Yandere Yakuza
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.
More Posts from The-avengers-not-the-nazis and Others
Can we please get a smutty poly lost boys fic where they also interact with each other and not just the reader? Every fic I can find they only interact with the reader and I need them to help each other
a/n: (I'm sorry if this sucks-) this is 100% relatable… need more asks like this one! Thank you anon!❤️
𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐬 // Valentines Post 𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: 𝙋𝙤𝙡𝙮!𝙏𝙇𝘽/𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍ea𝙙𝙚𝙧 Warning: SMUT/MDNI/18+, Vampirism/blood/biting, scenting, The boys want you to smell like them and only them(possessive much???) Mutual masturbation, p in v, blowjob, Eating-Out/Fingering, doggy, FxMMMM, LOTS OF FLUFF throughout all of this (❤)
Tags: @lunarwhitewolf7 (Ask to be added to TLB poly taglist) You and the boys were out at the boardwalk all night, playing games, teasing each other, scaring walk byers, riding rides.. all that fun stuff. It was a Valentines night at the boardwalk, everyone had their significant other with them. Leaning on one another, kissing one another. Everyone you saw had their singular significant. But you?? You had four hypersexual vampire boyfriends that would give anything to eat you right up. Right here, right now. In more ways than one, in more than one positions. Paul was teasing all the four of you along with Marko. All David and Dwayne had to do was look at one of you and that alone would make you feel weak in the knees. Today was a day all about love, Paul was the touchiest out of the four, Marko hung closer than normal, Dwayne kept a hand on either one of you at all times and David? ohh David would put filthy thoughts in each of your minds as he smirked smugly. Images of you pinned down by Dwayne while he made out with David while he had his cock down your throat as Paul and Marko ate you out at the same time. GOD
You could feel the wetness in your panties gather. "David-" you gasp out, snapping your head over your shoulder to look at him. David was walking behind you and Marko, while he walked alongside Dwayne. Paul was on your other side, making you squished between him and Marko with the two brooding men walking behind y'all. "What?" David asked innocently with an innocent look in his eyes.
It made your stomach flutter and your heart skip, seeing how nonchalant he's acting as if he didn't just give you a free brain-porno or you and your boyfriends. Paul looked at you, he must have read your mind as David gave you the image cause he was smirking flirtatiously. That or he was just being.. well- Paul
Something caught Paul and Marko's eyes, grabbing your hands as they dragged you into a store. "W-woah!" David just laughed quietly, watching you get pulled off by the two chaotic boys. Marko and Paul dragged you to the arcade. Marko stole a small cup full of coins to use at the games, this earned him a surprised stare from you with your mouth agape. "Close your mouth angel, or something'll get inside” He snickered, making you blush at his teasing.
"Look at this one! It's a huge bat plush, y/n come here!" Paul ran back to you and Marko, grabbing both of your hands as he pulled you in front of him while he let's go of Marko's hand and pulled you in between him and the claw machine. "Look, it's so cute. Just like you!" Paul giggles as he kissed the side of your neck, purring softly as he smells your scent. "Cmon, Paul. Let her be." David's voice rung through your ears, making you jump slightly. Paul hums against your neck towards David. You moan softly as Paul pulls away from your neck, leaving behind a slobbery hickey. Marko laughs from behind his glove while he's leaning on the side of the claw machine with Dwayne on the other side and David to the right of you, leaning on his hand that's propped up on the corner of it.
Paul rubbed his nose along the mark he made on your neck, chuckling when you turn your neck away from him. "Paul! I'm trying to get you this damn pink bat!" You laugh as his thick fingers dig into your sides. Dwayne walks over, laughing softly as he pries Paul off of you. "Noooo!" Paul whines, gripping your hips. The boys laugh at his reaction as you lay your forehead against the glass of the machine, laughter pouring from all of you besides Paul. Whenever it's Valentines, Paul makes it his absolute MISSION to smother you in love. The others do too, but Paul is the master at it. "Paul! You want the damn bat or not?!" You cackle out, turning your head to look at Paul. He nods swiftly, furrowing his eyebrows as he looks down into your eyes. "Then let me go." He shakes his head "Nuh uh." "If i give you a kiss, will you let me go?" You ask and he pretends to think. He answers you by stealing your lips in a sloppy tongue kiss, making you laugh against his mouth. Paul then lets you go with a satisfied grin because now, you smell like him.
Paul moves over so you can play the claw machine, your focused expression zeroed in on the pink bat that Paul wanted. David moved a little closer to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he watched. The four vamps were fascinated at how quickly you grabbed the Pink Bat, Marko and Paul jumping up and down and hollering. "see that?! OUR girlfriend did that!" Marko announced out loud, shouting loudly into the arcade room. people looked over at the five of you annoyingly, but none of you cared. David gently gripped your chin, kissing you on the lips softly. "Good job, baby." Dwayne said as he kissed the side of your head.
After Marko and Paul are done celebrating, they walk over and give you a kiss too. David and Dwayne move out of the way a little bit to give the two room. "Good work, babe!" Paul beams and Marko places his chin on your shoulder. "Can we go to the cave now?" Marko asks in a low tone into your ear, making a shiver go up your spine.
Dwayne and David give each other exchanged glances, knowing that when Marko gets like this it's only a matter of time before someone's clothes are being ripped off. As if on cue, Marko starts pulling at your shirt. Not caring if you're in public. Looking down into your eyes with a look of pure lust. Making Paul giggle, walking closer to the two of you. "Ookay- Time to go." Dwayne says as he picks you up, throwing you over his shoulder.
Dwayne caries you out of the arcade, the others following close behind. "Ohh fuuck- I can't wait to get to cave." Paul giggles, jumping up and down as the five of you make your way to the bikes. "Easy, Paulie." Marko giggles, leaning closer to his boyfriend as he kisses him.
Dwayne sets you down on the back of David's bike since it was his turn to have you ride with him. The five of you all exchange kisses before mounting the bikes. Revving engines roar, making people look over, almost excited to see the five of you go. "I love you guys!" You yell over the engines. They all smile as they take off. You know they said it too. You just couldn't hear them. You wrap your arms around David's torso, hugging him tightly. The five of you zoom to the cave, you can hear hollering and howling as ya'll make your way to the cave, your home. The four of them park, and the second the engines are turned off, your picked up and thrown over a shoulder. "AHH-" You squeal out, being caried into the cave. You look up and see Dwayne, David, and Paul. Meaning Marko is who picked you up. "Marko!" Marko laughs as he lifts into the air, flying into the nest with the others close behind. The second you're on the bed, Marko is all over you. Kissing your neck, grinding into your thigh, gripping your shirt covered tits. Your moans fill Marko's mouth. "Don't start without us, Marko!" Paul shouted out as he appeared beside the two of you. "Mmph- Can't help it. Need her so bad!" Marko mumbles against your lips as Paul settles down on the bed behind you, picking you up slightly to lay your head against his chest and onto his lap. Paul kisses and sucks at your neck, groaning as your taste fills his senses. David and Dwayne walk in, seeing the sight before them making them groan out. Seeing their mates get handsy with each other. You smushed between the two chaos blonds. "M-marko!" You gasp out, breaking the kiss with him as you whine out, feeling his rub your pussy through your jeans. ""O-oh cavolo. Questa figa è così bagnata, piccola!" ("O-oh fuuck. This pussy's so wet baby!) "feel it- feel it!" Marko grabs Paul's hand, pulling him to the seam of your jeans where you had made damp with your juices. Paul moans out, whining as he moves his hands to grip at your jeans. "I wanna eat her out. Move Marko!" Paul snarls lightly, catching everyone's attention. David appeared beside the bed, gripping Paul's throat. "watch it!" David growls, making Paul look up at him. Dwayne had moved over behind Marko, rubbing his through his jeans as he whispers something in Marko's ear. Whatever Dwayne had said made Marko moan, gripping onto your hips roughly. Paul kept his eyes fixated on David as he rubbed you through your jeans, Paul's other hand working on your jean buttons. David leans down and roughly kisses Paul's mouth, making him moan into the kiss. Paul's hands fly up and grip David's jacket, earning him a growl. Dwayne leans over Marko, causing his hips to grind into your clothed cunt making him groan. Dwayne kisses you as David lets go of a now breathless Paul. Marko leans up and Kisses David, the room getting hotter by the second despite how cold the cave is. David and Marko break the kiss as he leans over Paul, kissing you upside down. Marko had succeeded getting your clothes off, exposing you to the cold air completely. "Fuuuck-" Marko groans, leaning down. Kissing and sucking at your tits while he pulls his clothing off as well. In just a few minutes the five of you are naked. Groping and pulling at each other in a heap of lust. Your nerves feel like they are fire, your senses taken over by your boyfriends while they kiss and suck all over you. Digging their fangs into your skin. Somewhere along the way you ended up halfway on the bed. Your head hanging off the edge, looking up at Dwayne while Paul sucks at your clit messily. Marko and David, gripping at each other while Marko rides him, feeling his thick cock nudge his insides deliciously. Dwayne leans down, kissing your lips before pulling away. He runs one hand over your tits, gently tugging at your nipple as Paul goes to town on your dripping pussy. Tasting your juices as it pours out of you. "Open up Princessa." Dwayne mutters, looking down at you with a gaze full of love as you open your mouth, tongue lolling out as he pushes his tip onto your tongue.
Everything was happening so fast, the feeling of Paul eating the love juices out of your pussy, the feeling of Dwayne deep down your throat and his hands gripping at your boobs. Goosebumps raised on your skin as you arch your back, moaning louder as you cum. Paul drinks it up like a man starved, loud slurping and moaning coming from him as he eats his fill. Marko still riding David as they watch their loving girl get eaten out my Paul had Marko cumming. His cum splattering across David's chest. "Fanculo cazzo.. bisogno di assaggiarla. ora. bisogno di assaggiare!"(Fuck fuck.. needa taste her. now. need to taste!) Marko blabbers out, making David laugh darkly. The moaning you let out around Dwayne has him groaning out, throwing his head back at the feeling. David had reached over and ran his fingers through Paul's messy main before digging his finger into his hair and pulling him off your overstimulated pussy, your thighs shook and your stomach flex and unflex from overstimulation. "Noo!-" Paul groaned, being pulled back from his meal was not on his bucket list. "Let Marko have a taste, Paulie." David cooed out as he grinded up into Marko as he ran his hand up and down Marko's cock.
Paul leaned up and kissed Marko, allowing the curly haired boy to taste you on his tongue. Dwayne had pulled out of your mouth, helping you sit up while he moves to sit behind you. He grippes your hips, making you hover over his cock from behind before pushing you onto all fours. The sight in front of you has you moaning; Marko riding David while David jackes off his cock. and Paul Kissing Marko while his hand slips up an down his own cock. "Look at that baby.. Like that?" Dwayne whispers against your ear, aligning himself with your wet pussy. "All of this is cause of you, baby." David groans out lowly. Paul and Marko breath the kiss, looking over at you. Paul winks at you, as both he, David, and Marko admire the mess they have all made of you. Bite marks all over you, hickies already forming on your skin. God they love it. It's like they've died and came back to like as they watch your face contort to pleasure as Dwayne pushes his thick cock into your cunt. Watching as your eyes roll back and mouth opens in a silent scream. "Oh fuuck! Pleasepleaseplease. Move faster Dwayne!" You whine out at his slow pace. "Nuh uh.. M'gonna enjoy this. Feeling your sweet, sweet pussy clench around me as your get stuffed full with my cock." He hums against our shoulder as he kisses it. Moving his hips back and forth slowly, pulling back fast then pushing back in at an antagonizing slow space. Making your eyes almost cross completely. "mmmph- " you bite your lip as Dwayne slowly speeds up. You lips are met with another pair, teh feeling of a short beard against your cheek tells you that David is now kissing you. Paul and Marko had moved onto each other, letting the older male have whats his. David kissed you deeply as Dwayne grinds into you. His hips flush with your as his tip nudges that good spot, making you clench around him.
Marko and Paul were off to the side, kissing and gripping at each other as Paul rides Marko. The two of them watch as you get smushed between their older mates. Oh how they love Valentines day.
Imagine you hand them a sword, who wields it best?
Note: This is not for a fic, I just want to know what the community thinks.
My wife, even better
Summary: Dean can’t stop talking about you, his wife.
Word count: 0.5k
A/n: Not really any use of Y/n, but it is pretty cheesy. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. ;)
༺═────────────═༻
“And she has theses eyes, wow.” Dean let out a sigh, his own eyes practically in the shape of hearts as he continued to talk to the bartender. “I mean, look, if you’ve ever seen them, then you could see all these different shades mixed into one. It’s awesome.”
The bartender just nodded her head, the damp rag moving quickly back and forth on the counter tip. “Mhm.” She hummed, not even listening to what the love struck man was even saying.
“Plus, the way she talks is so beautiful, if I were to listen to one sound the rest of my life it would be her voice.”
“Yep.”
The bartender then turned her back to the man, trying to focus on her work and not on the man that had been rambling on about you since he sat down. With nothing else to do Dean just let his eyes wander through the bar, catching his brother and you talking to a few people about the case that you were working on.
Dean played with his empty beer bottle, watching as the light reflected off the glass. His thoughts wandered over to you, not that they weren’t on you to begin with. But, he thought of how just days ago you were his simple girlfriend, how you and him used to tease and flirt with one another before you were officially together.
And now, now you were Deans forever. Til death do you part, in both sickness and in health. You were his wife, and he was your husband. The thought made a smile drift onto his face and warmth creep up the back of his neck.
“Hey,” You suddenly said from behind the man, dragging him out of his thoughts. “Sam and I have some intel on the case.”
Dean quickly turned back to the bartender in front of him, who had her hands busy with cleaning the glasses and counter for the night. “What did I tell you?” He asked her, dragging her away from her work. “The voice of an angel.”
The bartender gave a quick nod before getting back to work, not even sparring the two a second glance as she walked away. You hit Dean with the back of your hand, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to let him know that he needed to focus.
“I told you to stop that.” You gently scolded, your ears slightly turning pink. “Nobody wants to listen to you talk like that.”
“But, I want to.”
“And that’s amazing, D.” You pulled his hand in yours, giving it a tight squeeze. “But, not everyone wants to hear about our marriage.”
“But, how could I not tell the world about you?”
You gave him a light peck on the cheek, pulling him off the bar stool and towards the exit. “Do you know how cheesy you sound?”
“Very, but I love you.” Dean quietly told you, leaning down to give you a kiss on the lips. “And I want the world know that, my beautiful wife.”
“And I love you, my gorgeous husband.”
Bad moon rising master list
A/n: This will be the main page link for this story, and I will try to upload each chapter as frequently as possible. Enjoy ;)
Chapter one
After a nasty divorce, you and your family are forced to live with your Grandpa in the lovely notorious Santa Carla, California. Filled with punks, geeks, surfer nazis and apparently all kinds of creatures of the night.
Chapter two
The first night in a new town is always weird but exhilarating, and thankfully the boardwalk is there to welcome you and your family. Though, even with all the bright lights and loud music that surrounds you, you some how attract the attention of four bikers.
Chapter three
It’s been a week since you’d last seen the lost boys, and the only thing that you really know about them is their names. But, the boys seem drawn to you in a way that no one can explain why. And after an incident on the beach, the boys are eager to help get payback for you.
Okay okay hear me out Rain: reader watching Sanji cook, just sitting, waiting, maybe reading a book but catching glances at him every so often and he knows they're looking at him and just smiles....sorry I love that man
accidentally in love
opla!sanji; 2,569 words; fluff, banter so much banter, flirting, flustered!sanji, whipped!sanji, no "y/n", confessions, "sweetheart", fem!reader, straw hat"!reader
summary: in which sanji is trying to cook dinner but you're very, very distracting. or, sanji finally meets his match.
a/n: i know i said i might not write for anyone other than zoro but i lied. i guess i'm a sanji bitch now too. fuck.
Sanji’s always liked to say that he can cook anywhere, anytime, given that he’s got something that resembles heat and a smattering of ingredients — like any great artist, he knows how to make do. But, he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy this — the quiet of a ship’s kitchen, the gentle sway of the ocean, the simmer and pop of fat on a pan, the soft bubbling of boiling water — and you.
You, perched on the counter with your legs hanging off the side, hair piled up and pinned with a chopstick, a book in your hands or on your lap, the early afternoon sun spilling in to caress your skin like so many loving fingers. Sometimes, he’ll glance over while chopping onions or mincing garlic to catch a glimpse of you, and he’d find himself stilling, his fingers slowing, his breath suspended in his chest, caught like an insect in amber: held weightless and perfect.
“You’re staring,” you say, flipping a page without looking up, a smile twitching at your lips.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve found that admiring beautiful things helps me in my creative process,” he says, his grin going lopsided as he lowers his eyes to the ingredients on the cutting board — tiny, plump cherry tomatoes ripe to bursting. He resumes slicing each in half with swift, decisive cuts and relishes in the sound of your laughter.
“Careful with that mouth of yours — someone might accidentally fall in love with you,” you flip another page.
Sanji slides the cut tomatoes into a bowl and wipes a hand on the towel slung over his shoulder.
“Accidentally? C’mon, you gotta gimme some more credit. But if anyone’s fallin’ in love, it’s gonna be with you.”
Another page. Sanji plucks a few zucchini from a large bag and starts to julienne them into thin strips.
“What are you making?” you ask, finally setting the book down in favor of peering at all the ingredients he’s got laid out. He quirks an eyebrow, glancing up.
“What, finished with that book already?”
“Nope — just found something more interesting to look at, that’s all.”
Sanji blushes.
Let it never be said that Vinsmoke Sanji can’t take as good as he gives but by all the gods and monsters and sea kings — you’re a damn good flirt. Almost as good as he is, he used to think. Now, as he covers up his rapidly darkening cheeks with a chuckle, turning away to grab a potato for skinning, he wonders if you might just be better.
“You never answered my question, y’know.”
He looks up again, his tongue feeling strangely swollen and uncoordinated in his mouth. You’re grinning at him, your legs still swinging, but in the few seconds he’d looked away, you’ve inched closer, your outer thigh now almost pressing against the edge of his cutting board.
The first time he’d found you perched up on his long work table with a book in your lap, he’d blinked, crossed his arms, and debated on asking what on earth you thought you were doing. Chefs generally do not take kindly to their prep spaces being treated like free real estate for sitting, but he’d never been able to say no to a beautiful woman, now has he? And least of all you.
“Thought you could use the company,” was your answer to his then-unasked question. He’d laughed, nodded, and gotten on with his breakfast prep. But that was months ago and since then, it’s become something of a habit; a ritual, almost.
“What question was that? I was —” he asks, clearing his throat, his fingers almost slipping on the freshly peeled potato, “distracted by your —”
“What are you making?”
“Oh —” Sanji returns his gaze to the cutting board, now acutely aware of the smell of your skin, creamy and warm. He swallows, trying to focus on slicing the potato.
“Just a cherry tomato and zucchini noodle pasta — not often that we get such fresh produce. But Luffy’d asked if I can make chips from scratch the other day so that’s what this bad boy’s for,” he says, holding up half the potato.
“You sure one potato’s gonna be enough?” you shift your leg to cross one above the other, and Sanji has to swallow passed the thickness building up in the back of his throat at the sight of your soft, smooth thighs.
“Good point,” he says, laughing as he bends down to grab a few more.
You fall into a companionable silence, the quiet only punctuated by the tack-tack-tack of his knife on the cutting board and the occasionally shunk-thump of ingredients being swept into a metal prep bowl.
“You’re staring,” he says. And this time, it’s Sanji who grins, keeping his eyes fixed on the remainder of the herb mix he’s chopping up.
“Yeah, I know. I’m making a habit of admiring beautiful things. I’ve heard that it’s good for me.”
Heat bursts in Sanji’s chest as if he’d swallowed a shot of whiskey or gin or perhaps something even more potent. His head spins, but he steadies himself before letting out a soft, low whistle. He fights the urge to look up just to check if you’re as affected as he is.
“Keep talkin’ like that and falling in love with you’s not gonna be an accident.”
When he finally looks up to shoot you a flirty smile, he finds himself faltering as he meets your eyes.
“Who said I wanted it to be an accident?”
The knife in Sanji’s hand slips and he swears as it knicks the skin of his forefinger.
“Ah, shit —”
“Oops.” You have the decency to look sheepish as he shoots you a mildly reproachful look. But you shift your legs and tug open a drawer that had been tucked beneath where your knee had been, pulling out a small bandage.
“Come here,” you offer, reaching out as he stares at you for a second before moving forward to give you his hand. You gently wipe away the blood before pressing the bandage to the small cut, running a thumb over the edges to make sure it’s sealed.
The air hangs between you like dust motes trapped in sunlight, like first snow caught in the silvery breaths of awestruck children.
“There,” you say, the word no more than a whisper. Your hands linger over his, his skin burning where you’d touched him. Shivers skitter down the length of his spine as he gulps in a breath of air that tastes faintly of fairytale endings and happily-ever-afters.
“Thanks.”
He doesn't pull away. Neither do you.
Like this, he can count every single lash that frames your doe-wide eyes. Like this, he can feel the static thrum of electricity threatening to jump from his body to yours, and all at once, he understands why lightning always tries to reach for the closest thing to its storm-ridden skies.
Perhaps it, too, yearns for closeness — for that infinitesimal moment of connection.
He wants to reach for you.
Your lips hover a kiss’s-breadth away.
An alarm goes off.
“Oh fuck —”
He jerks away from you, the world clanging rudely back into focus as he reaches for the lid of a large pot, his heart hammering something fierce inside his ribcage. He nearly burns himself on the thick fog of steam rising from inside the pot to reveal six flat-face crabs, freshly caught that morning.
Behind him, he hears the distinct sounds of you slipping from the long work table.
“Leaving already?” he asks as he turns back around with a stab at his usual light-hearted cheek.
You lick your lips, grinning, “I feel like I’ve caused enough damage for one dinner service. If I keep hanging around, you might lose a finger next.”
“Small price to pay for the company of a beautiful woman,” but there’s a gravel and grit to his voice that wasn’t there before, and he looks away first when this time your eyes catch. He tries to busy himself with prepping the pan sauce for the crabs.
“I’ll let Nami know that the next time she wants to peek in on you cooking.”
“Hey —”
You pause at the sound of his voice just as you reach the door. You turn.
Sanji’s expression flickers between caution and anticipation as he opens his mouth, his eyes somehow sharper and darker than they usually are.
“We’re not done talking about this.”
You cock your head, “About what?”
But there’s a smile teasing at the corner of your lips and Sanji lets out a good-humored sigh.
“Alright, go. Or else I might lose more than a finger.”
Like a heart, he thinks as you close the door behind you with a soft click.
Dinner is an appetizer of cold zucchini pasta followed by a warm, tangy tomato veloute. Then come the crabs — freshly steamed over a bed of risotto and served with a lemon and rosemary pan sauce so delicious it has even Zoro sighing with satisfaction.
“Wow, special occasion?” Nami asks, looking up as Sanji comes around with a tray full of cocktails, complete with blood orange slices garnishing the lip of each glass.
“Ain’t every day a special one with this crew?” he asks, winking at Nami as she takes her drink.
Everyone laughs, but as he sets down your drink, you notice a tiny note tucked beneath the base of your glass.
You take a sip of your drink, glancing down at the note. It has three simple words written in Sanji’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting:
Kitchen — after dinner.
You tuck the note away in your pocket with a secret grin, taking another long sip of the cold, refreshing drink.
The final course is a heaping pile of home-made potato chips with garlic and cheese dip, and Luffy wastes no time in shoveling half the batch into his mouth, crunching loudly over a series of vague, animalistic hums and grunts that all seem to denote happiness.
You finish your drink and slip away under the guise of going for another.
When you get to the kitchen, it's to find Sanji already cleaning up.
“Need a hand?” you ask, setting your empty glass on the counter before lightly hoisting yourself up onto it.
Sanji shakes his head, turning off the water and wiping down his hands. He pours you another drink from a large pitcher before setting it down and pursing his lips.
“This afternoon —”
“I meant what I said —” you say, cutting him off as you look away, eyes fixed on your knees as you swing your feet away from the table’s edge, “if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Oh, yeah,” Sanji clears his throat, reaching into his pocket to grab a cigarette and a lighter, if only to keep his hands busy. The thing in his chest that he’d been so convinced was his heart for most of his life now feels very much like a ticking time bomb. Or perhaps a hand grenade, with the pin held precariously between your teeth.
One word from you and —
“So? What about you?” you ask.
Sanji sucks in a long breath of smoke, holding it in his lungs before letting it out. The familiar sting grounds him as he looks at you and wonders if you know all the things he’d do for you. All the things he’s already done.
“Me?” he asks.
“Yeah — did you mean it?” And for the first time since he’s known you, you sound uncertain, “All… all those things you said? All the things you’ve been saying?”
He takes a few steps forward, finally allowing himself to breach the delicate circle of your personal space, his free hand coming to rest on the counter next to your thigh, his palm pressing flat to keep himself from going too far, too fast.
“Three guesses,” he says, letting his eyes flicker down to your lips and linger there, “You guess right… and there might be a prize involved, hm?”
A small, knowing grin spreads across your lips even as you quirk an eyebrow.
“Three guesses to a yes or no question? C’mon, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re losing your touch.”
Sanji leans in and you can almost taste the smoke on your tongue.
“But you do know better, don’t you, sweetheart?”
You suck in a breath, reaching up to tug the cigarette from his lips.
“Yes.”
You catch a flash of his smile a second before his lips find yours. He tastes of salt and tobacco and lemon-rosemary sauce.
“That’s one,” he says as the pair of you break apart. The cigarette lies forgotten on the counter.
Somehow, his hands have found their way to the bend of your waist, settling there as naturally as the tide might settle against its favorite stretch of forgotten beach.
You smile as you reach up to tug him closer, “Yes.”
Another kiss.
Sanji notes with a satisfied grin that your cheeks are just as flushed as his feels when he pulls away this time. He nods, trailing long fingers up your side, one hand reaching up to cup your cheek, the other pressing at the small of your back.
“That’s two.”
You nudge his nose with yours and he feels his hand-grenade heart leap into his throat.
“And…” you hum, letting your head lilt to one side as you ghost your lips over his, “Hm, lemme think about this one…”
Sanji rolls his eyes, tugging you forward by the back of your neck, crushing your mouth to his. It’s more insistent this time — the kiss, the breath, his fingers, your hands — more desperate and fumbling, fueled by the ever-growing heat bubbling at the base of his spine.
“Yes —” you hiss, panting as the pair of you pull apart, your pupils blown wide and dark in the dim kitchen light.
“And that’s all three,” he says, his smile going wide with warmth, “See? You’ve got it. Knew you’d get there.”
“Did you ever doubt?”
Sanji shrugs, taking half a step back to admire the sight of you, with kiss-swollen lips and heat-flushed skin. Perfect might not be strong enough a word.
“There was a moment here or there,” he says, to which you respond with a light shove to his shoulder as you hop off the table.
“Oh, I meant to ask you — what’s for dessert?”
Sanji laughs, “What? Did my garlic-cheddar chips not satisfy?”
“Really? Chips for dessert? And here I was hoping for something sweet.”
You make to leave the kitchen but Sanji reaches forward, pulling you back all too easily, spinning you around and pinning you against the door. His eyes are soft with mirth but as he leans down, you can’t help but shiver at the promise of something more lingering beneath the smoke of his breath.
“Well then, sweetheart, I think I’ve got my dessert picked out already now, don’t I?”
recs r technically closed, but... if you have an opla!sanji one... send it here.
The lost boys movie recap:
My little Gay, Abortion, Slut, and Big dick boys
the lost boys but it’s just david bullying star exactly how peter bullies meg in family guy
Y/n to Zemo: You little FU-
Sam: WOAH!!
Bucky: HOLD UP!!
Sam: WE DO NOT USE THAT WORD IN THIS HOUSE!!
Zeno: Technically this is my house
Bucky pointing towards Zemo: YOU SHUT UP
Sam also pointing at Zemo: YEAH THIS DOESN’T CONCERN YOU
Y/n: 😐
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"Writing's hard.""There only noodles, Micheal."HUGE FANDOM HOPPER!
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