boundaries, if you don’t now you will be forced to later. Also I think it’s important to have fun w little things and be silly to prevent soul rot. Protect yr soul

When I was a teen I rlly wanted to b a tattoo artist.. I still do mostly, I may hav an opportunity for an apprenticeship.. but I need to get over my fear of touching people LMAOOO. And people in general. Also it sounds so lovely to be a stylist or make clothes n other things but that’s kind of a random dream lol.

#✉️

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eldritch-nightmare · 1 year ago

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Hello! I go by 🎀 anon! I’d like to do a match up, if that’s okay! I’m a latino afab and genderfluid (they/them) in my 20s! 5’4 height, medium length dark brown hair with a shaggy mullet type of haircut (hoping to at least have magenta highlights if work allows it </3), brown eyes, mid-sized body type, a INFP MBTI type, and my star sign is a Taurus. Also am autistic and have ADHD! I’m a pan disaster but fictionally I lean towards male characters! 🤣

I LOVE art and animation! I do digital art as a hobby and hope to sell as a side job some day! I have a special interest for horror, especially indie horror gaming! I also love trying different culture foods, even if I’m biased in my puerto rican roots. I always make effort to seek other cultural meals and learn how to eat them properly and know it’s history because… I love food and making food. 🫡 Speaking of! My love language is making someone meals, buying them gifts and making them art! <3

Ah, not sure if it matters, but I wear a lot of cutesy pastel pink clothes (bonus if they’re strawberry themed) as well as very goth and punk clothing depending on my mood! Which is always funny whenever I wear very gothic outfits, people look so shocked when they see my room LMAO. I love a variety of music including nu metal, goth rock, game soundtracks, chill lo-fi sounding music (Like the kind you hear in Bee and Puppycat! Which is actually my comfort show…). It fluctuates depending the mood LOL. (It’s… quite a mix.) While I’m introverted, I do like going out and interacting with others when having the energy to do so! I tend to ramble a lot though and always fear to seem annoying, then regret later for going on for too long so expect a lot of apologizing for that. 😭

Kinda like now actually LOL, apologies if this is too long! Not sure how much to put in, but hope you have a good day! Take your time to answer, no rush! Appreciate it, thank you! qvq

can i just say you sound so cool?? like?? hello?? your taste in music is literally superb?? but don't worry, this wasn't too long, so no need to apologize <3 i hope your work allows you to get magenta highlights!!

your matchup is... the bloody painter! and it's not because of the art thing, trust me on this okay, just hear me out for a moment. while, yes, you and helen both enjoy art, helen is also really big on horror and the whole goth subculture. while he doesn't dress the part, you will catch him listening to the music and digesting both the art and literature. so. trust me.

helen is pretty reserved and not one to let people close to him but once you break the ice and get past his apathetic exterior, you'll find that he's actually pretty... i wouldn't say he's open once you get to know him, but it's fairly obvious that he'll become less reserved around you, and he'll actually show that he cares about you. does that make sense?

moving on, helen doesn't give food a lot of thought, to be honest. he likes what he likes, and he hates what he hates. he would be a terrible food critic. he does, however, know and understand that cooking is an art, and he has nothing but respect for you and your talents and is 100% willing to be a taste tester for you if you ever need one. he quite enjoys your cooking, if we're being honest, and you have introduced him to a wide variety of different foods from different cultures and he just... loves seeing you enjoy yourself.

now going on to art, because this is helen and it's unavoidable. helen is more of a traditional artist, so digital art isn't his area of expertise, but he would absolutely love to see any and all of your drawings. you two could even draw together! and he has like numerous sketchbooks just full to the brim of sketches and fully-fledged out pieces if you ever want to see them. he loves sharing his own art as well. and, if you give him permission, he'll probably incorporate you into his art. he'll sketch you or add you into the background of one of his paintings. art is his love language, and he would love to involve you in it.

helen doesn't give gifts often, mostly because it's not something that crosses his mind, but sometimes he'll be out and about, and he'll see something. something strawberry-themed or an accessory that would look good with your goth or punk clothing. and, of course, the only natural thing to do is to buy it and gift it to you. so, every once in a while, he'll just hand you a random gift with no real explanation other than a shrug or 'i saw it and thought about you.'

and if you start rambling to him about a certain topic that has caught your interest, or about your day-to-day life in general, helen will silently listen to you. he likes listening to you ramble, especially when he's mindlessly sketching something. and should you apologize for rambling too much, he'll just momentarily meet your gaze and say, 'don't apologize. i like the sound of your voice.' before directing his attention back to whatever he was sketching.

any and all information you give him about the things you like and dislike will be neatly tucked away into a corner of his mind. he's the type to remember everything you tell him, even the minor things. you're a very important part of his life, and he does everything he can to make sure you know that.

#🎀 anon #creepypasta #creepypasta matchup #the bloody painter #the bloody painter x reader

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afoolnottoloveu · 2 years ago

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hello i am sorry for sending so many asks while ur away from tumblr HOWEVER. in like 7 hours im leaving for a week long trip and it's the same trip i was on when i sent u my very first ask abt maia's song strawberry dress !! who knew that one ask would lead to a glorious friendship :3. AND SPEAKING OF MAIA MUSIC, RISING DELUXE EDITION?? KALEIDOSCOPE??? IM VERY EXCITED. VERY VERY VERY EXCITED. COME BACK SOON SO WE CAN YELL ABT IT TOGETHER. THEA AND 365 ANON (AKA MALLAIDH) SCEAMFEST. -📆

IMMMMM SOOOO EXCITED ABOUT KALEIDOSCOPEJDJSODNFOSNS

WORDS CANNOT POSSIBLY EXPRESS!!!!!

have fun on your road trip and stay very very safe!!! (send the playlist link when u get the chance LMFAOO)

#365 anon 📆#ah strawberry dress anon #ur alternative name mallaidh #tbh sometimes i write anon forgetting i know ur name LMAO

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nexfarious · 2 years ago

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after todays chaper(which is so good btw i love the little awkward romantic bits throughout your fic🤍 ur an amazing writer),, I wanna take shuichi to an arcade and win him a bunch of stuffed animals n prizes and spoil him DHJZBSK esp if it's his first time at an arcade (this is maybe a request 👀 if it's not too much trouble)

-💞anon

ARCADE DATE — SHUICHI SAIHARA

pairing — shuichi saihara/gn!reader

content — no killing game au, established relationship, food/eating mention, reader gives shuichi pet names (shu/shulock)

notes — heart anon!! hope you’re doing okay!! thanks for reading the chapter, took me a little while but i hope you like it <3 who doesn’t want to spoil shuichi, really?

i’m sorry this took so long, i rewrote it like three different times because i wasn’t happy with it :(

Your phone buzzes with a text from Shuichi as you sit outside the arcade, watching the neon lights blink in and out of existence.

Shulock <3

I’m really sorry, but I think I’ll be late.

It’s not that I don’t want to go, please don’t think that! I just got held up at the firm with a case.

You

it’s fine, i’ll get us something to drink. milkshake for me, coffee for you?

Shulock <3

That sounds nice. Thank you.

You almost laugh at the formality of his texting. Despite everything, it was a habit he’d never gotten out of — you could urge him away from all-nighters crammed with paperwork with the promise of affection, but you couldn’t convince him to stop using capital letters.

Sliding off the little perch you’d found tucked between the walls of the bustling streets, you head inside the arcade. The woman at the till takes your order for a strawberry milkshake and a black coffee, handing them to you as soon as her coworker finishes making them; there’s even a cute curly straw in the plastic confines of your milkshake.

After you add a lid to the coffee cup, you stroll off to an unoccupied table and shoot off a quick text telling Shuichi that you’ll be waiting inside. It doesn’t take too long for him to arrive, but you pass the time by watching a gaggle of kids gathered around a rhythm game, cheering their friend on.

Catching a glint of dark blue hair, you wave Shuichi over as he awkwardly hovers, undoubtedly looking around for you. He’s dressed casually, rocking a grey hoodie.

You hand him the coffee as he approaches. “You look tired. Everything okay at the firm?”

“A-Ah, yeah, it’s alright,” he takes a swig, careful not to burn himself. “Just another infidelity case that needs to be handled. It’s mostly boring stuff, like paperwork.”

“You don’t need to worry about all that stuff while we’re here, though. No cases, so don’t even think about it,” you chide lightly, finishing the last of your milkshake and binning it.

He nods and inspects the perimeter of the arcade, looking slightly overwhelmed by the maze of colourful machines and games. “Well… I was wondering if you’d show me around.”

“Sure, sure.”

When he finishes the last of his coffee, you take Shuichi’s hand and lead him towards a line of claw machines. He clings to your interlocked hands like a koala, trusting your judgement. With a light push, he’s placed in front of the controls.

“This,” you gesture to the prizes at the bottom, miniature stuffed animals with button eyes, “is one of the cooler machines. You direct the crane at the top with the joystick and try to get the prizes inside. It’s about precision.”

You insert the money, watching Shuichi laser focus on a tiny stuffed penguin. He gets the hang of the controls pretty quickly and you watch him struggle to grasp the poor animal between the metal jaws of the crane. By the sixth or seventh attempt, he frowns, unsuccessfully watching the empty claws return back to the original position.

Shuichi gives you a resigned look, “I, uh, don’t think I’m very good at this…”

“That’s okay!” you’re quick to reassure him, “first time for everything. Let me have a go. You wanted that penguin, right?”

Ignoring his protest of you really don’t have to!, you insert another coin in the hopes of living up to your own expectations of getting that penguin. It takes you a few tries as it slips out of your grasp multiple times and you even outwardly curse the machine, but that slippery penguin ends up caught on your hook, falling into the grey depths.

You retrieve the plushie with a gentle hand, holding it out to the detective. “Here you go. For a hardworking boyfriend.”

“Y/N…” he covers his face, hiding his lovesick red blush, though you can see the nervous smile peeking underneath. “Th-Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, Shu.”

You move his hand away to sneak a kiss on his cheek while no one’s looking, laughing gently when he shuts down from the sudden burst of affection. He needs a moment to recover, you realise, backing away to let him reclaim his personal space.

After Shuichi regains his bodily functions, you lead him over to the air hockey table and challenge him to a game. A vivid line of glowing plastic splits the table down the middle and you take up the purple side, explaining the rules as you insert the money and the air powers up.

He figures this one out pretty quickly and you’re soon outmatched — though you had an early lead by taking advantage of Shuichi’s lack of knowledge on the game, he quickly accesses the weak spots in your defence and exploits them, bouncing the puck off the walls and confusing your peripheral vision.

You’re more enamoured by his expression. Though his face is pinched in concentration and his eyes are darting back and forth between your side of the table and his own, he seems to have completely forgotten about the presence of anyone else. Wearing a fiery determination that you’d only seen after becoming particularly passionate about a case, you’re unable to focus on the game.

Eventually, Shuichi hits it into your goal once more and no puck returns, the icy display lights up and leaves you with a flustered expression and a crushing loss of five to three.

You’ve never been so happy to lose.

#danganronpa x reader #shuichi saihara x reader #shuichi x reader #danganronpa v3 x reader #danganronpa headcanons #saihara x reader #v3 x reader #killing harmony x reader #💞 anon #🌠;

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jossambird · 3 years ago

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(unsure if Tumblr ate the first ask, so sorry if you get this twice!) just putting this idea here: a domestic Ingo doting on a pregnant SO would send me over the moon 💖

Omg Anon no worries at all, yes so sorry, I did not receive the first one! Its seems to be becoming a reoccurring theme :/

DOMESTIC INGO, I already love it! Ugh, I love the thought of Domestic Ingo, no matter where he is, be it Unova or Hisui.

Hisui? This man is prepared to hunt you down if you think your about to go roll and dodge left and right. WHILE PREGNANT? Not in his book. Ingo will accompany you as often as he can and help fill your Pokedex however you demand if it means keeping you safe.

He fully enjoys the moments where he successfully catches a Pokemon you needed and receives the most mindblowing kiss from you, smiling against your lips as he holds you close.

While out on excursions with you, Ingo enjoys cooking for you by a warm fire or scavenging of berries in the area, picking up any local flowers he can find along the way.

Lady Sneasler is practically acting like a guard dog if Ingo’s unavailable to be with you while out of your (SAFE) excursions. And you BEST know that if she deems a situation unsafe, shes fully letting you know and pulling you away.

In the later stages of your pregnancy, when your stuck either in Jubilife or inside Ingo’s yurt, she passes by everyday, bringing with her her own little Sneaslets to show you!

Another thing Ingo must survive while in Hisui while your pregnant? Practically every person youve bonded with.

Be it either Beni, Captain Cyllene, Zisu, Commander Kamado, Professor Laventon or Rei, Ingo feels their breath down his back, making sure hes taking care of you and treating you well.

The Diamond Clan Leader is no better, popping up every few days wherever the two of you are to check up on you. Irida does the same, inviting the both of you to the Pearl Settlement for a warm get-together.

In Unova, no matter what your friendship/relationship with Emmet is, you can be sure that if Ingo’s working or out, Emmet is all eyes on you, following you everywhere, making sure your okay and safe.

Ingo will pamper you and take extra days off when you ask for them, cuddling with you in bed and watching movies throughout the whole day if you ask for it.

Want to go out instead? Of course! Hes going to make sure your dressed appropriately for the weather and bring you to the best sights! Craving Pizza? Will bring you to the best place for it, chuckling at how you not so subtly cry at how delicious it is. Want to go out of a romantic walk? Will hold you close as you walk together, hand in hand, commenting at the various flora around the both of you.

Will positively stock up on the foods you adore. Strawberries? Oops look at that, he bought 5 packs. Those cookies you like? Ah, added 2 extra boxes by accident. Ordering Chinese food? Oh man, they gave you an extra order of dumplings!

Emmet is the best wingman in those situations if your embarrassed about your cravings, mentioning casually how you commented last night about wanting this one specific cheesecake and bam, Ingo’s looking at his watch and leaving early to go get some for you.

In both Hisui and Unova, Ingo will sleep close to you, holding you close and making sure your always comfortable. Too hot? He wont mind giving you more room, content to simply lay beside you and allow you time to cool down.

Many kisses are giving daily and cuddling is a must while in bed, no matter how busy he is the next morning or that very morning.

If you thought you were going to cry alot, dont worry because Ingo will tear up from time to time and ask you just how lucky he must be to have you carrying his child/children.

#jossambird writes #jossambird confessions #pokemon legends arceus ingo #submas ingo #pla ingo #subway boss ingo #ingo x reader #pokemon ingo x reader #tw: pregnancy #pregnancy #tw pregnant

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dourpeep · 3 years ago

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HGH,,,,, ALBEDO,,,, I LOVE HE,,,,

domestic life brain rot, making pancakes together on lazy mornings, swaying and holding each other during late nights with music playing in the background, a scratchy voice saying "good morning" and "love you" at dawn, cuddling together with candles lit during a storm, calling each other from across the house to look at a pet making a stupid face

bas I am gonna lose it over this man

-🔪

KNIFE ANON HOW DID I NOT SEE THIS I apologize OTL

YESYESYSEYSE

Anything Albedo + domestic is already a win in my books. In my opinion, it's the best thing ever--so sweet, so cozy, so...nicely normal. There's something about being in a comfortable sort of love that's dreamy.

Still-dressed in pajamas, tired eyes opening to see the way that Albedo's hair sticks out in all angles. He's still asleep judging by the gentle rise and fall of his chest, but you can't deny that even with the bedhead he looks good. He always looks good (something that he'll vehemently deny, stating that you're biased).

And every morning he wakes and turns to face you before draping a heavy arm over your middle to tug you closer.

Breakfast is a bit of a struggle, though.

Often, he ends up heading out the door with a cup of coffee and a quick (is it still quick if he lingers for a moment longer to savor it?) kiss. But other days, when he's spent more than a fair amount of time looking over papers and the goggle marks on his face seem to be permanent from how long he's been chipping away at his latest experiment, you cook together.

Or, if he has his way, he cooks and steals kisses between grabbing the eggs and making sure the pancakes don't end up burnt on one side.

But! Luckily, he's a good cook.

In fact, that on top of seeing him in his apron with hair still a little wild and glasses perched on his nose makes you wish he cooked everyday. Unfortunately, he tends to be busy, so instead...

You make sure to let him know so you can see the way pink spreads over his cheeks and a shy smile hides behind his favorite mug.

And, of course--though he ensures that your breakfast is full of your favorites (whether you like blueberries, strawberries, chocolate chips, or with a big heap of freshly whipped cream), he always tries to sneak a bit of his onto your plate. Its just...seeing the smile on your face as you enjoy just one more bit of berry...

He can't help but fall in love a little more.

HOIFHE I LOVE ALL THESE IDEAS SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS LITTLE HALF DRABBLE HALF MUSINGS FOR THE BREAKFAST BIT

#anon asks #🔪 anon #albedo #albedo x reader #genshin impact albedo #genshin impact drabbles #genshin impact headcanons

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espressokiri · 3 years ago

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Hi there. Another Muslimah here.

Hope you don't mind me sending you an ask. I read your fic about the BNHA boys with a muslim s/o. It was really good. I loved it so much. (There aren't many fics like this, which is a shame cause we like fanfics too. So this was very refreshing. Thank you.💚😉)

Could you do one for the Haikyuu boys, specifically Tsukishima, Kuroo, Sugawara, and Bokuto. But only if you want to, of course.

Hope you have a great and productive day.

Tsukishima Kei, Kuroo Tetsurou, Sugawara Koushi, and Bokuto Koutarou x Hijabi!reader

In which reader is a hijabi Muslim.

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff

Notes: You're welcome to send asks anytime <3 I may be slow at getting through them but I will make sure to get them out! Thank you for being so sweet anon <3 I hope you enjoy this one! ^^ I’m sorry if it seems bland as I was slowly losing ideas.

Tsukishima Kei

His eyes would constantly drift to you during class hours, lips twitching into a smile as he would watch you struggle with the assignment sheet given during history class.

Would take that as a leeway to make conversation and help you out.

"Tsk, can't even do a simple history assignment?"

Just sits down next to you and points out what you did wrong while helping you out.

Flinches his hand away and mutters a sorry if your hands accidentally graze each others.

He knows how strict the dating rules were and he admired it, thinking it was a safe way to keep them away from harm and heartbreak.

Becomes your unofficial tutor just to spend more time with you.

Has the urge to flick your forehead most times when you purposely tease him.

Is worried when he sees you zoning out in the middle of class during Ramadan, you have to convince him you're fine and that you're getting your studying done despite the odd sleep schedule you've created.

He'll give you a small box of his favourite treat, strawberry short cake, randomly throughout Ramadan because he knows you crave more sweets during the days you fast than regular days.

He calls you a masochist when he finds you watching cooking/baking videos while fasting.

Will stop by your house to drop off pastries during Eid for you and your family because he wants to peak at you all dressed up as he's only seen you in your school uniform or in casual but modest fashion.

He feels a sense of security, enjoying the aspect of getting to know someone with no sense of rush.

Kuroo Tetsurou

He's such an awkward nerd please.

Wants to approach you but fears he might accidentally offend you due to his provocative nature, hence resorts to staring at you from across the room.

Would research more about your religion and would use that as a way to start small talk;

“Hey, uh, I was wondering how do you manage to pray Zuhr when you’re in school? Isn’t it bad that you have to miss it?”

“Oh uh, I usually run home as soon as I can or pray in my club room if there are meetings, my club members are very understanding.”

“Oh... I see.”

“That’s pretty cool of you to be concerned, Kuroo-san.”

Cue him asking you random but wholesome questions with genuine curiosity.

“Did you know men who oppress women are considered to not follow Islam? I find that really nice that women are equal to men in your religion!”

You smile at him and his interest in your religion.

Study sessions in the library because you both wanted to spend time with each other but he knows it is wrong for a male to be alone in the same room as the opposite gender so you both opted for the library where there are lots of people.

Gasps and immediately looks away when you unravel the scarf around your head to fix;

“Y/n! You can’t do that!!”

“I’m wearing an underscarf calm down.”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatic male but smiled at his respectful nature.

Ramadan? Catch him ruining his sleep schedule just to have movie nights with you through the phone and Netflix Party.

Kenma teases him about it because Kuroo used to yell at him about his own staying up late gaming obsession.

Likes it when you wear a cap on top of your hijab, he thinks it looks cool on you.

He’ll convince you to skip school during Eid if it falls on a school day, telling you that it’s important that you spend at least the first day of it with your family.

Overall, he’s the type to keep up with the Islamic calendar and learn new facts daily as he asks you to explain each and everything about your religion and lifestyle.

Sugawara Koushi

See’s you for the first time with Kiyoko when he went to excuse her from class for managerial duties.

Smitten from first sight.

Begs Kiyoko to let you be her assistant manager.

He keeps a distance from you during your first introduction and conversation because he didn’t know what you were comfortable with.

He was in awe to find out there were sports hijab when he saw you sporting one to play a short game with an over-enthusiastic Hinata.

“Here, stay hydrated.”

Hands you a bottle of water along with a towel, a newfound respect for playing in hot weather conditions fully covered.

Due to the chaotic nature of the first and second years, Sugawara would run to cover your eyes with his jacket or hover his hands in front of your face whenever Tanaka would rip off his shirt to swing around whenever he spiked.

Sugawara had to stop himself multiple times from clapping his hand onto your shoulder, resulting in him just smacking either Asahi or Daichi when they mention him almost touching you.

Outings between you two is always monitored by the third years, Asahi smiling proudly at his friend Suga while Daichi and Kiyoko would sneakily take candid pictures of you both.

“What’s one verse you hold dear to your heart?”

You look at him from the warm mug of drink you are holding, tilting your head as you look at him in confusion. Sugawara felt the tips of his ears go red at the cute expression you held, and explains his question.

“Ah,” you thought long and hard before giving him an answer, “ ‘Allah does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear...’ I find that part of the verse very reassuring in times when I feel like I’m overwhelmed.”

Sugawara held onto every word, finding the beauty behind those words, he felt at peace. “I’ll keep that in mind.” He smiles.

It felt like he was more excited than you for Ramadan.

He would read out loud the Japanese translation of the Quran after you read out the Arabic words in a beautiful and soothing voice. He wanted to understand and learn.

He was hooked onto the peaceful energy the month brought despite life going on normally.

This man would wear a formal Kimono when your family invites his over for Eid, he wanted to make the best impression despite already meeting them in passing.

Suga had a sense of security and comfort around him and you felt lucky to have met someone such as him.

Bokuto Koutarou

Oh God.

Akaashi had a field day trying to stop him from initiating any and every kind of physical affection when he first introduced you to him.

Bokuto is a man who expresses himself with affection, so he was lucky for Akaashi to explain to him why he shouldn’t initiate any physical affection without asking for what you considered crossing a boundary.

He knows he can’t drag you to the gym to watch him play volleyball by hand, so he asks you to hold onto the end of a pen, which you took, confused as to what the male exactly wants before realizing he was holding the other end and using that to drag you to where the gym was.

It was oddly endearing.

“Did you see my spike, Y/n?! Didya see?!”

“Yes, Bokuto. It was really cool!”

Cue a chest puffed up Bokuto who grinned with pride.

Invites you to eat lunch with him and Akaashi on the roof.

Having to refuse his food because you weren’t sure if there was pork in it or not.

This made Bokuto stop bringing in food that contained pork, not knowing even aside from that, he had to have the halal form of chicken or beef.

Akaashi had to explain everything to him when he asked him once.

Tried to go vegetarian one day, failed the minute he took a bite out of his food.

Feels bad when he eats on days you are fasting, so he tries finishing the meal before you come up to their usual meeting spot, resulting in him giving himself a stomach ache.

Brings you tuna filled onigiri to take home so you can eat it as a snack during the night after breaking your fast.

Sends you spam messages minutes before having to break your fast;

‘Are you excited to eat?!?!?!’

‘What are you having today?!?’

‘If you want to get any snacks later let me know! :D’

‘ONE MINUTE LEFT!!’

He’s so wholesome please.

Wants to skip school with you for Eid, but pouts when you tell him you’ll be spending it with family.

Asks you to send an OOTD pic so he could be your hype-man.

Bokuto is always willing to understand more about you and your religion, making sure to note things in his head for future references.

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #sugawara fluff #haikyuu scenarios #sugawara scenario #sugawara koshi imagine #bokuto x reader #bokuto imagines #sugawara x reader #bokuto fluff #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #tsukishima fluff #kuroo imagine #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #haikyuu headcanons

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inkykeiji · 4 years ago

Text

bright light city gonna set my soul on fire

ace anon said: wanna suggest dabi taking you to a poker game as a good luck charm then betting you on a game and losing...or winning and bragging about it by fucking you on the table

genre: smut + implied crooked secret agent/spy AU set in the late 1950s???

notes: AH ace i loved this idea SO MUCH it ended up sparking an entire fic!! heavily inspired by ian fleming’s 1953 novel casino royale + martin campbell’s 2006 film casino royale. it is set in clari’s version of the 1950s and in no way historically accurate!! think of it as an AU of the 1950s, if that makes sense ehehe | title credit: viva las vegas by elvis | songs mentioned in the fic itself: don’t and i beg of you by elvis, rockin’ robin by bobby day

warnings: 18+, period typical use of the word Daddy (not with dabi), inappropriate use of the word Mister, slight degradation, mentioned somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, minimal prep, night terrors, blood, murder, generally toxic codependant relationship, one implied mention of drug use (morphine), mentions of tense family dynamics

words: 8.5k

synopsis:

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

He saw the perfect weapon, a diamond in the rough just waiting—begging—to be cleaned and cut and formed into the most brilliant gem, into the most ideal accomplice for him—because, really, what’s more dangerous than a beautiful woman? Especially when she looks like innocence personified?

Sticky pink candy, translucent and gleaming with saliva, clacks against teeth as you roll the heart-shaped lollipop around in your mouth, twirling the stick between your index finger and your thumb.

Legs kick idly as you lean back on your other hand, seated on the edge of Tomura’s massive, pristine mahogany desk, watching as his personal tailor helps Dabi shrug on a navy tuxedo jacket, stitched and sown perfectly to his measurements.

“I dunno,” he’s saying as he pivots his body a little, making a face at himself in the mirror. “I still think the black looks better,”

Ruby eyes roll up towards the ceiling, a frustrated groan spilling from between Tomura’s lips.

“You always think the black looks better. We’re going with the navy, it brings out your eyes,” he gives the back of Dabi’s head a sharp look before strolling towards you, features softening as he observes—the perfect picture of innocence, legs swinging slowly in cute little motions, strawberry lollipop sucked against the roof of your mouth, sparkling eyes floating from your boyfriend’s broad shoulders to his—your—boss’s face as he advances.

“Gimme some,” he demands, large hands finding your knees and halting your movement, using his hipbones to push them wider, making a space for himself between them and sticking his tongue out. With a giggle, you place the now misshapen candy on his tongue, gasping loudly as he snatches the candy from you, movements too quick for you to catch, and jumps away with the grace of a cat.

“Daddy!”

Tomura snickers around the lollipop in his mouth, sucking it into his cheek as he speaks around it. “Aw, come now, don’t pout,” his bottom lip pushes out to mimic your expression, tilting his head in false sympathy. “I’m sure your Mister will buy you another,”

“He better,” you mumble through your pout, eyebrows knitting together as arms cross tightly over your chest, eyes flitting to Dabi.

“I will, dollface, I will,” he vows distractedly, gaze not straying from his fingers reflected in the mirror as they fiddle with his bowtie.

“Promise, Mister?”

“Promise, baby, promise,”

Dabi’s already been briefed on the specifics of this mission—something to do with playing a poker game with a bunch of other crooked hotshots at the Sahara hotel in Las Vegas, but that’s all you know. That’s all you’re authorized to know.

Despite being Dabi’s accomplice and working for Tomura’s underground organization, you’re rarely allowed to be in Tomura’s office while the briefing happens. It’s sensitive information, dollface, and the less you know the better, and don’t misbehave now, sit pretty and quiet like a good little girl until the big boys are finished, and then Daddy and Mister will give you a pretty reward.

But! you had protested with a bottom lip involuntarily jutted out. But maybe, if I know more, I can be of better help—

But Tomura had shut that idea down before it had even finished leaving your lips.

No. Absolutely not. It’s for your own good—your own safety, you little brat—why can’t you understand that?

You do understand that, you’ve been told a thousand times—your specialty is distractions, used to keep enemies occupied before Dabi splatters their brains on marble floors, or to pry information out of men weak to the smile of a pretty girl.

And, to be fair, Tomura does reward you pretty generously, with glittering evening gowns and designer pumps and all the handbags a gal could ever want.

You turn back to face him, red lips spread into a cunning, mischievous smile, a smile he knows all too well, a smile Dabi loves—because he taught it to you—and Tomura hates—because it means you’re about to get what you want. “So. How much money are you giving me to play with this time, Daddy?”

Tomura’s face screws up, nose scrunching. “None,” he spits, removing the lollipop from his mouth. Tiny hands grab at the air, reaching for it like a child, Tomura swiping it just out of grasp as he continues his scolding. “Last time, you nearly bought the entire shopping complex,”

“Ah, c’mon, boss,” Dabi says around a cigar, still standing in front of the full-length mirror and smoothing down his clothing. “Give the lil lady a lil somethin’, will ya?”

“Yeah, boss, c’mon,” you plead, mimicking your boyfriend, adorning your face with your signature pout and award-winning puppy-dog eyes.

“Absolutely not.” His voice is stern as he speaks, facial features hard in finality and resolution, but his eyes—irises a crimson so brilliant, so beautiful it’s terrifying, almost looks as if it’s glowing—are beginning to waver.

“You know, if you don’t, then I’m sure I’ll get bored in that big city all by myself while Dabi’s working,” you begin in a singsong voice, eyebrows raising. “And you know what happens when I get bored, Daddy,”

“She gets int’a trouble,” Dabi grumbles, eyes catching yours through the mirror, though there’s a smirk forming around the cigar, held between sharp gleaming ivory teeth.

“S’true,” you nod simply, eyelashes fluttering as you gaze at Tomura. “Please, Daddy? Pretty please? I swear I won’t spend too much this time,”

“Jus’ give ‘er your credit card r’somethin’,” Dabi waves a hand in nonchalance before patting down his pockets. “I’ll keep a’eye on ‘er, promise,”

“Take that damn cigar out of your mouth and speak properly,” Tomura spits, and you and Dabi share another look, another smirk, through the mirror. “Fine, alright? Fine,” nimble fingers pull out a sleek leather wallet, flipping it open and searching through the card slots, grumbling to himself. “Christ, the two of you are insufferable, I swear to God,”

“Thank you, Daddy,” you giggle, soft and gentle and innocent, all of the things you weren’t mere moments ago. Platinum plastic gleams in your fingers as you tilt the card in the light, gaze captivated by the way it sparkles and glitters as you speak again. “Promise I’ll bring you back something neat,”

✰ ✰ ✰

It’s been a few years now since the two of you met, since the two of you became partners, and Dabi swears to high heaven and back that he had tried his hardest not to fall in love with you, cross his heart, hope to die.

At least, that’s what he likes to tell himself. In actuality, he fell for you the moment he laid eyes on you—it’s as cliché and cheesy as one of those Jimmy Dean flicks, but goddamn it, it’s true all the same.

Doesn’t help that that’s one of the first things you said to him, though.

You look like Jimmy Dean, Mister, you had giggled dainty behind your hand, batting those long, thick eyelashes as you gazed up at him, gracious and polite and all the things a good little girl like you should be. Is supposed to be.

It made him want to fucking ruin you. It sparked a white-hot fire deep in the pit of his stomach, a blaze that grew, and grew, and grew with each of your cute mannerisms. It procured an inferno full of pure desire, heady and intoxicating, that nearly engulfed him in an instant.

“Oh, yeah?” he had asked with a smirk, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest, tongue running along his front teeth as he steadily held your eyes. “‘N why’s that, little miss?”

Those eyes, the sparkling ones that had been so bold only a moment ago, bashfully flitted down to the teal typewriter sitting in front of you on a large oak desk, fiddling a little with your nails against the worn keys.

Baby pink. Cute.

“Oh I—I—” your gaze flashed up to his for a moment, intense cobalt burning into your very skull, before you averted your stare again. “Well, I-I don’t mean to be rude, Mister, it’s just that—your hair,”

Sapphire eyes flicked up, as if to gaze at his forehead, as if he were able to see his own hair from just that motion, eyebrows raising with the action.

“S’all messy like the way he wears his. You know, when he’s not doing a picture and all that,”

And you noticed your mistake immediately, eyes widening, tongue tripping over your words in your haste to correct yourself, to speak properly, like a lady. “I-It’s all messy, s-sorry, excuse me, it’s all messy like the way he wears his,”

A smirk, slow and dangerous, spread across his face as he observed you, tilting his head a little as his eyes travelled down your neck, to your shoulders and the sweetheart neckline of that pretty, pretty dress, and then back up again, narrowing slightly as they did so. It’s in that moment that Dabi first wondered what you’d sound like underneath him while sharp hipbones bruise his name into the tender flesh of your inner thighs, how you’d slur your words together then.

His voice was a touch huskier when he spoke again. “You like Jimmy, miss?”

“I sure do,” you nodded, painted lips morphing into a little melancholic smile as you looked down at the typewriter again. “It’s a real shame he passed,”

“Sure is,” Dabi mimicked your movement, giving a simple nod in agreement. “But thank you for the compliment, doll, I’ll take it,”

Your head snapped back up. “Oh, c’mon, m’not stupid y’know,” you huffed with a roll of your eyes and a light laugh.

“No?”

The traces of amusement that played in his azure eyes had your own narrowing a little in response, sitting up straighter as you rolled your shoulders back.

“No,” you shook your head. “I know who you are,”

“Yeah? And who’s that?”

“Touya.”

And it’s the way you said his birthname, the way your lips curled into a devious little smile around the word, the way one of your perfectly arched eyebrows raised in question, in challenge, that had confirmed it for him, right then and there, in that stupidly luxurious office.

“Touya Todoroki.”

He was sure he had to have you. He was positive he had to make you his—forever.

“You’ve been compared to Jimmy since he debuted—”

“And you know this because—”

“—because I read Time and Vogue and all those other stupid magazines, just like all the other women in this country. And I’ve seen you,” you paused to point a manicured nail at him. “On or in every single one,”

Oh, and he was sure you had, sure you knew that he was notorious for stealing several of his father’s girlfriends when he was in his early twenties, infamous for fucking them and then selling the Polaroid’s and information to vying tabloids and the like. He always did like to spice up those stories a little, to fluff them and make them a hint more scandalous, glamorous—those ones always sold for more.

Not that he needed the money.

“It’s rude to point, baby,” he winked before he straightened up, pushed himself off the wall and stalked towards your desk, stopping in front of it as large hands splayed out on the wood, and leaned close to your face.

“And I don’t go by that name anymore, sweetheart,” he had told you, voice smooth as scotch over ice, though something dangerous glinted in his eyes as they carefully searched your face, something omnious etched into the sharp smile on his face

A shiver crawled up your spine, frosty and slow, fingers tiptoeing up each vertebra as you nodded your understanding. “Y-Yes, sir,”

The door to your boss’s office had swung open then, Dabi straightening up and spreading his arms out in a grand sweeping movement.

“David!” he greeted as if the two were old friends, large smile stretched too tight across his face as he walked forward and clapped a large hand on the smaller man’s shoulder. “How are you doing?”

He murdered your boss that day. You didn’t know, of course, didn’t have a goddamn clue until over a month later, Dabi had made sure of that. But by the time you found out, you were already in too deep; too enamoured by him, wholly captivated by him in every sense of the word, too dependant on him, to care at all.

He had made it quick—quiet and painless and looking as if it was an accident, strolling out of the office only a few moments later and asking you out on a date like nothing had happened, words flowing smoothly from his lips in that drawl that is so distinctly him, almost lazy in a way, glittering lidded sapphire scalding your skin with its intensity.

Yes, as much as he’d like to deny it, it’s true; Dabi fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you.

Because Dabi saw more than just a pretty little thing when your gazes first met.

Nothing, that’s what.

Honestly, he did you a favour—he swears he could see it in your eyes, sparkling as they gazed at him like he sculpted the moon himself, pleading for someone—for him—to come along and take care of you, to put you in your place, to keep you in line, absolutely desperate for someone to mold you, shape you, construct and arrange you into his most perfect creation.

Perfect, perfect, perfect, that’s what you are; so good for him, so obedient and compliant, always hanging on his every word and eagerly awaiting his next command, enthusiastic to submit to him, to please him, to receive the praise you crave so badly.

And Tomura had agreed, too, after only fifteen minutes of meeting you, of observing you, of assessing you, that you’d be a flawless addition to their operation.

So Dabi did what he does best.

He started slow, of course, enchanted you with strings of pearls and gorgeous dresses and expensive dinners, fed you tidbits about his mysterious lifestyle, about his family and his job and his past, just enough to keep you coming back for more, until you were practically begging him to let you in, to permit you to join his vocation, to accompany him on the wild ride that is his life.

And that was the best part of all—you didn’t care, you wanted it just as badly as he did; wanted to help him, to serve him, to be his, without ever requiring the full story. You readily gave everything up for him, accepted his orders, his wants and his needs without as much as a single question, never faltering in your honesty, in your pure devotion to your creator.

It’s love in its truest form, you’re both sure of it—possessed by one another, infatuated with one another, dedicated to one another—both consumed by the most potent drug, this love, a force to be reckoned with, the strongest pull either of you have ever felt before.

And, really, what more could you ask for?

✰ ✰ ✰

He took you under his wing, crafted you into a master of manipulation, pairing it perfectly with that innocent kitten demeanour you wear so well, and taught you everything he knew: all of the infiltration techniques and self-defence he had learned before he was ostracized from his father’s company—a privatized intelligence agency that works closely with the federal government—the very organization he’s been working so tirelessly to burn to the ground.

You still don’t exactly know what happened. He doesn’t like to talk about it, about where those scars decorating his body came from, about why he’s thrown away his old identity and constructed a new one, trading ivory hair and a high-fashion wardrobe for inky black and weathered Levi jeans with big black motorcycle boots.

But you do know a little.

He had been the favourite son, the chosen son, the one set to inherit the empire his father had built. That was, until he got himself into an accident—one that he still isn’t ready to disclose the full details of, and you never push. But you know it had involved a twelve year old Touya—always devious, crafty, and ever-so intelligent, even as a child—sneaking along on a mission he absolutely shouldn’t have. The silvery burns that adorn his skin, puckered and soft and shimmering like moonlight when they catch in the sun, scars tinged with the slightest hint of baby pink, are from this incident. Whatever had happened after had scarred his soul forever.

Because you’ve never encountered such intense hatred, burning bright blue flames that rage and roar inside of him, the words that are spit from between clenched teeth when he talks about his father, about his baby brother, positively scalding.

But it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter that you don’t know the full story, that you aren’t entirely aware of why this vendetta against his family exists. It doesn’t matter that his one goal in life, his only true desire aside from you, is to take down his father. It doesn’t matter that he’s willing to do anything and use everyone to achieve his objective.

Because he is letting you in; slowly, bit by bit and piece by piece, the most fascinating and tragically beautiful jigsaw you’ve ever put together. He may never be ready to tell the full story, and that’s alright with you, because as you’ve reassured him countless times in the dead of night, you’ll always love him anyway—you’ll always be by his side.

That’s when he’s most vulnerable, it seems—in the middle of the night, at two and three and four in the morning, when he wakes trembling and whimpering and soaked with his own sweat.

He never tells you what they’re about, the nightmares. Sometimes, they’re so violent that they wake you first. He doesn’t fuck you immediately on those days, doesn’t say a word as he finds solace in your warm bosom, little fingers pushing back sweaty strands of inky hair from his temples as your other arm wraps around him, holding him close to you as his shaky breathing calms, as his muscles stop quivering. On those nights, he says nothing as he spreads your legs and climbs on top of you, railing you into the mattress like it’s his last day on this earth.

That’s how he likes to be comforted; that’s what calms him down best. It’s standard procedure at this point—not that you mind waking up to his soft sniffles and him shoving himself into your barely prepped cunt, or rousing to feel the tip of his naked cock rubbing against your clit through thin cotton undies as he tells you in that wavering voice to stay sleeping and let your Mister take what he needs. You’re there to serve him—and you do, so perfectly. You just want to help, after all. You’ve always ever just wanted to help. You never know which nights he’ll gift you another little piece of himself, of his soul, for you to try and fit in somewhere in the puzzle that is DABI. You don’t know the triggers—as far as you’re concerned, they don’t seem to exist anywhere outside of the padlocked barricade of his own head, no rhyme or reason to them, more random than anything else. But you’ll readily accept anything and everything he’s willing to give, the very instant he’s willing to give it.

✰ ✰ ✰

Sprawled out on the hotel bed with his white t-shirt riding up and exposing your lacy panties, you watch, in an almost trancelike state, as Dabi does his hair in preparation for the game set to begin in an hour or so. He leaves it messy and ungreased when he isn’t working, all tousled and fluffy, a sea of half formed curls that flow into each other, akin to tremulous waves hours before a storm like an inky ocean atop his head. But he cleans up well, when it comes time to get down to business.

“Every little swallow, every chickadee, every little bird in the tall oak tree,”

Standing in front of the mirror clad in a white undershirt and his suit pants, he sings along to Bobby Day’s staticky voice as it flows through the small radio set on the bathroom counter, nimble fingers dipping into a tin of greasy pomade and gathering a generous glob, a responding giggle bubbling up in your chest.

“The wise old owl, the big black crow,” he catches your eye through the mirror, a devilish smile materializing on his face as he continues, lathering his hands together. “Flap-a their wings singin’ ‘go bird go’,”

“Should’a been a singer, I’m telling ya,” you say as you roll onto your stomach, chin resting in your palms and head propped up, eyes glittering. “Could’a rivalled Elvis,”

Huffing out a laugh accompanied by a roll of his eyes, his hands begin to rake through his hair, slathering it with the substance and slicking most of it back from his face, sure to leave a few curls at the start of his hairline untouched. “So sweet you’re gonna rot my teeth, baby,”

“M’serious!” you insist, blinking at him as your eyebrows raise, watching the teeth of the black comb run through the slicked-up strands, his palm following close behind as he smooths it over; crisscross, crisscross, crisscross, fluff, pat, crisscross.

“Uh-huh, uh-huh,” he shakes his head in disbelief, though there’s the faintest pink tinting his stubbled cheeks. “I think I’m better at this job,”

What? Playing poker with a bunch of criminals and making deals with mafiosos and murdering those who wrong you? you swallow the words, letters stinging and scraping your throat as you force them back down, schooling your face into a neutral expression. “I respectfully disagree,”

“‘Course you do,” he mumbles to himself distractedly, leaning closer to the mirror to complete the look. “Elvis, you say?”

He begins belting out lyrics in an exaggerated deep voice as he adds the finishing touch—your favourite part—slender fingers shining with residual pomade as they twirl and coat the few stray curls left neglected, allowing them to hang artfully in the middle of his forehead.

“When I feel like this and I want to kiss youuu,” pivoting on his heel, he gazes at you with that shit-eating grin and continues. “Baby, don’t say doooon’t,”

“Oh, God, no, not Don’t!” you groan, flopping onto your back dramatically, face screwed up as if you had just tasted something sour.

“Alright, alright, alright,” he’s chuckling as he advances towards you, a small towel in his hands as he cleans them. “How ‘bout…” trailing off, he hums a little as he thinks.

“Hold my hand and promise,” he begins in a low voice, smooth and sweet like the finest melted chocolate, depositing of the towel and crawling onto the bed.

“That you’ll always love me too,”

Large hands gently pry your legs part, signature crooked smirk spreading across his face when he’s met with zero resistance, rough palms caressing silky skin as they slide up, fingers gripping and grabbing and kneading.

“Make me know you love me,”

The words taper off into a whine, beginning to sound more like begging than singing, as his body settles between your thighs, hipbones digging into the soft flesh while he hovers above you, supporting his weight on his forearms.

“The same way I love you, little girl,”

Lips trail along your jaw, leaving tender kisses in their wake—unhurried, careful, and full of purpose—as he mumbles against your skin.

“You got me at your mercy, now that I'm in love with you,”

Calloused hands begin to ruck up his t-shirt, digits dipping into the lacy waistband of your panties, his voice starting to tremble ever so slightly.

“So please don't take advantage, cause you know my love is true,”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, sapphire eyes gleaming in the golden sunlight and he pauses, blistering gaze searching your face for something, muscles relaxing and head dipping a moment later to finally press his lips against yours, whispering into the kiss. “Darling please, please love me too, I beg of you,”

And despite all the glitz and glamour, all the extravagance and exhilaration, that comes with each mission, this will always be your favourite part—when it’s only you and him, lounging around in some luxurious five star hotel or some dingy roadside motel, exchanging lazy, messy kisses full of stringy shining saliva, goofing around and whispering stupid Elvis lyrics to each other, words that hold more weight than either of you care to admit.

✰ ✰ ✰

It was supposed to be a fairly simple operation—minimal violence, Tomura had instructed. No guns or casualties, if it can be avoided, if Dabi can keep his temper in check. It was supposed to be easy, straightforward, safe.

It was supposed to be. But Dabi gets bored easily, likes a little spike of adrenaline with his missions, rolling his broad shoulders and cracking his neck as he joins the rest of the men around the poker table, a sly smirk on his face as they name the bets and the prizes.

“And my little doll,”

It’s hard to resist rolling your eyes as those four words slip from between his lips, slow and smooth in that deep, lazy drawl, trademark smirk painted across his lips as his lidded eyes scan the faces sitting around the table, an eyebrow raised, daring any of them to protest. Several hungry eyes dart towards you for a moment, standing like the reward you are a few feet behind Dabi and leaning on a railing, a shy little smile briefly gracing your lips in greeting, elegant evening gown shimmering under the crystal lights.

This isn’t new—Dabi usually bets you when he plays. Keeps him sharp, he claims. Keeps him on his toes, keeps it fun when there’s something important at stake, something valuable to lose, he says. He plays better that way, he promises.

Except he’s always craved that thrill of danger, has always liked to push further and further simply to see how far he can go before he topples over the edge. It’s a rush, a blast, a high akin to the morphine that so often flows through his veins, and he fucking lives for it.

It’s been over an hour now, since those words were murmured in that velvet voice, floating across the table and cloaking the thoughts of the other men like a lethal haze, most of whom can’t seem to keep their eyes from wandering back to you every so often, leering gazes coating your skin with grime you itch to scrub off.

But that’s the point—or it’s supposed to be, anyway. That’s the whole reason you’re here in the first place. To act as a distraction, Tomura’s words drift through your mind, just whisps of his voice that tickle the walls of your skull.

And what a perfect distraction you are, in a Dior dress that looks like it was made only for you, tapered perfectly to every curve and edge of your body, silk flowing gracefully with every miniscule movement, with every rise and fall of your chest.

But it bores you to tears, this poker game, eyes dry and sticky, sick of staring at the back of your boyfriend’s immaculate, intricate hair as his nimble fingers play with the mountain of chips accumulating in front of him, plastic clacking together as he shuffles through them.

You had begged him to let you go shopping—just for the first half of the game, you swear!—but he refused. I need my good luck charm there with me the entire time, babydoll, he told you, brushing calloused fingers down your cheek then tracing along the line of your jaw, gazing at you with brilliant sapphire that glitters in the late afternoon sun, streaming in through the hotel’s floor-length windows. We can go shopping after the game is finished, he promised.

You regarded him with skepticism.

“And dancing?”

“Of course,” he responded with a playful scoff. “We can dance until our feet are bleeding, pinky promise,”

Keigo comes to join you just before the game passes the two-hour mark, large hands finding purchase on your hips and pulling you back against his chest as his head dips down, soft full lips against your skin.

“Lovely dress you’ve got on,” he murmurs, breath hot against your ear, tickling the shell. “You look stunning—breathtaking—I mean, gosh, look at me, I can barely breathe,” he gasps dramatically, chest heaving against your back as he does so, chuckling when you roll your eyes and giggle at him to shut up, Kei, the vibrations from his laugh a comforting sensation, a familiar sensation, a welcomed sensation, sending warmth spreading through your body. “I’m so happy you’re here,” you whine, leaning further into him and head tilting against his collarbone to gaze up at him. “I’m so bored,”

“Yeah, I bet,” he says, something unusual—unreadable—settling in his topaz eyes as he glances up at the table. “You aren’t used to games lasting this long, are you, baby,”

A little pout settles on your lips and you nod, playing right into his condescending cooing as you snuggle into him, eyes following his stare. Truthfully, you haven’t a clue what’s going on, and, really, you couldn’t care less. You aren’t entirely sure what the significance of this poker game is, or who most of these men are, and you aren’t allowed to. Just sit pretty and perfect like you always do; it’s the thing you do best.

Except tonight—tonight something is different, unsettling, off. It’s no big deal, though, of course—you can almost hear that deep, dark voice drawling the words out in your mind, phantom breath tickling your skin.

Because Dabi’s always been startlingly good at what he does. Because Dabi’s always been able to worm his way out of a difficult situation. Because there’s never really been a reason to worry about it before, anyway. But tonight—well, tonight you’re watching as his Balenciaga clad shoulders are getting tenser, and tenser, as his jaw is clenching tighter, and tighter, as his grip on that singular sparkly chip resting in his palm is becoming stronger, and stronger, thin skin stretching painfully over sharp bony knuckles.

Keigo’s breath is bated, his fingers digging into your hips as he observes the game unfolding in front of the both of you, pulling you closer to him, hushed curses falling from his lips every so often. And Keigo knows what’s happening, of course, but he refuses to tell you, promising you that you wouldn’t understand even if he tried to explain it. Creases form on your forehead as your eyebrows knit, eyes drifting back to the table. Whatever it is, it’s clear that it isn’t good, Keigo’s body tensing against yours as he sucks in a breath and holds it for a moment before blowing it out from his mouth, exasperated. “Well, I’m positive it’s fine,” you say, trying to wave it off lightly, to whisk away the acrimonious dread that roots deep in the pit of your stomach and begins to spread, thick and dense as it slithers into your surrounding organs, to brush off the impending sense of foreboding that seems to lurk over you, getting heavier and heavier, darker and darker with each second that ticks by—though your voice sounds high to your ears, tinny and false. “Dabi’s never lost a game before, that’s why they send him to these things,” But Keigo doesn’t sound so sure, responding with a nervous breath of a laugh, lithe fingers flexing on your hips, rubbing little lopsided circles into the flesh. “First time for everything, songbird,”

The words send ice piercing through your veins, but you persevere, rolling your shoulders and standing up a little straighter, swallowing past the painful lump that’s lodged itself in your throat. It’s fine. It’s always fine. He’s always found a way to get out of messy, tight situations before. Why should tonight be any different?

It won’t be, it isn’t—you can already see Dabi collapsing on the cream sofa upstairs in your luxurious hotel room, tugging at his bowtie with a sigh as his head falls back, nimble fingers popping the first few buttons on his crisp white dress shirt, and had you scared for a moment there, didn’t I, kitten?

And you’ll playfully slap his shoulder as you crawl into his lap, roll your eyes as you straddle his hips and allow him to tilt the champagne flute to your lips, laugh it off as his hands begin to wander, rucking up your dress and kneading your ass, cock tenting his expensive trousers. Like always. You’re sure of it

It’s just past the three-hour mark when Keigo speaks again, all traces of teasing, of that easygoing lilt that is so distinctly him, gone from his voice. Golden locks stand in all directions, his hair having fallen out of its usual ducktail style, a curtesy of fingers raking through it nervously. His smile is tight as he looks down at you, front teeth nibbling at his cuticles as he speaks, muffled a little by his fingers. “Maybe we should get you out of here, sweetheart—”

“No,” you respond instantly with a firm shake of your head. “I’m not going anywhere,”

“Sunshine, listen—”

“I said, no, Kei,” you pull back a little to look at him, resolution sown into your voice, chest puffing out just a touch. “I won’t leave him,”

Honey eyes hold yours for a moment, and you can almost hear Keigo’s molars as they grind together. He exhales a deep sigh a moment later, shaking his head and tugging his fingers through golden strands again. “Alright, alright,” It finally comes to an end, a few minutes past the four-hour mark. Heavy lids start to lift as commotion begins to stir—soft murmurs among the men and chairs scraping against the floor, plastic chips clacking together and the sharp whisp that travels through the air as cards are shuffled—whining a little as you lean further into Keigo, who is now supporting most of your weight.

“Kei, feet hurt,”

“Shh, I know, songbird,” he hushes you, a large palm stroking your head. “But I need you to wake up, sweetheart,”

Rough, unfamiliar hands are wrapping around your arms only a moment later, yanking you from the warm sanctuary that is Keigo and hauling you against stiff muscle.

“I believe you’re mine now, darling,”

The words are gravelly, uttered in a low voice against the crown of your head. A vicious shiver crawls along your skin, whole body trembling with the force of it, as your lids snap open.

“Wait, what?” frantic eyes search the gaudy room for familiar cobalt, breath beginning to accelerate as you struggle a little in the grasp of a burly man with one eye. His grip tightens in retaliation and a pained yelp hitches in your throat, Dabi’s eye twitching at the sound. “Dabi? D-Dabi!”

Sapphire blazes into your skull, steadily holding your watery gaze as his jaw clenches, swallowing thickly at the sound of your pitiful little whimpers of his name, at the way you squirm and wiggle in your abductor's grasp, desperate to escape, to get back to him.

“H-Hold on, now,” Keigo begins, holding his hands up in surrender, a motion meant to signify peace, to signify that he isn’t a threat—even though you know he’s got the cold metal of his favourite pistol tucked into the waistband of his trousers and pressed against his warm skin. “Let’s talk this through, yeah? Just wait a minute—”

“Nope,” the man cuts Keigo off mid-sentence with a loud, harsh laugh, and you wince at the sound. “No way, a deal’s a deal, friend. I won her fair and square—she’s mine,”

A light chuckle, laced with irritation and dubiety, escapes Keigo’s lips as he shakes his head a little. “Come on, Dabi jokes around like that all the time,” and while his voice seems amicable on the surface, its ridden with cold undertones, phantom threats that are felt, not said. “And this little lady—as pretty as she is—is a person, not a prize. Taking her against her will is, in fact, kidnapping, and I’ll be forced to—”

“Let him go,”

“What?” the word falls from your lips and Keigo’s simultaneously—one incredulous and pitched high with distress, the other breathed out in disbelief, both equally as concerned—gazes snapping to Dabi, who sits quiet and brooding, dim lights casting shadows on the sharp planes of his face.

Azure drifts between your faces, features ridden with terror and alarm—furrowed brows and deep frowns tugging at the corners of lips, one pair of eyes wide with scepticism, the other pair glistening with tears. Dabi’s silent for another moment before he pushes on his knees and stands, squaring his shoulders and clearing his throat, voice ringing out loud and clear, dripping with admonition. “Let him go. He’s right; he won her, fair and square,”

He speaks slowly, annunciating each word with careful precision, sapphire glinting in the dim light has he holds the muscular man’s gaze. It holds something threatening, something menacing, something terrifying deep within the depths of his eyes, and you feel your captor pause for a second, tense, and then shiver.

“Uh, r-right,” he says, voice wavering a little as he nods to himself. “Fair and square,”

Dabi stalks towards you, shiny oxfords echoing against the pristine, freshly waxed marble floor, tutting his tongue and shaking his head, casual and relaxed as ever.

“Don’t struggle, you hear me?” he says, voice softer, gentler, as a calloused thumb swipes across your cheekbone, catching a stray tear. “Be a good girl for him,”

And I’ll see you soon.

The promise doesn’t need to be vocalized—you can see it, shining bright and true in his sapphire eyes, can sense it, in the air surrounding him, can feel it, at the very core of your soul.

A sudden sense of relief floods your body, pathetic little sobs getting caught in your chest as you exhale shakily and deflate in the burly man’s arms, tears finally spilling over your lashline and streaming down your cheeks.

“Okay,” you breathe.

Dabi gives you a simple nod, lips quirking up into a ghost of his signature lopsided smirk. Okay.

And just like that, all of the fear and trepidation and panic vanishes from your body, a serene calm chased by a sense of giddiness replacing it, scorching through your veins.

Because before the door to the man’s hotel room has even swung fully shut, Dabi’s barreling through, crystal handle smashing against the wall and cracking as skilled fingers tangle in short hair, yanking the man’s head back with a sickening crack and dragging the razor-sharp edge of his favourite switchblade across the man’s exposed throat.

He moves like a flash of light, a spark igniting a fire, so fast he’s merely a blur of black and navy and blazing sapphire. Thick crimson begins pouring from the wound immediately, a large splice spanning from one earlobe all the way to the other.

The man hits the shiny hardwood floor with a distinct thump, but you aren’t paying attention to him or the way he’s writhing as he tries to claw at his neck, coughing and gagging as he begins to choke on his own blood.

No, you’re captivated by sapphire, bright and burning as it surges towards you, calloused hands seizing your face roughly as chapped lips find yours, unforgiving and ferocious, bloody knife still in one hand, cool metal pressed against your cheek, smearing streaks of scarlet across your skin as you try to get closer to him, to get more, the stench of copper stinging your nose.

It’s eradicated in an instant though, Dabi’s heady scent—campfire and hickory wood and expensive cologne—filling your lungs, your mind, your entire being as it curls around you in the most intoxicating embrace, familiar and comforting and him, him, him. Stumbling backwards, you just about trip over your own feet as Dabi shoves forward, strong hands wrapped around your biceps keeping you steady. The sharp edge of the small rosewood dining table digs into your lower back, Dabi swallowing your resounding yelp as he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs, large hands finding your waist and squeezing before he hoists you onto its surface, using his hipbones to force your thighs open.

You nearly topple over from the power, from the urgency, hands flying out behind you and grappling against the table’s surface to keep you sitting upright as he heaves and pushes and leans against you, motions knocking sparkling crystal glasses and fine porcelain plates off the top.

The sound of shattering glass and cracking china mingles with the gurgling and garbling of the man who lay a few feet away on the floor, suffocating on his own blood. It creates such a beautiful symphony, intertwined with Dabi’s ragged breaths and your broken moans, with the ruffling of clothing and the screech of the table legs against the gleaming hardwood floor. And it’s desperate, and needy, and messy, teeth clashing and clacking together violently, saliva dripping down chins as tongues rub and glide and lick, hands pawing and gripping and tugging and ripping, the delicate material of your silk Dior dress practically turning to ash as his fingers materialize through it, tearing it to shreds.

“Off, off, off, I need this off,” he’s growling against your lips as his hands work, a low whine getting caught in your throat as you nod frenetically.

Yes, yes, yes, you’re whimpering, your own little fingers helping him destroy the silvery fabric, eager and anxious to rid your body of the bothersome garment.

A guttural groan, deep and dark and inducing a fluttering in your tummy rumbles in his chest as his eyes roam over your body, clad in the daintiest white lace.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, y’know that,” he’s mumbling between sharp bites to the flesh of your neck, fingers snapping the clasp of your bra, breaking it in one simple motion. “A fuckin’ angel, that’s what you are, baby. My very own angel,”

Rough palms slide down your torso, slow and purposeful as they trace, feel, knead the dips and curves, planes and contours of your body, slender fingers pausing to play with the elastic of the garter belt adorning your waist, holding up your lace-trimmed thigh-highs which have begun to tear, then hooking in the waistband of your thong.

His cock grinds against your inner thigh, hot and hard and throbbing as it strains against his trousers, digits toying with the lacy elastic, twirling it between his fingers before he lets it snap back against your skin, the harsh slap! echoing throughout the hotel room.

“Oh, Mister, I want it,” the plead falls from your lips in a shameless moan, high and whiny as your hips press forward in an attempt to grind against him. Slender fingers untangle themselves from the lacy fabric in an instant, gripping your hips to still them, fingertips digging into your flesh. “I need it,”

“Need what, dollface?” his lips brush against your skin as he speaks, teeth sinking into your collarbone a moment later, hard enough to break the skin, a loud cry getting caught in your chest. He sucks on the wound, hard, tongue laving over it in soothing little circles, slowly dragging over the bite.

And it’s a compulsion, a sickness, a fucking disease surging through your veins, infecting your mind with thoughts of him and only him, entire body buzzing with the desperate, pathetic, urgent need for him, for his cock, for his cum.

“Need you, need you,” you’re whimpering out, squirming and struggling a little in his grasp, a warning hiss spit through his teeth as blunt nails nip your skin. “Please, Dabi, please, lemme have it,”

“Have what, baby?” lips curling up into a coy smirk, he pulls back just enough to look at you, finally pushing his hips into yours, a patronizing laugh spilling from his throat as you instantly grind against his cock, impatient and impetuous. “Use your words, Mister wants to hear you say it,”

Scalding heat seeps into your cheeks as you squeeze your eyes shut tightly, a broken whine of complaint sounding in the back of your throat as you shake your head. “Y-You know,” you mumble. “You know,”

“Oh, come on, baby,” he tuts with a disappointed shake of his head, voice overflowing with condescension. “You act like such a little slut, but as soon as I want you to say what you apparently need oh-so-badly, you can’t? You get all shy and bashful like you’re innocent, or something?”

An arrogant chuckle bubbles up in his chest, a rough palm colliding with the flesh of your ass a moment later. Scarred lips graze your ear as he leans back in, speaking low and smooth, words leaving his mouth in a huff of warm, sweet breath. “You’re being bad, y’know that?”

The huskiness in his tone sends chills pebbling across your skin, a delicate shiver dancing up your spine.

“Please,” you whisper, bottom lip beginning to tremble. “Please, Mister, please,”

“Tell me,” he rasps, taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth and sucking, bruising his name into the sensitive skin. “I know you can do it, doll. What is it that you want? Tell me,”

And, God, it’s so embarrassing, vision blurring with the sting of tears, entire body beginning to tremble from the combined humiliation and lust surging through your veins, his clothed cock still rutting against your core, poking and prodding and so close, you’re so close, two tiny words, just say them. “Your—Your cock,” you almost yelp, blinking back the tears in your eyes as you try to gaze levelly at him, teeth digging into your bottom lip to quell its pathetic quivering. “W-Want your cock, please, Mister, I-I need it,”

“Yeah?” he breathes while he rests his forehead against yours, butting forward a little as his glazed eyes rapidly search your face, pupils blown to hell and lips bitten red, shining with spit. “Where, huh? Down here?”

A finger tugs the flimsy soaked lace to the side, another dark chuckle slipping from his lips as he drags a knuckle up your dripping slit.

“Here?” it presses into your cute little hole, your hips eagerly bucking forward in response.

“Yes, yes, there, Mister, there, please,” you keen, head nodding in almost frantic movements, skull knocking against his. “Please, n-no fingers, want your cock, need your cock, stretch me out, fill me up, I need it,”

And it’s your senseless babbling that does it, bratty and needy and incessant in high broken whines, that snaps the final thread of patience holding him back, and a growl rips from his chest, so violent it vibrates through your own.

The heavy buckle of his belt clinks as hasty fingers fiddle with it, shoving his trousers down his thighs just enough to free his cock.

You can’t help the mortifying moan that escapes your throat the moment you see it, velvety and pink and oh-so-pretty, flushed tip glistening with precum and two thick veins snaking around the shaft like vines.

“Christ,” he groans as he pushes into your cunt, burying himself inside of you in one swift thrust, your nails biting into the hard muscles of his shoulder through the thin material of his shirt as your hole stretches around him, both of you exhaling simultaneous sighs of relief.

It burns and it stings and God, you need more, eyes rolling back in your skull as the sharp heels of your stilettos dig into his lower back, little fingers tangling in white cotton as you try to pull him closer, closer, closer.

“Greedy little brat,” he snarls out as his hips begin snapping, the movement sudden, unexpected, welcomed, a choked cry of his name catching in your throat.

And it’s brutal and relentless, primal and desperate, lacking most of his usual finesse as he pounds into you, cockhead slamming against your cervix with every harsh thrust of his hips, hard enough to move the entire table itself, legs scraping against the floor a little more with each pump.

Inky curls cling to his forehead and temples, the white cotton of his dress shirt becoming translucent as it sticks to his damp skin, highlighting the hard planes of defined muscle that flex with each ragged inhale.

Surging forward, his tongue runs along the inside of your teeth before it drags against yours, slow and heavy, depositing his taste and staining it with the flavour of him, fiery cinnamon gum and smoky Marlboros. Gorgeous, needy little whines break in his throat in time with each strong piston of his hips, muffled by your mouth, and you greedily swallow whatever he’ll afford you.

It’s total sensory overload—he’s all you can see, all you can hear, all you can taste, touch, breathe, hijacking all of your receptors and overwhelming you with him.

It’s building inside of you, deep in the pit of your stomach, scorching flames that glow as blue as his eyes as they rage, climbing higher and higher, licking at your insides and expanding further and further until they finally engulf you, consume you, with their blaze, and everything shatters, body convulsing almost violently around his cock as you cum with a strained cry of his name.

“Fill me, Mister,” you’re babbling, begging, swearing you’ll die if he doesn’t, the flames will burn you to ash if you don’t get his cum soon, voice absolutely wrecked. “Fill me, fill me,”

And he obeys, filling your cute little cunt to the brim with thick, hot cum as his cock pulses, a cracked whimper of f-fuck, slipping past his lips.

His chest heaves as he collapses against you, the two of you falling back against the table’s surface with a thump, his cock still buried inside of you. A soft whine sounds in the back of your throat as you carefully unlock your legs from around him, wincing a little at the stiffness in your thighs.

I love you.

The three words are murmured into your shoulder, so soft you barely hear them, so quiet you’re sure you’d have imagined them had you not felt his lips move against your flesh, not felt his hot breath on your skin, not felt the gentle vibrations in his chest as he spoke.

“I love you,” you respond, voice tender as tiny fingers comb through his dishevelled hair. “I love you,”

He’s silent for a moment, your combined pants the only sounds ringing out among the hotel room, and then he nods—once at first; just a quick, sharp motion, and then again a moment later, with more vigour, more purpose, more acceptance.

Little hands smooth down the damp cotton hugging his back and your head lolls to the side, cheek pressed against the cool wood of the table. A certain type of giddiness—a type that’s sick, that’s twisted, that’s stuffed full of love—floods your body as your eyes connect with those of a dead man, laying in a pool sticky crimson, and God, yes, you love him, you love him, you love him—more than anyone else ever could, more than you could ever love anything else.

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everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years ago

Text

❛ A FIRST DATE ❜

with Johnny ‘Coco’ Cruz.

Request: Can I request a fluffy Coco imagine?? From his POV about their 1st date and his thoughts abt her and stuff? I really want some coco fluff lol. ❤❤🔥

BY ANON

Word count: about 1.7k

Aurora says: this writing hasn't been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I'm sorry about that!

Gif credits: to the author.

Masterlist. You can subscribe to my broadcast list, to be notified whenever I post a writing!

“Brother, just be yourself”.

Angel thinks that Coco is giving it more importance than it really has, after trying different outfits, without finding the perfect one. He doesn't have many clothes, because he doesn't really need it. But now, he's really pissed off.

“If I act like usually, she'll kick ma' ass in fucking seconds”. He grumbles sitting over his bed, rubbing his face with both hands.

You two met at the hospital some week ago, when he suffered some kind of accident that left him blind in one eye, for some time. He felt his heart pumping because of love for the first time, when he saw you after cleaning his healthy eye. And before that, he was already truly fascinated by the way you had to calm him down using your voice. A sweet and honeyed tone that he could be listening to his whole life. He couldn't help but think how good falling asleep every night hearing you talking would be. It took him almost two weeks to ask you out, but he couldn't feel more happy when you said yes without letting him finish the question. Coco felt strange when he left the hospital after it, experimenting a bunch of sensations stuck in his chest that made him feel better than ever.

Now, his insecurities are coming into the light. Everything he touches ends up destroyed, broken. You are too pure for his shit. You don't deserve to take that risk. Taking off his phone from his pocket, he searches for your number. Gilly and Angel are looking at him intrigued, until they find out what he's going to do. The big one takes the phone off from his hands, while the oldest Reyes holds him to guide him towards the door.

“You're not gonna flake on her, pendejo”. He grunts, pushing him outside his house.

His brothers follow him to the meeting place, watching you sit on a bench waiting for him, after twenty minutes standing up and walking around the big fountain. You look beautiful, dressed with a pair of shorts, a baggy white shirt with the sleeves rolled up on your shoulders and black sneakers. He turns around, trying to run away from your life again, facing his friends.

“I can't”. He just says, with his hands almost sweating. “She's too much for me”.

“She's perfect for you, man!” Gilly rolls his eyes.

“C'mon, Coco, don' be a chicken and get the girl”.

Licking his bottom lip, he just nods in silence, trying to find the perfect words to encourage himself. Turning over his Vans, he starts his way towards you, doubting for some seconds. And he's about to leave when you raise your eyes from your phone. The smile you draw with the corner of your lips gives him a heart attack, knowing that he could die full of happiness right now.

“Hey, I thought you weren't coming”.

Maybe it wasn't the greeting he was expecting and he feels so sorry for having made you wait. Stroking the back of his head, he forces a grin.

“Yeah… I was… 'bout to not comen'”.

Your gesture turning from enthusiasm to disheartening, causes him some bitter shivers inside his chest. He has already fuck up the good vibes between you two, that borned in the hospital. Seeing you nod in silence, shrugging your shoulders, makes him feel out of air; trying to think something to fix it up.

“I really… appreciate that, at least, you came to tell me that this isn't going to happen… It would be… humiliating”. You whisper putting your gaze away from him.

Coco can see the way your lips are trembling, as if you were about to cry, and it's painful. For him, it's painful.

“No, mami, lis—”.

“It's okay, Johnny, you don't have to excuse yourself”. Waving a hand on air, you try to make it easy for him. “I get it”.

He's missing the boat, watching you turning around and focusing your attention on the screen of your phone again. Maybe typing to some friend to pick you up, maybe about to call anyone else. But finally, the orders from his brain move his body to stop you.

“No, wait!” He says somewhat loud, grabbing your left wrist. “I wanna date you. I wanna have a lot of dates with you. This ain't you, mami, but me”.

Looking at his hand confused, you travel his arm until finding his dark and desperate eyes, talking to you in silence. Begging you to listen.

“My life is a shit. A mess... A chaos. I… had this accident with my eye because… of a dogfight with another gang. I didn' wanna lie to you, you know? I think you're smart, and pretty and… you don' deserve a guy like me who is… always in fuckin' trouble and that… used to ride a bike that probably would never ride again, just… with a shitty work on a scrapyard”. Coco is getting more and more nervous because you're not saying a single word back. He gulps with some difficulty, taking a step closer to you. “I ain't a good man, I don' do good things, but… I really wanna date you, mami. I've never been so true in ma' life”.

And he's about to give up with a crappy sensation running his body, when you tangle your finger with the ones that were gripping your arm.

“Maybe you can teach me to drive a bike, so I can ride for you”. You just say, hoping that it's enough for him.

“That sounds good, ma'”. He replies with no hesitation, feeling like for the first time he's having a good opportunity in his life.

Watching you smile again it's like seeing a rainbow after a destructive storm, putting his arm over your shoulders to start a low walk.

“Do you like pizza?” You ask then, raising your head toward his.

“Yeah, 'course”. He answers with an incredulous gesture on his face.

“Okay, do you know a food truck close to the hospital, with red and blues stripes?”

“No”.

“Seriously?” You almost scream, breaking into laughs. “You like pizza and you have never tried it before?”

Coco shakes his head, falling in love a little more after hearing your laughter. That simple gesture has made him feel more happy than ever before.

“You're gonna really, really love it”. You say with emotion, moving a hand on air to highlight your words.

“I'm sure”. He chuckles nodding. “You look pretty convinced”.

And you weren't wrong. Maybe not everybody would think that sitting on an edge of a sidewalk, eating pizza, it's the perfect date. But for him, it's the perfect one. He can ask for anything else that hearing you talk for hours about your hobbies, about what you would like to be in five years, about the things the two of you have in common. And he has never talked this much, either. But it's too easy for him to follow the conversation and flow it into another one, until the night falls over the town.

Coco insists on walking with you back to your home, just to be sure that you come safe. And even if he has had so much fun, he's doubting if you would like to repeat it. Maybe at the end you were just trying to be kind with him, because he seemed so desperate for being with you for a couple hours, to not make him feel bad. And maybe that was the reason why you didn't want him to take you home. But the real reason is that your housemates are waiting on the porch for you to tell them how it was. As soon as they see you coming closer, they run into the house ashamed and laughing, making your cheeks burn when Coco notices what is going on.

“Sorry, they're like children…” You say hastily, stopping your steps and placing yourself in front of him.

“It's okay, ma'. My… friends are waiting too”.

Between the two of you gets installed an uncomfortable silence for some seconds, until he sees you holding your bag, looking for something inside it. He breaks into loud laughs when his healthy eyes focus on the heart shaped lollipop, that you're offering him.

“I heard you the day you visited the hospital, so… there's your reward for being a good boy”.

Coco takes it, shaking his head and showing you a funny smile, before catching you between his arms. Embracing you tightly, he places a kiss on your cheek. A lovely one. Pulling himself away, he opens the candy to tuck it into his mouth.

“The best one”. He says tasting the strawberry flavor of it.

“Okay, ah… I have three kids to take care of”. You joke about your friends, pointing at your house for a second. “I had so much fun today…”

“Yeah, me too… We can repe—”.

“I'm free tomorrow”.

Hearing you interrupt him, after realizing that he wants to have another date with you. Taking off the lollipop from his mouth, he leans forward to press your lips with his, shortening the distance between both. Feeling your fingers getting tangled in his shirt give him some pleasant chills, ending up pecking your lips gently.

“What about breakfast? I know a place with the best pancakes”. He proposes then, giving you an eskimo kiss.

“I like it”. You nod, kissing his lips a last time.

“Pick you up at ten?”

“Pick me up at ten”.

“Have a good night, mami”.

“You too, pirate”. Puckering your lips, he laughs again. “Enjoy it, you're gonna see again in a couple months”.

He frowns a little confused, drawing slowly a huge smile on his lips.

“Spoiler of your next doctor appointment”.

“Is tha' why you told me tha' I could teach you?”

Walking backwards to your house, he sees you happily nodding.

“'Am gonna marry you one day, you know'et?”

These words may have been somewhat precipitate, or at least that's what he's thinking until seeing you nod again.

“I hope it”.

“Shit”, he thinks to himself, licking again the lollipop; not leaving your hood until you're inside your house.

#mayans mc x reader #mayans mc imagine #mayans x reader #johnny coco cruz x reader #johnny coco cruz imagine #coco cruz imagine #coco cruz x reader #coco cruz

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matsufucker · 4 years ago

Note

Uhh, Sorry for the boring ask,so-- First Date with matsunos?

NON NON my sweet anon, the first request was a delight to answer, I had a lot of fun looking up playlists and seeing what would fit the matsubros! I apologize for being a lame square that is too shy to sing lol. I may or may not be trying to develop an Oso playlist as we speak. :3c

I got a bit carried away, these were supposed to be a list of headcanons but it’s a weird bullet list scenario.

I also gave all of the matsus their own phone, I don’t want to write six adults sharing one cell phone or a landline. Q Q

Osomatsu: spur of the moment and casual.

Osomatsu liked to ask you to hang out occasionally, they were mostly casual. Sharing a meal, exploring the town, watching him lose money gambling, maybe try your hand at pachinko, pretty normal things. So it wasn’t unexpected when he shot you a message to hang out in the evening.

“hey i won at the races! do u wanna eat at chibitas? ill pay for my own food” How charming.

After some light drinking (he could only afford two beers), the two of you were walking a bit before parting ways.

You walked by a small movie theater. It had faded out posters of old movies, it was probably family run or a small local theater. Osomatsu stopped and pointed at the Jackass poster.

“Oi, Y/N!! I saw some clips of this, it looks hilarious! We should watch it!”

You declined, it was getting late and you had to go to work early tomorrow. But you offered to watch a movie (Jackass or some other movie that they’re showing!) after your shift. Osomatsu’s eyes lit up.

“Yeah! Just let me know when you’re off! It’s a date!”

You had to try to not laugh. Of course Osomatsu would want to watch Jackass as a date, the least romantic movie ever. He smiled his classic grin as he watched you try to contain your laughter. “What? I’m serious!” he pouts.

You were surprised when Osomatsu showed up to the movie dressed differently. Instead wearing one of his well-worn hoodies and loose jeans, he was wearing an unbuttoned maroon shirt over a plain white tee with black jeans. He really was serious about this being a date, huh?

“I haven’t seen this outfit before!” you tease, causing Osomatsu to “eheh” sheepishly and rub his nose. He’ll reply with “I wanted to look nice for our first date!”

He’ll?? Actually pay for both of your tickets? No snacks though.

He won’t shut up during the previews! He babbles and comments on everything, good thing that it wasn’t busy and that the only other people there shushed him gently. He’ll whisper commentary throughout the movie unless you tell him to shut up.

Will 100% bump his hand against yours and side eye you with a big grin. His hand fumbles a bit before properly lacing his fingers with yours and giving an experimental squeeze. His hands are warm and softer than you expected. The backs of his hands are a bit dry, but otherwise the only notable thing is the slight clamminess of his palms. If you look at his face, his eyes are glued to the sight of you holding his hand and his smile looks like it could split his face in half.

If you lean your head against his shoulder, he’ll freeze up and accidentally grip your hand too hard. If you interpret this as a bad reaction, he’ll hurriedly say “nonono” and place your head back against him and tell you that it was really nice.

Surprisingly keeps his hands mostly to himself, the most he’ll go is wrapping a hand around your shoulder and giving rubs that are a bit too friendly.

You two walk out of the movie with Osomatsu’s arm draped around your shoulder and wanting to just touch you, you have to remind him that walking on top of you and feeling you up is not practical, especially in public. He’ll pout and say that “but you smell so nice!! And you feel so comfy!!” but he’ll relax and be content to walk hand in hand.

The two of you stop by a cheap place to grab some ice cream (if you pay) and talk about the movie and future plans? :3c

Karamatsu: dramatic king.

“Are you free tonight, starlight? ✨ Meet me at the bridge at sunset.” You smiled at the message, you were already used to his cheesy terms of endearment, and they actually made your heart thump a bit if they weren’t too ridiculous. You reply yes, appreciating that he remembered that you had a few days off work. He was always thoughtful and asked you when your free days were.

You go to the bridge a bit early, the sun was still over the horizon and bleeding gorgeous shades of orange and rose into the sky. You notice Karamatsu wearing his classic leather jacket and jeans pacing around. He was muttering to himself, waving grand gestures, and shaking his head nervously. You call his name and catch his attention. He squacks a high note before clearing his throat and turning dramatically towards you.

“Ah, so you’ve arrived, my turtledove!” he flicks a finger through his hair and smirks. Mostly unphased by his theatrics, you waved and greeted him, apologizing for startling him.

He whips out a bouquet of red roses and kneels at your feet. People are stopping and staring. You sweat a bit, feeling everyone’s eyes burn into you.

“Karamatsu,” you whisper, “what’s happening?” You tried to sound gentle, you could tell that he went through a lot of effort, but feeling onlookers watch you was making your skin crawl.

“Y/N, my muse, the fire within my heart, I was wondering if you would join me on a da-“ He stops midflourish, noticing your uncomfortable glances at the people, before realizing that he was making a huge scene. He quickly stands up to bashfully escort you to a less crowded bench. He’s fidgeting and focused on the bouquet, are his eyes watering? Oh no.

He’s trying to hold back tears at putting you in an uncomfortable situation and it takes a bit of backrubbing and “it’s okay” before he calms down. He hides his red rimmed eyes under sunglasses. You gently ask why he asked you to come here.

Karamatsu “hmphs!” weakly flourishes the roses once more. “I wanted to see if this lovely deity would join me for a moonlit picnic by the river!” His words carry far more conviction than the roses, they were trembling softly in his grasp. You accept the roses, they’re gorgeous and look freshly picked. Either Karamatsu paid a pretty penny for these or some poor gardener is missing a dozen roses.

He leads you to a quiet spot under a tree where a picnic basket awaits. He smiles and holds his hand out for you to hold. His grip trembles a bit before gripping your hand securely. He makes sure to check if the blanket is clean before guiding you to sit down.

There are containers of star-shaped rice balls, tamagoyaki, kaarage, and strawberries in the basket, along with store bought bottles of tea. You’re amazed at the whole spread, as far as you know, Karamatsu is a mediocre cook. The rolled eggs looked a bit misshapen and some corners of the chicken were nearing burnt, but it all looked wonderful. You ask if he went through the trouble of making all of this.

“Heh, of course, I would do anything to make my Karamatsu darling smile,” you can’t help but giggle softly at his horrid lines. Your sweet laugh only seems to egg him on, for his eyes glimmer and the corners of his lips rise even higher. “Of course, to achieve this, I couldn’t have done it without a bit of assistance from my dearest mother,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. You can already envision Karamatsu

It’s wonderful. The sky is clear, so you get a full view of the twinkling stars and the soft glow of the moon. Karamatsu asks you about your day and you two get lost in conversation.

As conversation slows, he’ll wistfully look at the stars and say another one of his dumb rehearsed lines. “The stars are beautiful tonight… but they are just grains of sand next to you.” He’ll then get a bit bashful and say that he really enjoyed tonight and was wondering if you’d like to hang out some other time?

Choromatsu: a coffee date! But oh dear he’s a fish out of water.

He briefly considers buying two tickets to a concert, but quickly dismisses it because he too embarrassed to show you how passionate he gets over idols.

He really wants to ask you in person but he would actually break trying to get the words out so he texts you a simple “Do you want to grab a coffee at XYZ café?”

You arrive at the café and spot Choromatsu sitting at a table, flipping through a book. He’s wearing a white button up, a brown sweater, and olive trousers. When you greet him, he practically jumps out of his chair.

“H-Hello!” he squeaks, bowing his head abruptly. He looks shyly at you and breathlessly mumbles “You look nice…” He freezes up and backpedals severely, sputtering “Ni-nice, nice… this is a nice café! Have you tried their, ah, americano?” His face is stretched into a tense smile.

“Thank you! You look nice too, I haven’t seen you wear this sweater before, it suits you well!” you return the compliment and Choromatsu turns cherry red. He turns away to look at his sweater and thanks you quietly.

The two of you go to order drinks, Choromatsu buys a black americano and is kind enough to buy your drink as well.

When you settle down at a table with your drinks, you notice that Choro’s nerves have calmed down a lot, he’s no longer stuttering every word and is fidgeting a lot less.

“So, what were you reading before I got here?” you ask, recalling that it was a pretty thick novel. He perks up at your question and pulls his messenger bag out to retrieve said book.

“Ah, you see, I was reading a book about managing businesses! I’ve been looking into business management and thought that readin-“ A familiar manga tumbles onto the table and it’s swiped away quickly.

“Oh,” you interrupt him before he can start spewing out an apology or excuse, “do you like that series?” Choromatsu pauses and looks at you with an incredulous look before nodding. “Really? That’s one of my favorite mangas!” you cheer, and you can practically see his prim illusion melt before your eyes.

“Really?” he asks, and you notice a slight spark in his eyes. Bingo. You nod, eager to get to see his nerdy side. He always tried so hard to look like a proper adult, and it was a shame that he was stifling his interests. You decide to try to stoke that spark and lean in closer. “Yeah, I read it a few months ago, I didn’t think that you’d be into it! How far have you gotten, do you like it?”

He has the cutest glow in his eyes as he chatters about the series and you’re thankful for the manga slipping out of his bag, it served as a wonderful social lubricant. By the time your cup was empty, you had gotten to learn more about Choromatsu. He seemed embarrassed by his interests, but every time you reassured him that it’s fine to have passions his body relaxed a bit more. He took the time to attentively ask you questions too and overall you felt really good about this little date.

“Would you like to walk around a bit? I think there’s a bookstore nearby.” Choromatsu tentatively suggested, swirling the last dredges of his coffee around in his cup. You agree, so the two of you walked a block to the store.

His hand would occasionally sway by yours, but he would honestly be too timid to hold your hand on the first date. If you try to hold his hand, he’ll probably flinch and be rigid for a second, before relaxing.

He buys you a small piece of merch related to the manga you bonded over and the two of you part after confirming that it was a fun date!

As you leave, you hear Choromatsu hop from foot to foot and cheer to himself!

Ichimatsu: unofficial date

Hanging out with Ichimatsu was a bit uncommon. If you asked him what he was up to, he would tell you where he was in town. It took a while before you picked up that these were soft invites to join him.

One time you joined him at the park. He was sitting on the swings and lazily turned his head to watch you as you approached him.

“Sorry, I already fed the cats,” he mumbled, standing up. He smoothed out a few wrinkles on his DAT sweater. “You didn’t have anything better to do today?”

“I like hanging out with you.” Your simple reply made Ichimatsu stuff his hands into his pockets and start walking. You follow along, taking note of how cute his ears looked red.

He pauses by a cat café and you see his glimmering eyes linger on the cats snoozing by the window. He crouches and waves his hand near a fat grey cat.

“Do you want to check it out?” you ask, and Ichimatsu shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t bring money.” he murmurs, smiling as the cat’s eyes started to follow his hand.

“I can spot you!” you offer, making Ichimatsu freeze in thought. “I’d like to relax with some cats with you.” you add, hoping that’ll make Ichimatsu feel less bad about having you pay for him. He stands up and stares at your shoes.

“Sure, if you want to…” he mumbles, nervously putting his hands into his pockets again. “Thanks.”

The entrance fee of 900 yen included a drink, Ichimatsu chose to get a juice.

You settled down by a table near a cat tower and after setting his juice on the table, he sat on the floor to offer a hand to a cat.

It doesn’t take long before a calico cat is happily purring on his lap. Ichimatsu looks like he might start purring anytime soon, with how relaxed he looked scratching the cat’s ear. You don’t have as much luck as Ichimatsu with cat taming, but a fat orange cat settles next to you on the booth. It looks at you expectantly and you give it a few scritches on its cheeks.

You sip your drink and “mm!” out of surprise. Wow, it tasted really good! You notice that Ichimatsu’s drink was untouched and stand up to give it to him so he wouldn’t have to disturb the sweet calico. He thanks you and sips his orange colored juice as you take a seat on the floor with him. His sleepy eyes widen slightly and he nods approvingly.

“Did you want to try my drink?” you tilt your cup towards him and he nearly drops his juice. You weren’t expecting a reaction like that and tried to verbally backpedal “Oh, you don’t have to, you know, with germs and all-”

He grabs your wrist and tugs the drink down until the straw met his lips. He took a strained sip, he honestly looked a bit constipated for how scrunched and pink his face was for sipping a drink.

“It’s good,” he exhales. He realizes his grip on your wrist and lets go immediately, before holding out his juice. “Did you want to try? You bought it and all.” You nod and have to resist grinning at how adorable Ichimatsu looked right now, his eyes were burning holes through the ground and his cheeks were dusted pink. It looked like he was trying his best to scowl but the corners of his lips gave away the hint of a smile.

You decide to mimic Ichimatsu and gently grab his wrist to pull his cup towards you. Bright, sweet notes of mango and peach grace your mouth and, wow, he picked a good drink. You let go of his wrist and his hand stays frozen there before he brings his cup back to drink his juice again.

Cats swarm Ichimatsu and he manages to enrapture all of them effortlessly. Cats are piled at his feet and purring. They seem oblivious that you even exist and you pout a bit at being ignored. Ichimatsu notices your slight pout and he offers a hand to you without thinking. When you place your hand into his dry palms, he only then seems to realize what he just did with a tense look on his face.

He soldiers on and places his hand on the back of yours, guiding you to pet the same grey cat you encountered at the display window.

You spend a few hours just enjoying the cats and Ichimatsu’s company. When your legs start to get pins and needles from sitting on the floor too long, you notice that the café is starting to get a bit busy so the both of you decide to leave.

You notice that Ichimatsu is walking a bit closer to you than usual. His hands are stuffed in his pockets like usual, but his shoulder brushes against yours every few steps.

It’s never clarified that this was a date but Ichimatsu parts ways with a “see you later” and a soft smile.

Jyushimatsu: a fun hangout that becomes a date!

You and Jyushimatsu were walking home after a long day of fun. It was impossible to have a dull moment with him around, today consisted of various activities at the park. Volleyball, pitching baseballs, going on a small hike, Jyushimatsu finding a five leaf clover, getting chased by geese, Jyushimatsu was quick on his feet and scooped you away from the vicious birds.

You waved at Jyushimatsu as you reached where you had to part. He smiled his classic big smile and waved enthusiastically with both hands before leaving.

Not even 10 seconds later you hear him yell “Y/N!” and his sneakers slapping against the pavement. He’s slightly out of breath as he holds a flier out in front of you.

It was an advertisement for a travelling carnival that was visiting town this weekend! Jyushimatsu bounces excitedly and asks if you wanted to check it out, it wasn’t everyday that a carnival showed up! Luckily you were free so you agree to meet him at the carnival in the afternoon on Saturday.

It’s hard to miss him, you spot a bouncing ball of yellow near the entrance. Jyushimatsu’s wearing a simple outfit, an loose white shirt that’s roughly tucked into brown shorts with an oversized yellow plaid shirt. He’s rocking on the balls of his feet and when he spots you, he waves so hard you can almost hear his sleeves flapping.

“Come on, come on, let’s go!” Jyushimatsu cheers, already pointing out rides he wanted to go on. There was a rollercoaster, how does a moving carnival carry a whole rollercoaster? And a Ferris wheel? There was so much to check out!

The tickets are pretty cheap, but you notice a couple’s discount while waiting in line. When you two are next in line, Jyushimatsu suddenly stops talking and you see that he’s frozen in place. He still has his smile, but his eyes were frozen on the discount.

The employee’s tired ��next in line, please,” snapped Jyushimatsu out of his trance and he jumped to the counter to buy two tickets. The teenage boy behind the register eyed you and Jyushimatsu before applying the discount.

Before you can thank him for paying, Jyushimatsu’s clothed hand pulled your hand along to join the line for bumpercarts.

After trying various rides, you decide to take a breather and just look around the various mini games and merchandise. A fat stuffed Pikachu catches your eye, and Jyushimatsu practically hurdles over the poor person managing the ring toss game to play a round.

He throws the rings way too hard but somehow three of the ten ricochet onto the bottles. He picks out a small prize and pouts that he wasn’t able to get you the Pikachu, but he got you a keychain of plush duck from Spirited Away!

The night settles over you and you decide to hit the Ferris wheel before calling it a night. Jyushimatsu bounces slightly in his seat, making the cabin shake slightly. He stops if you look nervous.

Curiosity gets the best of you and when the wheel is nearing the end of its rotation, you ask if this was a date. Jyushimatsu “ahs” in surprise and looks out the window.

“I don’t know,” he states, finally turning his head to look at you. His mouth was shut in a rare closed mouth smile, and he fiddles with the hem of his shirt.

You realize that the ride wasn’t over as it started to go for another rotation.

“I…” Jyushimatsu trails off, and his lips were pulled into a tense line. His eyes were steely as stared at his hands, gripping fistfuls of his sleeve. “Is it okay if this is a date? Do you want this to be a date?” He lifted his eyes up to meet yours, and there’s a glimmer of vulnerability in those sweet brown eyes. Your body reacts before words can leave your mouth, you feel your head shake up and down before a “yes” tumbles out. Jyushimatsu’s back straightens up like a spring and his face splits into one of his classic smiles.

“Really?” he cries, and when you reassure him he yells a “hurray” and dives into your arms. The cart rocks violently, causing you to almost fold over Jyushimatsu. You laugh as you untangle yourself from each other. He looked so pretty with his long eyelashes and contagious smile.

The two of you exit the carnival with Jyushimatsu leading the way, almost vibrating in joy as he swings your hand the entire walk back.

Todomatsu: a cute date, with a side of the youngest brother curse.

One day after a shift, you and a few of your coworkers decided to hit up a local hot pot spot! A few random people that knew your coworkers showed up, Todomatsu was among one of them. He sat across from you and introduced himself as Totty.

He seemed really sweet and socially thrived! But as the large group broke into a collection of smaller conversations, Totty seemed to take a special interest in you. He was super engaged in convo, asking questions about your interests. He apparently met your mutual acquaintance at his old job as a barista, and he was taking some time to himself before job hunting again.

After dinner, Todomatsu asks if you’d want to exchange contact? You agree, there didn’t seem to be any red flags with him! You shoot a few messages back and forth and it’s exciting getting to know a new person.

“hey, check out this cute café that opened recently!!” he messages a few days later, and after discussing a few details you finally have plans for a date.

He shows up to the date as you arrive, wearing a white shirt with thin navy stripes, a large blush sweater, and cropped brown pants. He asks if you were waiting long and is relieved when you said that you got here.

Todomatsu buys a strawberry milk tea boba and offers to buy yours. You settle down by a table by the window and he asks you how you’ve been the past few days.

As you start to talk, you notice his round attentive eyes start to drift to the window. His brows furrowed in confusion, and you stop talking.

“Totty? What’s up?” you ask, starting to turn your head to the window. You see nothing out of the usual, just a normal street with a few shops and pedestrians.

“Ah, it’s nothing! I just saw something in that store that looked really cute!” he titters, and you can’t help but notice a strain in his voice. Slightly confused, you smile and sip on your drink.

“Did you want to check it out?” you suggest, and Totty agrees very eagerly. It’s a cute trinket store, they have things like stationary, phone cases, plush animals, and jewelry.

You find a cute rabbit with a sweet smile and rosy cheeks that reminds you of Totty! You mention it to him and he giggles, cheeks turning a bit red. You continue to browse around for a bit until Totty taps you on the shoulder and gives you a small bag. Inside is a small phone charm that has the same rabbit you pointed out earlier. “So you can think of me whenever you see it!” he winks.

When you exit the store together, you hear Totty yelp. You turn to see him getting grabbed by five men that look like him. They’re frozen, with Todomatsu flailing in their grasp. They blink a few times before dropping Totty on the ground. They all smile and talk animatedly over each other, ignoring the person on the pavement.

“Uh, Totty,” you unsteadily start, unsure of how to handle this situation. How do you handle this, what the hell? You crouch a bit to help Todomatsu up, he looks like he wants the ground to swallow him up whole. “Do you know these people?”

“Ah, yes, these are…” he glances lifelessly behind him. “…my brothers.”

“His older brothers!” the one in red shouts, posing triumphantly. “We’re identical sextuplets!” he lilts offkey. You sympathetically look at Totty, his face is downcast and his eyes are shining.

“Oh, wow, sextuplets! I didn’t think I’d be meeting your family so soon,” you try to lighten the mood, and Todomatsu tries to smile but he still looks mortified. “Do you want to leave?” you whisper. His eyes practically scream yes.

You wrap your arm around Totty’s, which causes his brothers to gasp and glare at him?? The hell’s wrong wit them?

“It was nice to meet you guys, but we’re on a date!” you smile before heading off. You feel Todomatsu squeeze your arm closer to his body and whisper “thank you.”

You stop by the swings a park and Todomatsu guiltily confesses that he’s a sextuplet?

You reassure him that it’s fine, it’s interesting, but who cares? As long as his brothers being unexpected guests isn’t a normal thing, it wasn’t too relevant. He seems relieved and apologizes, this won’t happen again.

You end up just talking, swaying on the swingset. He seems more genuine now, almost like revealing his family life was a huge weight off his shoulders.

He apologizes again for his brothers and offers to make it up to you next time!

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