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yandere-writer-momo · 10 months ago

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Yandere Baki Head Canons:

Struck By Cupid

Yandere Various Baki Men x Fem Fighter Reader

TW: Reverse Harem/ aged up AU, uncomfortable themes, yandere behavior, drugging, creepy love letters, stalking, Kiyosumi Katou, and non consensual touching (hugs and kisses)

You’re a female mma fighter who was personally invited by Tokugawa to fight in the tournament. A shame most of the competition has taken a little too much interest in you…

Jack Hanma

You became his acquaintance in the ring just like the others. At first he didn’t think much of you until you gave him some advice for strength and technique after you defeated him. He had never felt such warmth in his life. To not only be seen and acknowledged, but to receive praise and advice rather than insults for his loss. For the first time in a long time, he blushed.

Jack doesn’t like the way his heart pounded in his chest when he sees you or how his palms sweat. It’s so strange… he’s never felt like this before.

You’re very polite and you have a welcoming aura to you. People are automatically drawn to you since you look trustworthy and friendly. Even if you aren’t, people adore you. It honestly annoyed you, but you did your best to try to be nice to everyone (a huge mistake).

Jack insults you all the time. This man has no idea how to flirt so he’s extremely rude to you. He truly means well but he’s not a man of many words. His actions will show you his true feelings but you’re quite clueless on those matters since you’d rather focus on martial arts than a relationship of any kind

“Your hair is down today… it makes you look strange. (Your hair is different today, I like it).” Or “You look pale and malnourished. How are you so incapable of taking care of yourself? (Have you eaten today? Why are you not taking care of yourself properly?)”

“Your outfit is unflattering and inappropriate for this weather. (You look cold).”

Jack will throw his jacket or shirt over you if you shiver, but the garments usually reek of his sweat and musk (and the stench of urine). He acts unphased by your refusal to wear his clothes but it actually deeply upsets him. He’s trying, okay?

Jack is painfully awkward. It’s so sad for Baki to watch his brother try to woe you and you turn him down (since you don’t speak ‘Jack’ nor look past his nagging).

Baki is the one to tell him that he smells and Jack is mortified. No wonder you constantly turned down his clothes… Hygiene after training was never on his mind but he made sure to bathe more often and to no longer reek of sweat and incontinence. He now smelled of pine and musk, a scent you didn’t seem to mind as much.

Jack is even more insistent on you wearing his clothes since the colder season still isn’t over and you still turn him down from time to time. He’s just a bit too overbearing for your taste and extremely difficult to talk to (he’s terrifying)

Jack often inserts his awkward presence between you and the other fighters. In his eyes, he’s keeping you safe from those weirdos. In yours, he’s rudely interrupting conversations you’re trying to have. But in all actuality, he is protecting you. Jack has kept you safe and you’re completely unaware of just how dangerous the others are…

Jack just wished he was able to explain his muddled feelings for you. He’s never had a crush nor has he ever touched someone intimately, he was new to all of this. He just wanted you to understand him.

Jack will eventually tire of your rejection and may become more aggressive with his advances. Especially if you’re more receptive to other’s advances. What does Katsumi have that he doesn’t? Jack is much bigger than him in every way. Just look at him… please look at him. Pick him. Love him.

You’ll eventually be cornered by him once you’re finally alone.

His large arms wrapped around your smaller frame as he pulled you close to his body. You could feel Jack’s heart hammer in his chest, his nose buried into the top of your head. You shivered when Jack deeply inhaled your scent.

“Oh um… can I help you-“ Jack suddenly flipped you around. His cinnamon eyes were wild and his palms were covered in a light sheen of sweat. Was he okay? “Jack.. are you alright?”

“I don’t mind your presence.” Jack furrowed his brows and sighed in agitation. “I… I can’t explain how I feel with words.”

“What do you mean-“ you words were caught in your throat when he leaned down to your level, his hot breath mingled with yours. He then pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his entire body trembled like a leaf from the touch.

“I like you, no.” Jack shook his head. “I love you.”

You can’t even utter a word before he placed his hands on either side of your shoulders. His cinnamon eyes brewed a powerful storm of emotion behind him. He meant it, this rude man was madly in love with you. “So pick me. You don’t need anyone other than me in this world. Only I can keep you safe.”

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi was frustrated with his loss at first. He couldn’t believe he lost to you, an individual who appeared out of literally nowhere. He’s trained most of his life! His entire life was karate and you easily defeated him like he was some sort of beginner!

Yet you didn’t boast to him when he laid in the bloody sand. No, you helped him up and gave him a smile so sweet, his teeth could rot. And you told him that if you hadn’t reacted fast enough, he probably would have defeated you.

“I think you’re really talented. I think you’ll go far in life with your work ethic!” How could someone openly admit that? Most opponents would gloat in his face and yet you didn’t. Your optimism and kindness made his heart flutter. Congratulations! You’re Katsumi’s first crush.

Katsumi invited you to train at Shinshinkai where you often interacted with him, the karatekas, and Retsu. He often found himself admiring you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, which caused him to be teased by the karatekas. Everyone in that dojo knew he had a crush on you… except you.

Katsumi is incredibly sweet. He often compliments you or asks you for a demonstration. Katsumi is eager to learn anything you’d love to teach him.

It’s when you express an interest in learning karate that truly sets his heart ablaze. He gives you a uniform and offered you private lessons. He truly didn’t want any teasing from his students. Plus the two of you could spar to your heart’s content.

But seeing you in a karate uniform really made his mind wander to filthy places. The way the uniform stuck to your sweaty body and how he could almost see into your shirt when you pinned him to the mat. It was entirely too much.

Katsumi will start to ask you out to eat after every training/ sparring session. And how could you ever turn down free food? Your clueless self had no idea that these were dates since the two do you were in casual wear as you explored the town for little treats.

The two of you got along swimmingly. Katsumi found you incredibly easy to talk to… your relationship with him reminded him of Doppo and Natsue’s which made him believe the two of you were romantically interested in one another.

Katsumi never got around to dating due to his devotion to karate. He was inexperienced in every aspect of love other than what he’s seen between his adoptive parents. And he knew that he loved you. Katsumi has never felt this way before in his entire life.

His cheeks flush cherry red when you wipe some crumbs off his face. His words shaky when you give him your utmost attention. Your eyes never left his as he spoke, which only made him all the more nervous. Katsumi believed you were made for him. You’re his soul mate. You were interested in martial arts too and you always made him feel important. Katsumi had to tell you how he felt… he didn’t want to lose his chance.

And it was even worse when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who held a torch for you. It made him even more competitive to have your hand. Katsumi swore he would be the one to be your lover and eventually, your husband!

So Katsumi began to hog as much of your time as he could at the dojo. He’d ask for more demonstrations and even for your help with his kindergartner class. Katsumi constantly had to adjust his pants whenever you’d affectionately lend a hand to one of the kids. You looked so natural with them… would you want to have kids? Katsumi would love to be the one to father them if you did.

Katsumi’s mind often wandered to fatherhood and marriage with you. You’d look so perfect all plump and round… he had no doubt that your children would be prodigies in martial arts as well. Katsumi looked forward to those blissful, idyllic days. It was guaranteed if you married him!

A shame Katsumi failed to realize that you only saw him as a friend and nothing more…

You jumped when Katsumi’s hand held yours at the dinner table. Your brow quirked at his red cheeks as you slowly chewed your ramen.

“I have something to tell you…” Katsumi blushed while his hands gave yourselves a firm squeeze.

You give him a smile and swallow, your head tilted off to the side. “Of course, Katsumi. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Katsumi felt his heart flutter and his palms start to sweat a bit. He sucked in a deep breath and gave you the sweetest at you..

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” Katsumi told you, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. His cheeks remained hot when you didn’t move away from the grip he had on your hand so he took the opportunity to run his thumb over the back of your hand. “Please… I need to know if you feel the same. My love for you keeps me up at night, I can’t help but imagine a life with you.”

You’re at a loss for words as you hesitatingly try to pull away from his grip. Sadly, Katsumi only held onto your hand tighter. “Oh Katsumi, I-“

Your eyes nearly blow out of your head when he pressed a hesitant kiss to your lips. A few tears fell down his face as one of his hands tenderly held your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything…” Katsumi gave you a loving smile. “I know you love me too.”

Hanayama Kaoru

Hanayama suffered a surprising defeat by your hands, one that would have been shameful… if you had let him lay on his back. Imagine his surprise to hear that you didn’t let him fall over when you knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to the head? That you helped him stand up… he was flattered.

And so, Hanayama bought you a bouquet of roses as thanks. The crimson petals looked flattering against you as you curiously tilted your head off to the side at him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything... I just had a lot of respect for you as an opponent! I can’t believe you were able to tank so many blows from me… you’re really strong.” You gave him a bright smile which made Hanayama shrink back a bit in shock. Did you just compliment him?

Hanayama wasn’t quite used to genuine praise. Sure he’d be praised by his peers, but not from his opponents. Especially not an attractive opponent of the opposite gender.

Hanayama has had his fair share of flings. Most women approached him for superficial reasons, but not you. You were a shining star that shared its warmth with the moon. Someone unattainable yet within reach.

Hanayama simply gave you a bow before he left. He was a man of few words, fewer than the other… but his actions were the loudest.

Hanayama doesn’t actively seek you out, quite the opposite. At first at least. The two of you occasionally bump into one another, which made the gears turn in his head. Perhaps this was a fated meeting. Yes… this was the work of the red string of fate.

And so began his fascination towards you. A small crush that slowly grew into a full blown obsession. One that became overwhelming to him.

It started off with small gifts (at least to him). Jewelry and bouquets of roses. Hanayama adored the flower of love that his mother once loved. He bought dainty jewelry with elegant designs so he had the excuse to see you be adorned with accessories he personally picked out (Kizaki actually picked them out)

Hanayama wasn’t much of a romantic but he was willing to try if it meant he’d earn your affection. He’d wear better cologne and make sure his suit was always clean. He genuinely wanted to impress you, by any means necessary. No cost was too great if it meant you’d belong to him.

He began to write you love letters with surprisingly neat, tiny characters. Poor Kizaki had to help him with the right words at first, the right hand man now officially a wingman. Kizaki would do anything to ensure Hanayama’s happiness.

At first you were flattered, it was so cute to watch Hanayama hang you the letters with rosy cheeks. Who knew he had such a cute side to him? He’d even gift you small clothing articles if he noticed your clothes were too baggy/tight.

But then they began to get darker. The clothing became more revealing and were your exact measurements. You never told him your size! His fantasies began to take hold of him since he wasn’t getting through to you at the same pace he was falling for you. And it was especially worse since the other fighters all hovered around you like flies to honey. It upset him. You were his. You belonged to Hanayama.

Sweet words of innocent love soon turned to the ramblings of an obsessive madman. A fact that even someone as clueless as you understood. You were terrified. Hanayama was now using any means necessary to get you into his arms. It didn’t matter what extremes he had to go to, he has loudly staked his claim on you. What the boss wanted, the boss got.

You nervously smiled at Hanayama who placed a bouquet of ruby roses in your hands. The bouquet nearly swallow you whole with its sheer size. Yet another loud declaration of his love for you. A love you were terrified of.

“Thank you, Hanayama… you don’t have to give me so much.” You shrunk back at the stern look he gave you, you hoped you didn’t come off as ungrateful.

“I can buy you grander gifts if you don’t like them. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do-“

You shook your head and tugged on his sleeve, an action that made his face explode in scarlet. “No, I just feel bad since you’re always going above and beyond. I do appreciate your gifts, I think you’re incredibly sweet.”

Hanayama bowed his head as he adjusted his steam filled glasses. You willingly touched him… did this mean you felt the same way he did? That you had a love for him that burned as much as his? God, he wanted to kiss you so badly… but he had another gift for you.

Hanayama reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly wrapped black box. His obsidian eyes expectantly flitted to your face to see your reaction to his gift. It wasn’t difficult to size you in your sleep since you were such a heavy sleeper, but he needed to ensure this would fit!

You felt your blood run cold when Hanayama got down on one knee. What was he doing? The two of you weren’t even dating!!!

“Be my wife… or I can’t guarantee the safety of your friends and family.” Hanayama gave you the smallest of smiles as he revealed the dazzling diamond ring in the box. His predatory gaze never left your form for a second. “What do you say? Yes or yes?”

Baki Hanma

Baki and you were tied in the finals, a fact that blew his mind. The two of you were even in strength? How was that possible? This was thrilling to him!

Baki began to harp you in public to challenge you to a fight. It didn’t matter where you were. In a restaurant, at a cafe, or at a hot spring, it was on sight!

It was when you mopped him on the floor at a hot spring that he realized how inappropriate he was being. Your eyes filled with a fire he’s never seen before while you put your hands on your towel-clad hips. The towel tied firmly in place over your chest.

“Look, I know you’re still not over the tournament results but I have a lift outside of fighting.” You ran a hand through your hair in annoyance. “We could schedule a fight, but I can’t keep brawling with you on the street. I’m not trying to get arrested for fighting some… kid.”

Baki probably looked like a fish out of water. “I’m not a kid! I’m twenty!” His cheeks flushed pink when you giggled at him. What was so funny?

“Well, you’re a kid to me.” You laugh as you ruffle the short man’s hair. “You have a lot of heart, I think you’ll go far, kid!”

“I am not a kid!” Baki blushed when you just waved him off and walked away. A kid… you thought he was a kid! Baki would show you… he’d show you he was a man… but why did his cheeks feel so hot from your teasing?

You often bump into the red head whose cheeks would always flush red when your eyes would meet. It was really adorable. You always made sure to wave and smile at the younger man. There was something about him that seemed incredibly lonely to you…

And so began a friendship with Baki. You’d go out to eat with him and keep him company. Baki wasn’t used to someone asking him about his day or making sure he ate. He wasn’t used to such genuine care that he melted into a puddle from it.

You were welcoming and bright like a ray of sunshine. You’d listen to his woes and offer him your guidance. It was a stark contrast to the last relationship he had once it had fizzled out. Except there was no nagging on your end, you understood his rigorous training.

The first time you hugged him, Baki nearly cried. You were so soft and warm… like a mother.

It took another month for Baki to realize he had a crush on you. He began to seek out your touch more and would try to spend the night in your home. Baki adored being little spoon and he adored how you took care of him. Baki wanted so much more than this friendship

And as time went on, he noticed how the other fighters hovered around you. Each one of them made attempts to get you to be theirs but Baki began to interfere. He didn’t want to be alone again! He didn’t want to live without your loving warmth.

Baki would insert himself between you and the others. He’d interrupt your food outings with Katsumi, he’d stand between you and Jack (or Hanayama), he’d interrupt Retsu before Retsu could talk to you, etc. Look at Baki and only Baki!

So Baki began to cling to you even more. You couldn’t go a day without the redhead by your side. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he clutched onto you like a tick.

The more you tried to avoid him, the worse Baki became. You didn’t want to abandon him, right? He’ll be good to you, he’s just as eligible of a bachelor as the others. He’s also a man despite being younger than you!

“I love you.” Baki whispered into your shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin. His crimson eyes filled with adoration for you. “And I know you’re being hounded by the others, but don’t you think I’d be a better choice?”

You tried to shimmy out of his arms but his muscular arms only tightened around you. It was useless to try to escape the hold of this crimson anaconda. You sighed and placed your hand on his forearm. “Baki, I only see you as a little brother-“

You’re suddenly spun around to face the younger man, his eyes a bit teary. His hands tightly held your arms to your side as he shook. “Is this because I’m younger? I… I can prove to you that I’m a man-“

You reached forward and held his cheeks in your hand. “Baki, it’s just the way I see you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Sometimes you just get to be a bit too much.”

Baki melted into your touch, his hands hold yours while your thumbs stroked his beautiful face. Couldn’t you see that this was meant to be? That this relationship could be so much more than platonic?

Baki leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. His eyes fluttered shut as he softly peppered your lips until he was out of breath. “I love you… I love you so much. I’m willing to fight for you.”

Kaioh Retsu

Retsu had seen you defeat Katsumi with ease. He didn’t get to face off with you, but he was impressed. Especially when he saw that you knew a bit of Kenpo. He didn’t think an mma fighter would incorporate the ancient Chinese martial art, but you had proven him wrong.

The first official meeting with him was at the Shinshinkai dojo. Polite exchanges of one another’s names turned into a deep conversation of martial arts.

“You’re a practitioner of Chinese Kenpo, right?” Your eyes are filled with stars when Retsu nods. “Wow! That’s amazing. I envy your dedication to the craft, you must have been in a temple for years…”

He couldn’t help the butterflies that stirred in his stomach when you express an interest in Kenpo (and an interest in him). You wanted to learn Kenpo over karate? How could he say no?

Retsu taught you the basics of Kenpo and he was amazed with your natural talent for it. It made the butterflies explode in his chest whenever you gave him a bright grin once you caught onto the demonstration he showed you.

Retsu has no experience with women due to being n a temple for so long… so it’s the first time he’s ever been particularly excited. Retsu is so terrified of these new feelings that began to develop for you. But he’s too afraid to ask anyone about what he’s feeling so he does his best to mask the blush on his cheeks.

Retsu found himself making you meals and talking with you about anything and everything. He genuinely enjoyed your company… more than anyone he’s met before.

And so Retsu was in a constant battle with the overwhelming feelings that started to bubble over to the surface. And you trusted him.

“I just feel so safe with you, Retsu. Like nothing bad would ever happen to me if I’m by your side.” You give him a big grin while the two of you sat side by side in a botanical garden. “Thanks for always being so kind to me.”

You’d vent to him about the strange happenings of your peers. Retsu hadn’t realized how troubled you were so he made sure to brew you tea to calm your nerves.

It’s when your hand accidentally brushed against his that made his mind wander to places it never had before. There was no denying how attracted he was to you. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go. How he wanted to keep you safe and far away from all the other fighters who made you uncomfortable. Would you like China? He’d be willing to take you to his home county- no! What on earth was he thinking…

But he refused to succumb to it! He didn’t want to lose you… he didn’t want you to be scared of him or uncomfortable in his presence because he became some animal like the others. Retsu was better than them… because you trusted him.

You lean your head on Retsu’s shoulder, your eyes felt heavier than usual after you drank the tea he brewed you.

“I’m sorry, Retsu.” Your words are a bit slurred but Retsu pet the top of your head in a comforting manner. “I don’t know why I’m so tired…”

“It’s perfectly okay. I can carry you to my room, you can have my futon.” You’re too sleepy to protest when Retsu scooped you up into his arms like some sort of fairytale princess. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

You give him a dopey smile and nuzzle your head into his shoulder. Your breathing now steady once you finally succumbed to sleep.

Retsu felt a bit guilty that he had slipped sleeping pills in your tea, but you had such heavy bags under your eyes… which was unacceptable! He could not believe the others never took your health into consideration. What if you fell ill? This was all for your own good.

Retsu brought you into his room and laid you in his futon. His thumb brushed a few hairs from your face in thought. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?

Retsu bent down and pressed a shy peck to your lips. His breathing ragged and his cheeks a bright red. That was enough to satiate him for now… he just wanted to keep you safe and healthy.

“I love you more than they ever could.” Retsu whispered while he tucked you in. “I’ll always take care of you. Sweet dreams, Bǎobèi.”

Kiyosumi Katou

Katou was not pleased about your arrival to the dojo. He was humiliated when he lost to you in the first round at the tournament and he hated how everyone crowded around you like you were some gift sent from the heavens. You were just some woman, nothing more.

Katou usually ignored you when you’d train with Retsu or spar with Katsumi. He’d ignore the way the karatekas teased Katsumi or how Retsu’s eyes lingered on you for too many seconds. Katou didn’t understand what was so special about you.

So Katou did what he did best, he insulted you. At first it started behind your back but eventually he grew enough confidence to say it to your face… a mistake on his part.

“How about we settle this with a spar?”

You ended up mopping the floor with him. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself from your rear naked choke. Your feet were way too close to his most sensitive areas than he would have liked and there was no doubt in his mind that if your feet came any closer, he’d cream his pants.

Katou eventually admitted defeat and gasped for air like a fish out of water. Drool and snot fell down his face. He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was- Katou was shocked when you used your sleeve to wipe his mouth and nose off. He didn’t understand why you took the time to clean him up and check on him when he had been horrible to you

“You should really focus more on your karate. You have so much potential.” You offer him your hand which he hesitantly took. Katou marveled at how soft your palms were compared to his… how small your hand was. “Perhaps we’ve gotten on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to start over.”

Since that day, Katou now understood why the other men flocked to you like sheep. You were strong and yet you were kind. You were confident yet humble. You were everything he wasn’t and rather than be envious of you, Katou now desired you. He yearned for you more than anything.

Thanks to you, he took his karate more seriously. Katou sought out your praise. His eyes filled with greed when he gazed upon your sweaty form. He felt his pants tighten and his palms sweat whenever you led give him a smile and a few words of praise.

“You’re doing amazing. You’ve improved so much, Katou.”

Katou’s heart flutters whenever you say his name and he just can’t get enough of you. He has to have you. Even if not fully, he’s happy with crumbs… which is why he began to steal your soiled undergarments from your gym bag. He needed this… he needed a piece of you. Katou needed more than what the dojo provided him.

Katou began to stalk you. In his mind, he knew he didn’t stand a chance to work his way into your heart so he followed you in the shadows. He was voyeur to how all the other fighters fought for your attention. Katou wished you would look his way more… he may not have been as strong as the others, but he was willing to be completely devoted to you

He began to write you notes (that he kept to himself), he took pictures of you when you weren’t paying attention, pictures of you sleeping, and he’d even dig through your trash. Which was only when he’s been without your attention for a few days. Katou knew he was sick. That the way he felt wasn’t normal, but he had no intention to stop. A part of him even wanted you to catch him in the act so you could call him every name in the book.

Yet the more rational part of him was sickened with himself so he’d drown himself in booze once a week. A vulnerable time where you finally ran into him outside the dojo…

“Katou? Are you alright?” You furrowed your brow at Katou who sat on the side of the road. His cheeks were a rosy red and he reeked of cheap cigarettes and beer. There was not a doubt in you that he was drunk out of his mind.

“D-don’t look at me…” Katou slurred his words as he pulled his jacket up to try cover his face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You frown and bent down to hold his cheeks, which made more color bloom to his face. Katou’s breath hitched when you checked his temperature. “Katou, I’m a bit worried about you. Have you been eating properly? Please tell me you didn’t drink on an empty stomach…”

Katou sighed dreamily as he leaned into your hands. He felt as if he was on cloud nine since you finally paid him some attention. “You always worry for me and care for me even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves care-“ You’re shocked when Katou began to pepper your palms with kisses. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel his heartbeat through each featherlight peck. “Katou? What are you?”

“I love you.” Katou’s eyes studied your face for a reaction, his heart hopeful that you wouldn’t reject him like you had the others. “I know I’m not the strongest or the best looking, but I love you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for your eyes to be on me.”

“Katou-“ You gasped when he glided his tongue across your palm. You tried to recoil your hands but Katou firmly held them in place.

“Please, just indulge me once.” Katou begged as his body shook like a leaf. “Please... You don’t even have to do anything other than let me adore you.”

Part 2 coming soon…

I’d love to write more and tips would be appreciated. Please buy me a coffee?

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thepenguinweeb · 1 month ago

Note

RAHHHHHHH I have cometh to satiate your desire for writing–I was thinking Of a Yandere Sung Jinwoo x m!reader.Like the reader looks androgynous and graceful (like y'know those people that wear those corsets,the white dress shirt ,tight black pants and cunty boots and the addition of those metal claw(long nailed???)gloves thingie oh my god am gonna explode-yup that's the reader) also the reader is not human he's an artificial being made by one of the rulers as an overseer on earth–so he helped Jinwoo secretly by somehow tampering with the system to ensure better rewards and protection and guidance(idk how he'd do that but he can as he is a higher being). So after Jinwoo becomes the Shadow monarch he'll become aware of the reader's help and boy he is set on tracking him down and just keeping him for himself to cherish and protect just like how the reader did for him when he was weak. (I just KNOW Jinwoo would be protective and possessive for his pretty boy :3)

Anyways here have my Jinwoo brainrot hopefully it's not too bothersome I just can't stop thinking about the silly bastard (affectionate)😺

`` Favours for favours. ``

[ ☆ Yandere!jinwoo x m!reader ]

[ ☆ You were created to be an overseer on Earth, and so far your life has been quite boring and monotone. Then you met Jinwoo, and your sole purpose became protecting him. But after he became one of the strongest on Earth and found out about your help, he was set on keeping you all to himself. ]

[ ☆ Requested by: anon!! ]

You're not human. You never were. You were created to serve one sole purpose, and that was to be an overseer on Earth, nothing more, nothing less.

Life was boring. Dull. Monotone. You'd come to think it was your fault by the end - thinking you were emotionless, incapable of feeling anything.

Then you met Jinwoo. Well, not really met, but you got to know him trough his many failures. You watched as the man, supposedly the weakest hunter, went raid after raid, always getting out of it bleeding and torn.

So, after the accident happened, you decided to help him out. Surely tampering a tiny bit with the system wouldn't hurt anyone?

And so you did. Whenever Jinwoo was in a bad situation, you ensured he was protected by any means. If he was low on items, you gave him as many rewards as he needed each time he completed a little quest. All while he was unaware of it all.

Things changed when he became the Shadow Monarch. He had come to realize someone had been helping him since the beginning, and after he found out it was you, his goal became to track you down and keep you all to himself, so that nobody could ever hurt you.

He found out where you lived shortly after. That's how he found himself knocking on your door, desperate to see you and get to know you real close.

Once you opened the door, he could see the utter surprise on your face. But he had to admit, he was slightly taken aback, too.. he didn't expect your style to be like that, but it didn't matter to him, as long as it was you.

"How.." you began, your voice uncharacteristically quiet. But your words trailed off when Jinwoo put his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug.

"Don't worry," he said in a hushed voice. "You'll be safe with me. I promise you, nobody will ever hurt you as long as you stay with me. I'll protect you, no matter what."

Before you could ask any questions, his grip tightened and he rested his head on your shoulder with a soft sigh. "I must repay you for your help."

"Oh, you don't need to, really-"

"Let me rephrase.." he cut you off, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I will repay you for your help."

He smiled at the silence that followed and finally pulled away from you.

"Come now," he said, putting his hand against your cheek gently. "I'm taking you home."

A/N: Omg I'm sorry for the wait, anon! It took some time, but I finally finished this request :) I'm actually not that big a fan of how this one turned out, but oh well..

Dividers by @/rookthornesartistry, ty! <3

#solo leveling #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling x y/n #solo leveling x you #solo leveling jinwoo #sung jinwoo #jinwoo #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo x y/n #jinwoo x y/n #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo x you #x reader #x y/n #x you

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bullet-prooflove · 5 months ago

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Stranglehold: Terry Silver x Reader

Tagging: @volumesofforgottenlore @kmc1989 @somethingdarkside17 @noonee333

References to the travel journal in All The Places That You’ve Been

Terry will do anything for you. He lives for you, he would certainly die for you and now he’s standing in the dojo of the two men he’s wronged begging them to train you because he simply doesn’t have the capacity to do it. The idea of hurting you sickens him, even if it is for your own good.

“No fucking way.” Johnny Lawrence snarls at him, jabbing his finger into Terry’s chest. “This is just some fucked up mind game.”

“I understand why you would think that.” Terry says quietly, his hands clasped in front of him. “But I can promise you it’s not.”

“You beat the living shit out of me.” Johnny snaps, shoving him at his chest. “I was pissing blood for a week.”

Terry falters a step, drawing himself out of Johnny’s reach as Daniel steps between them. He’s always been the pacifier, the one that negates the conflict. It’s a strength Terry realises these days, not a weakness like he once thought.

“Yes I did and I am tremendously sorry. If I could go back and undo all of it I would.” Terry acknowledges before he places his palms together. “Look, I am begging you…”

“No.” Johnny spits at him, the fury blazing in his eyes. “I know what begging looks like and that is not what you’re doing.”

“Do you want me to get on my knees? Beg for my wife’s life?” Terry says forcefully, gesturing the decking below his feet. “Because if that’s what it takes I will do it.”

There’s a resoluteness to his words, a conviction. He starts to bend, to clamber down in the dirt and Daniel cannot believe that this is the same man that almost killed Johnny six months ago. His silver hair falls loose across his features giving him a softer impression, he’s wearing designer slacks and a blue buttoned up shirt, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. There’s a desperation in him that Daniel recognises, it comes from a place of fear, a place of love. An emotion that until now Daniel had thought he was incapable of.

“You don’t need to do that.” Daniel tells him, holding out his hand to stop him. “Please just don’t do that.”

“If her safety is so important to you why don’t you train her?” Johnny asserts, crossing his arms over his chest and shrugging his shoulders. “Why is it on us to keep your wife safe?”

Because I can’t…

Terry looks away, swallowing hard against the well of emotion that swells within his ribcage. The words lodge in his throat because all he can think about is Kreese’s hands wrapping around your neck, that ring imprinting on your skin as he strangles the life right out of you.

“I’ll make you watch.” He had promised Terry, the night he hung up his gi. “If you betray me like this, I will murder the only thing you’ve ever loved.”

Terry hadn’t bothered to respond. It was a threat he’d thought at the time, the bitter ramblings a man who was used to getting his own way. That was before he realised someone had been in his home, moving his things, touching yours.

He knows it’s Kreese, the two of them were Special Forces, they knew how to get in and out of a place unseen.

He hears the message loud and clear.

I’m coming for you, I’m coming for her.

“Cobra Kai is taught through pain.” Daniel says with understanding and Terry tilts his head to look at him, the anguish burning in his eyes. “He can’t teach her like that, he can’t hurt her.”

“No.” He admits, his voice barely more than a rasp. “I can’t.”

Johnny sighs as he crosses his arms over his chest.

“Is Kreese really a threat to her?” He asks Terry.

Terry raises his eyes to the sky, pursing his lips together grimly.

“The night I hurt you was the night she left me.” He finds himself telling the other two men. “It was like all the colour had been sucked out of my world. It was the wake up call I needed to get myself straight, to take a hard look at what I was becoming. I left Cobra Kai the next day.”

He tips his head towards Johnny, their gazes meeting over the no man’s land between them.

“That woman is my heart, my soul, I live for her, I breath for her. She’s my strength, my passion and she is my weakness.” Terry tells them as he puts his fist to his chest. “Kreese told me if I walked out that door, if I betrayed him then he would choke her to death right in front of me.”

“Shit.” Johnny mutters, rubbing his palm across his mouth because he more than anyone knows that John Kreese has never made a promise he didn’t intend to keep.

“He’s been in our home, he moved things, took things…”

There’s a waver to his voice, a slight tremble and Johnny wants to ask what did he take? What did he take that was so important to you that you’ve forced yourself to come here, to beg for help?

“When we were first together my wife, she didn’t have much money. She bought me a journal to record our travels in, our adventures she calls them. It was expensive, something I knew that she couldn’t afford but in that moment I knew exactly how she felt about me, that she was making an investment in our future.”

Johnny feels the trepidation in his chest, he knows what’s coming, the cruelty of it.

“He tore it to pieces and left the scraps of it on our bed. He obliterated our memories…” He trails off then, his eyes stinging because he remembers coming home to find you sitting at the kitchen table trying to piece all the pages back together with tape. The destruction had devastated you, it had devastated him too. “He hates her, he thinks she made me weak, that she’s the reason I didn’t fall into line but the truth is, I hated myself after what I did to you, I saw what I was becoming and I couldn’t go back to that again, I’m not that person, I do not want to be that person.”

It comes out like a choke, the air rushing out of his chest and Terry, he just can’t seem to stop it.

“Hate me if you want to, beat me if that’s what you need to do but please I am begging you, help me save my wife.” He pleads pressing his palms together in prayer. “She is the one thing in this world I can not live without.”

“I’ll train her.” Daniel reassures him, running his hand through his dark hair. “But there has to be ground rules, I can’t have you around here. It has to be just her.”

“Whatever you say.” Terry says, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “I’ll abide by whatever you put in place.”

“I’ll take her too.” Johnny says with a sigh, his hand rubbing over the back of his neck. “She’s tough right you’re wife? I’m not training some pampered princess?”

“No.” Terry smiles as he feels hope for the first time that night. “Trust me you’ll have a fighter on your hands.”

Love Terry S? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

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#terry silver #terry silver x reader #cobra kai

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yippeeometer · 19 days ago

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Yippeeometer, Im gonna need those Mass headcanons please and thank you

IVE WAITED YEARS FR THIS DAY!!!!!! MASSHOLES RISEEE!!!!!!!! WE MAY NEVER SEE OUR FAMILIES FOR BOSTON TRAFFIC GODDAMNIT BUT WE ARE PROUD!!!!!!!

incapable of normalcy and i truly mean that.

look theres a very specific vibe to mass and its 'will call in a bomb threat to get himself out of doing stuff he hates'

I HATE HIMMMM

so insane he's beyond dark humor atp that man grew up with puritans trying to convince him nothing was fun and now makes ass jokes for a living. what a 180.

oh and hes irritatingly cool even though hes such a dick. he's got big beautiful eyes and youre laughing along even though hes absolutely mocking u.

sports arent just sports its his way of life. which is why he wants to DIE because the red sox SUCK BALLS

sat there like a renaissance painting of despair in a dark room as the red sox fumble another game. phone illuminated w/ ny and nj sending him videos of the play with the sound of their laughter pasted on top.

'jock mass' 'nerd mass' get real he would be that one guy on the school newspaper that gets banned within the week for posting articles that are wayyyyy too radical to be necessary

he's be a journalist i fear. i fear he turns up to ur press conference and tears instantly spring to ur eyes bc hes got this shiteating grin that just says hes going to drag yours and your grandmothers name through the mud.

yk what i dont even fear. i am PROUD. no better job for a petty hoe than to write thinly veiled insults all day everyday.

sat there cackling into his computer describing one of maine's books as 'so bad its become a hatecrime to a group that doesnt exist' whilst maine actively tries to throttle him

hes such a MESSY BITCH INSTIGATOR. killing him with a rock until he's dead.

i could go on and on and i shall. man collects degrees, but not for fun as we may presume. its to win arguments against people so he can just casually pull out 'as someone w a phd-'

ok sue me he and rado would be great together. bc mass the type of guy to need to be the most impressive person in the room and anythig's impressive when youre stoned. rado sat there gasping in shock as he ties his shoelaces. gay.

if theres one mental image i have of him its that he claims that coats are for pussies to piss of ny and then spends the next 100 years only wearing t shirts and jeans. catches hypothermia 10 billion times. virginia interrogated daily for his taste in men.

ok furthermore and he cant drive. have u ever been to boston. its like a fucking psa on how to die most efficently.

#wttt #welcome to the statehouse #wttsh #wttt headcanons #wttt massachusetts

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alexkaneinq · 8 months ago

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Rabbit's Greed

Rating: Explicit

Contents: Wolf/Bunny, shifters, size difference, rimming, anal sex, knotting, multiple orgasms, praise kink, prostate milking. Light belly bulge, cum inflation, scent kink.

Word Count: 7,423

As a rabbit shifter, Boyd has never been taken seriously in the village. Of course he hasn't been. He's small, barely reaching five foot two, thin as a rail everywhere except his strong legs, and barely noticeable around his brother and sister who took after their ox father. He is small, and like all other small shifters, he is overlooked by most.

And that is perfectly fine by him. No one gives attention to a small bunny darting around large rooms filled with bigger shifters as the evening of revelry starts in the tavern. The Dusty Firefly is a huge tavern, with the first level holding the main bar, the second holding a few private rooms for rent as well as the place where the high-rollers hold their games separate from the common hands of cards and dice that people get up to in the corners of the first level. And the third floor has the rest of the rentable rooms for travelers going through the city. It's a large, lively place where plenty of other creatures come for a night of indulgence, to find companionship, and gamble-- and it's a place where a small, plain rabbit can go unnoticed as he slips through the crowds and slices coin purses from belts.

He's careful, he's been doing this for six years now, and he only ever takes a few coins from each before dropping the pouch near their feet so that when they stand to leave the table, or bar, they find the rest on the floor. Usually they look startled, sheepish maybe, that something like that could happen, relieved that they didn't end up losing the thing entirely, enough so, that if they do notice a bit of money missing, they think it must have been scattered to the floor, and are mostly grateful that more wasn't lost. Boyd hasn't made a name for himself as a thief because he is a rabbit, he is small, and skittish, and incapable of being a threat-- or even an annoyance-- to most other large shifters from predator to prey. That suits him just fine. No one pays him any attention and they can go on pretending that the money he gets selling baskets at market is what lets him live in his little apartment.

Tonight, he knows, will be a good one because spring is right around the corner. Deer have grown their antlers, and everyone is awake from their winter slumber if they chose to slip into it, and they are all desperate to find someone to spend time with in the coming weeks to sate their instincts. Which means that the Firefly will be stuffed to the brim with people who are already too distracted to focus on anything other than finding a partner. He ignores his own need as he prepares for the night. He doesn't have a taste for other rabbits, especially doe, given he doesn't want children or anyone else peeking in on the little life he's carved out for himself. He still makes sure that he puts a bit of effort into his appearance for the night, wearing a loose, open top of pale olive green to make the green bursts in his hazel eyes stand out a bit more, and carefully mussing his curls so that they look appealingly tousled instead of wild, and puts on a pair of dark, tighter trousers that he tucks into his boots before tucking his shirt into the pants so that it bunches up artfully. His belt goes around his waist with his own small leather pouch that hooks with another leather buckle to the accessory, and his daggers, with their blades so small that they're barely as long as his pinky, are slipped into little bracers hidden under his sleeves. He forgoes a cloak even though the early spring air is still chilled, and heads off to the Dusty Firefly.

///

He had been absolutely underestimating how busy it was going to be at the tavern. But in his defense, he really, really didn't know that a new herd of deer would be coming through the town alongside a large pack of wolves. Having so many new faces means he's far less worried about being noticed than he usually is, and as Boyd makes his way through the bar, he manages to take a great deal more coin than he usually manages. By halfway through the evening he thinks he's gotten enough gold to live comfortably in his home for two months. Enough, that it is definitely an unwise risk when he spots one of the wolves stepping in to break up a fight between two stags, both hands away from his sides, his attention clearly away from anything else going on around him, and his purse abandoned at his table with a few of his packmates who are also trying to step in before anyone gets gored.

Boyd darts around the growing conflict and manages to get to the table. There's enough of a commotion that he just gets his hand in the bag and palms a few of the coins. He's fully intending to move away then, but he realizes, with some shock, that the shape of the coins is different. That the half-full pouch is not filled with the round gold coins with the circle in the center, but hexagonal ones with a square. Platinum. Not gold. It's recklessness that has him reaching again, distraction over the possibility of such a big score that leaves him unaware of his surroundings. And when one of the stags goes crashing through the table, he yelps as he's knocked back.

His elbow hits the floor hard and the pain sends his instincts screaming to run, but he's not the only one on the floor from the fight getting so out of hand, and he doesn't want to draw any more attention to himself. Especially not when he sees one of his daggers has slipped from its brace and is laying among the shattered remains of the table.

The two of the wolves alongside Oliver, a fox who works as a bouncer, gets the two stags off the floor and starts to get them out of the building. He's not expecting the third to offer him a hand.

"Are you alright?" The wolf is easily six feet tall. Moon and stars, he might be seven as Boyd looks up, and up, and up, at him even as he crouches down to help him. He has olive-toned skin with a shock of wavy grayish hair that blends into the fur across his ears that is a mix of blacks and browns. A Gray Wolf then, with dark eyes, a long curved nose, and high cheekbones. Pretty features, but when he opens his mouth to speak, Boyd can see the large dangerous teeth glinting behind his lips.

"Uh, I'm okay." He doesn't dare reach for his dagger, instead taking the offered hand and holding the platinum clutched in his other tight. His hand is tiny in the other man's, and as he's pulled up, he pretends that the wolf underestimated his strength and stumbles into him. "Oh!" His head barely comes up to the bottom of his sternum, and he very quickly slips the pilfered coins into his own purse before he starts to straighten up. It's not a surprise to feel the hard planes of muscle beneath the other man's shirt, but they are noticeable as he pushes away carefully. "I'm sorry!"

"It's fine, are you sure you're alright?"

"Yes, that was just startling!" He says, bringing his voice a little higher and letting his ears droop back to lay against his hair. He looks up at the wolf with wide-eyes, brings his hands in front of himself to fiddle nervously. "T-thank you for your help." Cute bunny things. A nervous prey animal who probably shouldn't be talked to any more out of fear of startling him further.

But the wolf ignores it as the others start to get their cloaks and pouches out from beneath the rubble. "I'm Nicolas. Let me buy you a drink for the trouble?"

"Oh, I don't think that's necessary-- it wasn't your fault."

"Then let me buy you a drink so I have an excuse to keep talking to you?"

He feels his face heat slightly. Of all of the people to get noticed by. He's about to decline again when he sees one of the others pick up his knife out of the corner of his eye. "Okay," He agrees.

The wolf, Nicolas, picks up his coin purse and smiles at him, a little crooked, his mouth closed to hide those sharp teeth, and ignores his packmates who are still sorting through the rubble for lost coins. "And who am I drinking with?"

"...Boyd." He gives over the name reluctantly as they start to move over to the bar. One drink. Then he'll escape before the wolf has a chance to confer with his packmates and notice the missing coins. With how much platinum he's gotten from the wolf, he'll buy a new dagger.

///

Nicolas buys him a drink, getting an ale for himself, and they find a little corner of the bar to talk in. And they do talk. The wolf seems to want to get to know him, and asks about the village, his interests, his occupation as a weaver, and anything else he can learn. Boyd does his best to give simple, shy answers as he sips at his much smaller cup. A small cup for a small creature, and one that he can tell has been heavily watered down. He could have three of these before he even started to feel flushed. But he's just a little rabbit. Surely the bartender, an owl who Boyd thinks must be filling the vacancy for Tara, is doing right by such a small animal who's been cornered by a predator like Nicolas.

The wolf, who is personable, and willing enough to give information about his life in turn. Their pack is actually three, soon to be five, consisting of his grandparents, parents, and he and his sister who both are at the age where they're going to be breaking away to find mates of their own . Hence the sudden departure from their normal hunting grounds and traveling from the wild forest and mountains stretching across this part of the country, and to populated cities. They normally don't see the other packs unless it's for a celebration like a wedding or the birth of a new pup.

"If your grandparents are expecting to see you mated by the end of the season, shouldn't you be looking for a mate, not wasting your time with a rabbit?" He offers sweetly.

"I don't think this is a waste of my time." He says in immediate response. "I'm enjoying talking to you. I hope that you don't think I'm wasting yours."

"You aren't," Just making it more uncomfortable the longer he lingers as he notices the weight of his coin purse more and more. "I just don't want to keep you from finding the love of your life. We have a pack here too, I'm sure that there's a wolf among them who could be a good match for you."

"Who said I was looking for a wolf?"

His face goes very hot as he fumbles for something to say in response. He's never been interested in other rabbits, the only partners he's ever taken were a sparrow and a gopher, both prey and both near his own size. Predators and prey are already an uncommon coupling, but the sheer size of the wolf-- well, he supposes his parents made that work, but it's nearly as whispered about as a wolf and a rabbit going to bed together would be. "I--" he doesn't know if he's going to decline the thinly veiled offer or not, and he doesn't get the chance to make that decision for himself.

"Boyd?" His brother's voice and shadow fall over the table suddenly, his tail flicking with his agitation when he sees that he's sharing it with a predator.

"Hey, Jon." He doesn't usually come to the Dusty Firefly, preferring to stay out by the fields and the bonfires there for his revelry.

"You ready to head home?" Jon says, reaching for his arm. Trying to get him away from this 'dangerous' stranger. "Come on, I'll walk you."

He bristles and pulls his arm back before those much larger fingers can close around it and take away his choice. "No, I haven't finished my drink, or my conversation, yet. I'm good." He only realizes in hindsight how bad of an idea that was. He was supposed to be looking for a reason to bail. But his brother's condescension immediately made him lose sight of his goals.

"Boyd--"

"He said he isn't finished." Nicolas tells him evenly.

"He's my brother--"

"I don't see why that means you get to ignore what he said." Nicolas turns his attention back to him. "But I have taken up a lot of your evening, and if you'd like to leave, you're welcome to."

Take the out, take the out, take the out-- "I thought you were interested in taking up all of my night too?" The wolf's ears perk up slightly. As his brother tenses further. He barely glances at him. "See you later." Unlikely. He avoids going to their family farm now that he's got a place of his own. His brother looks like he's going to make a fuss, but Nicolas growls softly, and even as big as his brother is, he's still a prey animal himself. He bristles and pales, and Boyd takes a sip of his watery drink to hide how that sound makes him tremble slightly as well. Jon gives him one last glance before he disappears into the crowd, though Boyd is fairly certain he'll be back with their sister if she's here as well, or someone else he thinks can extract him from this situation.

Nicolas watches his brother go before turning back to him. "I am going to see if there are still any rooms available. Whether or not you'd like to share it with me will depend on if you're still here when I come back. And if you're not," his voice is gentle, his grip very careful as he takes his hand in his own, "Then I had a nice time anyway." His lips press to the back of his palm lightly and he is struck again by how much smaller he is than the other man.

"Okay." He sounds a little breathless as he says it, but Nicolas doesn't linger. He smiles at him, and then lets go and slips away from the table. Okay. Get up and go. Leave right now and hope that there are so many people in here that he didn't catch his scent and won't notice when his coin purse is so light.

He stays right where he is, finishing his drink in two gulps. It's so watery it barely burns. Nicolas is a nearly seven foot tall predator, he reminds himself frantically. Not only did he steal from him, but he is a wolf on top of that, and wolves have extra features he should worry about on top of the claws, and strength, and teeth. He should leave right now. Leave, leave, leave.

When the wolf comes back to the table with a large iron key in hand, his tail wags a bit behind him as his smile returns, slow and smooth, and his eyes linger on his body. He offers his other hand and he needs to leave. He takes it instead.

///

The walk upstairs is blanked from his mind entirely. There's a constant whine in the back of his head of thin panic because he is a rabbit and this is a wolf and he should not be preparing to sleep with him. But he goes upstairs anyway. Goes into the darkened room of the inn, only big enough to hold a water basin, wardrobe, and bed, the sounds of activity still filtering up from the floors below. He hesitates as the door shuts behind him, but when Nicolas steps into his space, when he catches his chin between his fingers, and his claws just barely touch that thin, soft skin, a shiver goes through him and the other man pauses when he feels him tremble, looking worried.

He's spent his whole life with other people 'protecting' him from making his own choices. Becoming a thief had been a dangerous one that he ended up taking for himself. This one is a little more dangerous, a little more stupid, but he takes it for himself when he gets up on his tiptoes so that he can get his hands in the loose collar of the other's tunic and pulls as much as he can. Nicolas makes it easier for him, wrapping his other arm around his waist and pulling him up, until his toes aren't even touching the ground, and seals their lips together.

The dull heat of spring feels like it's gone from inert kindling to a flame spilling out across his entire body as the wolf kisses him. He shifts his grip, moving one arm to around his waist, but the other hand catches one of his thighs and uses that to hoist him higher like he doesn't weigh anything at all. Boyd adjusts his grip too, trying to hold on a little tighter as the press of their lips turns into tongues moving against one another and he feels consumed as it happens. His instincts scream at him to run when his tongue is coaxed behind such big, sharp teeth. Teeth that were made to tear into flesh. He has never enjoyed feeling small or fragile, but this-- this puts a need beneath his skin that he's never felt before.

He moans as he's easily carried over to the bed, Nicolas sitting on the edge and situating him in his lap. The blush spilling out across his face feels impossibly hot as he's forced to spread his legs so wide around the other's muscled thighs as he's left straddling him. One hand stays on his back to keep him steady, but the other goes to his tail, easily enveloping the entire thing in his palm and squeezing and stroking the soft fur and sending a bolt up his spine that has him gasping. He hears the other's tail swishing against the sheets,

"Does that feel good, bunny?" So good as he keeps doing it that his cock is stirring already. He nods weakly, leaning back in and being given a kiss immediately, this time the wolf licking behind his teeth as he keeps playing with his tail. He's not thinking as he shifts in the other's lap, trying to push his tail back into those touches, pressing back and bringing his pelvis down harder in his lap as a result and letting him feel the start of the wolf's arousal as well. Just the start of it and he already feels a big that Boyd loses any coherent thought for a moment. Nic hums low in the back of his throat using the grip on his tail as leverage to pull him even closer, until Boyd's rapidly hardening cock is doing so against his stomach, and the predator can grind his up against the swell of his ass.

"Ah," he gasps, his instincts going haywire as the scent of the other man starts to fill his nose now that they're away from the crowd downstairs. Musky, earthy, and... violent. Something in that smell that reminds him of blood even though there hasn't been any spilled between them. His claws are held carefully, his teeth never even chancing a light nip. But that smell is there as Nic noses down his neck and his tongue laves over his skin.

"I'm going to eat you up, little bunny."

That should not make him moan. It really, really, shouldn't. But it does as the wolf lets go of his tail so that he can pull his shirt from his pants. Yeah, okay, this is definitely happening. His hands tremble a little as he starts to pull at Nic's shirt too, tugging open the laces of the vest over his tunic to loosen it, but he can't take it off, not when the other's hands are so insistent as they pull his shirt over his head. He expects his ears to get tangled and pulled on-- it's happened every other time he's gone to bed with someone-- but the other catches the ends of them carefully as he pulls away the shirt. He can't resist keeping hold of one though, holding it between his fingers and stroking along the velvet soft fur along them, and Boyd shivers again at that sensation, at the feeling of the predator's large, dangerous hand against such a delicate part of his anatomy.

"Do you need me to slow down, Boyd?" Nic murmurs, his other hand resting against his chest once his shirt has been tossed to the floor. His shirt that was covering his bracers. Boyd tries to make his brain work through his lust and quickly wraps his arms around the other man's neck, undoing the buckles as he speaks.

"I'm not glass. I can handle anything you give me, puppy." It's enormous talk given that he's never had someone like Nicolas before, but it has his eyes darkening and the hand on his ears going to the base where they connect to his skull and giving an enticing, little tug that puts a delicious ache beneath his skin. He nearly forgets what he's doing, but he leans in and noses up under the wolf's chin to where his scent is strongest. To where, he's been told, they bite each other to become mates. It's incredibly reckless when he licks his skin, tasting the faint tang of sweat and that overwhelming woodsy scent on his tongue, before he skims his teeth over his skin.

Nic goes stiff under him and he thinks he's overstepped hesitating dropping the bracers off the other side of the bed in case he needs the tiny knife-- and then he has a hand around his hip and he's pulling him down against him roughly as his hips grind up so he can feel how hard his cock is now. Boyd moans, fumbling and dropping the bracers anyway, but he forgets to care as he's pulled back into another hard kiss as Nicolas shrugs out of his vest and tunic.

The muscle he'd felt beneath is curved across his chest and down his arms, the skin puckered and scraped with scars from a life, he assumes, of fighting. No wonder he hadn't blinked as he'd broken up the fight downstairs. He doesn't get a chance to enjoy the view for long because the wolf is catching his hips and pulling him up, closer, so that he can get his hand on his belt and pull that loose as his mouth seals over his neck where he doesn't have a matching scent gland. It doesn't seem to bother the wolf as he presses his teeth to his skin and sharp nips and bites make his skin tingle and him whimper in the other's lap as he's coaxed out of the rest of his clothing.

When he's naked in the other's lap, his cock is hard and curving up against his stomach, and he's never felt so vulnerable. He doesn't know if he's ever been this hot either as he whimpers and tries to get his hands into the other's pants as well, not wanting to be cowed. His cock is so big, as it presses against him, and his hands feel way too small as he gets them to his belt and button.

But he doesn't get further than that, because Nic grabs him around his hips and moves him like he weighs nothing. The wind is knocked out of him as his back hits the mattress and then the wolf is blocking out the rest of the world as he braces himself above him. "You smell so good, bunny." The words nearly a purr as they leave him, as he moves down his body, mouth first going to his neck as his hands curl around the soft skin of his inner thighs as he holds them open wider than he even knew he could spread them, just to make room for the other man. "Tell me if you don't like something." The words breathed against his skin as he kisses across his chest, down his flat stomach, along his thighs.

He whimpers when his mouth goes to his hole, his tongue licking a wide stripe over him. His mouth feels so hot as it touches him there, pleasure surging like lightning beneath his skin and making him cry out as one hand clutches in the sheets and the other tangles in his thick hair. The wolf hums approvingly and licks at him again, getting him drenched in his saliva, as his tongue moves over and around his entrance, flicking and teasing at the ring of muscles until he's moaning and his hips are trying to twitch weakly in his strong grasp to try and get more. Never had someone give him their tongue over their fingers, but as he moves he feels the prickle of his claws against him again and he supposes that he doesn't have much of a choice in it if he doesn't want to tear him open on his cock.

But Nic doesn't seem to begrudge the task. No, the way he licks at him, the soft growls and chuffs that are breathed against his skin as his tongue prods at his center, testing how relaxed his muscles are, seem pleased. Like he's getting pleasure just from being between his legs. His body opens for the other man and the tip of his long tongue slips inside, and Boyd's hand tightens in his hair as his moans pitch louder. Stars, his tongue is so big. It was already big in his mouth, but inside of his hole, fuck, he thinks he's had cocks that were smaller. His cock is drooling against his stomach steadily and he lets go of the sheets, his need so great that he has to have a touch there to go with the ones that are moving inside of him. Each little lick inside, he pulls out a bit before feeding his tongue deeper on the next. His fist goes around his prick as the other man's tongue goes deep enough to find that sensitive gland inside of him and Boyd cries out,

"Nic!" His hips trying to jump hard in his grip.

The wolf looks up at him from between his legs and sees him stroking himself and growls against his skin. He thinks, for a moment, that he's going to tell him to stop, but he doesn't. If anything, as he watches him stroking himself, the wolf eats him out more voraciously. Encouraged by the response, he gathers his pre that has dripped all over his stomach and uses that to make his skin slick, before he wraps his fingers back around himself. He strokes himself and in turn, Nicolas laps inside of him. His hand moves a bit faster along his shaft, and his nerves sing as that pressure inside his body is mirrored by the other's tongue. The wolf lets him set the pace, and soon he's stroking himself roughly, the grip on his thighs shifting to his hips, fingers curving around nearly to the small of his back, and holding him up so that he's practically riding the other's face, even while he's still on his back.

It doesn't take long for him to feel like he's going to shatter apart after that, the sounds of his pleasure so loud in the room that he can't hear the noise from the bar below anymore. His balls draw tight as he strokes himself faster, tighter, and Nic matches that by pushing his tongue in deep and moving it constantly against his prostate until everything snaps in a sharp crescendo of ecstasy that sends his release spilling halfway up his chest and leaves him gasping for breath. Stars dance behind his eyes as his cock pulses with the sensation and his insides clench weakly around his tongue. Nic licks and laps at his skin as he moans and trembles through his orgasm, until he whines weakly, his ears twitching, as it goes from good to too much in a matter of seconds as he starts to come down from the high.

Then the other man pulls back, giving one last lick to his stretched, dripping hole before murmuring, "Gorgeous, little bun."

He is too starved of breath to offer anything other than a weak moan, as the other moves up his body again, hands staying beneath him to lift his lower half higher so that his weight is easily held up against the wolves thick thighs as they slip beneath him. His mouth goes to his stomach and he licks up his release with another growl as Boyd feels his cock pressing up against the cleft of his ass. He doesn't try to push inside, but he ruts himself between his skin, and he gets even wetter as he feels the wolf's hot pre mixing with his cooling spit. Boyd moans softly, trying to get his heavy limbs coordinated enough to rock back into the motions, even as his brain starts to try and ring alarm bells as he feels how big the other man is against him. He's never had anything so big inside of him before. He doesn't even know if it's possible for a cock of that size to fit. As Nicolas kisses him, his mouth covered in the taste of him, Boyd decides he doesn't care. He would die to try it.

"Are you ready, bunny?"

"Please," he pleads, reaching back to get a hold of the headboard as the wolf's eyes flash with his want.

"Such a good boy, asking so sweetly." He presses a kiss to his cheek and that, of all things, is what he feels makes his blush go hotter again. As the sweet words also make his spent cock ache sharply with the desire to fill again. Then he pulls back a bit, enough that he can see what he's doing as he gets his hips lifted high, his legs supporting his weight, as he wraps a hand around his own cock. Fuck, fuck, he's even bigger than he'd felt, easily twice as thick as himself, nearly as long as his forearm, his head flushed dark and drooling pre, a pretty winding of veins tangled beneath that velvet skin. Definitely bigger than anything he's had inside of him before, and he wants him so badly now, that he can't possibly tighten with his nerves. The other man reaches off the side of the bed and he hears him rustle through their shed clothing before he comes back with a small bottle of oil that he smears over his length before he brings his head to his hole.

A soft whimper leaves him as he starts to push inside. The oil, his pre, his spit, all ease the way, but his muscles twitch and flutter as they're made to spread wider than they ever have before. He lets out a soft, scared chitter as he wonders if he really will be torn open around the intrusion. But Nicolas, even though he's already been so patient, even when he must be desperate for his own release, goes slowly. He makes his own soft, comforting chuffs and coos as he strokes his skin carefully with big, dangerous hands that could rend his flesh. He kisses his lips, his cheeks, his forehead. Leans in and licks along his ears.

Boyd moans loudly as his head fully breeches him, sending a dizzying pressure all along his nerves that is so intoxicating he almost forgets that the wolf is submitting to him as he grooms his ears. He can't keep it together then, his claws scraping across the headboard. His cock is so big inside of him and he forgets how to breathe as it keeps pressing deeper and deeper inside. No, it's not that he forgets, it's that there's no room left inside him for breath. All of the air is pressed out of his lings as he goes deeper and deeper until-- until--

Boyd keens as he sees a bump appear in his stomach. So big that the outline of his cock is visible through his insides. He's pretty sure that his brain melts out of his ears then. All he can do is moan and whimper, voice cracking on a sob as his cock swells again and his pleasure goes so blinding even though the other man hasn't even moved.

"Nic, Nic, Nic," he babbles, tears slipping over his cheeks. Fuck, he's never cried like this in bed before.

"What's wrong, bunny? Is it too much? Do you need me to stop?" His voice, even thin with his own pleasure, his lust, seems sincere. Really would stop no matter how much he must want more, to make sure he's not broken.

"More, more, please, Nic, please!" He begs instead. He needs it. Needs anything to make the blinding fullness change before he shatters.

And the wolf's restraint is torn away with a snarl. He pulls back halfway before he fucks into him hard. Boyd screams his pleasure as he's made so full again. His cock is so big that there's pressure against every inch of his inner walls, rubbing against his prostate, and going so much deeper inside than anything else has ever reached. Nicolas doesn't need to ask if he likes it, if he wants more, the way he's sobbing and trembling apart beneath him must be clear enough. So he doesn't stop. He pulls back even farther this time, and gives another rough thrust that makes their skin meet in a loud, stinging slap. That spark of pain against the pleasure sends his head into the stars as he feels himself getting even hotter.

He doesn't slow down after that. He curls his hands tight around him, holding his body at the angle he wants, and fucks him like a toy. They fall into a brutal rhythm that he's certain will leave dark bruises against his soft skin and he wants those. He wants to be alone tomorrow night touching the bruises on his thighs as he fists his hand around his cock and remembers how good it felt to be this full, this used, this small. Stars, he's never been so happy to be small in his life as the wolf envelops him in his bulk as he leans in to close those big teeth around his throat again, licking and biting, just this side of breaking skin, as he as he fucks him so hard and perfect.

Until he stops fucking in all the way, and Boyd chitters unhappily, wanting his full length inside again. It's not until he feels a bump starting to form, brushing against his stretched hole on each thrust, that he remembers the wolf's knot. Oh, moon and stars, how is he supposed to fit that inside? He doesn't ask to stop though, not when he's so close to his own orgasm. Neither of them are even touching his cock, but it doesn't matter. He's going to come anyway.

"Bunny--"

"I can take it," he says, not even knowing if it's a lie. "Please, please, knot me, please, Nic--!"

He snarls, catching his mouth in another rough kiss and then he's slamming that growing intrusion back inside of his body. Boyd's voice breaks; he moans so loudly as he's forced so wide, wider, as his knot finishes swelling inside of him as his insides are suddenly drenched in the wolf's cum. He whimpers as he sees his stomach swell slightly from how much is flooding his insides. And his knot. Fuck, his knot is so big and it's putting a fresh, perfect pressure against his prostate that has his own cock pulsing as his orgasm tears through him for a second time. He barely manages two squirts of cum as he feels the wolf's cock continuing to pulse inside of him and fill him with more. He can't help trembling and moaning, the pressing inside of him making him feel like he's losing his mind as it keeps coming. He can't escape his cock, can't make the pressure against his prostate lessen, and even as Nic pants through his orgasm, leaning in to pepper his face with more kisses, smearing against the tears and sweat that are spilling over his cheeks, he doesn't come down. He can't. His whole body is raw with his pleasure. When the other man stops spilling inside of him, he gives low comforting growls and chuffs as he holds him close and strokes his hair, as Boyd keeps falling apart stretched wide on his knot.

He doesn't know how long it takes for his knot to start to shrink just the barest bit, but when it does, Nic starts to roll his hips again. He's not fucking him like he did before, but he's grinding and rubbing, and he's already touching every oversensitive part of his body. It's too soon for him to get more than half hard again, but even that has him sobbing harder around the pleasure. He can't. This is too much, he can't possibly feel any better than he already does. The wolf shifts a hand to play with his tail again and Boyd whimpers, mortified, as his cock twitches and starts to dribble out a very thin stream of milky cum. Every little roll of his hips as his sore prostate is abused again, makes a little more come out. The wolf nearly purrs as he makes sure that he's gotten every drop of his pleasure out of him before his knot shrinks away and he's able to pull out.

Boyd's face is impossibly hot as he puts one big hand against his stomach as he does, pressing on the small bloat that wasn't there before as he pulls out. A humiliated whine slips from his lips as the wolf's cum pours from his body as he presses on his stomach, soaking both of their legs and the bed beneath them in a heady tangle of their scents.

He's pretty sure he passes out before he's empty.

///

Boyd wakes up with his mouth thick and stale, his entire lower half aching fiercely, and a bone-deep satisfaction everywhere else. And... curled up securely in Nic's arms. The wolf has wrapped his body around Boyd's much smaller form and appears to be sleeping soundly. Neither of them are crusting in dried cum, so he guesses that the wolf had cleaned them up after he-- he feels his blush go so hot it burns across the back of his neck-- after he'd passed out from how exhausted his body was in the wake of so much pleasure. He isn't being held too tightly, but he still shifts, turning into his full form, and more easily being able to hop out from the embrace as a rabbit. He slinks off of the edge of the bed before he turns back. As euphoric as the night before was, and no matter how sore he is, he needs to leave.

He moves as quietly as possible, retrieving his bracers and clothes and getting into them as quickly as he can manage. He's gotten his boots in hand and is starting to creep across the floor to the door when he hears the wolf yawn.

"Don't you want the rest of your payment, little bun?"

He stiffens, but he isn't doing anything wrong per say. Lots of people sneak out after a one-night stand. "Payment?"

The wolf hums, stretching out on the bed as he rolls over to look at him. "I had brought that platinum to buy a companion for my upcoming rut."

Fear pulses through him followed hotly by his indignance. "I'm a thief not a whore. If you want that, you can find it at the brothel." He digs into his pouch, furious with himself for getting caught, for being duped by the pretty smile and charming words. He pulls the platinum pieces he'd taken from his purse and tosses them onto the floor. He drops his boots back to the ground, intent on shoving his feet back into them and making himself scarce just in case the wolf decides to send the guards after him.

The bed creeks as he gets out of it and he flicks his remaining dagger into his hand, whirling to press it to the wolf's chest as he moves across the small room and into his space. Nicolas regards the small knife without any fear, but keeps his hands raised slightly at his sides. "If I treated you like a whore, then I'm sorry. That wasn't my intention when I invited you into bed last night." He reaches for him, hand cupping the side of his face. Boyd puts the blade to his wrist, but it doesn't deter him. His thumb strokes softly over his cheek. "Keep the platinum if you want it. My only hope is that you enjoyed last night as much as it seemed like you were."

He hesitates. "Why didn't you call the guards last night? I robbed you."

"You did. You robbed half a dozen other people too, if my count is right. But you never took more than they could spare. That's about as much honor as I suppose a thief can manage." His lips curl up into that soft smile again. "And why shouldn't you? When none of them will even give you the time of day? Even small creatures can be dangerous when they're overlooked." He shifts his hand, carefully brushing his thumb along the edge of the dagger to feel its sharpness. "I won't call the guards on you, and you never have to see me again, little bunny. But if you want to," he takes a step back, his tail swaying nervously near his ankles. "Then I'll be here for another three days before I find someone else to spend my rut with."

He hesitates, but after another second, the wolf turns to go back to the bed, giving him a good look at the muscle corded along his back and down to his sculpted ass as his tail swishes. He tries to shake away the little pulse of heat that puts in his veins and slips the knife back into his bracer before he finishes putting on his boots. "Don't hold your breath." He grumbles, the humiliation sitting under his skin as he opens the door.

"I may." Amusement clear in the other's voice. Boyd huffs and slinks away from the room, heading back home as swiftly as possible in case he changes his mind about calling the guards.

///

It's not too long before he's in his apartment again, stripping away his clothes so he can go take a proper bath. There are bruises against his thighs and ass, little shadows of them around his hips as well from being held in the position that the wolf wanted. They ache softly when he touches them and that little sting feels good under his skin. He tries not to think about that too hard as he goes and scrubs his skin clean of the wolf's scent.

When he gets back out of the bathroom, he dresses in soft sleep clothes, more than ready to eat and then return to bed for the rest of the day. But he pauses as he passes his purse that he'd set on his side table. He opens it back up and finds that he had really managed quite a good score the night before. Definitely enough to live off of for a few months.

The single platinum piece still sitting amongst the gold begs the question of if he'll seek out the wolf again before he leaves. Boyd moves into his kitchen as he refuses to answer until he has some distance from the night before.

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#original writing #nsft text #mlm nsft #queer nsft #shifter romance #shifter nsft #werewolf nsft #monster romance #monster fucker #monster nsft

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roosterbruiser · 2 years ago

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Can I request a Bradley thing where he goes in to get a tattoo and reader does his tattoo and he’s just super love stricken. Next thing he knows he’s going to get tattooed just to see reader till he finally asks her to go on a date??? 🫶🏻🫶🏻

𝐓𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝

𝐚 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐰 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

Honest to God, if Bradley knew that you were going to be the girl doing his tattoo today, he would've pretended to be sick to get out of the appointment. He would've just gone to a different tattoo place entirely. But it's too late now--he's here, sitting in your little cubicle with its potted plants and hand-drawn posters and knick-knacks and bluetooth speaker, and you're quietly humming as you look over his paperwork.

It isn't that he thinks you're incapable of doing his tattoo--God, no. You were the name that kept popping up when he asked around for artist recommendations, the highest rated artist in his area (and the surrounding three--but who's counting?). And he knows you'll do a good job because he's seen your work on other people and even if he hadn't, the posters on your wall are evidence alone. Bradley can draw a crude stick figure on a good day--so he is endlessly impressed with your skill.

It's just that you are the prettiest thing he's ever seen in his entire life. No, not just pretty--something above that. Beautiful, gorgeous. Fuck, you're ethereal even and Bradley hates people that say ethereal.

Everyone he talked to failed to mention that you are simply the prettiest person in every room you walk into and, Bradley knows just by looking at you, that you're probably the coolest person at every party you've ever been to.

You have big eyes that you wear bright colors on, which look almost too good against your skin and those pretty irises. Just looking at you legit makes Bradley want to bite his knuckle. You have a cool haircut, one that is polar opposite of all the Navy-issued chop-jobs he's so used to seeing, and your voice is raspy and lovely. You're wearing authentic vintage Levi's and a smooth bodysuit, one that hugs your body, one that shows the hills of your breasts so well.

Simply put--you're fucking perfect.

Perhaps the worst of it all is that you're so fucking nice. From the moment he walked through the door, you were all smiles, leading him back to your little area and talking him through everything without making him feel like an idiot. You were offering him drinks and asking what his ideas were and then complimenting his ideas. You were making all the little tweaks he wanted and not complaining about it even a little bit.

And now, as he sits on your table with his foot tapping incessantly on the tile, he's just watching your throat vibrate as you hum. It takes him a moment to recognize it, but when he does, it makes him want to rake his hands through his hair.

"Leather and Lace?" He asks you, perching a brow.

And the way you laugh, looking up at him with a bright grin as the sun kisses your face, should be illegal. You're about to put a needle to his skin and watch him cower in pain--he wishes you would take that into account and look less Goddess-like, for the sake of his ego.

"Stevie is my idol," you sigh, pointing casually to the portrait of her on your arm. He inspects it with a smile tugging at his lips, hoping his ears aren't as red as they feel. "You're a big music guy, then?"

He nods, slightly embarrassed. Isn't everyone a big music person? Who the fuck doesn't like music?

You like this guy--this guy that told you to call him Rooster for some reason. This guy who's wearing the ugliest vintage Hawaiian shirt you've ever seen. This guy who has a lewd pornstache, the one who somehow pulls off the lewd pornstache. God, this guy is still wearing his sunglasses inside, but he's just so goddamn cute. He has one of those infectious laughs and a headful of nice, sandy hair. He looks like California has kissed him--pretty. He just looks pretty.

But you can tell that he's nervous. Most people are before getting under the needle--you totally get it. Sometimes you still get nervous about it, too, despite having your arms almost all the way filled in. but you have a hard time imagining this hunk of a Navy man is nervous about a tattoo on his peck. Even just based on the scars littering his face and throat, you're certain he's been through worse.

"So," you sigh, moving your chair closer to him so he can see the paper in your hands that has the mock-up of his tattoo. He leans in and you get a whiff of sea salt and vetiver--God, he smells good. "I scaled down the legs just a bit. I was thinking some light shading through here and filling in here and here--is that okay with you?"

Rooster nods, swallowing hard, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"It looks good," he tells you. "Like really, really good."

You beam at him.

"Well, thank you," you say softly. "I'm a big art girl."

It makes something come loose in his chest--some breath he's had bated releases through his smiling lips. You're teasing him, you're joking with him. It feels good--natural.

"So, with this detail, I'm gonna put us at three hours. Does that sound good?"

Rooster nods immediately--his afternoon is entirely clear. But the prospect of getting to be with you for three hours is exciting--so exciting that it makes his throat tight. Needle be damned, he's going to get to listen to that laugh for three hours. Three!

"Sounds great," he tells you.

You grin, clapping your hands together.

"Well, I bet we're gonna be good friends by the end of this, huh?"

He grins. He already aches to kiss you and he doesn't even know you. Rooster does consider himself a hopeless romantic--but this is a whole new line he's crossing.

You point to his shirt, a slight blush covering your cheeks.

"You can go ahead and take that off now. I'm gonna prep the area."

As he obliges, he watches as you grab a little plastic razor and some paper towels. You're putting gloves on and still humming along to music that isn't playing, mentally cataloguing everything you're gonna need presently.

"Prepping the area includes--?"

You smile, standing up. He still hasn't taken his tank-top off yet, but you can tell already that this guy is fucking ripped. Not even in the usual California way--no, this guy is like movie-star ripped. He looks like he's been plucked out of a blockbuster.

"Shaving and disinfecting," you tell him, gesturing to the razor.

He nods, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip as he finally shrugs his tank and lets it fall into the chair he was sitting in.

"At least let me buy you dinner first," he teases.

Then you laugh--it's the first time he's really heard you laugh. He likes the sound, likes that you laugh with your mouth closed and your eyes wide.

"We'll see how the tattoo goes," you wink.

You're very careful as you shave and disinfect him, humming Stevie Nicks and Don Henley still. And you can feel his eyes lingering on your face as you work, but it doesn't bother you. He has pretty eyes--you're glad he's looking at you.

"Wanna be the DJ?" You ask with a grin, nodding towards the speaker.

Rooster feels like his heart is about to fall out of his ass. If he'd have known that he was going to be DJing this three-hour tattoos session with you--the prettiest girl he has ever seen--he would've made a playlist. Like, a proper playlist. One that is carefully curated and accounts for all possible avenues of this appointment. His dad used to make his mom mixed tapes--he still listens to them. Even though he thinks that making playlists is only a fraction as romantic, he understands that it's the modern mixed tape.

"Sure," he says softly, connecting his phone. "Are you exclusively a Fleetwood Mac girl?"

You shake your head, making sure all your ink is set out on their stabilizing beds of petroleum jelly and your gloves are intact. You pat the bed and he takes the hint, laying down while you adjust the light above you. Jesus, his muscles are practically rippling and he's not even doing anything.

"Mainly," you tell him, running your fingers along his peck and trying not to drool. "But I'm pretty diverse with my music. Hit me with your best shot."

Bradley suddenly feels nervous--put on the spot. It isn't even that he is about to have a needle against his skin. No, he was in Afghanistan, he doesn't really give a fuck about three hours of needle pricks. He cares about picking a song you think is lame. God, he'd just die of embarrassment if you didn't like what he chose.

As if you can sense his sudden nervousness, you grin up at him--it has the ability to completely relax his shoulders.

"C'mon, flyboy," you smile at him, readying your tattoo gun, "give it to me."

And suddenly Bradley can't breathe. You know that--it's why you said it. You watch him suck in a breath, watch him flounder for words, watch his pupils blow. Now he knows what it feels like for you to stare at his upsettingly beautiful midsection.

So Bradley gives it to you--very subtly turning on Hot Stuff by Donna Summer. It makes the both of you laugh--you even dance a little bit for him, in a silly and unserious way that makes his heart warm.

"Bet you're a good time at the bars," he tells you with a grin.

You nod rapidly, biting your lip.

"Oh, I'm the best to go to bars with," you tell him with a grin. "I dance and I sing and I drink."

"Triple threat," Bradley grins.

You nod again, chewing on your lip again. This guy is cute--like too cute for his own good.

"Few and far in between," you say, sighing. "I'm really a spectacle."

His heart is sitting in his throat. He loves the way you blush when you're being mockingly egotistical--he thinks that makes you genuine. Genuine and confident.

"I'd gladly spectate you at any bar," he says. You smile at him, the blush in your cheeks darkening as you narrow your eyes slightly. "You know, if you're up for it."

Your answer is a resounding yes--you know that already. But you can't just give it to him like that--you like to keep guys on their toes. Especially Navy boys.

"Actually, I have a two-tattoo minimum dating requirement," you sigh, shrugging.

He smirks at you. He can do this--he can do the chase.

"Is that so?"

You nod.

"Unfortunately," you say.

"What's your availability look like tomorrow?"

There's that sweet laugh again--it's bigger this time. God, Bradley loves to make you laugh. You just look so fucking happy. Happiness looks really, really good on you.

It isn't hard for him to imagine that you really are the best person to go to the bars with. He can imagine you in a pretty little skirt, sweat dampening your hairline as you twirl on the dance floor, the golden lights above you reflecting off the glitter on your eyelids. He can imagine that your warmth would be enough to heat the entire place. You seem like someone who is just down--down for anything and everything. He likes that.

"Ready?" You ask sweetly not a moment after, still laughing quietly.

He just nods, blinking rapidly at you.

The three hours honestly flies by. The pain really isn't all that bad, not when you're making conversation the entire time. By the end of the tattoo session, he knows where you grew up and that you don't have a boyfriend and that you have a cat named Strawberry and that you don't have a boyfriend and that your favorite food is street tacos and that you don't have a boyfriend and your first concert was Neil Young. Oh, and that you don't have a boyfriend.

And by the end of the tattoo, you know that Bradley is getting the tattoo in memory of his father, who was also in the Navy. You know that he has an affinity for Jerry Lee Lewis. You know that he has a vintage car and an endless collection of vintage Hawaiian shirts. You know he's gonna be stationed here indefinitely and that he hangs out at the local Navy bar--The Hard Deck. And you know that he is endlessly pleased that you don't have a boyfriend.

"Careful sitting up," you warn softly as you take your gloves off. "You've been laying down for a while. Want a hand?"

Bradley feels totally fine. He doesn't want to brag, but he's pushed his body to the brink in his life. Laying down for three hours having a conversation with the prettiest girl he's ever seen is like a luxury for him. But he wants to touch you--so he lets you grab his hand, lets you help him sit up.

And then the two of you are close--like close enough that he can smell that sweet, flowery musk on your skin. He can see the little flecks of his favorite color in your eyes and the way your lashes fan out over your cheeks.

And you can see his scars when you're this close, these pretty white lines that roll over his skin like ridges on a map. You like scars--as an artist, you think they're part of what make bodies art. They're the human equivalent to an eraser smudge.

He doesn't move for a moment, just looking down at you with that sweet smile, just letting his eyes wash over you. And you don't move from his gaze--you feel totally comfortable in it. You haven't known Bradley for long, but you're a good people reader. You can tell that this man, intrinsically, is a good person.

"Don't you wanna check out your new ink?" You ask with a teasing smile.

He makes a show of glancing down at his chest with his eyebrow perched. Then he hums and nods in approval. When he looks back up at you, you're biting a grin of your own.

"So," he starts softly. "Your availability tomorrow?"

eeeeek fun fact about me: I have eighteen tattoos! so it would by me greatest HONOR to write this little fic!!

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actual-changeling · 2 years ago

Text

for Meg, cause you're having a hard week <33 @ellie-licious

now on ao3 here

"What the fuck is a snowman?"

Joel blinks, fingers still curled around the cup he just set down. It's early November and the universe has decided to fuck her over by sending Jackson one snow-heavy cloud after the other, topped off with an early overnight snow storm that left them with several inches of snow. The last few days have been rough for both of them, her nightmares crawling out from their hiding places like bloodhounds finding a promising trail, and Ellie has abandoned her bed for his with the first dusting of snow; her sheets are starting to collect dust.

She presses her hot cocoa closer to her chest to feel the warmth seep through her sweatshirt and the two layers of clothing beneath them, not that she needs them while inside, but it gives her a sense of protection, an armor to wear. Her plan for today is, well, was apparently, to curl up with Joel on the couch and either try to catch up on the sleep she is missing with the daylight ready to keep her vampiric memories away, or watch one movie after the other until she passes out from sheer exhaustion. Joel, however, is oddly motivated to get her distracted outside of the house rather than inside, and suggested making a snowman once the coffee machine stopped gurgling behind him on the counter.

"You have never built a snowman?"

"Joel, have you ever seen a FEDRA soldier that isn't allergic to everything remotely fun?"

He snorts, sipping his coffee with a smile tugging on his lips, and she tries to swallow enough of his happiness to replace hers, bits and pieces of it gradually disappearing into the cold.

"A snowman is pretty much what it says on the tin, you roll up a bunch of big snowballs, stack them on top of each other and give it a face."

Ellie tries to imagine it, blurry memories of her very first visit to Jackson scratching somewhere at the back of her mind, and while she can't come up with a satisfying enough picture, she's sure her creativity will make up for it. Then, the last part of Joel's sentence fully sinks in, and she surprises herself with the ball of excitement that makes her bounce, almost spilling her cocoa down the front of her shirt.

"A face, you say? Any face?"

Joel is very, very glad the mischievous glint in her eyes has found a different victim today.

The next five minutes are a messy rush as they wiggle themselves into their winter clothing and tie up their boots, almost tripping over each other more than once when Ellie is incapable of standing still, idea blooming in her head. Yesterday, the cold draft alone made her flinch, but when she rips open the door now, gloved up and with a beanie pulled deep into her face, the sting of snowflakes on her cheeks is powerless against her excitement.

Joel shows her how to form proper snowballs, not satisfied until he approves them as 'structurally sound', whatever the fuck that is supposed to mean, and once she gets the hang of it, her ambition rises to the sky. They spend over two hours rolling and pressing together an almost life-sized snow person, with Joel doing the heavy lifting and Ellie carving out more details and giving helpful instructions.

"To the left, no, my left Joel not yours. Lower, it's lopsided now, Joel I said left, are you deaf?"

He stops, snowball, well, snow boulder at this point, really, dangerously balanced against his hip.

"Right, yeah, you are. Still no excuse for sloppy work though," she continues, not the least bit apologetic, and her cheeks hurt with the smile frozen onto her face, Joel's eyes brimming with an adoration that makes her blush.

They are finally done around lunch time, only noticing they missed it when the first people start to trickle back to their houses, heads turning when they pass their front yard. The sky stayed a piercing blue all morning, not a single snowflake in sight anymore, and when she presses herself against Joel's side as tightly as she can with with half a person of fabric between them, his arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her in, she no longer needs his happiness to stay warm, brimming with her own. Joel nudges her hat to the side so he can press a kiss to their temple as they admire their piece of art.

The real fun happens a few seconds later, though, when familiar footsteps come up behind them.

"What- Joel what the fuck is that my jacket?"

The snowman is exactly as tall as Tommy, facial features intricately carved by Ellie, a threadbare black blanket imitating his hair, and, to top it all off, Ellie may or may not have stolen some of his brother's clothes to make it as true of an imitation of Tommy as a bunch of snow and stones can be. She turns around, still holding onto Joel, and the stunned look on Tommy's face melts away when he sees the smile on hers.

"He was cold, Tommy, and besides, it suits him way better than you."

Maybe winter isn't going to be so bad after all.

#alex writes tlou #the last of us #tlou #joel and ellie #miller family #joel miller #ellie williams #tommy miller #ellie and tommy #ficlet #building a snowman #winter traditions #joel stops laughing really quickly when tommy helps her build an imitation of HIM #and then they all build one of her too because she's part of the family now #and for the entirety of winter their lawn has all the miller family snowmen that ellie takes care of #so they keep looking good and don't melt away or get covered in fresh snow #it makes all of them really happy #hope u like it meg <33

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harus-simp · 1 year ago

Text

All yours

-Ricky x reader-

Warning:none

Genre:fluff, suggestive if you blink

Author's note: okay you know that tiktok with the missing heart embroided shirt? (The pic is below for reference) Well I imagined ricky with that and literally was like YES

So that's how I came up with this lol, enjoy <3

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Watching tik tok all day can be at times useless and not too much productive. However, other times can make you bond a little more with your boyfriend ❤️

Working as a tailor was literally the best job ever, you felt so happy and so incredibly free to have the ability and opportunity to turn all your ideas into actual material that people could wear and show off to the world.

A literal dream come true for you. And being recognised for it by different people was even more satisfying and pleasant, it brought life to you.

Here you were on one of those days where you finished all your work in anticipation (pretty weird to you as you tended to be a procrastinator lol) and you spent the rest of your time scrolling down through tik tok to keep you somehow entertained (or as I like to call it, distracted from your surroundings).

Nothing seemed to catch your eye though, such a huge app could be a tricky one as well.

But just right then, boom, something peeked your interest, a particular video that actually involved what you did

(https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZGJV7PpsC/)

OMG

This was perfect for you, the perfect task to complete. Plus you found the shirt to be absolutely cute and beautiful.

Although you could have made it for yourself, you decided to make it for someone else. Why? Because were was the fun in all of that otherwise?

And you got the perfect victim for that. And it seemed that the universe was at your side because said person just walked out of the shower and onto your shared bedroom. Yep, no other than your boyfriend ricky.

You both had met back on your 1st year of college and since then bonded pretty quickly leading to be dating for over a year now.

"Hey baby could you do me a favor?"you asked innocently and not raising your head from your phone

"Yeah sure, what do you need me for?"

Ad you finally looked at him you noticed how he had literally just got out of the shower as he was only wrapped by a towel on his lower body, flexing his toned abs and muscles making you smirk and laugh to yourself.

"Well you are making it easier now, I saw this tik tok and thought I could make you the same shirt, you'd look amazing on it. What do you say?"

You handed him your phone to see the trend and literally saw his eyebrows quirking up as a low chuckle left his lips.

"Allright, I'm all yours then"he replied giving you a light peck on your cheek

"All mine? That's a pretty dangerous thing to say, I may take it too literal"

"Take it as literal as you want princess" he said smiling and getting closer to you

But just as he was inches apart from your lips you smiled mischievously and pushed him away suddenly.

"I gotta find my things to measure you babe, be right back"

Ricky pouted as you left him without his kiss, but giggled to himself waiting for you nonetheless.

When you came back you started to take all the measures you needed and started working on it.

Your soft touches on his waist and shoulders made him weak on the knees making him look like a hot mess with those shiny eyes that you so adored.

But before you could cause any more damage to this man you went to other room because you knew that if you stayed there you would have given in to your charming boyfriend.

He was incapable to just let you go like that, so he watched you from afar admiring you and all your hard work. How was he so lucky to have you in his life? Had he done something incredible on his previous life for it?

Everytime you just looked back at him or simply showed him a small smile was enough for this men to be on cloud 9. He felt so happy each time you shared anything with him and felt extremely hot and flustered when you kissed.

But how could he not feel like that when you were literally the love of his life? He didn't want to ever be away from you nor be separated from your side.

A couple hours after you had finished your masterpiece and felt really good with the outcome, you were sure it was gonna fit ricky's body like a glove. And that's exactly what it did.

He immediately put it on and wow did he looked fine as hell. The red from the little pearls contrasted perfectly with his blond almost white hair, and the tattoo on the side of his neck seemed to stand out even more than before.

"So, how do i look?"he asked

"Incredibly hot, it fits you so fucking well. Do you like it?"

"Yes, it actually looks amazing, you are amazing for doing this"he said as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"I shouldn't have made this, now I'm going insane"

"Well pretty girl, I think that's my job,making you go crazy"he said while you now wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him closer enough for you to feel his breathing hitch in his throat.

"What are you doing? Rizz me up?"

He chuckled lowly.

"Is it working?"

"Yes. Very much"

And you finally connected your lips in a long awaited kiss that made your feet numb making ricky grab you a bit more tightly backing you off till your back crushed with a wall.

His hands held you tightly yet gently as you were immersed in each other, not being able to let go. His lips curved up into a smile as he felt you do the same .

You stayed like that for a couple more minutes, extending the make out session till your lungs gave in and you had to separate.

The rest is up to your imagination ;))

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Taglist: @chxrrymxxnlight

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planetpiastri · 2 years ago

Note

#1 with rooster bay bee <3

tell me why i've never in my life been more scared to write a blurb LMAO i hope i did him justice<33

1. losing something and the other picks it up and calls after them

word count - 1.5k

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the Hard Deck this packed. As you and your best friend tried to squirm your way through the crowd, you felt an unusual wave of claustrophobia press in on you from the proximity of everyone around.

“Is Penny having an event or something?” you called over your shoulder, struggling to be heard over the crowd.

“Not that I remember,” your friend called back. “Must be a new wave of aviators—I guess there’s a mission coming up or something.”

You nodded in reply, trying to squeeze between two burly sailors, but they didn’t even notice you. As you stumbled back, your friend steadied you and said, “Listen, this place is a zoo. I’m gonna go try and find us a table—or even just a chair to share. You get us drinks. Sound good?”

You nodded, more frustrated than anything, and tried again to squeeze past the sailors. This time they did see you, and quickly shifted out of the way with some gallant, mumbled apologies. After what felt like ages, you finally arrived at the shiny, lacquered surface of the bar, slamming your palms down and claiming a space there. One of the guys next to you jumped at the sudden sound, doing a double-take, but you didn’t spare him a glance.

“Penny!” you yelped, flagging her down as she ran past. “What the hell is going on?”

You could tell it was busy because Penny had her hair pulled back with an untidy claw clip. Loose strands fell all around her face, and she was flushed, but smiling. Recognizing you, she quickly grabbed two bottles of you and your friend’s favorite beers and started to uncap them, saying, “TOPGUN called back a bunch of graduates, and they just succeeded in their mission with zero casualties. Seems like everybody and their Uncle Sam wants to buy them a congratulatory beer.”

You bit back a snarky retort, always mindful of the sign over Penny’s shoulder—specifically, the warning against disrespecting the navy. Instead, you said, “Well, cheers to that. I’ll have to give one of them a pat on the back.”

“I’ll take that pat,” said a voice next to you, and when Penny threw her head back and laughed, you knew you’d somehow been set up.

Bracing yourself, you turned to face the aviator next to you, and when you saw his face, all you said was, “Oh.”

He was tall and strong, and his brown hair was carefully trimmed and styled—all typical signs of an active-duty aviator. Even the mustache on his upper lip was pretty standard fare with navy men, though you had to admit you hadn’t seen it on anyone younger than your father in…ever, actually. But the thing that really made this man stand out was his clothes. He was wearing a basic white tank top tucked into a pair of blue jeans, with an extremely loud and obnoxious floral Hawaiian shirt worn on top. In all your time hanging around Fightertown and the Hard Deck, you’d never seen a detachment where ‘island tourist chic’ was part of the uniform.

If you’d been able to pull it together quicker, you’d have said something smart and impressive and witty, like, “Nice kit, lieutenant.” But he was looking at you with gentle brown eyes and a look on his face that left you dizzy, like the worst kind of cliche. And the last thing you’d said was, “Oh.”

Which was apt.

After another long moment where you were incapable of doing much else than stare dumbly at the pilot next to you, he broke into a smile—of course that just made him more gorgeous—and chuckled. “So I guess that’s a ‘no’ on the back-pat?”

“Congrats,” you said dumbly, and you watched as your hand, seemingly operating separate from the rest of you, reached out and clapped him soundly on the shoulder. He laughed again, and your face burned. You half hoped the floor of the Hard Deck would open up and swallow you right there.

You glanced back towards Penny, hoping for a lifeline, but of course she’d moved on to serve someone else.

“I haven’t seen you here before,” said the pilot, leaning closer to make himself heard over the crowd in the bar. You tried to play it cool and act like his proximity wasn’t sending excited chills up and down your spine.

“Then you must not come by very often,” you shot back, grinning. “I’m in here all the time.”

He wrinkled his nose like he was embarrassed, and it was your turn to chuckle, taking a drink from one of the beers Penny had given you. The pilot reached into his pocket and deftly pulled out a credit card, holding it between two fingers. He said, “I feel like that’s a fumble on my part. Can I buy your drinks?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Penny starting to walk back towards the two of you. Moving quickly, you set down the beer, grabbed your wallet, and scrambled for your own card, saying, “I’m perfectly capable. Thanks, though.”

You immediately regretted it when you saw his face fall incrementally. Great. He totally thought you’d just rejected him. And you had just rejected him. Ugh, this was not going well.

Penny took your card and then was gone again. Wanting to hurry up and escape this awkward interaction with this very attractive aviator, you shoved your wallet back into your pocket and picked up both beers with one hand, reaching out to take your card back when Penny returned.

“My friend is over there,” you said, gesturing vaguely in a direction. “I should probably get going. Nice to meet you, though. And congrats on the mission.”

“Yeah,” he said with a nod, looking distracted. “Thanks.”

As you started to worm your way back through the crowd, you fought the urge to smack yourself on the forehead. How could he possibly have talked about fumbling? You were the one who had just fumbled! You had half a mind to turn back around, push back through the crowd, and forcefully introduce yourself, but something told you that’d just make it worse.

Oh, well. A few more beers and the handsome stranger in the Hawaiian shirt would be long forgotten.

You spotted your friend sitting out on the back deck and waved with your free hand, squeezing out the double doors at the back of the bar and stepping out onto the wooden boards. You opened your mouth to start talking about the flirting catastrophe at the bar, but realized your friend’s eyes were focused on something behind you.

Then you heard your name being called.

Oh, you have got to be kidding.

You turned around just as the pilot from the bar squeezed out the doors and jogged lightly towards you, his Hawaiian shirt flapping gently. He stopped in front of you, his cheeks the slightest bit pink, and held out his hand. Glancing down, you saw your ID.

“What—?” you said, bewildered.

“It fell out of your wallet,” he explained, a little breathless. “When you were rushing to reject me.”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, putting your free hand in front of your face as white-hot embarrassment flashed through your upper body. In spite of it, you couldn’t help but giggle. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just figured you’d need it.”

“Thank you so much,” you sighed, taking it from him gratefully and tucking it into your pocket. “Listen, about the bar—”

“It’s really okay,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t have been so pushy. You were just trying to get a drink, it was busy and loud. I get it. I don’t want to be just another guy—whoa, what are you doing?”

You stepped close and reached right into the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his phone and holding it towards him. “Open,” you ordered.

He did as you said and stammered, “What—uh—I mean—what are you—what’s going on?”

“I’m putting my number in your phone,” you said, hoping you sounded cooler than you felt. “This way we can talk somewhere that isn’t an overcrowded navy bar.”

“Like…a coffee shop or something?” he asked, his voice almost hopeful.

You smiled shyly. “Something like that. Here.” You handed him his phone back. “Use that so we can get a do-over.”

“Okay,” he said, really grinning now. “Okay, great. Cool. Awesome. I’ll call you.”

“You better,” you said.

He started to walk back towards the bar, looking down at the phone in his hand. He waved as he went and said, “See you later!”

“I didn’t catch your name!” you realized suddenly.

He shook his head, a teasing glint in his eye. “I didn’t give it.”

You bit your lip to keep from smiling too much and finally turned away, walking back to your friend with the beers that had seemed so important not that long ago. They watched you with a knowing smile, and when you sat down at the table, they asked coyly, “Who was that?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly, taking a long drink. “But I think I’m gonna enjoy finding out.”

#bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw top gun #bradley rooster x reader #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x you #rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw imagine #rooster fanfic #rooster imagine #rooster fic #rooster blurb #vinny fics

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