#male!reader x

[undercoveravenger]

Highlander

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Male!Reader

Summary: Johnny’s gay awakening being Price’s adopted son, the brother of the girl he’s engaged to.

Warnings: Non-time-specific early Scotland setting, probable historical inaccuracies, Soap doesn’t realize he’s queer someone points it out

-----

Johnny MacTavish is nothing if not a good son. He’s spent his whole life training to take over his father’s lordship when he is ready to step down, developing proficiency with any weapon he could get his hands on and sitting through hundreds of dreadfully boring diplomacy lessons. He’s gone to the balls and events without complaint, and allowed himself to be shown off like some prized sheep. He’s done everything that’s been expected from him without protest.

Until now, at least, when his parents sit him down and tell him he’ll have to marry before he takes his father’s place. He understands, objectively, that a marriage like this would help solidify his clan’s alliance with their neighbors and loyalty like that could help prevent a war in the future. It’s the right call, even if he doesn’t like it.

That begrudging acceptance doesn’t mean he’s excited though, dread pooling in his stomach as he stands beside his parents and awaits his new fiancee’s arrival. Eventually a carriage comes into sight, pulled by a pair of large shire horses and accompanied by a trio of riders. 

The carriage comes to a stop and Johnny can’t even look at the woman he’s betrothed to or his soon-to-be father in law as they climb down from the carriage because he’s too distracted watching you.

There’s something about the way your shoulders flex as you dismount your horse, trousers pulling tight around your thighs and calves and Johnny’s dying a bit on the inside at the thought of you wearing a kilt.

He wrenches himself back to the present with his almost father-in-law, a sizable British fellow with an impressive spread of facial hair, who tells Johnny to call him Price and claps him on the shoulder. Price introduces him to his fiancee, a slight little thing named Abigail who seemed to have inherited her father’s blue eyes and not much else, and then nods toward you and the two other riders, one about his height with rich tawny skin and golden eyes and the other a veritable mountain of a man with a skull mask hiding his face. 

“These’re my boys,” Price says, which really doesn’t explain all that much about how the lot of you are connected to him, “You can call ‘em Gaz, Ghost, ‘n Reaper.”

And just like that, he has something to call you. Reaper.

-----

It’s the jeering that draws him in, the raucous calls of people who know each other far too well getting under each other’s skin and digging in with barbed words and sharp tongues, leads him through the courtyard where you square off against the behemoth - Ghost, Johnny remembers.

He’s got no idea about either man’s skill level, but he’s surprised to see you still standing against an opponent as large as Ghost. You’re bleeding, he notices with a start, there’s a sticky red trail of it running from your hairline down the side of your face to drip from your jaw. You couldn’t possibly take another hit like that, not with the way you’re swaying on your feet, and it’s not until Ghost is charging, barreling down on you with all the incoming force of a tidal wave, that he sees the act drop.

You’re sure on your feet again, dropping low as you brace for impact, and Ghost comes to a skidding stop. Johnny watches, awed, as the tables turn and your muscles flex as you begin to overpower Ghost and force him, inch by hard-fought inch, out of the sparring ring.

Just like that it’s over and Ghost has a fond arm around your shoulders as he drags you in to ruffle your hair and Gaz comes bounding over from where he’d been watching at the sidelines to press money into your waiting hands. Johnny slips away, the vision of your strength and the sound of your laughter playing on repeat in his mind, utterly confused by the feeling in his chest.

-----

Johnny’s still not sure what’s wrong with him when he goes to sit at the bank of the loch, long after sleep had claimed everyone else. He’s not sure how long he’s been sitting there, hiding out in the dark, when you stumble upon him.

“Oh,” you say, clearly as surprised to see him as he is to see you. “Didnae realize anyone else would be out. I’ll leave you be,” you shoot him a grin and move to leave and he finds himself speaking before he’s even thought about it. 

“No,” he says, patting the ground beside him entreatingly. “Please. Could use the company.”

You relent and move to sit beside him. He can feel the warmth radiating off of you, even from a few inches away. It’s nice in a way he hadn’t expected, like a fire on a cold night. He’s not sure what to say - what he wants to know first. “Why do they call you that?”

You seem surprised and he’s about to try to wave off the question when you answer, “What, Reaper?” You laugh, and he’s almost surprised how pleased he is to hear the sound, “It’s stupid really - I got left at Price’s doorstep when I was little, too young to know much of anything yet, and all he saw when he opened the door to find me was a figure in a black cloak disappearing around the bend. Price says it was like the Reaper himself saying it wasn’t my time yet. There was a letter tucked in the coat ‘round my shoulders with my real name, but Reaper stuck.”

“Huh,” Johnny says, not knowing what else to say. How to say that he can see something else when he looks at you now, some little piece slotted into the puzzle that made you up and told your story. Something now that just makes sense to him.

“Enough about me,” you say, nudging at his shoulder. “What brings you out here?” you ask, leaning back on your hands and watching the wind ripple over the surface of the water.

“I’m… troubled,” Johnny says slowly, trying to piece his thoughts into words. “I’ve never been torn between my duty and what I want before.”

You hum, soft and thoughtful, like you’ve put real weight to his words and you’re trying to understand him. “Is there something wrong with what your duty dictates of you?”

It’s a good question. Objectively? No. There’s been hundreds of marriages just like the one he’s expected to have. His fiancee is pretty and she seems nice enough but…

“My heart doesn’t stir for her.” It feels like confessional at church, like he’s just admitted his deepest sins and is waiting to see if he can be Saved.

“Has your heart stirred for anyone before?” There’s no judgement to your voice, like there’s no answer he could give that would be wrong. 

Johnny thinks back, tries to remember a single time at one of the parties his parents had taken him to that there was a girl that’d made him consider marriage as something to look forward to. He can’t.

“None of the girls I’ve met-”

“I didn’t say anything about girls,” you interrupt and Oh. Well, that’s something to consider isn’t it?

Sure, he’s not had the daydreams of marriage with another boy either but he couldn’t deny the way his heart aches when he thinks of you and really, now that he’s put ‘you’ and ‘marriage’ in the same sentence, it really doesn’t sound all that bad…

His realization must be clear on his face because you laugh, bright and loud and overjoyed. 

“Well, there’s your problem!” you tease, shoving playfully at his shoulder. “No wonder you don’t wanna marry my sister if you’re queer.” You go quiet, studying him thoughtfully. “Tell me about ‘im? Or them, I s’pose?” 

He’s not sure what to say, doesn’t know you well enough yet to put into words what draws him to you so profoundly. 

You take his silence as answer enough and let out a huff. Johnny’s almost worried he offended you until he recognizes the mirth in your eyes.

“Fine, keep your secrets, you wee bastard,” you tease, pushing yourself to your feet with a groan that Johnny tries steadfastly not to think about. “Let’s get you inside and t’bed before you find somethin’ else to have a crisis over.”

Johnny lets you haul him to his feet and follows you easily back to the castle, though he knows sleep will not come for him.

-----

He finds you in the stables the next day, brushing out the big black and white mare you’d been riding when your cohort arrived.

“Is there something wrong with it?” He asks after a moment, “with me… being queer?” He borrows your words from the night before and they taste strange on his tongue. Strange, but not wrong.

“‘Course not,” you say. Easy, simple as that, without so much as a thought about the answer. “Be hypocritical if I said there was when me and my brothers are too.” Johnny can’t let himself focus on your words, on the idea that you might look at him like he looks at you, or he’ll be stuck thinking on that for the rest of his life.

“What if I’m not sure?” he asks instead.

You look up at him then, studying him intently. “D’you wanna try?” you ask, as non-judgemental as ever, and move to lean against the stall door, crossed arms resting on the smooth wood between you.

Did he? There’s part of him that doesn’t want to know, to have it cemented in him that he isn’t exactly what his parents want of him. But the rest of him knows just what you’re offering him and it’s you so how could he possibly say no?

He can’t quite manage the words so he just nods, anticipation building in him as you close the stall door behind you and nudge him up against it, melting easily into you as you finally reach out and kiss him.

Johnny doesn’t think he’s ever felt quite as he does right now with your lips on his. With the rough prickle of stubble along your jaw against his fingers, and the heat of your tongue pressing into his mouth, and the way you’ve got his breath coming in short, sharp pants that get lost somewhere between his mouth and yours. 

His heart is pounding, blood searing through his veins like he’d been struck with lightning, and he’s sure that he’s dreaming as you kiss your way down his jaw to the side of his throat until you pull back and say “Simon” and he wants to be offended that you’ve called him by the wrong name until he follows your gaze and sees Ghost frozen in the doorway, eyes darting between the two of you and Johnny knows that he’s seen.

“Simon,” you say again, voice low and pleading, “Please.”

Ghost takes one step back and then another, still looking like some frightened animal despite the fearsome mask and towering bulk.

“I have to,” Ghost says, and it sounds like an apology, “Price has to know.” He leaves with that short brutal sentence carving into the space between you and Johnny and it feels like his world is crumbling around him. 

A sigh heaves out of you like it’s all you can do to remind yourself to breathe. Johnny can relate.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, carding your fingers through his hair and then you’re leaving too, and Johnny’s alone.

-----

Johnny spends the next twenty-four hours holed away in his room avoiding everyone and everything and is only disturbed when his door creaks open and his would-have-been-wife enters the room and moves to sit beside him.

“I’m not angry with you,” Abigail says when he refuses to so much as look at her. “Really, I think we could have been content enough, but I’m doubtful that there would have been more than friendship between us.” She stands again, straightening her skirts, “C’mon, then, enough with the moping. Our parents are having a meeting that we should be attending.”

Johnny knows she’s right, knows that brooding will do nothing to ease the consequences of his actions, but having her at his side helps ease the anxiety building in his stomach as he pushes open the door to the meeting room.

His mother and father sit together at one end of the table while Price sits at the other, you, Ghost, and Gaz standing behind him. Abigail squeezes his hand supportively and goes to sit beside Price, who studies him intently.

“There have been some… let’s say complications… brought to my attention,” Price says, leaning forward in his chair and steepling his hands. “With those complications in mind, I cannot in good conscience allow Johnny to marry my daughter.”

He can feel his parents’ eyes on him, can taste their panic rising in the air, and knows he has to do something.

“Sir,” he says, striding closer to Price despite the anxiety clawing at him. “I think we both know that this alliance would be beneficial to both of us. It would be a mistake to call it off.”

“Which is why the alliance will be moving forward,” Price continues, pressing on through everyone else’s confusion. “There will still be a marriage to join our families, as is tradition, but I’ll not cheat my daughter the opportunity to have a husband who loves her by marrying her off to someone who already loves another. Especially,” he grins, eyes twinkling brightly as he gestures you forward, “When my boy Reaper here says he feels the same way and would be more than happy to take her place.”

Johnny’s baffled, bewildered even, until he looks at you and sees your smile and it all clicks easily into place. He surges forward then, damn near knocking you off your feet as he throws himself into your arms, ignoring the sounds of your adopted siblings whooping and whistling at you and Price’s amused laughter and his parents voices.

He kisses you, in front of all of them, and for the first time he is excited to see what the future holds.

[bloodyboi]

[kruegerspillow]

sleeping with simon riley includes...

a bunch of coughing and groaning in the middle of the night (yeah... he needs to stop smoking)

random muttering and mumbling from him/you

nightmares. he will literally jump out of the bed which causes you to be startled sometimes (he offered to sleep on the couch due to his nightmares....)

his hands roaming around your body as if he wants to memorize every part of you (he does)

cuddles of course !!! it doesnt matter if hes the big or small spoon he just needs to be with you.

either of you falling off of the bed, at least once in a while

the blankets being left aside because simon says its gonna be 'too hot' (no, he just wants to be your personal heater lmao)

laying on top of each other. yeah, you might end up sleeping with your head resting against his chest.

HAIR STROKING. will stroke your hair until you fall asleep soundly

sigh... drooling. he drools a bit sorry to break it to you guys

a lot of admiring. he'll admire you as you sleep, its the only view that helps him doze off

FOREHEAD KISSES. either you or him. if he stirs awake he'll just give you a small forehead kiss before holding you closer to him (if thats even possible) and dozing off once more

nuzzling. he loves to nuzzle into the crook of your neck :(

tangled legs. his legs are gonna be intertwined with yours oooor one of his leg is going to be on top of yours.

kruegerspillow © 2024 — reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[meo-eiru]

Delusional Yandere Elf

Quick colored sketch to show his colors

[bunnygirllover45]

something something he wants a dog.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere Yakuza

When your brother gets himself deep into debt, one yakuza is surprisingly willing to help you get him out. Word Count: 4.3k

When your brother asks you to visit him in Tokyo, something about his voice makes your big sister instincts buzz.

He's great at putting on a show, but there's a twinge of nervousness to him that you've seldom heard before.

You spend your first week in the city with your hackles raised, trying and failing to figure out what he's hiding from you. And you might never have figured it out.

But then he showed up.

Yandere! Yakuza who kicks open your brother's door at three in the morning, a cigarette in one hand and a baseball bat in the other.

You scramble out of bed, convinced you're about to be murdered. And it's only your brother's hand hastily slapped over your mouth that keeps you from screaming bloody murder.

"Relax, I know these guys."

Despite his words, your brother doesn't look relaxed at all. His eyes dart around the room and he balls his fists into his jeans. It's a habit he hasn't broken since childhood and before you know it, you're stepping between him and a dangerously scarred yakuza.

Your Japanese is beyond rudimentary and your course didn't exactly cover how to have conversations with members of an organised crime family, but you tilt your chin back and try to keep your voice steady.

"Naze anata ga koko ni iru no ka? [why are you here?]"

Yandere! Yakuza who shamelessly leers at your tiny summer pyjamas. He pulls at his cigarette and when he speaks, his English is heavy with an accent.

"Came to collect what he owes us."

Of all the possible answers he could have given you, that was one you don't expect in the slightest. You turn to your brother and the way he avoids your eyes is answer enough. God, how could he be so stupid? Didn't you teach him better?

Yandere! Yakuza who came prepared to smash furniture and rough up a stubborn debtor suddenly finds himself at the mercy of your glare. You're at least a foot or two shorter than him and somehow it feels like he's the one being overpowered.

"How much does he owe?"

"Sis really I can-"

Yandere! Yakuza who scoffs and names a number much, much larger than you expected. It takes every ounce of will power not to scream at your brother right then and there. How could he get himself into such a mess? He's barely been here more than six months!

Yandere! Yakuza who watches the emotions flicker across your face and has to admire the way you fight them back. The only sign of your fear is a slight tremble in your hand.

"How much do you need tonight?"

The amount he names is just about everything you have in savings. You bite your lip. One look at him tells you everything you need to know. This isn't some small time crook. The pin on his suit jacket is clear as day, even to a foreigner like you.

You pull your coat over your pyjamas and grab your handbag.

"Let's go then."

When you step out into the hall, you're met with two other Yakuza. How didn't you notice them?

You meet their eyes, trying your absolute hardest to seem unruffled. Predators get violent when they sense fear, right? So don't like them catch that smell on you, no matter how fast your heart is racing.

The night air nips at your skin as you head to the nearest ATM.

"Sis it isn't that bad, I swear -"

"We'll talk about it later, ok?"

Yandere! Yakuza who walks close behind you. You can catch the smell of his cologne - something woody and pleasantly sharp.

When you slip your card into the ATM, he leans against the wall next to you and pulls out another cigarette. He watches you while he lights it, the flame throwing his cheekbones into sharp relief.

"You got a boyfriend?"

You're genuinely surprised. Your relationship status isn't exactly on your list of things dangerous criminals should be concerned about.

"No. I don't."

He let's the smoke curl up between his teeth.

"Good. Pretty girl like you shouldn't bother with relationships."

"Why not?"

The ATM spits out your cash before he can answer.

He doesn't take the money immediately. Instead, he let's his eyes roam down your body, like he can still see what's underneath your bulky coat.

"You're never gonna pay it off at this rate."

"You're offering me advice? Didn't think that was part of your job."

"Sōde wa arimasen [it isn't]. But what kind of man would I be if I didn't help you out?"

He digs in his inner pocket and you catch a glimpse of the gun holstered under his jacket.

He pulls out a business card and scribbles something at the back of it.

"He hasn't told you, but we've got his passport. He can't leave until he's settled what he owes."

You suck in a sharp breath at that. How much worse could this situation get?

He holds out the card. "Come work for us and maybe we can work out a better deal, yeah?"

You scoff. "Does that deal involve selling my organs?"

He smiles a little at that. "Īe - no. It's easy work. Come by tomorrow and see for yourself."

You look down at the card and the hand offering it. His tattoos peak out of his sleeve, blue-black and twisting in patterns you can't recognise. Better to not offend a gangster, right?

You take the card.

"Iiko [good girl]."

He turns to go, his baseball bat slung over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow hanī [honey]."

He's barely out of sight before you're grabbing your brother's ear and dragging him back to the apartment.

You spend the rest of the night talking to - or more accurately, interrogating - your brother.

"Gambling? What the hell where you thinking?"

"I was drunk, okay?"

You hiss and rub at your temples. And the worst part? The yakuza was right. You can't pay it off. Not without a very well paying job.

His card glares at you from the kitchen table. An easy job, huh?

The address on the card leads you to a hostess club in the middle of the Red Light District.

He isn't going to kidnap you in the middle of the day in the middle of the city, right? Slightly comforted, you make your way into the club.

It's cool and dark, lit by colorful lamps more than anything. You show the card to the bartender and a few minutes later your yakuza is sitting across from you and ordering you both drinks.

Yandere! Yakuza who wears a suit in the slouched, lazy way of a school delinquent. Shirt unbuttoned so you can see the edge his tattoos and the gold chain gleaming at his neck.

He gestures at the bar and the room around you, his cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers. "The Family owns this place. And my kyodai manages it."

He studies you while he smokes, eyes dipping to your chest and lingering. "You can work as a hostess here. Make good money and we'll take a cut of it to pay off what your brother owes."

You take a sip of your drink to avoid answering him. The sake leaves a tingle on your lips.

"But I'm not exactly fluent in Japanese. How am I supposed to entertain customers?"

He grins wolfishly at you. "Just wear something tight and you won't have to talk at all."

"Perv," you mutter into your drink.

On the surface, you can't see anything wrong with his offer. It makes perfect sense - the club gets a new girl they barely have to pay and your brother's creditors don't need to keep tracking him down.

But he's a yakuza and you'd be a fool to trust him.

"Fine. I'll work here, try my hardest to learn Japanese and sell drinks."

You hold his gaze. "But I'm gone the second I think you're being shady. Got it?"

Yandere! Yakuza who smiles like he's won the lottery. "Wakatta [got it]."

When you show up later that evening, he's your first customer. He orders you a bottle of champagne and keeps topping up your glass without ever touching his own.

A few drinks in you manage to finally loosen up enough to hold a conversation. He asks you endless questions - about your childhood, your hobbies, the movies you've been watching.

But in return, he dodges any question you throw at him. "Don't ask about my family." "My childhood was boring. You don't want to hear about it." "Hobbies? Does puss-"

"No."

"Then no."

He's surprisingly fun to talk to. And when he gets a call and has to leave you, there's a pang of disappointment that you can't quite mask.

He grins and flicks your forehead. "Don't miss me too much."

When you pick up the bill, you realise he left you a hefty tip. You stare at it and then at his retreating back. Just what is his angle?

Yandere! Yakuza who's back the next day and the one after that. He sprawls in the booth like a spoiled prince, his arms thrown across the headrest and his legs spread.

"Let me teach you Japanese."

You perk up. A native teacher would be so much easier to learn from compared to the dense textbooks you've tried using.

"Repeat after me. Onegaishimasu. It means 'please'."

You try and imitate his intonation. He walks you through a few more common phrases with moderate success.

"Need to work on your accent, but that was decent. Ready to try something longer? Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne [I think you're very handsome]."

"Anato wa...wa totemo hansam... hansamudesu ne."

He smirks at you over the rim of his glass. He seems immensely pleased.

"What does it mean?"

"Just another way to... greet someone. Kinda tricky though, so you should just use it on me."

He spends the rest of the day explaining kanji and grammar. You take notes on the back of a receipt and promise to rewrite them when you get home.

Your shift is practically over when he finally stands to leave.

"Say goodbye like I taught you."

"Anata wa totemo hansamudesu ne."

He grins at you again, his voice a bit sweeter when he replies. "Anata mo totemo kireidesu ne [you're pretty too]."

You tilt your head, struggling to understand. You don't recognise the phrase, but he's gone before you can ask what it means.

Yandere! Yakuza who requests you almost everyday. Until the house mother snaps at him to give it a rest, there are other clients who want to talk to you.

He scoffs and throws back his drink, Adam's apple bobbing like he's swallowing down his anger too.

"If they want to talk to her so bad, they should get here earlier. Watashitachiha kono basho o shoyū shite imasu [we own this place]. So go and get me my girl."

When you finally make it to his table, he's back to being all smiles. The only person who notices his jealousy is the house mother and she's far too busy to mention it.

"My head is killing me. Give me a massage please?"

He flops down into your lap before you can say no.

You sigh and run your fingers through his hair, trying to remember where the pressure points are.

Yandere! Yakuza who practically purrs at your touch. When you lift a hand away to take a sip of your water, he barely waits for you to swallow before he's dragging it back.

There's something very strange about having a deadly gangster in your lap. With his eyes closed, you can almost forget just how much he scared you when you first met. Can forget how he still scares you.

He opens his eyes and catches you studying him. He reaches up and catches your hand as you draw away from him. His touch is gentle, softer than you would expect from looking at him.

"Go on a date with me."

You aren't sure if it's an offer or a command. There's something so intimate about the way he looks at you, the club lights carving hollows into his cheeks, eyes dark and sweet.

And God help you, he's so close. Only the thin fabric of your stockings between his skin and yours.

"Okay."

His lips quirk into a half smile, boyishly handsome.

"Good. You'll like it."

By the next evening, you're already regretting your decision. What kind of idiot goes on a date with a yakuza? You blame the alcohol and the closeness of his body and your stupid, stupid hormones for getting you into this.

But when he picks you up, you find yourself smiling. He actually knocks on the apartment door this time and you open it with the full intention of teasing him.

"My brother's landlord-"

Your words die in your throat. You always knew he was handsome but the man waiting for you takes your breath away.

His hair is slicked away from his face and a sparkling cross dangles from one ear. His lazy suits are gone, replaced with a suit that's pressed and tailored. Hell, even his shirt is buttoned up properly.

He looks good. Dangerously good.

He takes you in, eyes lingering at your curves. You swallow and try not to blush. You do your hair and makeup everyday for the club and he's seen you in this dress before, but he looks at you like it's all new to him, like he wants to drink in every inch of you.

You somehow manage to find your voice and it has none of its usual bite. "You look good. Really good."

He smoothes a hand over his hair self consciously. "Arigatō. Shall we go?"

He offers you his arm and you take it, your heart thundering. He opens the car door for you and helps you in like a proper gentleman. You catch a whiff of his cologne - the same woodsy scent from the night you met.

He takes you to a skyscraper restaurant and sits down right next to the window. The city is a sparkling sprawl at your feet.

"I didn't think you'd be into a place like this," you say.

"What? You think I don't got class?" He grins and points his fork at you, "I've got the best damn taste in this whole city."

"Explains why you asked me out then."

"Obviously." He leans forward. "Only the best for my girl, yeah?"

"I'm your girl? Since when?"

"Since..." He makes a show of checking his watch. "Since the night I met you. You just didn't know it yet."

Ah, now that's one way to make a girl fall for you. And despite your better sense, you feel yourself falling.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of dessert when he walks you back to his car. His leans against the car door and loops his arms around your waist.

"You had fun tonight?"

"Yes. More than I expected honestly."

He pulls you closer to him, softly enough that you can step back at any point. You don't.

"Gonna give me a kiss to say thank you? It's a very important part of our culture."

You clasp your hands together behind his neck.

"You liar."

He grins that boyish half smile of his. "Can't blame a guy for trying."

He doesn't feel like a gangster or a creditor or a customer. In that moment he feels like just a man - someone strong and handsome that you desperately want to kiss.

Your gaze flickers down to his lips and then back to his eyes. You pull gently at his neck and his head dips lower. You stay like that for a moment, lips almost touching. Too nervous to make the final move.

His hands move to cradle your waist and he closes the gap between you.

You pull him closer, your hands slipping from his neck to his jaw. His stubble scrapes your palm and makes your whole body tingle. He tastes of wine and sugar.

When you finally pull away, you draw your thumb across his lower lip. His eyes are half lidded and when he moves, it's with a sluggish reluctance. Like he doesn't want to let go of you.

He keeps one hand on your waist and draws out a stack of cash with the other. When he speaks, his voice is husky.

"How much for tonight?"

"What?"

His draws his hand up your waist to rest against your sternum. Like he wants to dig his hand into your heart.

"How much to take you home?"

A bucket of cold water would have been less shocking. You pull away from him, your mind racing.

God, why are you such an idiot? Of course he only wants to fuck you. He's just a thug, what did you expect?

And worse, you feel like a small part of your heart is breaking. Why be so sweet to you, why go out of his way to spend time with you, if all he wants is a one night stand?

"Are you serious?"

"Obviously. How much do you charge?"

You act without thinking and slap him right across his face.

The sound of it is terribly sharp in the open quite of the parking lot. It leaves your palm stinging. You freeze, terrified of what you've just done.

He doesn't move, his head turned to the side from the force of your slap. Slowly, he touches his fingers to his cheek. His expression is unreadable.

Oh, you're so dead. You just hit a yakuza. A guy who probably breaks faces everyday, who has who knows how many felonies to his name.

Your first instinct is to apologise, say you weren't thinking and that you're so so sorry. You lift your chin and squash down that part of you.

"I'm not for sale."

The quiet stretches out, tense and dangerous. He turns away and opens the car door for you. He doesn't meet your eyes.

"I understand now. Gomen'nasai [I'm sorry]."

The drive home is terribly quiet. You keep expecting him to lash out - hit you or humiliate you for daring to slap him like that.

He doesn't. He just keeps eyes on the road.

When you reach your building, he follows you to the door and rests his hand on the frame above your head. You can feel him behind you, close enough for his breath to tickle the back of your neck.

"I can't buy you."

"No."

"But I want you."

You pull in a shuddering breath. "Earn it."

You shut the door without turning back.

He doesn't show up at the club for the next week. At first you're on edge - what if he gets you fired? Or worse, does something to your brother?

But your boss doesn't mention anything and your brother keeps coming home in one piece. Slowly, you relax. Tell yourself that he's done with you now that you won't give him what he wants. You try and ignore the way it hurts.

When he does finally show up, he's dangerously tipsy. He yanks you out of your booth in the middle of a date and leaves the house mother to bow and apologise to the customer.

You try not to make a scene as he pulls you along behind him. But you look about desperately for any of the other yakuza. Where the hell are they when you need them?

Finally, he drops you in a booth in the corner of the club and collapses across from you. His hair is messier than you've ever seen it and there's a feverish wildness in the way he looks at you.

"Fine. I'm here. Let me earn your love."

You rub your arm and scowl at him. "Your idea of winning me over is to leave a huge bruise on my arm?"

He runs his hands through his hair. "Hell, I don't know. I've never had to win a girl over before."

"Yeah right. I've seen the girls you go out with. There's no shortage of women in your life."

He looks you in the eye. "Bought and paid for." He gestures at the table and at you. "Not like this. Not like you."

That gives you pause. It makes sense. Gangsters don't exactly have the time to go on Sunday morning brunch dates or meet the family.

"So why not just pay someone else?"

You don't say it out loud but the rest of your question is clear. Why me?

"I...I don't want to. Setsumei suru no wa totemo muzukashīdesu [It's so hard to explain]. But I don't want anyone else."

A confession from a yakuza was not at all on your list on fun and lighthearted tourist activities. You're not entirely sure how to deal with it.

Your sense is screaming at you to be smart. And when is dating a criminal ever smart? You're supposed to get yourself and your brother away from the underworld, not get roped deeper in. And what happens if you want to break up? When has a man with a gun and too many scars ever taken a heartbreak well?

And yet...

You want him. Stupidly, against all sense, you want to be with him. He's dangerous. He probably only wants to fuck you. He has too much power over your life. He might never let you leave him.

And still you want him.

You take a deep breath. "Come over tonight and I'll cook you something. And if my cooking doesn't change your mind then... then we can talk about it."

He smiles at you and the wild look in his eye seems to finally dim.

"Anata ga watashi o oidasou to shite mo dekinakatta [Baby, you couldn't get rid of me if you tried]."

You weren't lying when you said you were a terrible cook. When he finally arrives, the rice is somehow both burnt and slightly undercooked and your curry is severely under-salted.

You scrunch your nose when you take a bite. "This is awful."

"You cooked it." He takes another bite. "And I hate to say it, but I've had worse."

You push your bowl away and mutter, "I didn't think rice could be so complicated. I followed the instructions and everything."

He takes another bite. "I can make decent rice. And udon."

"So between the two of us, there's only one good cook? Shameful."

He adds some salt to his bowl. "Neither of us ever has the time to cook anyway, so I don't know why you're surprised."

You shake your head and watch him. He's halfway through your abysmal culinary concoction and somehow not green in the face.

"You never talk about yourself," you tell him.

He avoids your eyes. "I'm not that interesting."

"But I am?"

"Yes." There's a quiet fierceness to his answer that makes your heart stutter.

"Tell me a secret about yourself."

It's his turn to study you. "A secret."

"That's what I said."

He considers you for a long moment before reaching up and undoing his shirt buttons. He turns his back to you and let's his shirt fall away.

You gasp. His tattoo covers his entire back. It's every bit as intricate as you suspected - there's lotus flowers between his shoulder blades and a spider inked below his ribcage.

But it's the snake that takes up most of the space. It curls and unwinds across his back, every scale painstakingly inked. It's hissing mouth rests on his shoulder blade, opposite his heart.

He flinches when you touch him, but doesn't ask you to stop. You run your fingertips up his back, tracing the snakes coiling body.

"It's incredible."

He doesn't answer you. Eventually your fingers come to rest on his neck.

He reaches back and takes hold of your wrist. He draws it forward and tilts his head to press a kiss against your pulse. You wonder if he can feel the way your heart jumps when he touches you.

"Do you want to know the real secret? I go home at night and lie awake thinking about you."

You lean forward and rest your forehead against his bare back. "What do you think about?"

He inhales sharply. "Your voice... your lips... your body."

You laugh a little and your warm breath on his skin makes him shiver. "You're shameless."

"Mattaku hajishirazuna [totally shameless]."

You tilt his head towards you and kiss his cheek.

You can feel him smile against your lips. When you pull away, he turns to you and cups your jaw.

Your Japanese has gotten better, but you don't understand what he whispers before he kisses you.

"Watashi Kazu anata ni koiwoshiteiru, soshite watashi wa tomaranai [I'm falling in love with you and I can't stop]."

He presses his lips against yours, so much hungrier this time. His hand slips from your cheek to the nape of your neck to pull you closer to him.

"My girl, my pretty girl. Hanaretakute mo hanare rarenakatta [I couldn't let you go even if I wanted to]."

He presses hot kisses against your throat. His grip on your neck almost painfully tight.

"Hitsuyōniōjite, anata no kyōdai ni wa nan-nen mo shakkin o showa seru koto ni narudeshou [gonna keep your brother in debt for years if I have to]."

The rest of his sentence is little more than a growl. "Nanrakano hōhō de anata ni watashi o aishite morau tsumoridesu [gonna make you love me back one way or another]."

The one downside of courting a yakuza is not understanding everything he says. But maybe it's safer that way.

[casuallyanidiot]

Yandere knight who wants you instead of the princess.

Dead dove Do not Eat Tw. For noncon, MDNI, Fem pov

Yandere knight who has been training in the palace for a very long time. It's an honor for a commoner like him to even set foot into the castle walls, so he works earnestly.

Yandere knight who's been catching glimpses of not only the lovely princess throughout the years, but her handmaidens as well. You're a daughter of a somewhat lesser noble house, and therefore you have essentially been given to the royal family until you're eventually married off to another courtier.

But of all the noble ladies, who often ignore him, he finds you to be the most approachable and kind to him and the other squires. He's developed a bit of a crush on you over the years, and he eventually found it in himself to express his feelings. They were innocent and pure then, and he stood there blushing and awkward waiting for you to accept or deny. He would've taken a no from you. Really, he would have.

But then that pompous bitch got in the way.

The princess had you pulled away by her other attendants before you could answer, and she all but sneered at him.

"My maids are not for common rife like you to sully," she spat, a look of disdain carved on her delicate features.

Yandere knight who was deployed to the battlefront soon after. He spent years in misery knowing it was that royal woman's meddling that had both sent him here and stopped him from knowing how you truly felt.

Yandere knight who carved through foe upon foe with the flash of his sword while thinking of you. He would wipe blood from his face and wonder what it would take to have you. He resolves to become so renowned that he could have you and the respect he deserved all those years ago anyways.

Yandere knight who comes back as the hero of the nation. A parade is thrown for him upon his return, and flowers are thrown at his feet by the masses of people. He is awarded a noble title, a duke (impressive), a territory of land to manage, and the blessing to have the hand of any eligible lady in the land from the king.

The implication was for him to go for the princess, sitting there in a gown befitting of an engagement party. She wasn't the heir to the throne, and having a young, impressionable Duke to have and father a potential crown prince or princess was certainly a draw for her to act so sweet and lovely despite her previous attitudes. He had to use all the will in his body to hide his disdainful glare towards her. Instead, he strode up with a near giddy grin, breezed past the waiting royal, and knelt before you.

"[Name], I shall have you as my wife," He says with a beaming smile. You try to protest, but he's already sweeping you into his arms. The king seems surprised by his choice, but as he stares between Yandere Knight, lovestruck and beaming, and you, squirming and utterly shocked, he realizes that he cannot simply go back on his word. The king waves his hand, and your fate is sealed.

Yandere knight feels bad for not giving you a proper wedding. In fact, he feels bad about not taking you to your new home before he's pulling up your skirts. He's a dog, he knows, but you're just so tempting now that you're all his. He shoving you down onto the plush upholstery of the carriage seats, and you let out a startled cry.

Yandere knight who cannot claim he's chivalrous. He wishes he could, but he loves the way your breasts look pushed up so tightly in the laced bodice of yours. He lets out a groan, petting your hair and shushing you as you whimper under his wandering touch. Button after button becomes undone.

"Love, you'll never wear such stifling clothing again. You hear me? All robes and lace from now on. None of this nonsense," He murmurs into your skin. He pulled your corset and chemise from your body, and he pressed fervent kisses to the crook of your neck. He grasps at your breasts, kneading them experimentally. He's had time to experience women on the battlefield. A fling or two in some field on the outskirts of a freshly liberated village. He would think of you the whole time and imagine what he was latching his lips around the stiff peak of your nipple while a random girl cried out underneath him. But this was real. Your warmth beneath his much heavier form was on of the most beautiful feeling he had ever had the pleasure of witnessing.

He parted your legs, and he could feel you shy away from him. He laughed. As if you had a choice. He knew you would love him eventually, but for now you can't blame him for how ravenous he was as he felt between your shaking, parted legs. He smirked as his lips met yours. His fingers slid against your folds, gathering slick arousal on his digits with a curious hum. He grinds his thumb against your clit as he slowly pushes his way into your warm, spongy walls.

"Oh? Is it good there? Or here? Where, love? You gotta use your words," He teases and licks the tears rolling down your cheeks, peppering your soft skin with kisses. He feels you pulse and stretch around his hand, and he relishes the way your back arches when he curls his fingers just right against that sweet little spot. Desperate noises tumble out of you, and he smiles.

He pulls his fingers out, and you cry out at the sudden sensation. Your chest is heaving with small moans, and your pretty pussy is drooling onto the carriage cushions. He pushes your legs up to your chest for a better grip, and his shudders at the way your twitching feels against the head of his cock.

Yandere knight knows that, as he thrusts into you, he's going to enjoy the luxury of finally having you both under his body and under his control.

[nosyrobin]

You: I’m not that pretty/handsome….

Damian who busted through your door: BLASPHEMY! WHO SHALL I END THE LIVES THAT TOLD BLATANT LIES!

Jason who came out from under your bed: I second on what the demon said.

Tim who was suddenly disguised as a giant teddy unzipping the suit: me three, what’s their name?

Dick who bursted through your windows: My Y/N distress signal alerted me! Who said that to you!!?

You: WHERE TF DID YALL COME FROM?!!

All of them: THAT DOESNT MATTER!

[simonsrileyhusband]

simon refused to buy a new phone, the one he has is good enough, you can call, can send messages and it has a game of a little worm that eats squeares on it. he doesnt need another one.

until you tell him that, if he gets a new phone, he could have s folder filled with pictures of you...

"should have said that before lovie"

the day he buys his phone you teach him how to use it, how to had his 5 contacts to his phone (price, jhonny, kyle and you), then he spends 2 hours deciding what picture to use as his screensaver.

now, when he is on duty and cant sleep with you, the two of you call eachother and now it doesnt sound like he is talking trough a brick.

simon will send you pictures of him because you begged him to do. he sends you a pictures of his boots, his dinner, a photo of him standing besides jhonny after working out, a picture of his new and not damaged balaclava.

he also downloads tons of games, his phone os filled with them and you have to teach him how to erase them.

he doesnt have social media, but he does wacth youtube videos from time to time (specially to learn how to do little heart shapes with paper that he can gift to you)

[undercoveravenger]

Couldn't Be Happier

Pairing: Fiyero x Galinda’s Brother!Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: ���Maybe reader is Galinda’s Brother, who has a masculine body and voice, but is just a feminine as his sister, maybe the plot that Fiyero asks him to the ball room? And Galindas an amazing wing woman?”

-----

There is something to be said about your… unique relationship with your sister, Galinda. Sure, you don’t really look all that much alike, and no, you don’t always get along very well, but there is not anyone that you trust more than each other. It’s why you’re the one she’s invited over to discuss her rather turbulent feelings about her roommate while Elphaba’s away at Madame Morrible’s seminar.

“I’m telling you, G,” you say, checking your nails to be sure you hadn’t missed a spot with the polish, “This sort of obsession is not just because you annoy each other. You like her!” You catch a slight chip in the nail polish and fix it quickly, “Invite her to go to the party with you!”

A knock at the door interrupts your sister before she can respond and you get up to answer it when Galinda doesn’t move. You’re more than a little stunned to see Fiyero, Shiz’s newest student, standing there. Your sister hadn’t mentioned anything about the Prince coming to see her.

A very intelligent “Um?” escapes you at the sight of him (and oh what a sight!) leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest.

He smiles when he sees you, pretty blue eyes twinkling mischievously, “Hello love,” he says, and you have to force yourself to remain focused on anything but the almost musical lilt of his voice.

“Sorry,” you say, taking a step back, “You’re here for Galinda, right? Let me just-”

Your sister takes that moment to utterly betray your trust, appearing at your side like she’d been summoned from the ether, “Oh, Fiyero, what wonderful timing!” She catches your arm as you try to subtly slip back into her dorm, manicured nails digging into your bicep like claws, “My dear brother here was just lamenting how he doesn’t have a date to accompany him to the Ozdust tonight!” She nudges you forward, completely ignoring the I’ll-kill-you-for-this look you shoot at her. “Perhaps,” she nudges you further forward and you nearly stumble, “You might know of a solution to his dreadful situation?”

Fiyero smiles again, softer this time, and takes your hand in his, careful not to smudge the fresh nail polish. “I can certainly think of a few solutions I’d love to be of service with,” he lifts your hand to his lips and presses a feather-light kiss to your knuckles, grateful that your sister had helped him track you down long enough for him to ask you out. “If you’d allow me the honor of escorting you to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight, that is?”

You can only manage a nod before Galinda is dragging you back into her room to finish getting ready, the both of you squealing over your upcoming dates. 

Fiyero stands there for a moment after the door shuts, listening to the bright peals of your laughter, and thinks that now, in this moment with a date with you only a few short hours away, he couldn’t be happier.

[luviisabella]

“Where are you going?” his voice seemed so rough whenever he was sleepy, not that it bothered you, you found it cute how deep in sleep he was.

You had crawled out of bed after being lucky enough to get out of his grasp. Bakugou’s hands are big but his arms/biceps are a whole other story. “M’ sorry ‘suki, just needed to use the bathroom.” You softly smile seeing him pout and will probably grumble to himself about how you’ve left him there all ‘cold n’ alone’.

You loved that soft side of him. It was like eating a strawberry, seemed a bit sour but once you eat more it’s really sweet. Once you stepped out of the bathroom you crawled right back over him and laid facing away from him. You softly exhaled before closing your eyes until the sudden feeling of you being lifted up startled you. “Kats-“ you whisper, his hands found their way to your waist as he pulled you over on top of him, letting you get comfortable. He gently wrapped his arms back around you.

“No more gettin’ up. Lay down n’ sleep.” he mumbled to what sounded like himself.

You softly smile before lifting your head up to look at him, noticing his eyes were closed you kissed him on the lips and laid your head back against his chest.

You didn’t see it but he had a small smile after the kiss, his grip on you tightening a little.

“Goodnight ‘Suki” you whisper to him.

“Night doll.”

(I reckon he would call you doll because one time you smiled at him and you looked so surreal that the word fumbled out of his mouth on accident so now after you teased him about it he calls you it as a nickname.)

[chososrightnipple]

clingy gojo who is rarely ever seen without his arms encircling your waist

clingy gojo who practically molds his body into yours because the feeling of your skin on his is more intoxicating than any drug

clingy gojo whose lips are constantly pressed against your neck or shoulders whenever he’s not yapping

clingy gojo whose favorite position to cuddle is laying on top of you and listening to your heartbeat

clingy gojo who can’t go a day without hearing your sweet voice

clingy gojo who leaves his clothes at your place because even if he’s not touching you, his sweatshirt is

clingy gojo who is tortured by the idea of losing you so he spends as much time as he can preventing that possibility

just clingy gojo <3

[shortnsweetsposts]

Child!Damian: *Trying to hug Bat!reader*

Bat!reader: Leave alone, baby.

Child!Damian: *Looked up at Bat!reader with them big ol'eyes*

Bat!reader: ...

Bat!reader, starts ugly sobbing and hugged child!Damian back: YOU'RE MY BABY. YOU'RE MY BABY AND I LOVE YOU SO MUCH.

Batfam: Oh wow

[meo-eiru]

Ok so! I completely mismanaged my time and spent a bit too long on what was supposed to be just a Micah sketch.

I literally went "ok I might as well clean the sketch > ok I might as well add some colors > ok I might as well shade it a little > ok I might as well add dialogue-"

Here's an alternative expression

I promise I'll answer more asks tomorrow but it's almost 2 am now and I should go sleep😭

[starboye]

imagine drunk dancing on olderbf!simon in a bar after you told him you wouldn't get to drunk, now rocking your ass on his crotch and begging him to take you to bathroom and fuck you like he's mad at you, but he couldn't possibly treat you like that (while drunk that is because any other day he would do that in a heart beat)

so seeing as you're not going to let up about this whole fucking you dirty in the bathroom he gets a better idea, taking you out the back door to some more private alley and pulling out his cock, stopping you just before you dropped to you knees and placing your hand around his thick shaft

basically giving you permission to jerk him off to satisfy your lusty needs, your hand starting off slowly and speeding up until you had simon panting and whimpering outside the bar, and at this point you've milked a load or two out of him and he's trying to get you to stop

his thick hand wrapped around your wrist trying to stop you but he looks to good moaning and begging so what would be the harm in pulling out one or two more