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shegetsburned · 8 months ago

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Uhm hi 👋🏻 could you please write something about Gojo, Nanami, Geto and Toji's reactions to their significant other's life being threatened? Like heartbreaking stuff that ends up well? 👉🏻👈🏻

LOSING YOU w. jujutsu kaisen men ˚ 𐙚 ⋆.

.angst/fluff.

• — ft. satoru gojo, kento nanami, suguru geto, toji fushiguro. took me ages to get to but i’m a sucker for angst, so i just had to do it. thanks for the request, luv! • — content. their reaction to your life being threatened. • — tw. mentions of death, violence, murder.

satoru gojo

₊˚⊹ ᰔ as soon as your name came out of yaga’s mouth, satoru wasted no time and vanished. he searched every place he knew, every corner and alley, in a matter of seconds. there was no coherent thought in his mind while he teleported. the only thing he could clearly see was you. that you were in danger and that you needed to be saved. that he couldn’t let you die and that he previously had so clearly promised that he’d never let anything happen to either you or him.

a liar, he thought he was. how could he have let this happen? what was the point of being the strongest sorcerer if he couldn’t even protect you. he really did believe nothing could happen to you if he was by your side. he’d murder anyone who’d ever try to harm you without even looking back. this time wouldn’t be any different.

he felt his heartbeat reach his ears when he finally felt you near an ally, back pressed against the wall. a hand on your chest, crimson blood dripping down your shirt. jerky breaths escaping your trembling lips. this curse had taken his sweet time with you. it wanted to feed and you were a tasty dinner. there were marks of struggle on your shredded clothes and bruised wrists.

nothing came out of satoru’s mouth when his eyes landed on you. he just couldn’t believe he had let this happen to you. his expression was stoic. when he slowly approached you the curse immediately felt it. the strongest sorcerer doesn’t let most curses escape from his grasp. but this one.. this one would inevitably suffer the most.

it wasn’t long before the curse felt his body being pushed against the wall in front of you. a yelp was heard when his skull hit the wall head-on. you could hear the bones crack and send shivers through your entire being. that’s when you realized your boyfriend had finally arrived. but when you lifted your head trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes he had already turned all his attention towards the threat.

you had never seen him like this. he was lifeless. his eyebrows were lowered and pulled closer together. you could’ve sworn his eyes bulged. he was enraged. he didn’t even bother to raise his arm towards the curse, he just advanced and slowly- very slowly crushed every little bone in the monster’s body.

you were out of breath but couldn’t shift your gaze from the horrible spectacle in front of you. the wall caved under the pressure as gojo used his infinity to create a space between him and the curse which only crushed it more. it was cruel. cruel but deserving considering the circumstances.

the curse’s body was retracting upon itself with no way out. a loud and piercing cry followed the sound of the wall being crushed under the weight of the infinity. the only thing you found the strength to mumble under your breath was your boyfriend’s name.

after a few seconds, black smoke emanated from the crushed bricked wall with no curses in sight. no remains, nothing. your heavy breath filled the air as satoru finally sighted. you could barely see his eyes when he turned to you, crouching down at your height.

his violence had surprised you, but you were so relieved. tears ran down your cheeks when you tried to speak. you tried to reach for satoru when he crouched but he was quicker and wrapped one arm around your back and another supporting the back of your head. he held you close and it made you feel at home. his scent and touch reassured you when you buried your head in his neck.

still silent, he held you tightly close to his chest. his hand threaded your hair, a slight pressure applied so he could make sure you were okay. you could feel all his anger slowly fade when you returned the gesture with one hand against his chest. your tears slowly fading as you felt the warmth of satoru around your body.

“satoru..”

he shushed you. always pulling you closer and closer to him. he wasn’t going to leave this time. he’d never let you endure something like this ever again.

“i’m right here. you’re safe. lend me your pain, baby. i’ll carry you the rest of the way.” he whispered into your ear, caressing your back so that you’d warm up to his touch. you could feel he was slowly coming back to being the satoru you knew.

you were safe in his arms but guilt still ran deep inside of him. he promised to take you to shoko as soon as possible, resting by your side until you were completely healthy. he also promised himself to assign you with an escort when he couldn’t be here to protect you.

satoru’s only concern was you and he’d never let anything get in the way of your well-being ever again. if he had to show every curse on this earth that he’d destroy them if they ever tried to get near you, he’d have no hesitation in doing so. you were safe. you knew it, now.

kento nanami

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you were the most important person for nanami. his one and only. his love, his soul, his heart. he would’ve resigned in an instant if you hadn’t begged him to keep his job as a sorcerer. but knowing his personal feelings about loss, you knew it’d break him if something came to happen to you. that is precisely why you always acted cautiously, never putting yourself in harm's way and living your life as safely as you could. unfortunately, this time, your efforts had been in vain.

when he saw you, helplessly struggling at the mercy of a first-grade curse wrapped around your throat, all he could think about was how much he regretted not having taken a safer job and bought you that house you both talked about so much on a beach in malaysia.

he knew he needed to act quickly or the curse would finish you off as easily as it had taken you hostage.

you wiggled your feet when it lifted you off the ground, hands desperately scratching and holding onto his grasp so he’d let go of his claws around your throat. you could feel kento’s eyes on you but couldn’t even dare to look at him or do anything else than push against the claws so they wouldn’t crush your neck further.

therefore, you couldn’t see him remove his tie, wrapping it tightly around his knuckles. he knew he couldn’t use a weapon, scared that the curse would use you as a shield. his fists were more precise and his sword wasn’t enough to unleash the rage he had built up inside.

he slowly made his way to the curse but, with every step, its hold crushed you more. you were so scared, almost out of breath with tears rolling down your cheeks. these cheeks kento had kissed so many times to take away your pain. you were hoping he’d do it once more.

once he realized that the threatening stance he was in only alarmed the curse, kento stood down, lowering his curse energy’s flow to an almost invisible state. he made himself look harmless in the face of the monster which slowly but surely helped you to breathe better.

you knew your husband. you had heard it several times from yuji and Ino and you also personally knew that he always handled things the right way. this is was kept you from breaking down and letting go of your almost meaningless fight against the curse’s strength. you had never doubted him and you wouldn’t now. he built his strength with yours. that’s what kento had told you the day he had asked for your hand.

his eyes were locked with your struggling gaze. despite him trying to contain himself, his veins stood out from how tightly he clenched his fists. he would’ve massacred the curse right here and now if it hadn’t cowardly taken you hostage. nanami might have seemed harmless in the moment but his anger was apparent.

without thinking much about it, he threw his sword aside, lifting his hands above to show complete surrender to the curse.

“let her go.”

the furious and deep voice of your husband made you whine, finally hearing a sign from him. unfortunately you could feel that the curse was still hesitating. the clinging of the sword on the ground had startled it which only showed kento how weak it really was. it also showed that it did not want to fight but preferred to flee.

this strange demeanor encouraged kento to step closer, hands still in the air, and that’s when he saw his opening. the curse was looking left and right to find an escape which diminished his attention and loosened his grip around your throat. it lasted just a few seconds but it was enough for you to breathe out his name.

“kento..”

that’s when he drew his fist and used all of his force and cursed energy to deliver a devastating blow right into the curse spirit’s face. it was sent flying several meters away after dropping you so kento could easily catch you and keep you from hitting the ground, arms wrapped around your body.

it only took one hit. one punch to obliterate half of the curse’s body in pieces. the shock had been so violent that your savior’s knuckles bled on your shirt through his yellow tie.

“mine.”

you could feel his heavy breath against your neck when he got on one knee, holding you against him, a hand carefully placed on your cheek. his thumb caressing your skin and whipping the single tear you shed.

“my love..”

kento’s expression had returned to the one you knew. the calm but stoic gaze he wore returned your breath to a normal pace. his arms pulled you always closer to him and he felt his sense come back when your fingers brushed the hand he had placed on your shoulder. you couldn’t talk or you’d burst into tears so you smiled in admiration.

he placed his warm lips upon your forehead and you could feel how scared he had been, maybe even more scared than you. his eyes were stuck on your finger, the one that wore his ring.

losing haibara had crushed his soul to tiny little pieces and you had been the one to delicately put them all back together with your innocent kindness and understanding. he’d be damned if he was to let something happen to the one who saved his heart.

this was the first and last time your life had been threatened, thanks to the careful supervision of kento but also his promise to quit his job and buy that house. he hadn’t realized how much he already had with you and would curse anybody who tried to take his happiness away from him ever again.

suguru geto

₊˚⊹ ᰔ you trusted him. you trusted that, if you were in pain, suguru would find ways to eradicate that pain. you trusted that if you showed any sign of distress, he’d be by your side helping you in any way he could. most importantly, you trusted that he’d protect you no matter the cost and no matter the consequences, because he was devoted to you. if there was something he’d burn the whole world for, it’d be you.

these men, these humans, these pathetic monkeys that had attacked you on your way home never knew what would come for them. you were beaten and almost lifeless when the men started searching for any kind of money or jewelry you had on your person. of course, you had resisted. that’s the only thing you could do, because you were so scared that if you had willingly complied to their demand they would’ve asked for more.

being helpless was scary. you thought it wouldn’t be so scary with suguru by your side, but right now you had never been more terrified. you also knew that your boyfriend would never forgive the men that harmed you, so the only thing you could do was wait. because you did not doubt him. you never doubted him. you knew he’d come for you.

when the men had finished checking your bags and any belongings you had on your person, one approached you, lifting your chin with a vulgar smile. you couldn’t even look at him in the eyes but hit bullseye when you spat directly in his face making him drop you in anger. he cursed under his breath before tightly grabbing you by the collar. a hand in the air so it’d land on your face.

with a weak and desperate groan you turned your face away but was surprised when the slap never landed.

when you reopened your eyes to look at your aggressor, he had his own hands wrapped his throat. it’s like he was struggling to breath, a firm pressure was crushing his neck as he tried to break free from this invisible hold.

when you realized what might be happening you tried to take a peak at the other men who were all struggling with the same problem. scratching and screaming at the invisible menace that were preventing them from breathing.

under the distressed shoutings, a cocky laugh attracted your gaze. when you turned to look at the source, your face lit up at the sight of suguru. but he didn’t look as relieved as you were. his laugh was dark, almost cynical. it was psychotic and displeased.

you had seen him despise simple-minded humans before but killing them was a different story. he wasn’t only taking their lives, he was torturing them. their necks were getting slowly squashed by the curses he had sent on them.

seeing you struggle to breath, helpless at the hand of those who had harmed an innocent girl like you. his girl. it had awaken another kind of hatred in him. a hatred that had been buried deep for so long.

suguru took one good look at you, searching for your eyes but you were incapable of keeping them open. you were just glad your boyfriend had arrived. you knew you were safe when you rested your eyes, a small smile of satisfaction drawn on your lips.

when he concentrated his gaze back on the man that had touched you, he crouched in front of him, getting to his level before taking over the curse and wrapping his hand around the stranger’s neck. tormenting him and taking the air away from him. suguru tightened his grip, his smile fading when he brought the man closer and closer towards death.

“so you think you can just harm her and get away with it?”

the man was hissing swears as small cries of help escaped his bloody lips. his face was swollen and breaking down under suguru’s hold and his watering eyes looked like they would pop out of their socket sooner or later. that’s how tight he held the man.

“pathetic.”

he fed on their cries. helplessly calling out for help, the men only fueled his rage with their insufferable sounds. the sorcerer remembered every time he had felt an ounce of empathy for these beings in the past and regretted every actions he had done to protect them when he saw your wounded state. what they had done was inexcusable and no amount of pain would be enough to atone for it.

after a while, resigned, your offender chocked out a weak apology. but as he did, all the bones in his body instantly broke under another a new kind of pressure coming from yet another curse suguru had unleashed upon him. so now he laid there, between your boyfriend’s compressed clutch. dead.

after a few seconds he dropped the body on the ground like garbage waste and walked to you, passing by the other men that were struggling to breath. he pushed the first one aside with his foot, throwing one on the ground, creating a path for him to walk to you.

“move. i’ve come to take what’s mine.”

on suguru’s command, two snaps followed when the curses broke the other men’s necks before they fell on the floor. three lifeless corpses were now scattered in front of both of you, and as soon as he made sure those stupide monkeys had payed for what they had done, he joined you.

when he leaned towards you, his hand grazed yours, wrapping it with his own in a warm grip. his eyes searched for yours, lifting your chin with his thumb before running it along your jaw, making comforting circles on your cheek.

“are you alright, my love? can you walk?”

suguru’s tone was calmer than before. his eyes never left yours when he wiped one of your tears. his comforting smile reassured you and you nodded at his question, holding onto his wrist when he helped you up, closing the distance between the two of you.

you could hear his calm heartbeat when you leaned against his chest, hiding between his arms and you wondered how he could be so tranquil after killing these men so easily. little did you know the only thing he felt was rage. he knew he was right to despise these inferior beings that had harmed the only important thing that mattered.

he could’ve burned the world for you.

toji fushiguro

₊˚⊹ ᰔ toji fushiguro was an asshole. a first-class asshole. you guys had slept together left and right and he always left first. you had no expectations regarding the man. no doubt that you were replaceable. he didn’t open up much and never talked about his work which didn’t alarm you much considering toji’s character.

basically, emotionally and personally speaking, you two weren’t close. that’s why, when two strangers raided your apartment, screaming fushiguro’s name in anger, you wondered why you had accepted to sleep with a man with a secret and violent past.

your furniture was on the floor and the men had destroyed most of your electronics so you had no way to call for help. one was guarding the door while the other took care of questioning you. it had something to do with a bet and broken promises. of course, money had to be involved, otherwise, why would they be threatening the girl he had slept with once or twice to know of his whereabouts?

tied to a chair, almost unconscious, he had been covering you with bruises and scratches using anything that he could find but you still gave him the same answer. you had no idea where toji was as he never kept contact with you. he was always the one that came to you. and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t expect him to come save you anytime soon.

after a while, when the man realized he might not easily get an answer out of you, he reached in his back, pulling out a pistol from the edge of his pants. at the sight of the gun, your heart shattered. that was it for you, you thought. you couldn’t get out of this mess and you would die convinced toji was out there somewhere, probably getting rich and fucking naive girls like you.

you couldn’t even talk anymore, your head was hanging in front of you, blood dripping from your mouth to your thighs. you didn’t know if you’d last long, your vision was blurry and you felt yourself chasing the dark tunnel that clouded your eyesight.

you could hear faint words of command when your chin was lifted with the cold metallic canon of the pistol. the man had your life between his hands. you knew he’d pull the trigger if he eventually realized you couldn’t give him any information he needed. you knew he would kill you. it was so easy and you were pissing him off.

your eyes never left his nervous figure which only frustrated him more and, out of instinct, he slapped you with the handle of the pistol, almost knocking the air out of you. your jaw was broken and tears were flooding your eyes when the blow forced you to look away.

but as he pulled his arm up, preparing for another strike, he seemed to stop in his movement, startled by something behind him. sounds of struggles and a broken door were heard when he shifted his gaze entirely towards the front of your apartment. his accomplice had disappeared which alerted the man and made him call out to him.

several seconds and unanswered calls later, on his guard, the armed stranger decided to go take a look. as soon as he took a step towards the broken piece of wood that was left, a corpse dropped to his feet.

it was the other man, and he seemed to have been brutally murdered from the back, a hole at his heart’s level revealed the level of violence he had endured which left the man panicked and distressed. sweat was covering his forehead when he tried to peak out the door, fingers trembling against the handle and trigger.

unfortunately for him, a tall and broad shadow quickly covered him, before a shot came off. one single gunshot followed by a loud thud.

you could barely make up the identity of the person who had saved you with your weak sight, but his odour was enough for you to distinguish the man clearly. he always smelled the same.

toji was here. he was standing in the doorway, a tight grip around his gun and a grin covering his scarred lips. “can’t believe they send these weaklings to come after me.”

he carefully stepped between the cadavers, examining the poor state of your apartment and their lifeless bodies before his gaze shifted to you. a quick exchange was enough for you to sigh in relief and let yourself relax to an unconscious state.

despite himself, he did feel an ounce of guilt when he took a good look at you. his mistakes had almost gotten you killed. he couldn’t have imagined how he would’ve felt if he had arrived too late. the blood on your face, the broken jaw and the many scars were revealed by the moonlight passing through the door. the cold air misplaced your hair for toji to see tears strolling down your face.

his grin faded as he stood still in front of you and the mess he had made. his grip had loosened around the gun but he slowly moved the canon towards the second man he had killed. without hesitation, he emptied his clip through the culprit’s head, a look of contempt and disgust plastered on his face.

“tsk.. you just had to go and get yourself noticed, hm?” he said, now focused only on you.

thanks to toji, you were safe now. and you had silently thanked him for coming back for you.

carrying you bridal style as you laid there now unconscious but safe in his arms, he placed his thumb against your jaw, tilting your head to get a proper look at you. even now, you were so beautifully calm and your cheeks wore a pink tint, probably because of the cold, which only accentuated your beauty and innocence.

with a sigh, like it weighed on his conscience, toji murmured. “guess someone’s gonna have to take care of you, from now on.”

but the truth was far from what it appeared to be. saving you that night had just brought the man closer to the conclusion that he cherished you more than he thought he did. you weighed on his conscience like a guilty obsession which he could only nourish by spending more time by your side.

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cinnamorollcrybaby · 1 month ago

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The Reader gets jealous/upset because Sukuna gets Concubines, with a happy ending though. pleaseeeee

Wish I didn’t care

Tags: true form!Sukuna x fem!Reader, king!Sukuna, royal au (?), angst, hurt/comfort, happy ending i promise

An: Ooo, this was such a good idea. Thank you for requesting it from me!! I hope it’s everything you wanted!!

Sukuna never felt the need to give you a title for being in his life. To him, titles were superficial… There wasn’t a title in the world that could explain or encompass the complexities of his relationship with you.

However, you, coming from the mortal realm, wanted a title. It’s not that you wanted the power that was associated with being the betrothed of the King of Curses. You just wanted to feel.. irreplaceable to him.

So, to make you happy, you were his wife.

Kings rarely ever are allowed the luxury of marrying for love. Most kings marry daughters of other powerful kings to create allies between nations. However, Sukuna didn’t need allies. He didn’t need to marry for power when he had more power than he knew what to even do with.

Everything was simply child’s play for him. He even stopped trying to conquer the mortal realm because it was just too damn easy for him. The “sorcerers” could barely even put up a fight. It was embarrassing.

Life was truly becoming boring for him.

That was, until a female curse was delivered straight to his chamber. He was confused and honestly pissed that Uraume would simply guide this harlot into his chambers without his permission. Only you were granted such luxuries.

He was leisurely splayed in his bed with no cloth to cover himself. He truly appreciated the concept of being completely in his own skin at all times, and he often encouraged you to do the same. Though, he also learned to appreciate your more modest approach. You didn’t have to show any skin to get Sukuna riled up.

“State your purpose.” His voice was low and menacing as he spoke to the woman. He slipped his robes on over his shoulders, tying it in the front so he was no longer exposing himself.

“My father sends his regards. Says that a newly wedded king deserves a ‘fresh’ concubine.” The girl spoke with no humility towards him.

Sukuna’s face twisted in disgust that her dad would even suggest such a thing. He was even more put off that she described herself as ‘fresh’ as if she were a type of vegetable in the garden.

“Your father can kindly go fuck himself. I’m not interested.” He responds coldly, and his large palm grabs onto her shoulder with the intention of throwing her out of his chambers. He knew that if you saw her here, you’d probably be devastated.

“My lord-“

“I am not your anything. You address me as Lord or King, but make no mistake. I am not your lord.” He rudely cuts her off, not letting her think she has any sort of claim to him.

“Okay, Lord Sukuna, when’s the last time she’s fulfilled her wifely duties? I can see she’s not in here tending to you now, right? She’d probably feel grateful that you’re being satisfied around the clock.” The concubine’s voice was like a purr, and she looked up at him with eyes that’d rival a siren’s.

And for a split second, Sukuna almost considers her offer.

“You’ll never believe it, Kuna!” Your happy voice fills the air, and the door swings open to reveal you holding a small flower in your hand. “I got a jasmine to bl-“ Your eyes fall upon to scene in front of you.

Sukuna’s towering over an unfamiliar woman. His hand is touching her neck and shoulder area, while she has her hand leisurely pressed against his bicep.

“Who’s.. this?” You quietly ask, and immediately, Sukuna can feel a strange feeling pour into him. It feels like… guilt? He regrets even momentarily entertaining the idea about this harlot occupying his bed.

“Nobody-“

“Oh my lady, it’s nice to meet you. I apologize. Lord Sukuna and I were just getting aquatinted with each other since we’ll be seeing each other a lot from now on.” The serpent of a female cuts him off, and he immediately realizes just what this is. Whichever king decided to send her is hoping to ruin his marriage. She’s quite literally a snake in his garden, trying to ward his wife away from him.

“I don’t… understand.” The way your voice sounds so small. The small pout upon your lips. The way the flower you were once carrying with such confidence is now sagging in your hand. Fuck. Sukuna felt like a complete imbecile.

“Oh, come on now. You know he has needs that are beyond your abilities. I’ll lay with him when you’re too-“

“Enough.” Sukuna’s voice snaps. His teeth grit together as he practically drags the woman out of his chambers. “Go fuck off for a while. I’ll deal with you later.” The door immediately slams in her face.

After a moment of trying to comprehend what just happened and how it all happened so quickly, Sukuna slowly turns to you. It feels like a gut punch once he sees the tears brimming in your eyes.

“That wasn’t…”

“You took up a concubine?” You ask in a sniffle. Your hands are barely even holding the jasmine that’s you were once so excited to show him. Flowers rarely ever bloom in Sukuna’s desolate kingdom, but with hard work and determination, you had gotten a jasmine to bloom in his kingdom.

“No, she was sent to me. I didn’t seek her out.” He tries to dispel the claims while he slowly approaches you. His chest aches as he watches you take a step back away from him. “Do not cower from me, woman.”

“Was I not good enough? Was I not doing enough for you..? I thought… I thought it was good, b-but I can try harder.” Your voice is so shaky, and you won’t even look him in the eye. What has he done?

“Silence. You will not speak of yourself like that to me.” Sukuna orders, and he takes another step forward. You take another step back with another sniffle. Your tears are streaming down your cheeks.

“Please…” The word sounds foreign on his tongue. He’s never ever pleaded for anything in his life. He could simply take what he wants, but he doesn’t want to hurt his delicate flower. He wants her to seek out comfort in him. “Please don’t cower. It was not like that. She showed up at my door, spoke of lies and filth, and I was trying to throw her out when you walked in.”

“So you didn’t even con..consider taking her on as a concubine?” You ask while you rub the tears away with the back of your hands. Hopefully, this was all just a poorly timed miscommunication.

Sukuna takes a moment before responding. He has two options. He could tell you a white lie that would instantly comfort you, but it would be a lie. Or he could tell you the truth and face the consequences of his actions.

“It was one moment of weakness.” He replies carefully.

He instantly wishes he just lied from the way your face immediately twisted in disappointment and pure hurt. The jasmine falls from your hands, and your footsteps trail away from his chambers, leaving him dumbfounded.

Sukuna is immediately on your trail, unable to let you be. He needs to fix this. His dear wife is upset, and it’s all his fault.

A pair of hands slither up his arm as he walks. He already knows who’s touching him based off the nasty feeling from their contact. “My lord, let her be. She needs to-“

“Dismantle.” The concubine’s body drops to the floor in two, split directly at her waist. He had warned her already about referring to him as her lord. She didn’t deserve to speak of you so carelessly, and she didn’t deserve to live after causing this rift in his marriage.

Sukuna continues on his hunt for you without another hitch, leaving the harlot’s body right where she once stood for one of the servants to clean up.

He searches for you in all your usual spots: the gardens, the kitchen, the library, the rooftop. You’re no where to be found. You don’t want to be found. He starts to wonder around his perimeter. The longer he goes without finding you; the more his heart starts to race.

Did you leave him? Did he lose you for good?

The thought of not having his delicate flower by his side makes his body feel ill. You must’ve placed some sort of binding curse on him, but he didn’t necessarily mind.

He’s close to waging war when he finally sees your small human body tucked underneath a weeping willow on a bed of grass. His body moves on it’s own: running to you. When’s the last time he’s ran like this?

Crouching over you, he can see no visible injuries on your body, but he knows he’s wounded your heart with his foolish actions. How could he ever have a wandering eye when you were the real prize?

His four arms carefully scoop you up and cradle your body as he takes a seat underneath the willow. Your poor cheeks are flushed and tear stained. Your eyes and lips are so puffy. You must’ve tired yourself out from crying.

“I’m sorry, flower.” He whispers softly, even if your eyes are still resting. He pulls your body closer to his chest, and he contemplates when he started becoming so soft for you.

A part of him hates it. That small unconscious voice of his telling him that he shouldn’t concern himself with the feelings of a mere mortal, but the bigger part of him knows that he can’t just ignore you. He cares far too much for you.

“Kuna..?” You murmur as your hands rub your eyes. You’re immediately met with remembering just why you had fallen asleep. “I do not wish to see you right now.”

Sukuna chuckles quietly from your defiant little comment. It reminds him of when you first arrived to his estate. “Then close your eyes.” He simply states as one of his hands start to comb through your hair. “Woman, tell me what to do to fix this.”

You shift your gaze away from him with a small huff. If he wasn’t so much bigger than you, you’d try to wiggle away from him. However, you know it is of no use. “I don’t know, Kuna.” Your words are sharp and still so full of emotion. “Imagine how you’d feel if I told you I contemplated sleeping with someone else… in a moment of weakness.”

The sheer thought of it has Sukuna’s anger burning up like an inferno. You’re his delicate flower. No one would even know how to take care of you like he can. His arms subtly tighten around your frame. “I’d kill every man you gaze at.”

“Well, men can rest easy because I only have eyes for you.” You mutter while rolling your eyes. “I love you so much that the thought of being with someone else repulses me, and it… just really hurts that you don’t feel the same.”

“Flower, I took you for granted. It was a brief moment of contemplation, but I instantly decided against it. I did not desire her in the slightest.” Sukuna tries to explain, and his hand gently brushes against your soft cheek.

“You still don’t deny that you don’t feel the same for me.” You respond quietly, still not giving him the satisfaction of you looking at him.

“You are everything to me. I will not lose sight of what’s important again.”

“Kuna.” You finally look up at him, and you frown slightly. Sukuna secretly adores the little nicknames you have adorned him with, but he’d never admit it.

“What is it, woman?” He asks, titling his head to the side a bit to get a better look at your face. You’re so pretty in his lap like this.

“Do you love me?” You quietly ask, even if you can already hear his voice telling you ‘do not ask questions you don’t want answers to’… because even if he’s the incarnate of evil, Sukuna will not lie. Liars are weak cowards who can’t get jobs done by being upfront. Sukuna isn’t afraid of what the truth is.

Your husband contemplates your question for a moment. He thinks about how disgusting that wannabe concubine was. He thinks about how you preoccupy his mind majority of the time. He thinks about the weird mix of feelings he has felt today in your absence.

“What I feel for you… is probably the closest to love that I’ll ever get.” Sukuna responds, carefully choosing his words. “You, my flower, are the only thing that keeps me grounded to the mortal plains.”

You give him the best smile you can muster despite the disappointment that you feel since he won’t tell you that he loves you. You suppose you have no one to blame other than yourself. Sukuna told you when he married you not to get your hopes up for love, but you still can’t help but crave that sort of affection from him.

“I don’t like seeing you upset, flower.” He speaks tenderly as his thumb brushes against your bottom lip. “If I could, I’d snap my fingers and assure you that I love you whole heartedly. It just not in my genetic code.”

“I know… I’m grateful for your effort at least.” You murmur as you wrap your arms around his neck.

His arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest. He inhales deeply, savoring your sweet scent that he enjoys so much. “Am I forgiven, woman?”

“Mmm, no.” You smile cheekily in his embrace, and Sukuna chuckles heartily.

“Oh? Is someone going to use this blunder to her advantage?” When you nod in his shoulder, Sukuna lays back against the soft pillowy grass. “That’s my girl. Go on. Make me work for your forgiveness.”

On a completely unrelated note, Sukuna had that harlot’s body mailed back to her father as a ‘thank you’ for sending a whore to his kingdom.

#jjk #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen #fanfic #drabble #jjk suggestive #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk angst #hurt/comfort #sukuna #jjk fic #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #ryomen x reader

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renthony · 7 months ago

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In Defense of Shitty Queer Art

Queer art has a long history of being censored and sidelined. In 1895, Oscar Wilde’s novel The Picture of Dorian Gray was used as evidence in the author’s sodomy trials. From the 1930s to the 1960s, the American Hays Code prohibited depictions of queerness in film, defining it as “sex perversion.” In 2020, the book Steven Universe: End of an Era by Chris McDonnell confirmed that Rebecca Sugar’s insistence on including a sapphic wedding in the show is what triggered its cancellation by Cartoon Network. According to the American Library Association, of the top ten most challenged books in 2023, seven were targeted for their queer content. Across time, place, and medium, queer art has been ruthlessly targeted by censors and protesters, and at times it seems there might be no end in sight.

So why, then, are queer spaces so viciously critical of queer art?

Name any piece of moderately-well-known queer media, and you can find immense, vitriolic discourse surrounding it. Audiences debate whether queer media is good representation, bad representation, or whether it’s otherwise too problematic to engage with. Artists are picked apart under a microscope to make sure their morals are pure enough and their identities queer enough. Every minor fault—real or perceived—is compiled in discourse dossiers and spread around online. Lines are drawn, and callout posts are made against those who get too close to “problematic art.”

Modern examples abound, such as the TV show Steven Universe, the video game Dream Daddy, or the webcomic Boyfriends, but it’s far from a new phenomenon. In his book Hi Honey, I’m Homo!, queer pop culture analyst Matt Baume writes about an example from the 1970s, where the ABC sitcom titled Soap was protested by homophobes and queer audiences alike—before a single episode of the show ever aired. Audiences didn’t wait to actually watch the show before passing judgment and writing protest letters.

After so many years starved for positive representation, it’s understandable for queer audiences to crave depictions where we’re treated well. It’s exhausting to only ever see the same tired gay tropes and subtext, and queer audiences deserve more. Yet the way to more, better, varied representation is not to insist on perfection. The pursuit of perfection is poison in art, and it’s no different when that art happens to be queer.

When the pool of queer art is so limited, it feels horrible when a piece of queer art doesn’t live up to expectations. Even if the representation is technically good, it’s disappointing to get excited for a queer story only for that story to underwhelm and frustrate you.

But the world needs that disappointing art. It needs mediocre art. It even needs the bad art. The world needs to reach a point where queer artists can fearlessly make a mess, because if queer artists can only strive for perfection, the less art they can make. They may eventually produce a masterpiece, but a single masterpiece is still a drop in the bucket compared to the oceans of censorship. The only way to drown out bigotry and offensive stereotypes created by bigots is to allow queer artists the ability to experiment, learn through making mistakes, and represent their queer truth even if it clashes with someone else’s.

If queer artists aren’t allowed to make garbage, we can never make those masterpieces everyone craves. If queer artists are terrified at all times that their art will be targeted both by bigots and their own queer communities, queer art cannot thrive.

Let queer artists make shitty art. Let allies to queer people try their hand at representation, even if they miss the mark. Let queer art be messy, and let the artists screw up without fear of overblown retribution.

It’s the only way we’ll ever get more queer art.

Like this essay? Tip me on Ko-Fi, pledge to my Patreon, or commission an essay on the topic of your choice!

#original essays #original post #media studies #queer history #queer media #queer issues #fandom issues

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hllywdwhre · 8 months ago

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Revenge - Tommy Shelby

Summary: Reader takes personal offense over Sabini’s attack on Tommy

Warnings: arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, reader leaves a message written in blood, smut, creampie, light degrading, oral smut (f receiving), overstim, p in v, let me know if I missed any

Notes: I made this text post about protective reader and decided to write it lmfao. I want Tommy with a feral woman. Thank you to @slut4thebroken for proof reading, encouragement, and suggestions💖

MDNI, 18+ only

You weren’t quite sure how it had happened.

Scratch that.

You knew exactly how it had happened.

Your father and Tommy had worked out a deal when Sabini had first started trying to intimidate your father. A bride in exchange for protection and both of them walked away with extra allies when the inevitable war against Sabini broke out. You’d protested the marriage at first, screaming that you were more than just a political pawn for your father to sell when he needed help, but it went through anyway.

You had to admit, it wasn’t the worst thing that could’ve happened. Sure, Tommy was distant and seemed obsessed with work, but you knew you could’ve ended up in a much worse situation. He treated you with respect, never let you open a door on your own if he was around, always had a protective hand rested in the small of your back, and… the sex was great.

Perhaps the thing you appreciated the most, was that he didn’t expect you to become the housewife you had feared you would be reduced to. You were your father’s only child, meaning when he died, you would become leader of his gang. You were a gangster the same way Tommy was and he seemed to realize that and respect it. You helped out with the daily runnings of the Peaky Blinders and helped with the daily runnings of your father’s gang at the same time. They both recognized your potential and weren’t afraid to use it.

It wasn’t until you were sitting in a family meeting about a year after your marriage that you realized you had grown to feel more than just okay with the marriage.

Tommy was a closed off individual and through the entire year you had been married, you felt like you were just starting to finally get to know the real him. You never pried because he never pried in your life. If you had general questions, neither of you were afraid to ask them, but anything more was left up for the person to tell. You had more questions than answers still, specifically about the matching scars on his cheeks, but you didn’t dare ask. He hadn’t asked about the scar that ran from your right shoulder blade down to your spine, so you didn’t ask about his scars.

It was a common occurrence for Esme, Ada, and Polly to sit with you at one of the desks in the betting shop, whispering things to you during family meetings to fill in any gaps and answer any questions you may have had.

“Alfie has informed me that the Sicilians are being provided aid by Sabini, in the form of cars and housing,” Tommy started, causing Arthur to let out a loud groan of frustration.

Before you could get dragged into hearing any more of it, you turned your head to Esme who was sitting next to you.

“Sabini’s a prick, I know that, but what has he done to us?” You asked quietly, your eyes still flickering back-and-forth between Tommy and the rest of his family as they spoke about what to do next.

Esme began explaining exactly what Sabini had done. How he and five other men came after Tommy in the dark of night, how he’d ripped out a tooth, sliced his cheeks, and beat him to an inch of his life.

The rage that settled inside of you was your first hint that you had grown to genuinely care for Tommy as more than just a friend and (amazing) fuck buddy. Your jaw remained clenched and set for the rest of the meeting, but as soon as the meeting was called to end, you wiped the look from your face and forced a calm expression to take over.

You stood up and walked over to Tommy, forcing a small smile to your lips,

“I’m not really feeling all that well. You go with your brothers for a drink, I’m just going to head back home, okay?” You said, meeting his eyes so he wouldn’t have a reason to not believe you.

Tommy’s eyebrows furrowed together as he tried to look for any sign you were lying. You had been fine that morning and fine two hours prior when you sat down for the meeting, but he had no reason to believe you were lying so he simply nodded, placed a hand on the small of your back to pull you closer to him, and kissed your forehead.

“I won’t be out long. Ask Frances for anything you need, okay, love?”

You nodded and the forced smile turned to a genuine one,

“I will, promise,” you told him before stepping away from him and waving goodbye to the rest of the family.

Yes. You had truly gotten lucky when it came to who you had been forced to marry.

The entire ride back to the Arrow House, you were silent and going over your plan in your head. You knew you’d have to earn Tommy’s trust back after this, but you didn’t particularly care. You were a force of nature on your best day. You were lethal when you were angry.

Once you arrived back, you immediately headed upstairs to yours and Tommy’s shared room. The marriage may have started off with the two of you in separate rooms, “I’m called the devil, but that doesn’t mean I’m some sort of monster. You can sleep in your own room until you’re comfortable sharing a bed,” but it didn’t take more than a couple weeks for you to eventually join him in bed.

Damn those blue eyes, full lips, and that jawline.

You grabbed a small bag and threw the first set of clothes you laid hands on into it, then, much more carefully, a dress. You grabbed everything else you needed and headed to Tommy’s office next.

I’ll be back soon. I’m sorry for lying, but I’ll be back.

You signed the note and left it in the center of his desk where you knew he would see it, held down by his ashtray.

As quickly as you had entered the house, you left it, getting right back into the car with the driver Tommy had employed for you. You told him the name of a hotel in London that you knew was just outside of anyone’s territory.

The drive seemed to pass by too quickly and soon you were saying goodbye to the driver and sending him home for the night. It was barely 7 in the evening when you got up to your room.

“If there is a God, please let me get through this. I’ll make it up to you… somehow,” you said quietly.

The beading on the dress swayed loudly around your body as you pulled the dress on. The pins in your hair seemed to be extra noticeable against your scalp. The straps on your shoes pressed into your skin more than usual. The blade held against your thigh and hidden by your dress seemed to refuse to warm up. Your left hand felt entirely too light with your ring missing.

You knew it was only your mind playing tricks on you. You’d worn this outfit before and it had always turned heads, which is exactly what you wanted.

You needed Sabini to notice you.

You greeted the cab driver politely as you stepped in and ignored the way his eyes seemed to follow you a bit too closely.

The doors of the club were held open for you and you made your way to the bar and took a seat, knowing you were just playing a waiting game now.

You could feel eyes on you. The wife of Thomas Shelby in Sabini’s club, hours away from Birmingham, far out of Peaky Blinders territory or her father’s territory. You stuck out like a sore thumb, even if you would have blended in during any other scenario.

It felt like an eternity passed before you finally saw the man that made your blood boil, but one glance at the clock above the bar told you it hadn’t even been an hour.

“You seem lost. I thought we had made it clear that your kind weren’t welcomed here,” Sabini said once he was in front of you.

A charming smile graced your lips and you looked up at him,

“My kind?” You questioned, playing innocent.

“Yes. Your kind. You’re the wife of Thomas Shelby and I don’t appreciate him ignoring the last warning I gave him and sending you-“

“I wasn’t sent here,” you stopped him, lifting your left hand and pushing a piece of hair that hadn’t fallen back behind your ear, “and I’m not really a Shelby or a Blinder, am I?”

His eyes were drawn to your hand and noticed the lack of a ring you wore and he quirked an eyebrow at you.

“Is that so? I was under the impression the two of you were lovebirds.”

You pulled your bottom lip between your lips and looked away, trying to come off as shy. When you looked back up to him, you hoped the look on his face meant he was intrigued and believing you.

“Perhaps we could talk about it somewhere else… somewhere private?” You asked him, batting your eyelashes as you did so.

Gods help you. The smirk he gave you made your stomach twist and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off his face, but patience was something you’d adopted a lot of.

“Allow me to show you to my office then,” he said, offering you a hand which you forced yourself to take.

He guided you through the club and towards the back. Some amount of luck seemed to be on your side as his office was behind the stage and provided some cover for any noise you might make. Even more so as you noticed a window just large enough for you to be able to crawl out of.

Once the door was shut behind you, he sat down behind his desk and motioned for you to take a seat in one of the chairs on the opposite side.

“Trouble in paradise, I take it,” Sabini said as he poured you both a drink.

“It was never paradise to begin with,” you replied, thanking him for the drink and taking a sip.

You had grown used to Tommy’s Irish whiskey and the bourbon he gave you wasn’t nearly as smooth going down.

“Was it not? From what I’ve heard, you two have quite the fairytale. Gang leader’s daughter married off to another gang leader, uniting two empires.”

“That’s not the way I see it,” you lied.

“And how do you see it?”

“A desperate father sold off his daughter to a desperate gang leader in an attempt for the both of them to gain more power and disregarded the woman’s wishes,” you replied simply, shrugging your shoulders.

“And so you’ve come to London for what?” Sabini questioned, wanting to hear you say it.

“Because I think we can help each other, Mr. Sabini,” you said, downing the rest of the bourbon and standing up.

His eyes followed your movements, his eyes trailing up your body before resting on your legs again.

“And how do you think we could help each other?” He asked.

You moved to stand in front of him, placing one leg over the side of his and straddled him, placing your arms around his neck.

“They trust me, Mr. Sabini. They don’t suspect me of anything,” you started. The shiver of disgust that rolled up your spine due to his hands trailing up the back of your thighs was one he apparently took as excitement as he gripped slightly at the backs of them, “I can tell you everything and, in return, I get out of my marriage once they’re all gone.”

“They don’t even realize the ticking time bomb they’ve got in their fingertips, do they?” He asked and a chuckle left your lips as a genuine smirk took over.

“They don’t…” you said, trailing your hands down his chest and then up your thigh, trying to make the move appear seductive. Your fingers wrapped around the hilt of your knife, “and neither do you, apparently.”

His eyes widened and he realized the trap he had walked into at the same time as you pressed the blade of the knife to his neck.

“I’d say that if you ever threaten my husband or our family again, you’ll regret it, but you won’t be,” you told him, unable to resist pausing for a touch of dramatic effect before adding on, “Never fuck with a Shelby.”

In the next second, you were quickly slicing the knife across his neck and flinching back as his blood coated you.

You knew your next move was morbid, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. It had been morbid for him and five other men to attack your husband when he was alone. It was morbid for him to rip out his tooth. It had been morbid for him to slice his cheeks. It was just as morbid for you to quickly and quietly clear off his desk, dip your fingers into his blood, and leave a bloodied message across his desk.

Revenge is a scorned Shelby

As soon as the message was written, you grabbed one of the coats from the coat rack and slipped it on, then crawled out of the window. The coat was long enough to cover all of the bloodied mess that was now your dress.

Sabini is dead.

That seemed to be the only thing you could think of as you were driven back to the Arrow House. It wasn’t the first time you had killed a man and you knew it wouldn’t be last.

But you hadn’t told anyone about this time. You hadn’t told anyone your plan, where you were going, or why you were doing it. You had also just started a war.

You weren’t surprised to see almost every light in the house still on when you arrived, and you made sure to slip the cab driver a little extra for the long drive.

You hadn’t risked staying in London longer than you needed to. You had gone into your hotel room, grabbed your bag, and promptly left, only taking the time to slip your wedding ring back on when you were in the cab.

When you stepped into the house, Tommy was in the hallway. All he saw as you stepped in the door was you, in another man’s coat, your wedding ring still on your finger, but your hair and makeup done much differently than it had been you had left.

You stayed silent as you stared at him with nervousness written on your face.

He put out his cigarette and quirked an eyebrow at you, a silent prompt for you to explain yourself.

Your silent explanation was to undo the tie on the coat and let it fall to the floor, revealing your blood stained dress.

“I need a fucking drink for this one,” Tommy grumbled, motioning for you to follow him. He guided you to his office and poured both of you a drink, handed you your glass, then sat down in his office chair. “What the fuck did you do?”

“Do you want the short version or the long version?” You asked, a smirk on your face as he looked up at where you still stood across the room.

Despite himself, he couldn’t help but chuckle and shrug his shoulders,

“Humor me. Short version first,” he told you.

“About a year ago I got married, and tonight I started a war.”

Tommy leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk and running a hand over his face, “Long version.”

“About a year ago, I got married. Over the past year my husband has been nothing but a respectful gentleman, making it nearly impossible for me not to fall for him when you combine it with his fucking blue eyes that could bring the devil to his knees,” you started, feeling the hint of a blush creep into your cheeks, which you knew he noticed by the way his eyes flicked to your cheeks and then back to your eyes, “then today we had a meeting with his family where he mentioned Sabini. When I asked, his sister-in-law told me about what Sabini had done to him. About how my husband had been beaten to an inch of his life and brutalized, leaving him permanently scarred, and I knew I had to make the bastard pay.

“So, I lied to my husband and said I didn’t feel well. I went home, packed a bag, left him a note saying I’d be back, and went to London. I rented a hotel room where I changed into a fancy dress and did my hair and makeup, then I wrapped a knife to my thigh and slid my wedding ring into my bag and went to The Eden Club. News of a Shelby woman spread quickly and Sabini showed up to question me within an hour. I lied to Sabini, told him that I didn’t want to be a Shelby and that I had never wanted to be one. He took me back to his office and I sat on his lap and made him think I was about to cheat on my husband when I slit his throat and made sure he knew it was because of what he’d done to my husband. I left a message on his desk, went back to the hotel, grabbed my bag, and then headed back to our house.”

Silence filled the room for a long moment as Tommy stared at you. His eyes were unreadable as he watched you.

“What did the message say?” He suddenly asked.

“Revenge is a scorned Shelby.”

“Nothing about the Peaky Blinders?” He asked curiously, tilting his head slightly.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t Peaky business,” you answered confidently, watching him just as closely as he watched you as he stood from his chair and came to stand in front of you.

“Was it not?” He questioned, taking the untouched glass of whiskey from your hand and setting it on the desk before turning back to stare you down.

“No. It was Shelby business, but not Peaky business.”

“Explain.”

“He didn’t just harm a Peaky Blinder. He harmed a Shelby, my Shelby.” Your gaze was unwavering as you held eye contact with him. You wanted him to know you meant your words. He was yours, and the protective touches on your back when you were in public and the way he intimidated and glared at any man who tried approaching you was all the proof you needed to know that you were his.

“So I’m your Shelby?” He asked as he took a step towards you and continued to do so until you pressed against the office door.

“Yes.”

“And that means you’re mine?” He questioned, his hands now pressed against the wall on either side of your head.

You could feel that you were walking into some sort of trap, but you didn’t have a way out of it right now. All you could do was be honest.

“Yes.”

“Then you should know something about what it means to be mine.”

“What’s that?” You asked, your breathing getting shorter as he lowered his face so it was level with yours.

In a second his hands were on your waist and he had you picked up against the wall with legs instinctively wrapping around his hips.

“My Shelby is to never come home wearing another man’s coat again,” he said, pressing his lips to yours in a rough kiss.

You don’t know what reaction you had expected from him, but being pinned to his office door and him kissing you hadn’t been one you had thought of. Your shock wore off after half a second and you returned the kiss as your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him close.

“You’re not mad?” You asked against his lips.

“At you starting a war?” He questioned, leaning down and beginning to trail kisses hastily down your neck.

“Yes,” you replied, leaning your head back to give him more access.

“Livid,” he said with no hint of joking in his voice.

“This is quite the punishment,” you replied sarcastically. A moan fell from your lips as he nipped at your pulse point.

“Oh, I’m livid,” he said, looking up at you, “but also extremely turned on at the thought of my wife slicing a man’s throat over me and coming home still covered in his blood.”

You weren’t given a chance to respond before he was kissing you again. Your hands came down to his tie, pulling it loose before starting to work at the buttons of his waistcoat.

He didn’t bother setting you down, only turned the two of you around and walked you over to the couch in the office. He laid you down on it and then pulled the waistcoat off before leaning back down between your legs and kissing you again once. His lips started trailing down your neck again while your hands went to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Someone’s impatient tonight,” he teased as nipped at your skin again.

“You’re the one who pinned me to the door after I revealed I killed a man for you,” you replied in the same teasing tone as him. You undid the last button of his shirt and pushed the fabric off his shoulders, his undershirt following a second later.

He reached his hand to the side of your dress and unzipped it, pulling the fabric down your body while his hands grabbed hold of your underwear, stockings, and garters in the same move and pulled them off, leaving you completely naked underneath him.

He stared and looked over your body a moment longer before running his hands up your thighs and giving a gentle tap to your thigh,

“Up,” he said, causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

You did as told though and sat up, leaving him enough room to lay on his back and pull you up to straddle him,

“Was killing a man not enough work?” You teased, not actually minding if he was going to have you ride him. At least it meant you wouldn’t be subjected to him teasing you when all you really wanted was for him to fuck you.

“That’s cute,” he said sarcastically, gripping your thighs and attempting to pull you further up his torso, “that’s not where you’re sitting tonight.”

The man was no stranger at using his mouth to make you see stars, but you’d never ridden his face before. You looked at him, the question obvious on your face.

“Seriously?” You asked even though you knew by his face that he was.

“Seriously. You were enough of a leader to go after Sabini, you’re enough of a leader to sit on my face. Up,” he repeated again while his grip on your thighs tried pulling you forward.

You did as you were told this time, shuffling forward until you were straddling his face. You weren’t given a choice of when to sit as his hands came to your hips and pulled you down, forcing your full weight onto his waiting mouth.

If there was one thing you were grateful for, it was Thomas’ ability to use his tongue and lips in more than just outsmarting his enemies.

His tongue trailed through your lips, his hands keeping your hips in place, while his tongue slowly explored you at first.

It had only taken a couple weeks for you to crack and make the first move on Tommy, joining him in bed one night when you’d decided you could trust him, and you’d been insatiable and addicted to him ever since, though he never complained. He’d spent the first couple times figuring out every move that made you tick and every name that made your cheeks flush and used them to his advantage at every turn.

His tongue was a gift with the way he knew exactly how to use it. He dragged it up and down between your folds, drinking in every bit of your arousal before focusing on your clit, alternating between quick flicks and long drags.

Tommy’s hands on your hips began guiding them, silently instructing you to take control. You didn’t hesitate in going along with what he wanted you to do and began rocking your hips. One of your hands trailed to his hair while your other went to lay on top of one his that gripped your hip. You hadn’t realized the volume of your moans until you felt the vibration of his moan against your clit.

Your hips jerked at the added stimulation and he hummed against you purposefully, his eyes never leaving you as your hips sped up, chasing your own high. Within moments you could feel it approaching and your grip on his hair and hand tightened, moans of his name falling from your mouth like a prayer.

“Please, fuck,” you cried, whimpers falling from your lips, “Tommy, Tommy…”

Your high crashed over you a moment later and you felt Tommy’s movements begin to slow down as you rode out your high, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you caught your breath.

You went to move off of him, but his grip on your hips tightened at the same time that his tongue started speeding up again.

Your moans of pleasure turned to whimpers of over stimulation and you squirmed against him, but he didn’t let up. Your hips jerked as you tried moving away from him, but all it did was add to the stimulation.

You could practically feel him smirking underneath you as he continued on, watching as your eyes clenched shut and you relented yourself to letting him torture you so beautifully.

If it wasn’t for the way your body was on edge from not being given any type of break after your first orgasm, you might have felt slightly ashamed at the way he was able to bring you to your second orgasm so quickly.

And then your third.

Tears were freely falling from your face when he finally slowed his movements to a stop and helped you to lay down on your back.

He trailed soft and slow kisses along your thighs and stomach to help bring you back down to earth. When his lips reconnected with yours, you returned the kiss, letting your eyes fall shut at the surprisingly tender moment.

“Next time you want to start a war, at least let me know your plans,” he said, causing you to open your eyes and be met with a smirk dancing across his lips, “and don’t doubt my punishments.”

You could’ve smacked the smirk off his face if it wasn’t for the fact he had turned your entire body into mush.

“Think you can be a good girl and handle one more?” He asked.

Your cheeks flushed at the praise and his hands moved to his belt and pants, pulling them off after you nodded your confirmation.

Once the rest of his clothes had been removed, he gently lifted your legs and positioned himself between them. He was gentle as he pushed inside you, but the smirk on his face from the way your voice cracked when you moaned was obvious.

The stretch was familiar at this point, but it didn’t mean you didn’t need the moment he gave you to adjust. When you nodded your head, he started moving.

Tommy knew your body like he knew his own after your time together. His hips immediately changed position as he started thrusting, making sure to hit the spot inside you that added to the ways your legs shook underneath him.

He leaned down and placed his elbows on either side of your head, capturing your lips in a kiss right as a moan parted through them. One of his hands came back to cradle the back of your head and his fingers tangled into your hair to keep you close to him.

His other hand went to one of your legs and pulled it up so it rested in the crook of his elbow, causing him to hit even deeper inside you.

The action caused you to let out a high pitched moan and you wrapped your arms around him. Your next moan broke the passionate kiss the two of you had shared while your nails raked down his back.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked, beginning to speed up the movements of his hips.

“Y-you,” you moaned out, your back arching underneath him.

“Say my name. Who do you belong to?” He repeated.

“Thomas Shelby,” you answered and dropped your head back.

“Good girl. You’re my fucking wife,” he moaned out. He sat up, using one hand to keep your leg up in the same position while his other hand went to your already over sensitive clit, “all mine. No other man gets to touch you, look at you, or even fucking think of you. It’s my cock that you’re whimpering over right now, and it’s the only cock you’ll ever be whimpering over again.”

“I’m yours, Tommy,” you repeated, your voice breaking as moan after moan fell from your lips.

“Then cum for me. Be a good Shelby wife and make a fucking mess on my cock just like how you made a mess of this war tonight,” he commanded.

You didn’t need any more encouragement from him as your fourth orgasm hit you, causing your back to arch again and your nails to run down his arms.

His moves start to become more sloppy and his pace sped up as he began to chase his own high, the feeling of your cunt squeezing around his cock only driving him closer to the edge.

“Want to feel you Tommy, please,” you moaned underneath him, “please, cum inside me.”

“Fuck,” he swore out. His hips pushing against yours as his high hit him and his arms came down to either side of your head again while he shoved his face into your neck, completely claiming you as his own while his cum filled you.

His hips slowed as he rode out both of your highs and your arms came to wrap around him, placing a gentle kiss on the side of his head you could reach.

Once the two of your breathing had slowed down to a normal pace, he moved to push himself up and your legs around his waist tightened along with your arms.

“Don’t. Not yet,” you said in a quiet voice.

“I’m going to crush you, love.” He placed soft kisses along your shoulders between his words as he tried warning you.

“I’m a grown woman. I’ll tell you if it’s too much,” you replied and began running your nails softly along the shaved part of his head, knowing the motion worked on him every time.

“Stubborn,” he falsely chided, but relented and relaxed back into your hold.

“Little late to the party if you’ve just worked that out.” Your reply causing both of you to chuckle. “Remind me to start more wars if it means you fuck me like that every time.”

His hand came down and gently slapped your thigh in response while a burst of quiet giggles left your lips.

“Stubborn and a brat,” he teased, sitting up again and carefully sliding out of you.

“Too bad you’re stuck with me,” you responded with a smirk.

“I don’t think of it that way,” he said as he stood up and wrapped his arms under your waist and legs before pulling you up into his arms.

“How do you think of it?” You asked him as he carried you across the hall and into your shared room.

“I think I’m lucky enough to be married to a woman who killed for me over a years-old attack even though we’d never even said that we loved each other.” He set you down in the middle of the bed before crawling in next to you and pulling you into his chest.

A bright blush rose to your face as he pointed out that you had never even said you loved each other, even though you had admitted to him earlier that you had fallen for him. You didn’t know how to reply immediately and you turned in his arms to look up at him, his arms staying locked around your waist.

He didn’t seem to expect you to reply though, because he leaned in to you, pressing his lips against yours. The kiss was tender and sweet, as if he was trying to communicate what your actions had meant to him without having the words to say it.

“I fell for you, too,” he finally admitted, “I don’t know when it happened, but I know that I realized it tonight. The panic I felt to see your note and to see you come home covered in blood. The anger I felt over seeing you another man’s jacket. The way I felt when you revealed what you had done and why…” He trailed off, looking down at you and seeming to try and memorize every part of your face, “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours and you’re mine,” you replied, leaning up to kiss him.

“I’m yours and you’re mine.”

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby smut #thomas shelby x reader #Thomas Shelby x reader smut #tommy shelby #Tommy Shelby smut #Tommy Shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby x reader smut #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy #cillian smut #cillian murphy x y/n smut #cillian murphy x fem!reader #cillian murphy x reader smut

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dubiousculturalartifact · 2 years ago

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and okay, not to psychoanalyze the guy too hard but

when you know his publicly stated opinion on the LDS church is 'okay so they hate gay people (and have a lot of other problems, but I won't acknowledge those) but i trust in the faith leaders and I think if I stay in the church & keep giving them support and a bunch of money, I can influence them from within to be better uwu'

then yeah it certainly uhhh says some stuff

It really is interesting to me how when Sanderson takes over writing the Wheel of Time books from Jordan, certain nuanced and complex plot themes turn from "these are systemic issues that need systemic solutions and revolutionary change" into "these are just a few individual bad people, the system will be just fine when the right people are running it". Just for example:

Whitecloaks and Galad: Jordan was trying to make a nuanced point here about how the Whitecloaks serve the Light, yet some do deeds as heinous as any Darkfriend does, in their zealous devotion to the Light, not to mention this is an extremely thinly veiled allegory to religious extremism. Under Sanderson, this turns from a systemic issue where the very core of the organization is flawed, and needs to be revamped from the root up, to "they just had a bad leader and Galad will now set them on the right path". Because confronting religious extremism as an institutionally ingrained problem, rather than as just individual bad people, is just too nuanced and scary a concept, I guess.

Weiramon and Anaiyella: Under Jordan, Weiramon and Anaiyella are stupid simpering nobles, who have no regard for the poverty-stricken lives of the peasants under their yoke. The whole point of them and (most of the) other Tairen and Cairhienin nobles is that they aren't Darkfriends, but are evil and callous anyways, because they're noble and don't have to deal with the consequences of their actions. Under Sanderson? They're now Darkfriends. Because that's the only reason they could be evil, right? It's not that there's systemic inequality between the nobility and the peasants in Tear, in Cairhien, in every city in the Westlands, and that the nobles can be genuinely evil in how they treat people under them, without needing to be Darkfriends at all. No, now it's just individual people like Weiramon and Anaiyella who are Darkfriends and therefore evil. This way, we don't need to confront the very mundane non-Dark evil of monarchies/nobility, and what that says about all the main characters who end up rulers of various countries.

Egwene and Siuan dying, and Cadsuane becoming Amyrlin: It's very interesting to me that Egwene and Siuan are the only two primary/secondary protagonists who weren't supposed to die in Jordan's original outline, but who were killed off under Sanderson's tenure. It makes perfect sense to me, though. Egwene is a revolutionary and visionary Amyrlin, who breaks down a lot of the ironclad "rules" that the Tower has stood by for millenia. If she were allowed to actually live on, she would have enacted revolutionary changes to how the Tower functions, that would have completely transformed it as an organization (and pretty obviously made it more inclusive and more helpful to the world at large). Siuan, meanwhile, stands as a reminder of the rot at the very core of the White Tower, of the women the Tower leaves behind when they've outlived their usefulness (women like her who're unjustly stilled, women who're burned out, women who're cast out because they're too weak after uprooting their whole life to study at the Tower, etc). Again, just like Egwene, Siuan is a reminder of the NEED for a revolutionary transformation in how the Tower functions. Ergo, she needs to be killed off too. Who, then, will lead the Tower? Why, Cadsuane of course. Cadsuane, the oldest of the old guard, a woman who benefited in every possible way from all the old rules of the Tower that Egwene sought to revolutionize, a woman who has no concept or imperative to enact any sort of meaningful change in the Tower, because the old way the Tower functioned benefited her in every way possible. Again, the need and the pathway for systemic change is neatly pruned out, instead turning into "Cadsuane will be a better leader than Elaida" when the whole point of the Egwene vs Elaida arc is that what was really at war was not Egwene and Elaida, but the old way of doing things vs a new revolutionary way of doing things.

Gawyn: Gawyn has always been a critique of toxic masculinity, but under Jordan, this is very much framed as a systemic issue which demands a transformative change in the gendered roles of the Westlands. When Gawyn was an infant, Gareth Bryne makes him swear over Elayne's crib to protect her with his life. Even his title is First Prince of the Sword - an object, a tool, a weapon, rather than a person. He's told by even the father figures in his life that his only value is in being the Most Manly Man Ever and dying for Elayne. He's an annoying motherfucker, but under Jordan I understand the underlying systemic issue that makes him so fucking annoying, and how it REQUIRES a transformation in how the Westlands defines and views gender and the roles required of people of different genders. Under Sanderson? Gawyn's problem now is that he thinks he ought to be the Most Special Boy ever and is pissed that it's Rand instead. Again, the issue turns from a systemic issue with gender roles that requires a systemic transformative solution, into "Gawyn is just individually an entitled asshole and wannabe chosen one, and this is in no way a reflection on the gendered culture that molded him, so don't think too hard about that."

It's just… very interesting, how every running theme is transformed/simplified in exactly the same way when transitioning from the Jordan books to the Sanderson books. When Jordan wrote that the Dragon would Break the world, he very much meant that the Dragon would also break the oppressive institutions of nobility, of religious extremism, gender roles, etc. Under Sanderson, this turns into "the nobility is not the problem, it's just that the right noble needs to be in power", and "gendered roles aren't the problem, it's individual assholes that are the problem". And so on.

#brandon sanderson #the wheel of time #robert jordan #sanderson frustrates me bcs #he's an Ally™#as long as he doesn't actually have to challenge any of the institutions of power that make life materially harder for queer ppl #which #doesn't actually help much thanks dude #also re: Cadsuane being made Amyrlin #i always headcanon she was only Amyrlin for a few years at most before she like #died in an unfortunate banana peel accident #and Nynaeve got made Amyrlin mostly against her will #but she was like 'well all of you will do a bad job so fine'#and ended up being exactly the right person to kick the Tower into shape and help bring in the next Age

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zarameraki · 5 months ago

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⁺✩₊📨˚✧ 𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢'𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 ⋆｡💵₊✩°

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 he's obsessed to the max 𖥔 ceo x assistant 𖥔 grumpy x sunshine 𖥔 she talks a lot x he listens a lot 𖥔 loved you for so long 𖥔 major fluff 𖥔 sexual content 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nanami's first time 𖥔 you talk him through it 𖥔 close proximity 𖥔

: ̗̀➛ words: 5.6k

: ̗̀➛ notes: hey all! sorry for the inactivity. im got reality to handle as well. i promise ill be more active soon. the creativity juices are running on low fuel atm. thanks for all the love and support you have have given me. if you enjoy my work, please leave a comment, like, and reblog! thank you & ily. enjoy!

Nanami couldn’t focus on the meeting.

He never could when you were in attendance, sitting off to the side, diligently jotting notes. His eyes flicked back and forth from the powerpoint presentation to the strand of hair bothering you despite tucking it behind your ear thirty-seven times.

Yes, he was keeping count.

His dick constrained against his pants when you bit the end of your pen between your teeth, getting a bit of your red lipstick smeared around the tool. He wished he was that pen, with the mark of your lips on his skin instead. He even wished he was your tea mug sometimes.

Jesus, something was terribly wrong with him. You were wrong for him. He was your boss; you were his assistant. Your relationship was strictly professional—has been for three years now. Three torturous years of admiring you from the sidelines. Three torturous years of hearing you yap about going on dates with random men off the internet. Three torturous years of chafing his dick in the bathroom every morning, noon, and night to the thought of you.

Your scent, your breaths, your skin, your hair, your eyes, your mouth—God, he loved your mouth—especially when it moved and produced the loveliest sound he’s ever heard. He wanted nothing more than to print you onto his skin for the rest of his life.

Nanami scowled at the silver-haired intern who kept side-eyeing your cleavage. If only it weren’t for that bastard. Firing him crossed his mind every time he popped up like a weasel, but Nanami needed a solid reason.

“—that’s alright with you, Mr. Nanami?”

Nanami’s attention snapped back to the presenter. What was he speaking about? Budget? Strategies for the future? Increases in revenue? Whatever it was, Nanami had one answer. “Yes.”

“Lovely, we’ll go ahead with the renovations for our research and development department. They’ll be happy to know their resources are being updated!”

Ah. Well, either way, he could care less. Whatever made his employees happy, he wasn’t afraid to spend a pretty penny. That’s why Nanami Kento was universally loved by everyone. Even his enemies—if he had any to begin with—would be his allies. He didn’t often put himself on the pedestal, but he does admit every now and then, he was a jack of all trades.

“That was a satisfying meeting, wasn’t it?” you chirped as you both entered the elevator. Nanami caught sight of the silver-serpent catching up and jabbed the button to close the doors.

Unfortunately, the intern pushed his hand in between and laughed in an annoying sound he called a voice, sending a twitch in Nanami’s eyes.

“Oh, Satoru!” you greeted, standing closer to his side.

“Boss,” Satoru said to Nanami, then turned to you, whispering, “Beautiful,” loud enough for him to hear.

You snorted, waving a hand. “Oh, stop it. I hope the meeting wasn’t too much for you. Lots of changes we’ve made for the fiscal year, huh?”

Nanami stared bored at the closed doors with the two behind him.

“You made it easier,” Satoru replied.

“Were you copying my notes?”

“Come on, sweetheart. This is corporate. Not college. A little cheating hurts nobody.”

Nanami heard your uncomfortable chuckle and clenched his fists tight. The word ‘cheating’ was a trigger for you. Your last relationship ended with your boyfriend of three months sleeping with your friend simply because she had more money and didn’t work for someone. Nanami was sure you’d quit and almost placed an offer to give you a proper role in the company, but you brushed it all off by stating how much you cherished being his assistant. He’d fallen madly, madly in love with you. He knew when he’d make you his wife, you’d be the boss.

“That’s my floor,” Satoru announced. “Let’s do dinner soon, yeah?”

You simply nodded.

“Always a pleasure meeting the man of the hour,” the silver-ass said to Nanami before exiting.

You stepped up to your boss’ side, sighing. “He just doesn’t know when to give up. It’s almost adorable.”

“I believe ‘agitating’ is the word you’re looking for.”

You laughed it off. Nanami didn’t think he was particularly a funny guy until he met you. “Satoru’s harmless.”

“Will you, though?” he asked, clearing his throat. “Go to dinner with him?”

You glanced up at Nanami, and smiled. He stared straight ahead with a tight tick in his jaw. Your smile broadened. “I’d love to,” you replied, finding his body tense, “but not with him.”

Nanami slowly dragged his eyes down to you. Your blinks were slow, weighed down by the thickness of your long lashes. His eyes dipped to your lips, then back to your gaze. “Well, I hope you do with someone. Dinner is an important meal of the day.”

He was an idiot.

“That’s surprising coming from you, Mr. Nanami.”

“How so?”

You shrugged lightly, eyes twinkling. “I’ve never seen you eat dinner, let alone leave the office around that time.”

Nanami adjusted his tie, feeling a bit self-conscious. He hesitated for a moment, then decided to take the plunge. “Well, maybe we should change that.”

Your eyebrow arched slightly, curiosity piqued. “Change what?”

“Since you’re staying late to catch up on work,” he said, his voice steadying, “how about we have dinner here together?”

You paused, surprise flashing across your face before you smiled warmly. “That sounds nice. I could use a break, and it’s been a long day.”

Relief washed over him, and he allowed himself to smile back. “Great. I’ll order something for us. Any preferences?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’m fine with anything, Mr. Nanami.”

“Please, call me Kento,” he said softly.

“All right, Kento,” you replied, your tone gentle. “Thank you.”

As he walked out of the elevator, he felt a sense of accomplishment and, perhaps, excitement—an emotion he’d felt strictly in your presence. It wasn’t a grand romantic gesture, but it was a step in the right direction. Tonight, you were his, even if only for a little while. And maybe, just maybe, he'd find the courage to tell you how he really felt.

As the morning passed, he buried himself in his work, but his mind constantly wandered. Every so often, he'd steal a glance in your direction, watching you as you diligently typed away on your computer or answered phone calls. There was something about the way you moved, the way you smiled even when you were focused, that captivated him completely.

Around mid-morning, Nanami's concentration was broken when a male worker from another department walked over to your desk. He was carrying a file, but instead of simply dropping it off, he started chatting with you. The man was smiling, clearly enjoying the conversation. Nanami's grip on his pen tightened as he watched the interaction unfold.

The male worker leaned casually against your desk, making you laugh at something he said. Nanami's heart pounded in his chest. He hated how easy it was for others to make you smile like that. He felt a pang of jealousy, a possessive urge to step in and assert that you were his . . . though you didn't know it yet.

As the conversation continued, you glanced up and caught Nanami staring. Your eyes met, and you smiled softly at him. He quickly looked away, feeling a rush of embarrassment and anger at himself for being so obvious. His face felt hot, and he cursed under his breath, trying to refocus on his work.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. Nanami found it hard to concentrate, his mind continually drifting back to you. He tried to remind himself that he needed to be professional, but it was a losing battle. Every time he heard your laugh or saw your smile, his heart ached with a mixture of longing and possessiveness.

The evening had grown quiet, with the soft hum of office equipment and the distant sounds of the city outside. When the delivery boy finally arrived, Nanami stood up and walked over to meet him.

“Oh, I’ve got it!” you said, standing from your seat and taking out your credit card.

Nanami tapped his card without a second thought; he’d always be willing to pay for anything when it came to you.

“Sir, this was going to be my treat.”

“Next time,” he replied.

You smiled, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Next time, it is.”

He led the way to his office, opening the door for you. You set the food out on the table, and for a moment, there was an awkward silence as you both settled onto the sofa.

Nanami cleared his throat. “I hope you like what I ordered. I wasn’t sure what you preferred, so I got a bit of everything.”

You smiled warmly, appreciating his thoughtfulness. “This looks great. Thank you.”

You began eating, the silence stretching between you both. Nanami felt frustrated at himself. You’ve worked for him for three years and he still couldn’t harness the ability of speaking to you casually. He wanted to make conversation, to make this moment more comfortable, but the words seemed to stick in his throat. He glanced at you, watching as you took a bite and then met his gaze.

“This is really good,” you said, breaking the silence. “I didn’t realise how hungry I was.”

He smiled, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’m glad you like it.”

You continued eating, the silence now less awkward and more companionable. Nanami stole glances at you, noting the way you enjoyed the food, the way your eyes sparkled even in the dim office light.

When the last bites were eaten and the containers cleared away, you leaned back in your chair, looking content. “Thank you for this. It was really nice.”

He smiled softly, his heart full. “Anytime. I’m glad we could do this.”

“About damn time,” you muttered.

Nanami blinked.

You sucked in a sharp breath, realizing what slipped your mouth. “Mr. Nanami— I— I only meant that—” You surrendered with a sigh, running your fingers through your hair. “Damn it.”

Licking his lips, Nanami shook his leg anxiously, wondering what exactly you’d meant. Were you wanting to have dinner with him for a while now? A platonic dinner? Or was it, and he could be entirely wrong, more? Were you perhaps . . . also rowing the same boat as him?

“I should’ve extended an invitation a while ago,” Nanami whispered.

Your eyes locked with his.

“Three years ago, to be exact,” he continued, awaiting your reaction. “In an intimate sense. Or professional, if that’s what you’d prefer. I’m happy either way. Unless this has made you uncomfortable—”

“Kento.”

He stopped to catch his breath. “Yes?”

You reached out and rested your hand on his knee, your eyes moving from his body to his face. “Next time, like you mentioned, can I treat you to dinner at my place?” The caress of your thumb set him aflame—a tiny gesture, yet powerful. “Unless it makes you uncomfor—”

Nanami cupped the back of your head and pulled you into a feverish kiss. He moaned at the first touch, savoring the sweet taste of you, the smoothness of your lips, and the sweep of your tongue against his. He didn’t dare break the kiss, tugging you out of your chair and onto his firm lap. His mouth was everywhere—your jaw, your neck, your collarbones—as he deftly unbuttoned your blouse. He was a madman, lost in the moment.

“I’ll do it,” you chuckled as he fumbled with the clasp of your bra. “I didn’t peg you for an inexperienced man.”

“I’ve been saving myself for—”

“The right woman?” you snorted.

“For you,” he stated firmly, cupping your cheek. “The last three years have been agonising. Whenever you’re near, I can’t focus. Whenever you laugh, I can’t breathe. Whenever some other bastard tries to flirt with you, my sanity chips away until all I want to do is take you away. Mark you as mine.” His possessiveness sent a shiver down your spine, making your back arch. “That’s exactly what I’ll do tonight. Is that okay with you?”

You bit your bottom lip and nodded. “More than.”

“You always know the right thing to say.” He smiled against your lips, slipping off your bra in the process. Through the kiss, you guided his hand to your breast. Just because he was inexperienced didn’t mean you were. Nanami should know by now that you had a little zest in you. “Like this, darling?”

You sighed as he pinched your nipples, his eyes marvelling at the sight of your breasts. “Yeah. You can put your mouth on them, too.”

His lips latched onto your left nipple swiftly. Your fingers buried themselves in the back of his hair as your hips ground against his erection while he nibbled and sucked on your breasts. He left them sore and bruised, kissing his way up to your collarbones, neck, and finally, your desperate lips.

Nanami picked you up with one arm, using the other to swipe whatever papers were on the table onto the floor.

“There are important contracts in there, Mr. Nanami,” you said as he laid you back onto the mahogany surface. “Don’t expect me to clean it up in the morning.”

“You’re the most important thing right now and always,” he replied, loosening his tie and tossing it over his shoulder. “And you will call me by my first name in private.”

You raised an eyebrow, relishing the sight of him slowly exposing his torso, button by button. “Yes, Kento.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, shrugging off his dress shirt and draping himself over you, his fingers gently closing around your neck as he kissed you deeply. “It must be exhausting walking in a tight skirt all day,” he whispered against your lips, finding the zipper of your pencil skirt and lowering it slowly. “If you want, I can change the dress code for my favourite assistant.”

“I’m your only assistant,” you said, letting him remove your skirt. “And I like my tight skirts, thank you very much.”

“I don’t like how the men stare at your back.”

“Sue me for having a perfect ass.”

He shrugged. “You have my lawyer’s contact number.”

A laugh bubbled out of you, which he immediately stole with another kiss. You locked your arms around his neck. “If wearing tight clothes gets me incentives like this, I’ll do it every day.”

He narrowed his brown eyes. “I can’t control your wardrobe choices.” His fingers trailed down your left breast, making your breath hitch as he grazed your sensitive nipples, then continued down to your stomach and under your panties. “But I have full control over your body tonight, yes?”

You pecked his lips. “Absolutely.”

Nanami wasn’t quite rubbing your clit—it felt rather ticklish. “You’re making a face. Am I doing something wrong, darling?”

“Not exactly.” You found his hand between your legs and lifted it higher, pressing his fingers directly onto your clit. It was embarrassing how wet you already were. “Rub here.”

He rubbed there, and you took in a shuddering breath, nodding to encourage him to keep fucking me with those skilled fingers, Nanami Kento—fingers you had admired far too often, especially when he performed pen tricks with them.

“How many . . . erm, how do I word this?” He looked conflicted as he murmured words to himself.

“What? I won’t judge.”

Nanami looked adorable when flushed. “How many fingers would you like . . . inside of you?”

You pressed your lips together, holding back laughter at his reddened face. This was the first time you'd be taking a man's virginity, and you wanted to make sure it was as good for him as it would be for you. “I can take three.”

“Wow,” he breathes out, clearing his throat.

“I’ve taken a fist before.”

His eyes widened in shock. “I’m sorry?”

You laughed, cupping his face. “I’m just joking. I only wanted to see your reaction.” He was still flabbergasted as you kissed him. “But it is possible. I wouldn’t suggest it right now.”

“Right now,” he repeats. Yes, right now. Eventually, you’d want his whole damn fist inside of you. “I’ll start with two.”

“Middle and ring finger. Never index. It’s a rookie mistake.”

“Of course.” Nanami relieved your clit and slid down your centre. “God, you’re soaking my hand, darling.” His words sent a ripple through you. Then his fingers slowly slid inside your tight heat, making him grunt.

“How is it?” you whispered, massaging the back of his head while the other rested on the side of his neck.

“Warm,” he said. “And . . . clamping?”

This was entertainment for you.

“Warm and clamping is one way to describe it. You can start moving your fingers in and out of me. Curl them, tap them, whatever you want.” Your tongue licked his upper lip, surprising him. “And if you want to blow my orgasm through the roof, circle your thumb on my clit. Don’t hold back.”

And he didn’t.

Nanami drove his fingers inside your pussy, unknowingly hitting your g-spot, and flinching when you cried out his name. The pad of his thumb rubbed your clit, or if he complained about a cramp, he’d used the mound of his palm, cupping your entire vagina.

“I’m close—” You let out strained breaths, gripping his hair or shoulders.

“Close to what?”

“You’re going to make me say it?”

Nanami appeared genuinely puzzled. “Close to your orgasm?” Oh, my god. He was genuinely puzzled. Why wouldn’t he be? You couldn't expect him to know about even the most obvious sex-related things. Part of you was excited to show him your vibrator and have him guess what it was.

“Yes, Kento. I’m close to my orgasm.”

He grinned with pride. Your heart melted, and you grabbed his face, kissing him as if your life hung in the balance. Amid his fervent moans, you came gushing down, drenching his hand with your release.

Pulling his hand out, he stared at your orgasm. “That’s quite a lot.”

“Oh, my god, stop.” You covered your face, suddenly embarrassed by how much you’d come.

“I’m sorry, darling. I meant it in a positive way. I’m very flattered. And thankful that you taught me how to please you this way.”

You caught him about to lick his fingers, causing you to shout in protest and pull his wrist back sharply. “No!”

“What? What is it?”

“You can't just— You're all about cleanliness and stuff. I don't want you breaking your own rules for that.”

Nanami smiled. “I’d break all my rules for you.” He went to go lick again, but you quickly pulled his hand towards your chest and wiped it on there. His face contorted to frustration. “What the fuck?”

Your brows shot up. This was the first time you’d heard him curse. It was so hot. You wanted him to say it again. “It’s dirty.”

“It’s a part of you.” He made a tch sound and retrieved his tie from the floor. “Give me your hands.” Taking your wrists, he bound them with the material behind your waist.

“Kinky,” you said.

Nanami stayed silent, his expression now one of disappointment, his brows furrowed deeply. The confusion that once marked his demeanor had given way to a completely different persona. “If you won’t allow me to taste you from your hands”—he pushed your ankles up on the desk and sank between your legs—“I’ll drink straight from the source.”

“Kento, wait—”

Too late.

You broke into a chorus of moans as his tongue licked and lapped at your pussy. His mouth engulfed your clit and sucked on it hard, the tip of his tongue now swirling the little bud. His fingers spread your folds, as he cleaned every last drop of your juices, even probing your little hole that they seeped from.

By the end of it, you were drenched in sweat, tears brimming in your eyes, your wrists throbbing from the restraints. Your body swayed side to side, legs trying to close him away, but he remained persistent in eating you out like a madman. “Ken . . . I can’t—”

“Have you learned your lesson?”

“Yes, goddamn it. Yes. I’m sorry.” You would let this man lick your whole body from now on. “Just kiss me already. Please.”

He kissed your clit and travelled up to your stomach, each nipple, and to your mouth as he undid the tie so you could cling to him. His mouth met your wet eyes. “I’m sorry, darling. I got carried away a bit.”

“No, don’t be. I loved it.” You planted a kiss on his cheek, making him smile bashfully, just like he had ten minutes earlier. “But I’d prefer someone else to touch me now.”

His gaze grew intense. “Who?”

You blinked. “Your friend.”

He scoffed, running his fingers through his hair. “My— My friend?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Have you spoken to him before?”

You eyed his prominent bulge. “I’d like to. Touch him, kiss him, have him inside of me.”

Nanami stared at you with disbelief. “No.”

“No?”

He gritted his jaw, fists at his side. You were completely frazzled by his response. Why was it that he got to explore your inside with his fingers and tongue and wouldn’t allow you to touch him?

“That’s not fair. I thought you wanted me,” you mumbled.

“And yet you want my friend,” he replied sharply. “Haibara will be disappointed to know that I don’t share.”

Huh?

“Haibara?!” you shrieked at the highest decibel, jolting him. “Hai— Oh, my god. Oh, my god. Kento, you id— That’s not what I meant when I was referring to your friend.” How is this man running a multi-million dollar corporation? “I was talking about your penis. Dick. Cock. Whatever you prefer.”

Nanami stood in stunned silence. His anger melted away, replaced by a sudden realization, his eyes darting upward. “Oh.”

You’d had enough. If he prolonged your orgasm any further, you were going to get a female version of blue-balls. “Come here, you doofus.” You pulled down by his collars and kissed him, undoing his belt, button, and zipper for him. “Can I touch your dick, Mr. Nanami?”

He nodded vigorously.

You rolled your eyes, smiling, and slid your hands into his boxers, grabbing him. “Oh, God. I knew it. You’re so big.”

“You knew it? Has it been on your mind?”

“Ever since my interview. No one asked you to manspread. It drove me crazy. Made me stumble on my words.” You stroked him slowly, dissolving him in a sea of grunts and groans. “Be honest, did I get this job because you were attracted to me, or because I’m genuinely good at what I do?”

Nanami pondered for a moment before responding, “Both?”

“Of course you chose the safest answer.”

“Well, you’ve managed my schedule flawlessly for three years. You handle all my emails, make the best coffee, and surprise me with treats. Yes, you’re undeniably beautiful, but it’s your heart that I’ve fallen in love with.”

Your hand froze. “Love?”

He nodded, a blush colouring his cheeks as he looked away. “Love.”

You cupped his face with both hands. “You love me?”

Another nod. “Since your interview.”

He had loved you for three years now. It seemed surreal. You liked him, certainly, but did you love him too? That was the question. Your mind had always assumed he would never see you romantically, so you held back from letting your feelings grow.

“You don’t have to say it back,” Nanami reassured you. “I’ve loved you enough for both of us for far too long. I can wait until you’re ready.” He kissed your forehead gently. “But please, don’t make me wait forever. I don’t want us to stay strictly professional. I want to take you out, make you my girlfriend as soon as possible. Eventually, make . . .” He paused, unsure where to place his hands, before settling on your shoulders. “Make you my wife.”

Oh, you were about to give him the best blow job ever.

“Okay,” you whispered, stepping down from the table and taking his hands. “Let’s go on a date tomorrow, the day after, and every day after that. I want to be your girlfriend by next week— I’ll add it to your personal calendar. And I want dinner and wine at your place afterwards. Speaking of your place, I want to move in with you by the end of next month, or we can live in my shitty apartment— I don’t mind. You have to make me your wife next year instead of making me wait three more years. And I want two kids somewhere down the line. Oh, and a cat.” You grinned widely at his stunned expression. “Can you give me all that, Kento?”

He breathed out heavily, nodding slowly. "Yes," he affirmed. His lips found yours. "Yes. I can. I will. I'll give you whatever you need." He kissed you without restraint, laughter filling his office like a contagious joy.

“Okay, okay.” You gently pushed him back by his shoulders and settled him into his seat. “Prepared to have your mind blown, Mr. Nanami.” Kneeling down, you kissed his thigh, tracing a path up to his hip bone.

His breaths came out laboured, short, as he watched your intentions with a hawk eye.

You took him out of his boxers and prepared your poor throat. It was long and girthy, your fingers barely curving around it. Your tongue ran over his tip, collecting the salty, pre-cum leaking from there.

Nanami hissed, gripping the armrests of his chair as he spread his legs wider. “Will this be painful?”

You looked up from under your lashes. “I'll do my best not to use my teeth by mistake.”

“I meant for you, darling.”

“One way to find out.” Your lips curved over the head of his cock, lowering yourself until his length was tickling the back of your throat. Nanami was in shambles already. You pulled back and licked him from his base to the summit. “You’re so warm, too. So hard.” Your hands sailed up his thighs, kissing his rigid length. “All for me.”

“For you, darling.” He brushed your hair back from your face.

Chuckling, you took him into your mouth again and sent a prayer you didn’t wake up with a sore throat. You could easily picture Nanami purchasing cough drops for you, brewing tea, and insisting you take a day off. The idea of him looking after you sent shivers down your spine.

Nanami gripped the sides of your head, his own tilted back as he breathed heavily through those flawless lips. Occasionally, he'd bravely look down and catch your gaze, then quickly avert his eyes to the ceiling. It was adorable how he struggled to maintain eye contact with you. You had assumed he avoided it because he wasn't interested in talking to you or listening to you yapping. It all makes sense now.

He's simply shy. And you're determined to coax him out of his shell, or even better, cozy up inside it where it's safe.

“The sounds you’re making,” he breathes out. The sounds you’re making, Kento. “It feels like you’re taking me deeper.”

Because you were. You expanded your jaw, even hearing a little joint tick, and pushed him past the limit of your throat. You’d given blow-jobs before, but the guys were either too small, or too aggressive, leaving your scalp numb without any aftercare.

Nanami was different. He left your hair and held your face, thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he struggled against his restraints. You could feel him twitch in your mouth, feel the veins pulse on your tongue, his sacs hot at your touch.

But you wanted Nanami to come inside you.

At the last minute, you drew him out of your mouth, the strings of your saliva and his pre-cum bridging from your lips and his tip. Nanami groaned at the sight, his dick twitch involuntarily, standing long and proud.

“I want you inside of me now,” you whispered, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand and sitting on his lap. He pulled your lips in for a kiss as you adjusted his tip at your entrance, sitting down on it in one go. A cry ripped from your aching throat; a loud growl from his. “Fuck, Kento. Your cock’s filling me up.”

“Such a dirty mouth,” he muttered, hand on your nape while the other guided your rolling hips. “Does it hurt?”

You chuckled, head shaking. Your forehead rested over his palms on the side of his neck as you bounced on his lap, your movements growing faster. He was stretching you out, the tip poking your womb, practically splitting you in half.

Nanami, on the other hand, was on cloud nine. You were warm and sticky, your walls cushioned and clamping around him, sucking him deeper by the second. He’d dreamt of this every night, jerking himself off to the thought of you, recalling the sound of your laugh, or your floral scent.

Right now, his name slipped off your tongue and you smelled like him. Sweaty, breathless, moaning. This is exactly how he wanted you. Needed you. You were his assistant. His woman. His lover. If any other man dared to touch you, or flirt with you, he’d fire them. He wished he could kill them instead.

You had awakened his territorial, possessive side, consuming him completely. If his parents refused to accept you as his equal, he would abandon everything and find happiness elsewhere with you. But first, he was determined to fight for you with all his might. Damn it, he loved you.

“I’m tired,” you whispered, wincing as you tried to mill your hips forward again. “Oh, no. I’m cramping up.”

Nanami hated that he didn’t know what to do. He wished he was experienced. He wished he didn’t have to rely on you even if it was a turn-on when you dominated him with your words and actions. “Stop and take a breather.”

You obeyed, resting your forehead on his shoulder.

He grabbed the globes of your ass and stood up, walking over to the couch and laying you down there. “Is this better?”

“Yes.” You stretched up your arms then wrapped it around his neck, giving him a long, loud smack of a kiss. “Proceed.”

Nanami chuckled, caressing your cheek. He thrusted inside of you, pulling himself to the tip, then back inside. It seemed to have you making those needy sounds, so must’ve been on the right track.

“You’re so handsome,” you whispered, locking eyes with his deep brown gaze as he intensified his movements, growing faster and more forceful. “Yes, yes, yes. Oh, god. Ken—” You were cut off by his kiss, by his hand clutching your breast, pinching your nipple.

“I love you,” Nanami murmured, kissing your throat and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You cupped the back of his hand, wailing moans as he pounded into you, flesh slapping against flesh. “I love you, darling. I love you so much.”

“Kento.” You were feeling achingly sore, your legs losing sensation. He was rutting into you like a madman, and no, you did not want him to slow down whatsoever. “Kento!”

He drew his face back. “Yes?”

“I love you, too,” you cried out as you climaxed, your back arching off the couch’s surface.

Nanami crashed seconds later.

You were both a breathless, sticking, sweaty mess. Nothing but the sounds of your rapid hearts and shallow breaths could be heard.

Nanami slid out of you after a minute of silence. He was glowing, golden hair damp with sweat and sticking in different directions from your hand that was running through it. He parted your legs and watched both your mingled release leaking out of you. “I did that.”

You burst out laughing. “Thank you for letting me take your virginity.”

He scowled at you, the kind where a smile creeped on his lips. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“No, lay with me for a sec.”

Nanami listened attentively and settled beside you on the couch, pulling you into his embrace. You showered kisses over his face, jaw, and the corners of his smiling mouth. “You said ‘I love you,’ by the way.”

“I did.” Another peck landed on his lips.

He swallowed, his eyes sparkling as they met yours. “Are you sure?”

“One-hundred-infinite percent.” You fixed his hair away from his forehead, running your index finger down the slope of his nose and to his lips. “Say it back.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Nanami sighed contentedly, his hand cradling the back of your head as he planted a kiss on your forehead. You giggled and nestled your cheek against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I know you said to wait until next week to make you my girlfriend, but is it alright if I make you mine now?”

“I am already yours.” You drew hearts on his torso, feeling shy all of a sudden. You’d never been in a proper relationship before. But neither had Nanami. Which meant you’d both navigate your relationship together as novices.

“Officially?” He continued. “Or I can wait—”

“Yes,” you said, craning your head up. “I’d love to officially be your girlfriend, Kento Nanami.” You savoured the relieved breath he took. How could you ever reject a soul like his? He was your favourite person. “But I’m still your assistant.”

“And now I’m yours.”

You laugh and rest your nose in the curve of his neck, closing your eyes. He hugged you close, lips lazily kissing the top of your head. “Get as much rest as you can, Boss Man. Round two is in five minutes.”

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tubbytarchia · 10 months ago

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Etho doodles in which I let my inner dinosaur nerd take over 😔 and also have no idea how to shade

Get it cause he's old and washed up haha... ok but actual raptor Etho hybrid justification below cut

To be honest the main reason was because I really wanted a hybrid in the mix who wasn't some furry creature and a reptile or amphibian or smth instead. Etho still ended up feathered but whatever it's close enough! But for ACTUAL reasoning:

He does feel damn ancient, like an old deity of the mcyt space that no one can dislike. Dinosaurs are the same!! They're old but still thought of with great fascination and fondness, everyone loves dinosaurs...

Dinosaurs are ever so mysterious, as many advancements as we make there's still so much we don't know. Just as we know jackshit about mister Kakashi skin man. Also, there are so many incomplete skeletons out there. I didn't have a particular species in mind for Etho, because where's the mystery in that? He can be one of those 5% skeleton 95% speculation dinosaurs like this guy!! Missing jaw and all

"I'm a runner, not a protector" - so, a raptor, or more specifically the Dromaeosauridae family, which literally has "running/runner" in its name

But! I'm always a fan of stuff going against its nature, especially in this case! Etho states he's not a runner yet protects his allies rather fiercely even in total silence. Eg refusing to kill Cleo in SL or to give away Tango's location during the LimL manhunt, same for Grian in SL. He was a bit flaky in 3L I think? And he only started to have genuine care for allies in LL with Bdubs? Though he is still very much a runner in many cases like during the LL Wither fight. Research also strongly suggests that most if not all raptors were solitary hunters, and the way I see Etho (through my shamefully limited watchtime of his POVs...) he feels a lot like someone who ultimately only trusts himself at the start even if he's pleasant and allying with others, and doesn't seem to think he can carry his weight in groups though he doesn't voice this a lot. That's just how Etho is, very composed, but it feels like there's an insecurity there, showcased especially in SL but again I haven't seen almost any of his POVs in full so maybe I'm talking out of my ass!! Sorry ethogirls I'm only a sidegig ethogirl myself... But yeah tldr to me he gives off the vibe of an otherwise solitary animal struggling to find 100% sure footing in a pack. In whichever ways he does go against his nature, its not usually made a show of

At the mention of a raptor, a lot of people will probably think of the glamourized Jurassic Park Velociraptors. But those awesome guys from the movies are actually the size of chickens. In general though, dinosaurs tend to be a bit.. exaggerated in media, despite how inherently fascinating they already are. And I think it fits Etho because we all know how the Lifers seem to fear and mancrush on him when he's just some dork with perfect capability to become pathetic at a moment's notice. Still, he's a clearly skilled player and still respected without question Etho's not some killer machine like some people make dinosaurs out to be. He's just a fellow creature fulfilling his role in the ecosystem 👍

dinosaurs are cool

The hook-like sickle claws on the feet... something something fishing rod

I swear I'm not turning all my Lifers into hybrids I'm not!! Still plenty normal humans in the mix I swear....... But Etho is such a radical dude, I really wanted to do something more for him. The whole Kitsune thing that I often see associated with him is really cool. I don't actually know the reasoning for it but I assume something something naruto, but also, him being this ancient mythical cryptid who people know so little about, you know? It makes SO much sense. So anyway I turned him into a dinosaur instead rawr

As a herbivore advocate I also considered stuff like the triceratops (known for how they protect themselves and their own) but nah the raptor symbolism...

#ethoslab fanart #ethoslab #listen I have an ankylosaurus as my sona of course Im a dinosaur nerd #trafficblr #I feel so weird having so few tags um.#hey ethogirls how are you doing whats your guys' favorite dinosaurs #tubby art

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dalekofchaos · 9 months ago

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AU Asami is Amon by nikoniko_808

Give me the forbidden enemies to lovers Korrasami

Okay I wrote up my own au of Asami as Amon

Hiroshi and Asami witnessed the death of Asami’s mother at the hands of the Red Lotus society. Asami swore revenge on all benders. The corruption of Benders has gone too far and Asami and her father cannot let it continue. So they create a movement. The Equalists. Near the end of season 1. Asami would be nowhere to be seen. The Krew believes the Equalists have kidnapped Asami and when Korra confronts Amon, they don’t see her.

Tarrlok is still captured by Amon, when Korra sees him and they chat, he tells the whole story of Amon as it happened in the show to her and everything. Like it goes in the show. Korra and friends go to confront Amon at the arena where Tenzin and his family are about to lose their bending. But they don’t because she gets there in time. She accuses Amon of being a bender, as per Tarrlok’s story. Amon doesn’t unmask. And he isn’t a bender. Tarrlok lied to get Korra to confront Amon so that he could capture her and he could hopefully save his own skin for the service at least. They fight. Amon takes Korra’s bending in a big demonstrative way. So all the crowd can see what comes to any benders, especially The Avatar who stand against him. Then the reveal happens. Asami is Amon.

In order to get her bending back and learn how to give others their bending back (yeah, Korra wouldn’t get it back at the end of Book 1 because consequences? What’re those?), Korra has to go on a quest to learn her bending(her masters would be Toph, Katara, Izumi and Tenzin) in the Spirit World to understand everything. Korra does not cry about loosing her bending because she realized she’s still The Avatar and has to go to The Spirit World to get her bending back, to help everyone get their bending back and stop Asami

Throughout the series, we would meet Kya, Bumi, Izumi, Eska, Desna(Eska and Desna would be Korra’s siblings in this universe, because fuck Unaloq) Opal and Kai. We have the same romance between Bolin and Opal and Jinora and Kai. We would also meet Varrick and Zhu Li, because they are comedy gold. They would all help in the fight against Amon and the Equalists.

In Korra’s venture to the Spirit World,

she would still see Wan’s story(because that’s the only thing I liked about Book 2) and I think in her journey in the spirit world she would see Asami’s story, in which her family were victims of the Red Lotus society and Asami learned to take bending away in the spirit world. Not only that, we would find out that Asami would be bonded with Vaatu. Asami is the darker Avatar.

Before she leaves The Spirit World she connects with all her past lives to ask what she should do about Asami. Korra has her Aang moment where she has too has to decide what to do like he did with the fire lord, only this time there’s more to it than just stopping the bad guy. It’s about the person she loved. She can restore everyone’s bending by reversing Amon’s convergence, but she can’t do that so long as the avatar spirit is split. And as long as Asami is part avatar, she can go into the avatar state. That’s still pretty damn dangerous even with only water and blood bending. Korra realizes the only thing she can do to stop Asami? Love her.

After her journey to relearn her bending and journey in the spirit world, Korra travels the world to gain allies. From the Fire Nation, Earth Kingdom, Water Tribes and Air Nomads. Korra unites the world against Amon and the Equalists.

In the final fight, Korra defeats Amon. She exorcises Vaatu from Asami, thus ending the dark Avatar and stopping Amon’s convergence. She reverses what Asami has done and uses it to restore everyone’s bending. So she has to come to the hard part. Amon makes it clear, no matter what, even without the ability to energy bend or without Vaatu, Amon will never stop, Benders will never be safe. Korra shows Asami what she was denied. Korra loves her and forgives her. Asami gives up and accepts whatever punishment.

During Book 3, Asami would work with Korra in stopping and killing the Red Lotus society. However, when Zaheer is stopped. He is left at the mercy of Asami and for everything he’s done and turned her into. Asami kills him.

Book 4 happens. Asami’s redemption is rebuilding Republic City and using Future Industries to repair the damage she’s done as Amon. Blah blah blah Korra stops Kuvira blah blah. Asami earns her redemption and the love of Republic City, the krew and more importantly Korra. Ends with Korra and Asami venturing in the Spirit World and ends with a kiss.

#Legend Of Korra #Korra #Asami Sato #Korrasami #Amon #Equalist!Asami #Equalist Asami

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maliro-t · 9 days ago

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The highlight of Veilguard for me is the relationship between Solas and Rook- and I don't know how to write about this on the internet without being acutely aware of other peoples' criticisms (such as there not being enough of it)- so I'll just say up top that I'm not actually intending this as a refutation of any of those. I just want to talk about my experience with the game and why I like it so much, which will probably make obvious where I disagree with some reoccurring critiques I've seen. *

The thing about Solas in this game is that he plays the role of the trickster perfectly. As much as Fen'Harel is a myth or a persona, and the stories we know of him invented or twisted, his role in Veilguard feels like it could slot in so, so easily with the myths, and in many ways directly parallels them. He is sinister and noble, monstrous and sympathetic, ruthless and compassionate, all at once. He spends the game trapped and humbled but can be almost gleefully condescending at times. He conflates outsmarting an enemy with being right, even as he plays the long-suffering martyr, tortured by countless mistakes. He falls easily into the role of advisor but is quick to note your foolishness. To sneer and declare the problem yours and yet still impose upon you an appraisal of your conduct.

But more than any of that, for most of the game, he's...passive. Dormant. He seems to make no moves, other than as a glorified consultant, despite starting as the main threat.

In Blood of Arlathan, when he finally rears his head again as major a player on the board, it's with a gallant offer of help. As an ally. He is exactly what you need, right when you need it, and you don't even have to ask him to be. And- because you don't have constant access to him, you maybe haven't even considered him an option!

He feels extremely intentionally sparing to me before this in service of a) making you think you're the one with power over him and b) causing you to forget he might contribute at all, so that when he finally does, it seems wholly benevolent. It comes in a moment where your goals are exactly aligned, and indisputably noble.

It's a waiting game. A classic of his, harkening back to stories we've heard time and again about Fen'harel and traps.

As Felassan tells it in the Masked Empire:

Fen'Harel was captured by the hunting goddess, Andruil. He had angered her by hunting the halla without her blessing, and she tied him to a tree and declared that he would have to serve in her bed for a year and a day to pay her back. But as she made camp that night, the dark god Anaris found them, and Anaris swore that he would kill Fen'Harel for crimes against the Forgotten Ones. Andruil and Anaris decided that they would duel for the right to claim Fen'Harel. He called out to Anaris during the fight and told him of a flaw in Andruil's armor just above the hip, and Anaris stabbed Andruil in the side, and she fell. Then Fen'Harel told Anaris that he owed the Dread Wolf for the victory and ought to get his freedom. Anaris was so affronted by Fen'Harel's audacity that he turned and shouted insults at the prisoner, and so he did not see Andruil, injured but alive, rise behind him and attack with her great bow. Anaris fell with a golden arrow in his back, badly injured, and while both gods slumbered to heal their wounds, Fen'Harel chewed through his ropes and escaped.

He goads his enemies into fighting each other for his benefit. Anaris, who had hunted him, succeeds with Fen'Harel's advice, exploiting a weakness he could only see with his aid. In turn, Anaris himself is left exposed. The victory goes to Fen'Harel, who has now dispatched two enemies at once and cleverly won his freedom.

He who was both Creator and Forgotten One. Who could walk amongst both as kin, and who in the end turned his back on them all.

Another tale:

The god Fen'Harel was asked by a village to kill a great beast. He came to the beast at dawn, and saw its strength, and knew it would slay him if he fought it. So instead, he shot an arrow up into the sky. The villagers asked Fen'Harel how he would save them, and he said to them, 'When did I say that I would save you?' And he left, and the great beast came into the village that night and killed the warriors, and the women, and the elders. It came to the children and opened its great maw, but then the arrow that Fen'Harel had loosed fell from the sky into the great beast's mouth, and killed it. The children of the village wept for their parents and elders, but still they made an offering to Fen'Harel of thanks, for he had done what the villagers had asked. He had killed the beast, with his cunning, and a slow arrow that the beast never noticed.

Felassan is everywhere in the Crossroads, in memories, in regrets, in notes that speak to a time you can barely fathom and traces of a friendship that is never once brought up by Solas directly (to my knowledge at least). I think Felassan serves a lot of purposes; he's a window into history, into Solas' mind and ideals, someone who challenges moments of ruthlessness but is loyal, an advisor who keeps Solas grounded even as he pushes him to become something larger than he is, a lingering notion of a loss that you can never really see the full scale of, and so on. And I think, too, that he's written carefully to be a meaningful presence from the rebellion without explicitly spoiling what eventually happens to him, which I wouldn't be surprised if was a legit consideration made for people who might go back and read the Masked Empire after dav lol- in the same way that Trespasser only really spoils the book if you already know what happens.

But for me, every note signed with his name is almost a tongue-in-cheek warning about what's to come. Felassan. A slow arrow, fired apparently mockingly into the sky, only to strike true when it's least expected. A solution executed with neither kindness nor explanation, serving first and foremost the interests of the one who fired it. Felassan's presence in the game ever so slightly encodes a reminder of who you're actually dealing with and what his core tenants are, whether as an ally or an adversary. You only know if you know, but it doesn't seem an accident to me that this reoccurring name of a general who shaped himself in honor of the Dread Wolf's unorthodox cleverness is so key to these traces of Fen'Harel's past, despite, again, never directly being discussed.

Anyways, to Rook. First, I gotta give a shoutout to Bryony Corrigan, whose voice I used for mine- she honestly made the game for me, especially in moments where I felt unsure of it. I love Rook, I love how they're written, and I love how they're performed. While a complete blank slate protagonist can be really fun, I find putting myself as a player in conversation with limitations given by the game really fun and interesting, and often surprising! And I do feel there's still plenty of flexibility.

My perspective on the relationship between Rook and Solas in Veilguard is specific to how I played of course, and I haven't seen other versions of their dynamic at this point to compare so I can't speak to them. But my experience was as such:

I didn't come into the game wanting to intentionally antagonize him. If he rose at me, I rose at him- and those moments of tension were really, really fun. But I tried to accept what he gave me with a fairly open mind. Skepticism, sure, but also the knowledge that ultimately, we both wanted Elgar'nan and Ghilan'nain gone, and he knew them better than I did.

It was really gratifying, then, to see our rocky partnership evolve over time into what seemed like a genuine respect. But it didn't really feel straightforward to me either. For example, the conversation before Weisshaupt held a lot of weight for me: listening to him tell that chilling tale about undermining an enemy with persistent laughter and finding that 'Do whatever it takes to remove those who oppose you' was something we came out aligned on was.... There was an element of foreboding to that. Like, I had found myself actively trying to impress him here! And feeling good when it seemed like I had, but uneasy about how I had done it, even when I agreed with what I'd said.

And of course, after that comes Arlathan. Solas' big hero moment. This is the point in the game where our alliance finally felt comfortable to me. The conversation in the fade after was the first time that it really seemed like we were on even ground. And the game- not just Solas- told me here outright that I had earned his respect! After that, I didn't consider betrayal a possibility for a moment. Honestly, I barely even considered him an antagonist at all, because he had become a partner instead! I was expecting something clever down the line, but I wasn't worried about it hurting me. Our disagreements had been set aside, and the goal of his that I had initially opposed had been so thoroughly usurped I had forgotten that he was even pursuing it. And yes, that's perhaps naivety on my part, but I was so distracted by that not at all being the main plot that I forgot that it actually still was. Which is the whole point, right? He waits until your head is turned the other way to strike.

All this to say, my reaction when you kill Ghilan'nain and Solas uses the instability of the Veil to force you into his prison went beyond shock and confusion. It wasn't until well into his villain monologue that I was able to accept that he had betrayed me at all- having been thus far trying desperately to convince myself that the sequence I was seeing was Elgar'nan playing mind games in retaliation, and not actually Solas.

That prison moment is his Slow Arrow. You are Anaris to Elgar'nan's Andruil, the dagger the chink in her armor, and Ghilan'nain's death the golden arrow striking you in the back.

The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap.

And I should say, I was coming at this all from the meta perspective of someone who loves Solas and empathizes with him and has never seen him as irredeemable or evil- and I, the player, who believed that all game and is ultimately satisfied with the resolution I got- felt hoodwinked as fuck in this moment lmao!!

There's a line in the prison that Varric has about it being easier for Solas to play the villain when he knows he's causing harm- so I do think he plays up his sinisterness here on purpose. But it's such a slap in the face coming straight off of "You have earned the respect of the Dread Wolf." A true and profound betrayal, at least for me.

And it doesn't stop there! His trickster maneuvers and half-truths aren't done until the credits roll. I love that when you meet again, he is nothing but apologies. He makes every concession- that Varric was a good man, that every victory in this fight has been yours, that he needs you and not the other way around, that he was wrong and made mistakes and betrayed people who never deserved it. And of course, we know from experience at this point that this won't stop him from doing it again anyways. But he never holds back from placing the blame on himself. Agreeing with you. Telling you you're right, and that Elgar'nan must be stopped. He only ever says things that are true. Things that are aligned with your point of view.

"[The veil] will never come down by my hand." Well, yes. Because it will fall on its own when Elgar'nan is dead. You won't hardly have to do anything at that point, Solas, will you?

It doesn't matter if Rook isn't falling for it, because if they don't accept his partnership, they lose! That's it! It's the same as it was at the start, but with the added sting of knowing it probably won't work out in your favor this time.

I remember before launch John Epler saying that Solas sees himself in Rook, which really echoes throughout the whole game for me. There are some ways you could say Solas seems opposite to Rook- and of course this can wax and wane depending on roleplaying choices, but the central conceit of Rook as Varric's recruit is that they are a specialist in being willing to act. And on the surface at least, that's kind of counter to Solas' Slow Arrow, right? Blunt force versus delayed gratification. But not entirely! Because every backstory we have for Rook revolves around a kind of heroism that is unorthodox enough to have left you ultimately punished for it. Like yeah, yeah, you saved some lives.... The optics were kinda bad though, so maybe you could go on a sabbatical for a while?

Rook is, from the start, an unconventional and unsung hero, admonished by some for ruffling feathers that they shouldn't have in pursuit of a noble goal. Not unlike Fen'Harel.

I find, too, that there's kind of a nesting doll of parallels around Rook and Solas as foils that the whole story hinges on:

We see Solas, his regrets plastered on every wall, each of them tied to Mythal. At every turn he seems to warn her that this is not the right path, but he follows her down it anyways, until he is left with nothing but an overwhelming need to fix what they have broken.

We see Felassan, who still wears Mythal's vallaslin on his face, challenging Solas' judgement and methods, but still standing by him through the rebellion, after the Veil, for however many thousands of years they slept. Ultimately, in the Masked Empire, the thing that makes him falter is his admiration for someone else's pursuit of freedom. His admiration for Briala.

"I suspect you'll hate this, but she reminds me of-"

Solas is Rook. Solas is Briala. Upstarts, flawed defenders, people who are made into leaders because of their willingness to fight for something. Who see injustice and cannot rest.

Solas is Felassan, the devoted general. One who pushes against his orders but cannot deny them. Someone who loves the cause, but more than that is dedicated to the person who champions it. A voice of reason who, in the end, turns away.

Solas is Mythal, a pragmatic leader, responsible for uncountable deaths. Someone who has relied on partners and power structures that have led her down a dark path, partners whose mistakes in their pursuit of power have become her own. Partners who in the end betray her.

Solas is trapped in his regrets because they are not all his. He struggles with having been failed and with how he has failed others, and in his mind the two become conflated. He carries these contradictory roles on his back- perpetrator and victim, betrayer and betrayed- and cannot see how to overcome them. He is ultimately freed by Mythal's absolution because the foremost factor in his crusade is not belief but guilt.

The ends have to justify the means, because there is no other way he can live with himself. And at every step, he is trying to redeem Mythal as much as he is trying to redeem himself.

He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He wanted to give wisdom, not orders. I will always follow where you go.

He left a scar when he burned her off his face.

It was all for her. It was always for her.

Solas' duplicity is unending, but so is his devotion. And there is such an earnestness to a Rook, always betrayed, that sees and empathizes with that and uses it to free him.

* I will say that during the game I was definitely wishing you could show your hand to him a little more and press him about his memories prior to the endgame (and separate from this I have quibbles with the impact of some of those memory reveals- like wrt the delivery just not feeling as weighty as I would like. The payoff is absolutely still there in the end, it just felt to me like they were too nonchalantly getting a ton of info out that had to be established moving forward, despite these being like earthshattering reveals that people have Correctly (!!!!) theorized about for up to 15 years). That being said, in retrospect it would have lessened the impact of the finale to have pressed Solas about, for example, his relationship to Mythal prior to absolutely pulling the rug out from under him with it at the 11th hour. And additionally, it's a structural nightmare because you can uncover the memories at almost any point in the story, and you don't have constant access to Solas to chat with him about them. Which you shouldn't imo, in service to the story being told!! But it's also true that early on I found scenes with Solas super gripping, and scenes with my team often...not. And that was initially disheartening, but developed positively over time on all fronts once the game didn't have to worry about setting things up. So, I did wish for more here at first, but I've revised my opinion now that I can see the whole arc.

#ok one fucking gigantic solas post to dump some thoughts and feelings and analysis out #veilguard spoilers #it speaks #vir dirthera #long post

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osarina · 4 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 IF I WAS BORN A BLACKTHORN TREE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: it's finally the night of the event you've been preparing so ardently for. it's going as well as it can be considering the circumstances—or it is until dazai osamu shows up and throws you off your game. suddenly confused and concerned, you can't help but wonder if maybe things aren't what they seemed with the civilian you've grown so attached to.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: PART THREEEEEEEEE!!! hehehe we finally have some major plot development here <.< i was rlly excited for this chapter it was one of the ones i was looking forward to most when plotting the series. anyway, tae some more of reader being THE it girl ever - actually i was rlly excited for this because i havent really had the chance to showcase pmreader in her element the canon universe so i had fun with it here

GENERAL WARNINGS: fem!reader, port mafia executive!reader, civilian!dazai, dazai's struggles w suicide & sh, reader partakes in mafia business, dazai isn't dazai without a bit of obsessiveness and possessiveness (the possessiveness doesn't come til later but the obsessiveness starts from day 0).

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: lots of politics, dazai has the beginning of a panic attack, jealousy on both ends

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Chuuya asks, leaning over the center console to look at you, watching as you dab on lipstick in the mirror.

In the driver’s seat, Albatross snorts, and he sees how you hardly refrain from rolling your eyes—Chuuya has half a mind to use his ability to rattle the car while you’re finishing up your makeup just to piss you off, but he has a feeling that you’ll lose your shit if he does that. You’re about to head into the event being hosted by the government for that agency in Tokyo, and Chuuya is just not feeling good about it. He’s felt this way since you were finishing up preparations at the headquarters an hour ago, forcing his way into the car with you and Albatross before you left.

“Chuuya, your face has been plastered all over Japan’s most wanted for three years. How do you propose you walk in with me without confirming that the Mori Corp. is a front for the Port Mafia?” you sigh heavily.

Chuuya bristles. “I just don’t have the best feeling,” he says defensively. “Forgive me for being worried. Damn.”

Chuuya settles back against the middle seat in the back row, letting out a sharp puff of air and pointedly turning his head away. He stares ahead, mind racing—it’s barely been a week since the operation against the Ingawa-kai. His body is still sore, and he should probably still be on bed rest, but he wasn’t going to laze around his apartment while you’re out here still healing from having your stomach sliced open.

By him.

Well, you won’t say what caused the almost lethal injury, but Chuuya knows it was from when he was in his Corrupted state. Whether it was by accident or because Arahabaki targeted you when you approached him, it doesn’t matter—the guilt he feels remains the same.

“It’s just a government event, Chuuya,” you say, looking back at him. “I’ve been to hundreds of them, relax.”

Yeah, but never so soon after a major operation against a Yakuza syndicate. Tokyo is Shimazaki-kai territory—they’ve always worked closely with the Inagawa-kai, and he doubts they’ll take kindly to Port Mafia presence in their heartland after they just annihilated one of the branches of their biggest ally.

“Just be careful,” Chuuya says quietly when he sees you’re about to step out of the car. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“I’m not Albatross,” you say dryly.

“The fuck did I do?” Albatross demands once the abrupt and uncalled-for insult registers, head snapping to the side to look at you.

You only give him a sharp smile and wag your fingers in a mocking wave before stepping out of the car and making your way to the steps of the city hall. Chuuya only feels slightly relieved at the sight of Kiyomasa Daichi of the Sun and Steel immediately making his way over to you to escort you into the building.

As soon as you’re out of sight, Chuuya is gnawing at his bottom lip, grateful that his gloves are preventing his nails from drawing blood from his palms. You’re right—you’ve done this hundreds of times before, attending these types of events since you were fifteen with Lippmann chaperoning, taking over them alone when you were sixteen just because of how impressed Lippmann was with how easily you were able to navigate the intricacies of political webs and veiled conversation.

So, why is that nagging feeling still-

“Yo, what the fuck?” Albatross suddenly says, straightening up in his seat, eyes pinned on a figure making their way into the city hall.

Alarmed, Chuuya follows his gaze quickly, eyes widening when he registers what Albatross is seeing. “Isn’t that…?”

Dazai Osamu.

That civilian you’d been seeing for a few weeks. You cut him off a few days ago, Chuuya doubted it at first when you said you’d done it, but then he’d seen how much withdrawn you’d become the past few days. How you bought yourself a new phone with a new number. Chuuya feels guilty over that, too. He can see the way it’s tolled on you—you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet during meetings, constantly glancing down at your phone as if expecting messages from him—but Chuuya would also prefer this than to make you go through the same devastation he felt years ago that still weighs to this day.

“Yeah,” Albatross says, jaw tight. “The fuck is he doing here? It’s going to throw her off—there’s no way she knew this. What do we do?”

“We can’t do anything,” Chuuya says, pulling out his phone to warn you that your civilian is evidently attending this event even though he knows damn well you don’t check your phone while on missions like this. “Fuck. The Shimazaki-kai are attending this event. The Boss is still trying to settle things with them after our conflict with the Inagawa-kai—it’s not going well.”

“Yeah,” Albatross scoffs. “Apparently, the oyabun’s daughter was married to one of the Inagawa-kai’s shatei. We’re probably gonna end up at war with them too—heard that they took in most of the Inagawa-kai’s refugees from our operation.”

Shit.

That Chuuya didn’t know. Family is everything to the Yakuza syndicates—if the head of the Shimazaki-kai married off his daughter to one of the sons of the head of the Inagawa-kai… they’re a lot more tightly aligned than Chuuya initially thought. Attack on one is attack on all, or however that saying goes. Even if they don’t know that you’re the one that ordered the operation, they know you’re an executive of the Port Mafia, and that would be enough…

“They’ll be watching her like a fucking hawk,” Chuuya says, his throat swollen. “If they’re smart…”

If they’re smart, they’ll take you out now.

“I should go in,” Chuuya says, fingers curling around the handle of the door.

“Don’t,” Albatross tells him, giving Chuuya a short look. “If you blow her cover in there, it’ll fuck the Mafia over completely. We can’t lose our foothold in the Diet. Not with this bill about to pass through.”

Chuuya takes in a short, shaky breath, pulling off his hat and running his fingers through his hair. “If they see her with him-”

God, he can’t even finish the sentence, looking down to see his hands covered in familiar blood, a cold body in his arms. He-

“Chuuya,” Albatross says, twisting around to face him, reaching back to grab Chuuya’s hair and force him to look up and away from his bloodied hands. “She’s smart, she’ll be fine. She won’t seek him out.”

“And what if he goes up to her?” Chuuya hisses.

Albatross looks away grimly. “… Let’s just hope he doesn’t.”

Dazai feels distinctly out of place as he makes small talk with two House Representatives. He plays his part well, that’s for sure—he can feel Hinami hanging off his arm, watching him with wide eyes, stammering over words whenever she’s addressed by either of the politicians—but he feels like he looks like a fraud. Like everyone can tell that he’s just talking out of his ass and hoping for the best. Like everyone knows that he doesn’t belong.

He knows that he’s only in his own head about it. The two Representatives he’s talking to treat him like he’s one of their own and not a college student who doesn’t know jack shit about what he’s talking about. He supposes he has you to thank for that—knowing what to look for, it’s easy to pick out who belongs and who doesn’t, and because of that, it’s easy for him to figure out how to belong. Ayato sticks out like a sore thumb from where he’s trying a little too hard to talk to one of the Councillors, Dazai thinks Hinami would be too if she wasn’t attached to him.

He misses you. It’s only been a few days, but he misses you badly. His lips tingle from where you’d kissed him that night, and he can still feel the weight of your body on his. He misses you, and this event just makes him think even more of you. All of these people, this whole event, it all reminds him of you and Dazai can’t help but wonder if he’d feel more comfortable here with you at his side.

“I have to ask, Dazai-san,” one of the representatives—Hayashi, if Dazai remembers correctly—suddenly asks, drawing him from his thoughts. “Where did you get your suit? The tailor that works at the warehouse I usually get mine ended up quitting recently, and I’m looking for a new one.”

“Kido’s boutique in Nishi-ku,” Dazai tells him, a bit surprised when he watches the man’s eyes widen a bit in astonishment. “You know about it?”

“Who doesn’t? How did you manage to get a fitting with him?” the other man—Sato?—sighs, envy edging into his tone. “Kido-san is so selective with his clients. He turned me away when I went in for a fitting.”

Oh, Dazai thinks, surprised. He figured that Kido’s boutique was high-class, but the fact that even people like Hayashi and Sato, who were very clearly well off with notably important positions in society as two of the more vocal members of the House of Representatives, couldn’t even get a fitting with the man leaves Dazai a bit put off.

“My brother-in-law got a fitting with him a few months ago for his son’s wedding,” Hayashi says, looking more at Sato now as he speaks. “He’s on the board of the Age of Blue Company and even he had to pull strings to get the appointment. Cost him nearly a million yen.”

Dazai has to physically force himself not to blanch at his words. Nearly a million yen—that’s more than what Dazai made in two months back when he was working full time and for a suit that he’s probably going to wear once.

Ridiculous.

Dazai hates rich people.

He can feel Hinami’s eyes on him, the way her arm tightens around his. Dazai wishes it was you on his arm instead. Or maybe him on yours, he’s not picky. He doesn’t even know why she’s attached herself like this to him—they’d make more progress splitting up. They’re seriously limiting their scope by only having two opportunities to talk to people but Hinami has been intent on staying at Dazai’s side no matter how much he urges her to go off and talk to people on her own.

Observe. Small talk. Gather information.

Not hard, not really. Dazai is good at putting on masks and blending in with people, and you certainly made it easier by making him look the part, but it doesn’t change the discomfort he feels, the lingering fear that people can see right through him. He likes to play the role of the clown because it distracts people from looking too deep, but that’s not an option in a setting like this, and he thinks people are still seeing him as a clown but for all of the wrong reasons: he’s dressed up in clothes that feel more like a costume than an outfit, he’s talking about subjects that go over his head even after he’s studied them in preparation for this, his face is stretched into a smile that feels foreign on his face.

He hasn’t made much progress with gathering any useful information. Either he’s prodding at the wrong people, or they’re being extra careful not to let anything slip—could be both. Professor Ui gave them an overview of the important figures that are going to be in attendance and the ultimate goal would be to eventually talk with the majority leader in the House of Representatives and the minority leader in the House of Councillors. They were warned to keep a wide berth from Kiyomasa Daichi, an executive of the Age of Blue Company’s board—evidently the Ivory Eagle’s biggest target for this event. So Dazai supposes he’s among the right people right now, at least, because Hayashi just mentioned that his brother-in-law is on the board of the company.

The right people. Unless they find out what Dazai is here for and then-

“Tendo-kun,” an unfamiliar female voice calls from behind the two men he’s making conversation with. “I was hoping you’d be here.”

Hayashi immediately cuts off his conversation with Sato, whirling around with a wide smile to face a pretty young woman with dark hair and darker eyes, red lips curled into a too-sweet smile as she comes to stand between the two of them, giving both Dazai and Hinami a curious look.

“Noriko-san, I didn’t think you’d be here tonight. I thought your father was only sending Kiyomasa to rep the company,” Hayashi says easily, hooking his arm into the woman’s and looking down at her, enamored.

Kiyomasa. Dazai has to force himself not to react to the name. Hinami is not quite as subtle, drawing in a sharp breath that makes Dazai nearly wince because the woman, Noriko, clearly catches it from how she tilts her head to the side, looking over the two of them.

Your father was only sending Kiyomasa…

Her father must be Mishima Yukio, the CEO of the Age of Blue, and that means-

Mafia.

Exactly what they were meant to avoid right in front of them and Hinami is not being slick. Dazai can feel her fingers trembling from where she’s holding his arm.

“You know I only come to these events for one person,” Noriko laughs airly, leaning into Hayashi as she looks up at him before turning her attention back to Dazai and Hinami. “Who are your friends? Unfamiliar faces…”

Luckily, Hayashi is more focused on the first thing Noriko said. “No way,” he says, eyes bright and voice low and conspiratory. “She’s here. I thought for sure she wouldn’t show at this after everything that happened between this agency and the Mori Corporation a few months ago.”

“I think that’s exactly why she did come,” Noriko hums with an easy smile, lashes fluttering as she looks back at Dazai. “Mishima Noriko. And you are?”

Dazai doesn’t even get the chance to respond—which is for the best—because in an instant, there’s a commotion on the other side of the room, drawing the attention of all of the attendees of the gala. Noriko, Hayashi, and Sato all turn around, and Dazai takes a slight step forward to peer around them, trying to see what’s going on.

It doesn’t take long for Dazai to pinpoint it, mouth drying and heart stilling in his chest as his eyes land on you at the center of all of the attention.

You walk away from your previous company feeling grim, sure this is what you came here for—to meet with the more influential individuals attending the event tonight and help ease them into an opinion more aligned with the Port Mafia’s interests—but your heart’s just not in it. It’s easy to keep the smile on your face as you make casual conversation with House Representative Yamamoto, one of the key swing votes you have to bring to your side, but it’s much harder to make the smile reach your eyes.

Kiyomasa claimed that most of the swing votes are already falling in your favor, so long as Yamamoto’s and a few other controlling ones can be secured, you’ll be on a quick path to ensuring that the military bill is quashed in the Lower House.

But you find yourself distracted. Your thoughts drift mid-conversation to a familiar pair of warm brown eyes and a soft smile, your heart yearns for something you know you can’t have, and it makes you feel sick. Luckily in situations like these, your body works on autopilot—you smile when you’re meant to smile, you laugh when you have to laugh, you make witty comments and sly remarks to push the swing votes your way—but you just want to go back to your apartment.

“I must say, I didn’t expect you to be here tonight,” Representative Yamamoto hums, waving down a server to grab the two of you flutes of champagne. He looks amused as he turns his attention back down to you, dark eyes glittering. He’s handsome, you think, with dark hair and darker eyes, only a few years older than you—maybe if you can’t convince him with your words, you’ll convince him in bed. “Not after everything that happened between the Mori Corporation and this… what is this agency called again?”

You laugh—genuinely this time, not one of those airy automatic ones. You take a sip of your champagne and look at Yamamoto. “Ah, Yamamoto-san, how terrible of you, not even knowing the name of the agency we’re all here to celebrate,” you tease lightly.

“Shame, shame, I know,” Yamamoto sighs, leaning against the pillar where the two of you are standing.

“The OCDA,” you tell him, looking up at him through your lashes as you study his face.

Organized Crime Defense Agency, Mishima is truly taking far too long to eliminate them. The Sun and Steel were supposed to put them in the ground months ago after they drew attention to the Mori Corporation, trying to accuse the business of being a front for the Port Mafia. You had to lay low on business for months because of it, knowing that one wrong move could lead to a huge exposé from one of the big journalism groups in Yokohama, and if that happens, the government will have no choice but to intervene. The OCDA didn’t have proof to back their allegations, but if one of those journalism groups managed to get their hands on some…

The Port Mafia isn’t exactly in the position to be dealing with wars against major Yakuza syndicates, the Guild, and the government all at once. It could spell the end for it.

“Ah, yes, that’s it,” Yamamoto says absently. “The Commissioner has been staring at you since you walked in.”

Of course. Five months ago, you dedicated every waking moment to ruining the reputation of the OCDA—you had to do it. If people started believing their accusations, even if there was no evidence, it could cause trouble for the Port Mafia. You’d tarnished their public perception so completely that it literally took until this operation against the Scarlet Gang and the government going above and beyond to commemorate their success for the public to start viewing them in a better light.

“I’m not surprised,” you tell him. “He still clearly holds a grudge over what happened a few months ago.”

“Unjustly, too,” Yamamoto notes. “They were the ones that chose to target the Mori Corporation with no grounds. I don’t know what they were thinking and to act like the victim after being the one to start it… Deplorable.”

Interesting, you think.

You look at Yamamoto under a new light, tilting your head to the side.

Is he just saying that because he knows it’s something you want to hear?

Or is that how he really feels?

The whole incident between the OCDA and the Mori Corporation has been a hot topic amongst the members of the National Diet. You’d feared that the allegations were going to severely harm your position amongst the Representatives and Councillors. To some extent, it had; a lot of the people who wanted the Mori Corporation to lose sway over the members of the Diet used it as a way to try to turn people against you—but you’d been able to salvage it. Still, even to this day, it’s a contentious topic that most politicians don’t willingly bring up.

Just as you’re about to open your lips to respond, pry a little bit more into his mindset before you say something riskier. You catch sight of an achingly familiar face from the corner of your eye.

What-

All conscious thought leaves your mind as you turn your head to the side, trying to figure out if you’re seeing what you think you’re seeing.

Dazai?

Your gaze settles on none other than the boy who has been plaguing your thoughts since you left his apartment a few days ago. He’s standing off to the other side of the room dressed in the suit that you bought him—you can hardly bring yourself to draw your gaze from him. He looks… stunning, actually, at ease in a way that you never would have expected him to be in this setting.

He’s talking to Hayashi, Sato and Noriko—three people that have close ties with the Port Mafia, much to your distress—the smile on his lips is easy and casual, body language relaxed. He looks right at home. A part of you itches to walk right over to him, but you know you shouldn’t. There are too many eyes on you at this event, enemies and allies alike. You don’t want to draw unwanted attention to Dazai, not when you’ve cut him off to protect him from this very sort of attention.

Your eyes linger on him as he laughs at something Hayashi says, breath catching in the back of your throat—and god, you know you’re being obvious. You need to force your attention back to Yamamoto and at least try to remember what you were talking about to play this off. But-

But then he looks at you.

Dazai’s eyes drift from Hayashi right to where you’re standing with Yamamoto as if he already knew you were standing there. He looks surprised, and you realize that he’s probably more surprised that you’re looking back at him, like he didn’t expect you to notice him.

How could you not notice him?

And as soon as his gaze meets yours, you know that’s all an act. You can see the way his eyes are a bit lost, lonely. You know he feels severely out of place and you long walk over there to him. All thoughts of keeping attention off of him out the window if it means he doesn’t look so uncomfortable—you yearn to see the bright look in his eyes that you’d become so accustomed to, feel his smile against your lips. You’d known it was a mistake to kiss him that night, that you’d already let yourself indulge too much, and taking that next step would just hurt you both but…

Just like now, all reasonable thought seems to be thrown out the window whenever he’s around.

You watch as something akin to hurt flashes through his eyes, and you withhold a wince as you remember all of the lies you told him—leaving the country, not having time to text him. You’d even gotten a new phone and a new number so you wouldn’t be tempted to read his messages. Fuck, why does he always show up at the most inopportune moments? This must’ve been why he’d asked you about the military bill. This was the event his journalism professor wanted him to attend. How did you not put this together sooner?

Then, his gaze hardens, and he looks away, shifting to the side as if to pointedly show off someone you hadn’t noticed before—a girl hanging off of his arm. Pretty. Big dark eyes and light brown hair, a soft expression. Pretty, you think again, sickeningly civilian, probably another student at the university he attends. Even being dolled up in a gown and makeup can’t hide that.

Perfect for him, then. Sickeningly civilian. Just like Dazai. They’d be good for each other—live out long, sickeningly civilian lives with each other. Go to cafes and talk about all of their sickeningly civilian classes, discuss all of the books and poems they read. It’s perfect, it’s what you want for him, it’s why you cut him off. So he’s not in danger by being associated with you, so you don’t drag him into the dark and get him killed.

So, where is the anger coming from?

Your jaw is so clenched that you can feel your teeth grinding together, knuckles tense around your flute of champagne. Your tongue feels itchy, your throat feels swollen, your chest is unbearably tight—you have to force yourself to remain rooted next to Yamamoto, and your body twitches to walk over there. You’re so lost for logic that you can’t even fumble for an excuse to explain the sudden bout of anger.

You try. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he shouldn’t be at an event like this. You tell yourself that you’re angry because his journalism professor should know better than to send college students to gather information at an event where several mafias are going to be in attendance. You tell yourself that you’re angry because he’s always coming around to fuck things up for you, that he shouldn’t have wormed his way into your life.

But it’s all flimsy and weak because the color flooding you right now isn’t red.

It’s green.

“I think you should go over there,” Yamamoto says, amused, nodding over to where you’re looking as he leans in closer to you. He keeps his voice down, luckily, but you can’t help the distress that sweeps through you when you realize that you are being that obvious.

“Allow me to pretend not to be so obvious, Yamamoto-san,” you sigh.

Yamamoto laughs, tossing you a wink. “I’m not that kind,” he says lightly. “I’ll send you an email later if we don’t get to talk again tonight. I’d like to discuss the more… minute details of the proposition you were offering.”

Your smile is a bit more genuine now as you turn your attention back to him.

“Of course,” you say easily. “A pleasure talking to you, as always.”

“And you,” Yamamoto replies. “Talking to you is always a highlight of these dreadfully boring galas.”

“You flatter me,” you laugh, waving off the compliment.

“Me? Never.” Yamamoto winks at you again, then leans in to murmur, “Best of luck.”

Yamamoto wanders off without another word, and your gaze drifts back over to Dazai and you find yourself actually contemplating it. You contemplate going over there and forcing that girl away, forcing him to spend the night at your side instead. You contemplate ruining everything by drawing all of the attention in the room onto him. You contemplate putting him in danger just to make this ugly green emotion go away.

You grab yourself another drink instead.

Dazai can hardly pay attention to the conversation at hand. No matter how much he tries to keep the conversation going between the two Representatives and Mishima and Noriko, he finds that his gaze keeps drifting back over to where you’re standing on the other side of the room.

You look beautiful. You always look beautiful, but there’s something… different tonight. You’re dressed in a sleek black dress rather than the expensive suits he’s become used to. It hangs off your shoulders, a slit up your thigh; there’s a pretty smile on your face and a playful glitter in your eyes as you entertain conversation with people. You’re always beautiful—whether you’re in one of your ridiculously expensive suits or an equally expensive dress—but there’s something different tonight that makes him unable to keep his attention off of you for long.

In your suits, it’s a polished type of beauty. Cold. Untouchable. There’s an air about you that few would dare try to disturb. He noticed it that first night when everyone at the bar gave you a wide berth. At the cafe, it was the same—your presence screams that you’re someone important and someone who should not be bothered. Even at the library, though his classmates clearly wanted to approach you and talk to you, they were all too intimidated to try. Everyone waited for you to leave before badgering Dazai with questions.

This is different. Just as refined but untouchable in a different way. Your smiles are sly and inviting, your body language smooth and languid; people gravitate toward you rather than avoid you, but none dare to draw too close. If intimidation was the factor in other situations, nerves are in this one—you’re warm and enticing but still too elusive for anyone to dare to try to capture. Dazai can see it in the way they watch you longingly, fingers itching to reach out toward you, but they freeze before they can, like you’re some otherworldly being that they think they shouldn’t taint with their touch.

And Dazai is so conflicted.

He yearns to go over to you. He wants to be the one to draw close to you, wants to see the expression on everyone else’s face when he’s the one that breaks through that invisible barrier, wants to slip his arm around your waist, hold you in the way that he knows other people are fantasizing about right now. He’s missed you the past few days; he can still feel the weight of your body on top of his, his lips tingling from where they’d been pressed against yours. If he closes his eyes long enough, he can almost imagine your fingers entwined with his hair, holding him close as your lips slide to his jaw.

But he’s angry. Or maybe he’s not angry, maybe he’s just hurt. Maybe both. Dazai can’t tell. He’s never been good at understanding his own emotions, he just knows that he doesn’t like it. Wants it to go away.

Wants you to explain.

Why did you lie? The thought makes his stomach churn so uncomfortably that it makes the alcohol he’s been drinking come up his throat. Why did you lie? Since he saw you before, he’s been on the brink of collapse. He wants to go back to his apartment and forget all about this shitty event and your betrayal, wants to curl up in his futon and sleep before the gaping hole in his chest starts to spread.

He should have known this would happen. Every time Dazai Osamu has ever come to want something, it’s always lost the moment he obtains it. This has been true since the moment he was born, but somehow it eluded him the weeks he spent pining after you, eluded him the night you spent at his apartment sharing kisses and gentle touches.

The cloud that’s been hanging over him since the night he met you at the bar, the one that you’ve successfully pushed away twice, is heavier than ever and Dazai wants to be rid of it. He’s so tired. Everything feels amplified now that he’s been given a taste of what he could have had with you, only to find you lied to be free of him just like so many others have. Ever since Odasaku died, he’s been alone and Dazai just doesn’t know how much more of it he can take. And he feels selfish, he feels selfish for wanting to go before he can fulfill his friend’s final request but he just can’t do it anymore.

It’s just too much for him, and Dazai isn’t going to finish this novel anyway. It doesn’t matter how many English classes he takes, doesn’t matter how much time he spends reading to teach himself how to write—Dazai will never be able to finish Odasaku’s book. How can he? A book focused on the human experience? Dazai is, unfortunately missing a key characteristic necessary to successfully write this novel.

Dazai has always struggled to understand the minds of people around him. He’s smart, and he can read people easily, but he’s never been able to understand them. It’s why he’s found himself an outcast time and time again: no matter how hard he tries, and he does try, he tries so hard, people can tell something is… off about him. His laughs are too loud and too hollow. His eyes are too black and too empty. His smiles are too wide and too fake.

When he was younger, kids were cruel about it—they would point it out and laugh at him, and when he tried harder to fit in with them, they would point that out too. He couldn’t win, no matter how hard he tried. Now that he’s older, people aren’t quite as blatant with it, but Dazai is far from stupid and he can see the looks people give him, can see the way they actively avoid him, the way they whisper.

Dazai’s gotten better at masking himself. It’s hard for people to tell at first glance now that something is off about him—his smiles have become smoother and less strained, and he’s taught himself to laugh light and airy. He can make do with small talk and acquaintances, even able to charm people into his bed, assuming they aren't put off when he keeps the bandages on.

The trouble comes when they stick around too long, when they start noticing the cracks in his mask; he can evade it at first, become loud and funny, take on the role of a clown so they can focus on that instead of the gaping void within him, threatening to consume anyone that dares to come near. But he can only play that role for so long before people realize something is up; whether his smile fades at the wrong moment or he talks a bit too long, something clues them into the fact that something is wrong with Dazai, and they inevitably disappear without a word, avoid him on the streets if they happen to run into him.

Or they lie to him and tell him that they’re going abroad for a while just to be rid of him.

Dazai is drawn out of his own thoughts when he realizes that all four pairs of eyes are on him—Hayashi, Sato, Noriko, and Hinami are all looking at him expectantly, and he realizes, anxiously, that one of them must have directly addressed him but he was so lost in thought that he hadn’t even been listening. He racks his brain for a response, desperately trying to figure out if he’d subconsciously picked up on the conversation, but the longer the silence draws on, the harder it becomes for him to push away the numbness spreading from his core to his limbs.

Before he can fumble out a non-response, an achingly familiar voice intrudes on the conversation.

“Hayashi-kun, Sato-kun, I’ve been meaning to speak with you two,” you say with an easy smile as you make your way over to the small group, and Dazai can hardly breathe at the sight of you so close, unwittingly rescuing him yet again. “Noriko-chan.”

Your smile is fonder as your gaze lands on Noriko and the cold and aloof woman suddenly looks starstruck by your presence, enamored. Dazai’s chest tightens as he looks between the two of you.

You ignore his presence completely.

“Hime,” Noriko breathes out. Dazai startles at the honorific—it was startling hearing Kido, and the attendants call you it at the boutique, but it’s even more jarring hearing it come from a woman that Professor Ui suspects of being a mafia heiress. “I heard you would be here. I convinced my father to let me come.”

“Just for me?” Your voice is light and teasing, you reach out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Noriko’s ear, and Dazai’s blood pressure spikes. “You’re so sweet, Noriko-chan.”

“You didn’t come to Arima-kun’s wedding,” Noriko pouts in a way that’s so exaggerated that it nearly makes Dazai roll his eyes and gag. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ah,” you sigh. “I’m afraid I was busy. I heard it was fun. I regret not being able to be there.”

You notably don’t tell Noriko that you also missed her, and it makes Dazai’s lips quirk up in smug amusement.

No, he stops himself, reminding himself that he’s angry at you and he should not care about any of this. In fact, he should walk away. He should. But his feet betray him, they keep him rooted to the ground when you finally turn your gaze onto him.

“Who are your new friends?” you ask casually.

Dazai has to physically stop himself from flinching at your words, the way you pretend you don’t know him, just like so many people have before. His chest aches, his throat feels swollen, and he feels embarrassed—he doesn’t even know why he feels embarrassed, but he can feel heat spread across his cheeks at your words. For a second, Dazai swears he sees regret flash through your eyes, but it’s gone so quickly that he thinks he imagined it.

“Koda Hinami.” Next to Dazai, Hinami stumbles over her words, face pink as she bows her head in respect, “It’s, uh, a pleasure to meet you…”

You don’t even acknowledge Hinami, your gaze doesn’t budge from Dazai, and you don’t offer your name at Hinami’s unspoken request for it. Hinami lets out an embarrassed noise in the back of her throat as she looks away. Dazai has half a mind to stay silent, to ignore you in the same way you ignore Hinami, but he finds his lips moving before he can stop them.

“Dazai Osamu.” He’s grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels, cool and short, unlike the rampage of emotions tearing through his chest.

You tilt your head to the side as you look over him. You reach out, pinching the material of his suit jacket between your fingers—as you do, your knuckles brush his bandaged skin, and Dazai has to physically withhold a shiver at the touch.

“One of Kido’s,” you note, and there’s a small smile on your lips as if you’re sharing an inside joke with him. “You must have friends in high places—he doesn’t often take appointments without referrals.”

You’re mocking him.

As if pretending he’s a stranger isn’t enough, you’re standing there mocking him too. Dazai doesn’t know if he wants to laugh or cry, everything feels all twisted inside of him—he wants to go home.

“Not a friend.”

The jab is cold and pointed. It goes over the head of the other four, but he watches the way your smile falters at it, and he savors it even if he does know it hardly stings you in comparison to the knives he feels being jabbed into his chest and back.

“Hm,” is all you say in response, gaze sliding away from him as if he’s no longer of any interest to you. You look back at Hayashi and give him a smile that makes Dazai want to throw up. “Dance with me?”

Hayashi rushes to take your extended hand, fumbling over a yes, and you don’t even bother to spare another look at Dazai as you lead Hayashi onto the floor, where a few couples are already swaying around. Dazai can’t even force himself to look away from you, eyes pinned on how Hayashi’s hands rest on your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck.

Maybe he’s a bit petty when he turns to Hinami and offers his hand to her. For a second, the girl looks as if she’s going to shake her head no, too nervous to go to the dancefloor, but then other couples start taking your cue, grabbing a partner to take to the dancefloor.

“I don’t know how to dance,” Hinami whispers, panicking. “I don’t-”

“You’ll be fine,” Dazai says. “Follow my lead.”

Dazai also doesn’t know how to dance, but he thinks it should be easy enough. He observes the few people already settled on the dancefloor, watching their steps and the way they sway to the slow beat and then matches their pace and hand placement.

“I don’t know how you’re so good at this,” Hinami says quietly as he leads her in the dance. Dazai hardly pays attention to her, gaze cutting through the growing crowd of couples to find you. “I feel so in over my head. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You’re doing fine,” Dazai tells her absently, stiffening when he finally spots you not too far from him in deep conversation with Hayashi. “I don’t know what I’m doing either.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Hinami sighs. Dazai’s eyes linger at how low Hayashi’s hands dip down on your hips, how your heads are bowed together as you sway, speaking quietly in one another’s ear. It makes him sick, he can feel his stomach turn inside of him, he can feel something ugly and green spreading through his chest. “You look like a natural. Like you’re meant to be here with these people. I can hardly speak to any of them without stumbling over my words. I mean, did you see how that woman ignored me? … So embarrassing…”

Dazai’s breath hitches when you lift your face up a bit, so close to Hayashi that your noses almost brush. He can’t see the expression on your face, but he can see that you’re making eye contact with him, and it looks so intimate that Dazai feels that void in his chest start to spread to his limbs, his fingers feel numb and clunky against Hinami’s waist, and he nearly stumbles over one of the steps in the dance.

You look like you belong with him. High-class. Smooth. Charming. Wealthy. Dazai’s known you were out of his league since the day he met you at the bar, but actually getting a visual of what you would look like with someone of the same class as you—the people you interact with on a daily basis—makes him feel sorely inadequate. Any of the people at this event would kill for just a few seconds of your time, all of them wealthier and more influential than him, way more worth your time than a broke college student who can hardly talk himself off the edge of a bridge.

Why would he have ever thought he had a chance with you? Why would you waste any time with him? Why wouldn’t you pretend not to know him? Dazai would be embarrassed to associate with himself too. He can hardly even stand to look at himself in the mirror.

He shouldn’t be as upset as he is. He should’ve expected this from day one. He doesn’t know why all of this hurts as much as it does.

Because it’s the first time he’s allowed himself to hope since Odasaku’s death.

The air getting to his lungs is thin and shallow. Dazai feels like he’s at the peak of a mountain where oxygen is few and far between. Hinami doesn’t seem to notice his distress from the way she’s still complaining about the event, but it’s hard for him to ground himself to the present.

He’d allowed himself to hope.

The way you had immediately noticed his discomfort with the bandages and moved to try to make him more comfortable—no one has ever done anything like that for him, not since Odasaku died.

The way you came to him when you were hurt.

The way you helped him around his apartment and didn’t question the filth and mess, buying him food, replacing what he’d broken in his depressive episode.

The way you looked at him.

The way you touched him.

The way you kissed him.

He’d allowed himself to hope that maybe someone would accept him for who he is instead of running as soon as they see beneath the mask.

He had let himself hope. A fatal mistake. Always has been. Dazai should have known better.

Dazai needs to get out of here. He can hardly feel his fingers anymore, can feel the numbness spreading to his legs. His vision is blurring, his lungs are burning. He needs to go back home so he can let the black hole consume him in peace. He needs to be alone. He needs to-

Dazai doesn’t even notice the music tempo changing, nor the way people are swapping partners until he and Hinami are separated and drawn into a new dance. Dazai’s breath catches, caught off guard and still trying to ground himself.

“Why are you here?”

Your voice meets his ears, quiet so as to not be heard above the music, you forcibly guide his body to move in step with yours. He stares down at you, brain not processing who’s standing in front of him. He can see the concern thinly veiled behind your eyes, the way your lips curve down.

“Dazai, snap out of it. Breathe.”

You. You’re here. You’re always here when he feels as if he’s finally going to let the void win, and Dazai just-

Dazai wants to scream.

Why are you always here to rescue him when he knows you’re just going to leave him?

“Why am I here?” Dazai finally forces himself to say, grateful that his voice is steadier than how he feels. “Why are you here? How was your trip abroad, hime?”

Any concern in your eyes disappears, and the grip you have on his waist tightens in a way that makes his breath catch. “Don’t call me that.”

Now a bit more coherent than he was when he was dancing with Hinami, he thinks he should be mortified by how you’re taking the lead. All of the other men are leading their partners in the dance, but he can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed because he’s so focused on your hand on his waist and the way your fingers are laced with his. He’s mad at you, yes, but he has to actively remind himself of that because of the way you’re holding him.

Dazai fears he is a weak man at heart.

“How was your trip abroad?” Dazai asks again, leaving off the title this time. He wants to know if you’ll lie to him. Again.

You watch him carefully for a moment, and then you sigh, shaking your head. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” you tell him.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, throat bobbing at your words. Doesn’t know if it’s a good or bad thing that you didn’t even try to lie. Does know that it hurts hearing you admit that you lied to him. That you made up a shitty excuse so you could cut him off, ghost him like so many others have before. He lets out a shaky puff of air, shaking his own head as he tries to take a step away from you, intent on creating some distance between the two of you, but you don’t let him, your grip on his waist tightens again, hand sliding to the small of his back to force him flush to you again. His face heats up.

You tilt your head to the side as you look up at him as if daring him to make a scene. Dazai wants to. He does—just to embarrass you in front of all of your rich, upper-class friends—but more than that, he wants answers.

“Why?” he asks tightly.

“Stupid questions annoy me,” you say with a thin smile, being purposely obtuse.

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” Dazai refuses to humor the non-answer. “Why did you lie? Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to-”

Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t want to be with me?

Why did you have to give him hope?

Why did you have to be like all of the rest?

“It has nothing to do with what I want,” you finally sigh, voice quiet as you lead him into an outside spin, keeping him in pace with all of the other couples. “It’s complicated, Dazai.”

“Then uncomplicate it,” Dazai says immediately, body tense. “What did I do wrong? I thought-”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you tell him, which only frustrates Dazai more because if he’s about to get the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ speech, he thinks he might storm right off the dancefloor, leaving you here. “It’s just complicated, Dazai. I can’t uncomplicate it.”

“That’s not fair,” Dazai murmurs. “You kissed me, you-”

“You kissed me,” you correct.

“You kissed me back,” Dazai hisses, getting annoyed, “and you initiated the second kiss.”

“Dazai-”

“You know what,” Dazai laughs to himself, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. You’ve made it abundantly clear that you want nothing to do with me.”

“That’s not true,” you say immediately, but Dazai is already taking a step away, brushing your hand off of his waist and pulling his hand back. He can’t listen—he can’t—he can’t let himself hope again. He doesn’t know if he’ll survive it this time. “Dazai-”

“I need to go,” Dazai interrupts.

He doesn’t wait for a response from you as he turns to walk off the floor, leaving you standing there alone. He can hardly breathe in the crowd, with you so close—he needs air. It feels shallow again, like it’s not getting to his lungs. He tells himself that this was to be expected, again, but the thought doesn’t calm him down this time. You don’t follow him off the dancefloor—he doesn’t know if he wanted you to or if it would just stress him out more.

“You’re so lucky,” a familiar voice sighs as soon as Dazai is off the dance floor. He feels unfocused as he looks at Sato. “I was trying so hard to position myself to switch with Hayashi for the partner swap.”

Dazai is annoyed. He is annoyed, and he is jealous and he is once again very acutely reminded of the fact that every single person in this room would kill for a few seconds of your time, once again very acutely reminded of his own inadequacy. He had known from day one that he didn’t have a shot with you but-

No.

He’s not going to go down this rabbit hole again.

“Well, she has no partner now,” Dazai says with a strained smile, ignoring the tightness in the chest and the way his vision blooms green. “You should go ask her to dance.”

Sato brightens. “You’re right,” he says, sparing a haste ‘thanks’ before rushing off to the dance floor.

Dazai doesn’t let himself linger long enough to see if you accept his extended hand, making his way out of the event room and down a nearby hall, hoping for some fresh air.

You don’t know where Dazai went, but he’s a sneaky bastard for sending Sato your way to distract you. You couldn’t blow him off without looking like an asshole, so you had to entertain him for a song before making an excuse. Dazai is nowhere to be seen now—not hanging near the walls, not hovering near the apps or drinks, not making small talk with any of the other politicians or businessmen in attendance.

Did he leave?

No, he wouldn’t have. Your eyes trace around the room again as you make small talk with Noriko—he had to have gone somewhere, but where? You focus on a hallway leading out to the back of the city hall, tilting your head to the side. There, maybe? There are bathrooms back there, if you remember correctly, most people will probably use the ones in the entrance hall, but if he’s looking for somewhere quiet…

You excuse yourself from the conversation with Noriko and make your way across the room, careful to avoid the eyes of any of the other attendees who might try to steal you away for a talk. You get there without incident, luckily, because you think if someone tried to interrupt you, you might shatter the carefully crafted reputation you’ve built over the past six years.

The hallway is dim and cool, a welcome reprieve from the stuffiness of the other room. You head straight for the men’s bathroom, hoping that your hunch is correct. Also hoping that there are no other men in the bathroom because that would be awkward—and you’d have to do some serious explaining because you can’t have anyone know you’re seeking out Dazai.

You think you’ve done a pretty decent job in making sure people don’t realize you knew him before the event. Noriko and Hayashi have no suspicions, and if anyone was going to pick it up, it would be those two. You were casual enough with the positioning of the partner switch that it didn’t look like you were intentionally seeking him out, but you could see the way he was thinking himself into a panic attack, the girl with him obliviously babbling on as Dazai struggled to breathe. You suppose him being mad at you is preferable to him thinking himself into an abyss, but it’s just not settling right with you.

You think that this is a mistake—you should let him think that you want nothing to do with him, should let him hate you and resent you so he can move on with his life—so why are you still turning down the hallway to get to the men’s bathroom?

You blame Dazai. If he hadn’t shown up at this event and all but shoved himself in your face, purposely antagonized you by shoving that stupid civilian girl in your face, then everything would be fine. You would’ve evaded the places he frequents in Hodogaya-ku, and you’d have never crossed paths with him again. Both of you could’ve moved on with your lives as if you’d never met each other—but now-

You’re almost angry as you shove open the door to the men’s bathroom.

No, you are angry, and it isn’t just because he’s shown up to the event and fucked up your plan to keep him out of your life. It’s also because you know why he’s here, and he’s a lot stupider than you thought he was. The suit for the event he’d mentioned his journalism professor wanted him to attend and the question about the bill… He’s here to gather intel for that professor of his, and the only reason why a bunch of students would be sent to an event like this in lieu of the actual journalists themselves is because they’re trying to seek out information that wouldn’t be easily acquired by known faces. Whether that’s information about insider opinions on the new bill or something else, it’s dangerous business. If the opinion of the wrong person gets out to the media and the public, there’ll be a witch hunt trying to figure out who let it loose, and all eyes will be on the unfamiliar faces.

All eyes will be on Dazai.

He’s stupid.

The door slams against the wall hard, and your gaze cuts to the side, hardly focusing on Dazai’s surprised expression as he straightens from where he’s leaning over the sink. Your attention shifts from him to the stalls, making sure each of them is empty before shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“No,” Dazai says, shaking his head, jaw tight as he moves to leave the bathroom.

Your eye twitches when he tries to push past you and all of the rising frustration you’ve felt the past few weeks snaps like a taut cord that has been pulled at too much. Your hands dart out to grab his waist, fingers hooking in the belt loops to stop him before he can get past you. You watch as his eyes widen as you tug him closer before slamming him back against the bathroom door hard.

“What are you doing here?” you ask again, ignoring the look he’s giving you, lips parted in shock and pupils blown wide as he stares down at you. “Dazai, what are you doing here?”

Finally, he’s drawn out of whatever stupor he’s in, scoffing and looking away from you but not pushing you away.

“Really? You just came here to interrogate me some more?” he says bitterly. “Don’t you have better things to do? I’m sure there are plenty of people out there more worthy of your time.”

“What are you even talking about?” you ask, irritated. “I couldn’t care less about any of them. Stop avoiding the question, why are you here?”

Dazai looks conflicted at your words, and you don’t know why, but it’s really starting to piss you off. You feel like you should step away from him, give some space, but you can’t bring yourself to move. In fact, your grip on his slacks tightens.

“I told you I had that event to attend for my journalism class, I-”

“You didn’t tell me this was the event-”

“You didn’t ask! What does it matter?” Dazai demands, glaring at you.

You inhale sharply and let go of his belt loops, taking a step back, but Dazai doesn’t move to leave. He stays leaning against the bathroom door, staring at you as he waits for a response, but you don’t even know how to respond.

“It matters,” you finally say without giving any context, which evidently pisses him off from how he lets out a sharp puff of air.

“Why does it matter?” Dazai asks, raising his voice in a way that stresses you out because if anyone happens to come down this hall and find you in the bathroom with him, it’s going to cause issues. “Why does-Why won’t you explain anything? Why did you lie about going abroad? Why does it matter that I’m here?”

“Because you shouldn’t be here,” you hiss, not wanting to expand on it, but you can see the frustration rising on Dazai’s face, and you think it’s more important not to have him screeching for people to overhear. “Dazai, don’t you think there’s a reason that your professor didn’t come to this event himself and with his trained colleagues?”

Something shifts onto Dazai’s expression that you don’t like—a strange look caught between suspicion and wariness that you take note of. You misspoke somewhere but where? This conversation is risky—you don’t even know what his professor sent him and his classmates to get information about, how they were prepped for it, or what information they were given. What a mess.

“What are you talking about?” Dazai asks in a way that lets you know that he’s onto something.

You don’t respond for a moment, choosing your words carefully. “What do you think will happen if an unsavory opinion of one of these politicians gets out to the media, Dazai? These people have more money than you could ever dream of, connections with-” You cut yourself off abruptly, staring at him for a moment before saying tightly. “Connections with all types of people. Good and bad. They’ll find out who spread what was spoken at this event.”

“Isn’t this suit supposed to help me blend in?” His voice is so snide that you almost want to smack him. If he were anyone else-

You don’t even finish that thought. He’s not anyone else. He’s Dazai Osamu, a stupid civilian who has managed to worm his way into your life, for better or for worse.

“Sure,” you agree tightly. “It makes them less concerned about your presence at the moment. But once they have something to be concerned about, you know who they’re going to remember? The boy in a poorly tailored suit who spoke too loudly and with far too many people. The girl in a thirty dollar dress from Muji who stumbled over all of her words and the boy that she latched herself onto.”

“And what exactly are they going to do if they figure out who leaked their shitty opinions?” Dazai asks, a challenging expression on his face as if he knows what the answer is but wants to hear you say it out loud. “Ui-sensei said-”

Ui. There aren’t many journalists with the surname Ui and if they’re here at this event…

“Ui?” you ask cooly. “Don’t tell me you mean Ui Koutarou.”

The surprise that flashes through Dazai’s eyes tells you all you need to know, and you can’t help the scoff you let out, a bitter feeling spreading through your chest. Ui Koutarou, one of the senior journalists at the Ivory Eagle—a group that’s been relentlessly trying to pin down the Mori Corporation as the business front for the Port Mafia.

Is that what this is?

The thought is as haunting as it is jarring, realizing that maybe this has all just been some giant scheme that you fell right into. You know the man has been trying to expose you as an executive of the Port Mafia—the first stepping stone of taking down the Port Mafia. Is that why Dazai attached himself to you so quickly? Pushed into it by his professor as a means to get proof of your affiliation with the Mafia? You’d assumed maybe it was your ability at work, making him more comfortable around you, and since he was so lonely, he ended up attaching himself to you but… this would make more sense, wouldn’t it?

Dazai is a lot smarter than he makes himself out to be, a lot more observant and perceptive; you knew that day when you showed up at his apartment wounded that he was seeking out information about you. He could’ve been asking about the military bill to prepare himself for this event but… could he have been asking about it because Ui Koutarou is using him as a puppet to corner you? To get the proof that he needs?

You don’t want to believe it, but the passive form of your ability isn’t strong enough to create such a dependency even on the weakest of minds… and this makes a lot more sense than someone liking you for who you are.

You don’t say anything else, unwilling to incriminate yourself anymore than you already have. You’re sure Dazai must have some idea of who you are by now—maybe not exactly, but there’s no shot that he doesn’t have a clue as to your real occupation, and if you keep running your mouth, it’s only a matter of time before you hand him the proof Ui Koutarou needs on a silver platter.

So, instead, you shake your head and walk back to the door, unlocking it so you can go back to the event hall.

Dazai grabs your wrist before you can. His grip is weak enough that you could pull out of it if you want, but you don’t. You don’t turn to look at him, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“Can’t you just tell me what I did wrong?” His voice wobbles a bit as he speaks, you can feel the way his fingers are trembling on your wrist. God, it’s so believable—you remember the way he kissed you, unsure and hesitant, breath shaky. No one is that good of an actor. “I did something again just now, why won’t you just tell me? I want to-”

You don’t want to hear the rest of that sentence, so instead, you look back at him and watch as the words die on his tongue. The look he gives you is confused and desperate, pleading with you to help him understand.

“If you know what’s good for you, Dazai, you’ll forget you came here tonight and won’t do another job for a man who’s willing to put three stupid kids on the line to save his own ass,” you say and Dazai’s brows furrow, he looks impossibly more confused as he waits for you to explain, protests and questions on the tip of his tongue.

You leave before he can get any of them out.

Dazai’s head spins as he leaves the event hall. He tries to seek you out again, but you’re nowhere to be found, so he finds himself wandering the edges of the event hall, unsure of what to do. Mishima Noriko is missing, too, he can’t help but notice with a tight feeling in his chest. Hayashi and Sato are speaking quietly to one another by the refreshments table, heads dipped together and serious expressions on their faces.

“Dazai,” Ayato calls, making his way over to where Dazai is standing.

After your words, Dazai can’t help but wince at how loud his voice is in comparison to the other attendees of the event. It’s glaringly obvious now that it’s been pointed out to him—even when he lowers his voice, there’s a jarring cadence that’s stark compared to the smooth tones of the other people here.

Hinami is with him too, Dazai realizes, watching as the girl comes over to Dazai’s side, looking between the two of them before asking: “Are you ready to head out?”

No, Dazai wants to say, throat swollen and stomach churning. He doesn’t know when he’ll see you again if he leaves now. Doesn’t know if he’ll see you again. This might be his last chance and he’s so frustrated and lost. He wants answers from you—more than that, he wants you.

He wants you.

You didn’t explain why you lied to him. You hardly explained why you were so mad about him being at the event. You clearly know who his professor is, you’re clearly unhappy about Dazai working with him, and you made a cryptic comment about how he’s putting Dazai and his classmates on the line to save his own ass.

Does that mean you know? Do you know what information that they’re trying to uncover at this event? You kind of implied it, didn’t you? You implied that a lot of the politicians in the Diet have affiliations with criminal organizations because what else could that ‘good and bad’ comment have meant? But how could you possibly know that? How could you know unless-

Dazai’s mind drifts back to all of the suspicions that had been floating through his head, letting out a heavy breath. Shit, could you really be-

“Dazai,” Hinami prods, nudging his shoulder, but before Dazai can make an excuse about staying longer, the entire building shakes.

Dazai nearly topples right over, barely catching himself on the wall behind him. His eyes are wide as he looks around the room, watching as people shriek and dive for cover. Again? The second one in a few days?

“Come on,” Ayato grabs his wrist, and Dazai instantly draws back, not expecting the sudden touch. “Dazai, come on. Ui-sensei’s been texting. He’s panicked about something, we’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

“Texting about what?” Dazai asks, casting one last longing look around the room, a last-ditch attempt to seek you out, only to find himself empty-handed again, shaking his head as he follows the other two out of the building. “What’s going on?”

“We don’t know,” Hinami says as they slip out of the building into the front parking lot. “Just said we needed to get out before things started going down.”

“Crazy that the earthquake happens right as he tells us that,” Ayato notes. “What are the chances?”

What are the chances?

Unless it’s not an earthquake, Dazai thinks, taking a deep breath of the cool air outside, mind racing as he thinks back to the day you showed up at his apartment, the cryptic comment about the earthquake. You acted like you didn’t know that it was an earthquake, but Dazai had a strong gut feeling that you knew exactly what it was and it wasn’t an earthquake. And Ayato is right; what are the chances it happens twice, and both times you’re around for it? The first time, you seem to know what’s going on but try to evade talking about it; the second time, you mysteriously disappear right as it takes place.

It’s suspicious. Everything about this is suspicious, and Dazai just doesn’t know what to think. He wishes that he had more time to talk to you, that you hadn’t rushed off as soon as he mentioned Professor Ui—and that’s suspicious, too, because Professor Ui sent them here to try to get some intel on one of the big mafias in Tokyo so…

Dazai can’t even finish sorting out his scrambled thoughts because a familiar van is pulling up to the front steps of the city hall. The door is sliding open and Dazai can’t stop himself from looking back one last time before he’s being ushered into the back of the van by Hinami and Ayato. Professor Ui is already waiting inside for them, brows creased and a frown on his lips—an expression that instantly has Dazai on edge.

“Ui-sensei, what’s going on?” Hinami asks softly as Ayato pulls the back doors of the van closed. Slightly alarmed, Dazai watches as Professor Ui instantly motions for the driver to get going. “Is something wrong?”

Dazai’s stomach lurches as the van flies over a bump, gaze focused on Professor Ui as he taps furiously at his phone. His voice is a bit tighter than he intends for it to be when he asks, “Aren’t you going to tell us what’s going on?”

“We got a tip-off that the Port Mafia was going to be in attendance at this event at the last second,” Professor Ui finally says, sitting up in his seat as he focuses his attention on the three of them. Dazai stiffens, mind racing back to Mishima Noriko and her last minute attendance of the event when she heard that you were attending, mind racing back to his piling suspicions of you. “We also got a tip-off that there was going to be a major conflict between them and one of the Tokyo-based Yakuza syndicates tonight. We wanted to get you out of there before it happened.”

“What?” Ayato sounds far too excited for Dazai’s liking; he gives the other man a heavy side-eye before focusing back on Professor Ui. “A gang fight is breaking out tonight? Wouldn’t that have been the best chance to get the proof?”

Best chance to get killed more like it, Dazai thinks, hardly withholding an eye roll as he keeps his gaze pinned on their professor. He can’t help the way his heart is skipping around with anxiety; he finds himself nervous for you, remembering how you abruptly disappeared from the event.

“Too dangerous,” Professor Ui shakes his head. “The fight has already broken out. Did you feel that quake?”

“The earthquake?” Hinami asks curiously.

“Not an earthquake,” Professor Ui says dryly, grabbing his laptop and clicking a few times before turning the laptop to face them. Dazai’s gaze focuses on the screen, frowning at the blurry image of a man with red hair and an ugly hat. “From what we know, that was the ability of this man. We believe he’s an executive of the Port Mafia, the gravity manipulator. He’s been at the top of the country’s most wanted list for three years since he leveled all of Izumi-ku; hard to track down because he’s frequently in the west. They say he’s currently the strongest ability user in the world.”

“Tacky hat,” Dazai mutters absently, ignoring the looks he receives for the comment.

He’s ignored.

“I didn’t see him at the event,” Ayato announces, leaning back in his seat. “I made a lot of rounds too. Maybe your tip was off.”

“He wasn’t the executive in attendance,” Professor Ui says firmly.

Dazai’s heart drops to his feet. His professor flips the laptop back around, and Dazai can hardly breathe as he clicks through again. It feels like an eternity before the clicking stops, and he can hardly even drag his gaze back to the screen.

Dazai knows what it’s going to show him before the computer is even turned toward them again. Doesn’t need to hear him say your name. Doesn’t need to see your face on the screen.

He looks anyway.

Your smile is foreign—unkind, almost—and the expression on your face is much cooler and unapproachable than what he’s become used to. You look beautiful, you always look beautiful, but he feels sick to his stomach at the sight of you when he’s usually dizzy with how much he’s enamored by you. His ears ring as he tries to tune into what Professor Ui is saying.

“... presents as vice-chair of the board of the Mori Corporation, suspected of being an executive of the Port Mafia… -sing her position within the Mafia would be the easiest way of exposing the Mori Corporation for what it is considering how public of a figure she is… say that Mafia affiliates tend to refer to her as hime in recognition of her position as heir…”

Dazai doesn’t care to hear anymore. He ignores the way Hinami stares at him with wide eyes, ignores when Professor Ui asks if any of them managed to speak to her at all, ignores everything as he stares at the damning image of you on that screen, confirming all of the suspicions he’s discarded over the past few weeks of knowing you.

Suddenly, for better or for worse, all of the peculiarities that he’s noted about you begin to make sense—everything from your ungodly wealth to how evasive you were about why you lied to him about going abroad, saying it’s too complicated to explain when he begged you to tell him why you lied.

Shit.

There are too many emotions ricocheting through his chest and mind for him to pinpoint all of them, but as he looks back to the direction they’d left, knowing that whatever conflict is taking place there, you’re at the center of it, one emotion stands out above all of the rest—fear.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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linkspooky · 2 months ago

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ONCE MORE, I THINK I'LL LIVE FOR OTHERS

So of all the characters in Jujutsu Kaisen Megumi has turned out to be one of the most controversial and hotly debated characters. There's nothing the internet hates more than a boy with trauma, I guess. Jujutsu Kaisen is a controversial work in general so it's not surprising that the ending wasn't super well received by the fans, especially in the way it decided to conclude Megumi's character arc.

There are many people accusing Gege of giving Megumi no character development. Of Megumi just choosing to replace Tsumiki with Yuji. Lots of complaints about Megumi never finishing his domain expansion among other things. Of Megumi being nothing more than a damsel for Yuji to rescue in the end. I'm here to say I think Megumi does have a complete character arc even if it didn't end the way I would have liked, and under the cut I'll be giving my thoughts for Megumi's ending and JJK's ending in general.

I CAN ONLY SAVE THOSE WHO ARE PREPARED TO BE SAVED

If you were to ask me what the most important arc in Jujutsu Kaisen is, it would be Hidden Inventory. Hidden Inventroy covers the inciting incident which leads to all the conflicts in the main story, Riko's death, Geto's defection, Tengen's merger failing, and Gojo's decision to adopt Megumi.

However, it also shows us what motivates Gojo in the main series, mainly his desire to raise this generation of students into strong and intelligent allies because of his inability to save his closest friend when it most counted.

If the quote that summarizes the central theme of Jujutsu Kaisen Zero is "Love is the most twisted curse of them all."

Then I put forward that the quote that summarizes the theme of the main series is what Gojo said to Yaga post Geto's defection, "Being strong isn't enough, I can only save those who are prepared to be saved."

Just like Hidden Inventory is centered around Geto and Gojo's relationship in their youth, the main manga itself centers around Megumi and Itadori's relationship. The manga itself starts with their first meeting. Yuji devours the finger in order to try to help Megumi. Megumi requests Gojo help save Yuji from execution because he didn't want to see another good person die.

Megumi and Itadori are also a deliberate parallel to Geto and Gojo's friendship in the past. To begin with Gojo tried to nurture these relatoinships in his students so they COULD get along and enjoy their youths the way he remembers doing so with Geto in his three springtime of youth.

He not only encourages Megumi to selfishly try to save Yuji even though it is against the rules of sorcery and poses a risk to other people, he also encourages them to socialize at every opportunity.

The strong and intense friendship that Megumi and Yuji enjoy is not only a clear parallel to Geto and Gojo's special connection with one another, but also the fact that a strong reocurring motif in Megumi and Yuji's friendship is their strong desire to save each other. Which is a clear parallel to Gojo's inability to save Geto in the past.

As I said for a long time Yuji and Megumi were being set up as this generation's version of the "strongest duo" except they were going to be able to break the cycle. Whether it be by Megumi saving Yuji, or Yuji saving Megumi, they wouldn't be driven apart by the corruption in the Jujutsu World the way that Geto and Gojo were.

As I said the central question of Jujutsu Kaisen especially in regards to Megumi and Yuji's friendship is if it's possible to save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Which is why Megumi and Yuji both wanting to save each other is something that happens again and again at different parts of the manga. Whether it be the ending of Origin of Obedience where Megumi and Yuji are both unable to talk to each other because they want to try to protect the other from information that might harm them. Megumi hiding the fact that he knows resonance between the Sukuna fingers awakened the curses. Yuji hiding the fact that Megumi's decision to save Yuji has caused strong curses to awaken and kill other people.

Just as often as these two try to save each other, they fail. Megumi watches Yuji die early on when Yuji takes back control from Sukuna and decides to die without a heart.

Megumi spends the entirety of the culling games clinging to Yuji's side no matter how Yuji tries to push him away because he knows Sukuna has plans for him. However, Megumi is afraid to leave Yuji alone because he knows Yuji is in a dark place after the Shibuya massacre and that if he's left alone Yuji might just find some way to off himself in a heroic sacrifice to try to atone for the people lost at Shibuya.

Only for Megumi's insistence on clinging to Yuji to backfire because Sukuna ends up taking his body from him in a critical moment. When Sukuna takes his body their circumstances swap and Megumi is the one who's body is being used to kill people by Sukuna. When Megumi has to live with the guilt of Sukuna using his body to kill both his sister and his teacher, he's not able to live with it anymore.

Then their positions swap completely and it's Megumi who wants to die to atone for the guilt, and it's Yuji who doesn't want to let go of Megumi and will do anything to save Megumi from both Sukuna and the other sorcerers even if the right thing to do is just kill both him and Sukuna and letting him live means putting the whole rest of the world at risk.

As you can see not only is saving each other a common theme of Megumi and Yuji's relationship, but at different points of the story both of them are trying to save the other even when the other doesn't value their own life.

Gojo's relationship with Geto is defined by his inability to reach his friend in time, and how he was "left behind" in the end.

Gojo explicitly waited a year after learning about Megumi being sold to the Zen'in clan to do anything, and only decided to intervene after Geto's defection. Gojo's decision to mentor Megumi was inspired by Geto leaving. He even said "Don't get left behind."

His hope in taking in students like Megumi, Yuta and Yuji was twofold first that he'd be able to handpick and raise several strong students who would eventually replace the elders and reform the Jujutsu World. The second and more personal motivation is that he wanted these students to be able to support each other and be strong allies to one another so they wouldn't end up alone like Gojo did in his youth.

Gojo's intentions were good however, Gojo has a very flawed understanding of how people and relationships work. In Gojo's books "strong=good" and almost everything can be solved by strength. Notice just one chapter ago Gojo said that being strong wasn't enough, he can only save those who are prepared to be saved and yet one chapter later he tells Megumi that he needs to get strong otherwise he'll be left behind.

So, even when Gojo knows that being strong isn't enough and didn't make a difference with Geto, that's still the only real advice he can offer Megumi.

A big theme of Jujutsu Kaisen is the failures of the past generation affecting the present. A lot of people in trying to put Gojo on a pedestal fail to realize one of the central themes of this manga is GOJO WAS WRONG. The way Gojo went about doing several things wasn't the right way. Gojo wants the next generation to succeed him and do better than him, because Gojo himself knows that he was wrong and he's a part of the past generation.

I think a big part of the reason the conclusion to Megumi's character arc is poorly received is that Megumi didn't end his arc the way that Gojo set out for him.

Scenes like this led the audience to believe that Megumi's character arc was going to be completed by him learning to be more selfish and living up to the potential that Gojo saw in him. That we were going to get a completed domain expansion. That Megumi was going to become stronger than Gojo because the ten shadows was the only technique to ever beat a wielder of the limitless and the six eyes.

I understand wanting to see Megumi living for himself, and how cool it might be to see Megumi's complete domain expansion after Gege teased us with this twice but I have to ask this.

If Gojo was the strongest sorcerer in the world, and that still wasn't good enough to save Geto. Then how would Megumi reaching his full potential as a sorcerer in any way help Megumi avoid making the same mistakes that Gojo did?

HAVEN'T WE HAD ENOUGH OF GOJO SATORU

I think a lot of dissatisfaction in Megumi's character development comes from he didn't really follow the path that Gojo set out for him. He didn't unlock his full domain expansion, he didn't learn to live more selfishly. They say that Megumi simply choosing to live for Yuji isn't him learning to stand on his own two feet because he's just hinging his self worth on someone else the same way he did with Tsumiki.

However, I have to ask.

How exactly would Megumi becoming more like Gojo or more like Sukuna be any better?

A big recurring theme in Megumi's arc is his lack of agency, and how many different adult figures have tried to mould him to their own selfish ends.

In the same chapter where Megumi has the flashback where Gojo encourages him to become more selfish, Sukuna has his hands wrapped around Megumi's neck in the colored page. Sukuna was never actually trying to mentor Megumi.

He only had an interest in Megumi because his ten shadows techniques was a way to bypass Gojo's infinity. Henever actually cared about Megumi reaching his full potential. He was grooming Megumi in the long term so he could snatch his body and turn him into a weapon against Gojo Satoru. The same way that Gojo only decided to take Megumi in and mentor him in the first place because his technique meant he had great potential as a sorcerer and a future ally in Gojo's crusade against the elders.

Megumi's life is defined by every adult in his life trying to mould him or use him selfishly for his own gains. His father sold him to the Zen'in clan for gambling money and abandoned him. Gojo only was interested in a strong ally against the elders. Sukuna is just one in a long line of people who are trying to shape Megumi into something he's not for their own selfish desires.

Ngl, the fushiguro girlies are kinda onto something with their characterization of Sukuna’s possession as the physical embodiment of his lifelong struggle for self determination and autonomy and how others have always pupeteered his fate for their own devices and he’s thusly never put himself first ─ his selfishness functioning ultimately as platitudes which still center others and his consideration for them. [SOURCE]

So if all of Megumi's various abusers have tried to make Megumi into something he's not and robbed him of his agency in the process, then is the best ending for Megumi really to become more selfish like Gojo or Sukuna?

If Megumi ended his character arc by using a complete domain expansion, and reaching Gojo's level of power wouldn't that be validating the way Gojo stole Megumi's entire childhood from him in order to make him a strong sorcerer. Wouldn't it look like the narrative was going, yeah, it was wrong for Gojo to groom Megumi like that, but look how strong it made him!

We already have a version of Megumi who learned to live only for himself, someone who broke the chains of fate and became entirely free.

Toji shows us a version of Megumi who lived up to his full potential as a sorcerer, became someone strong enough to threaten Satoru Gojo, and who put himself above everyone else and... Toji's fucking miserable.

Toji is the bad ending of Megumi. He's strong but that's all he is. The narration refers to him as a puppet of carnage, only living to fight the strongest around. In fact, Toji dies BECAUSE he wanted to feel validated as the strongest. The decision to say and fight against Gojo when Gojo unlocks reverse cursed technique leads to his death. Being the strongest and his desire to be validated as someone strong is nothing more than a curse for Toji and what allows him to escape the cycle is not strength, but rather seeing that his son has succesfully escaped the abuse of the Zen'in clan.

So having Megumi live up to his full potential as a sorcerer, or living selfishly the way that Gojo or Sukuna wanted him to wouldn't really be breaking the cycle, because it'd be Megumi acting the way his abusers wanted him to act. If anything it' be Gojo's long term grooming of Megumi finally succeeding.

I understand that Megumi fighting back on Sukuna from within with one use of ten shadows to create a puddle underneath Sukuna's feet isn't the most dramatic way to signal his journey of self-realization, but sometimes the flashy, dramatic, and satisfying thing isn't always the right thing.

if the central relationship of the series is Megumi and Yuji, and the central question of that relationship was "is it possible to save someone who doesn't want to be saved-" then resolving both Megumi and Yuji's character arcs requires answering that question. That's the most important part. How are we going to break the cycle and have Megumi and Yuji save each other in a way that Geto and Gojo weren't be able to.

Yes, I understand wanting Megumi to be his own person and stand on his own two feet, but before he's a person Megumi is a fictional character. Megumi and Yuji are characters intentionally designed to be each other's other half. The same way that Geto is designed to be the other half of Gojo. They both represent a yin / yang pair. They both represent the shadow and the light, the sun and the moon.

People also talk about wanting Gojo to learn to be his own person outside of Geto, but that's also missing the point. Gojo isn't a person to begin with he's a character designed to be the other half of Geto. All of those parallels that exist between them, both of them getting their bodies stolen from them, both of them becoming monsters (geto slaughtering the village, Gojo slaughtering the elders), both of them dying on the same day. Those are intentional, because they're fictional characters meant to represent the concept of yin and yang and balance. Gojo cannot exist without Geto, Geto's body causes Gojo to get boxed, Gojo dies within a year of killing Geto, because they're meant to represent the taoist concept of BALANCE in a manga that's about BALANCE. Gojo cannot achieve balance with the character that symbolizes his yin. Whereas, Megumi's way of achieving balance is to find a way to make things work with his other half Yuji in a way that Geto and Gojo failed to.

As someone who used to be the biggest Megumi Corruption Arc truther, I've come around in my thinking and I can at least understand why Gege didn't go that direction. Megumi learning to be selfish like Gojo would be changing too much of Megumi's inner nature, because as much as Megumi pretends to be selfish as an excuse he still is someone who wants to help people.

There's nothing wrong with Megumi wanting to help people, or wanting to be a team player. It was Megumi deciding to hinge his entire self worth on just his ability to help one person. It's why he couldn't go on when Tsumiki died, not just because he was grieving his sister, but because he decided to make protecting his sister his entire reason to live and genuinely saw no other reason to keep on living.

A lot of people say that Megumi is just deciding to make Yuji into an emotional crutch the same way he once did with Tsumiki, however, I don't think these lines of dialogue really indicate that.

"The world is full of people besides myself. Once more I think I'll live for others."

To begin with, Megumi says that the world is filled with lots of people. Megumi didn't want to go on because he didn't think he'd ever love someone as much as he loved his sister. That there was nothing in the world worth living for if his sister was gone.

However, now Megumi is acknowledging that there are more people in the world than just Tsumiki. That he might come to love them the same way that he loved her. That he shouldn't give up on life just because he lost one person, no matter how important that person was.

Megumi's words run contrary to the idea that he's just going to use Yuji as his next living emotional crutch, because he says the world is full of people. There's more people than just him, there's more people than just Yuji, as long as Megumi makes the choice to continue living then he can go out into the world and meet them.

Jujutsu Kaisen is a very individualist manga, and I understand we also exist in an individualist society so we want to see Megumi stand on his own two feet and live for himself, but I don't think Megumi deciding he'll live for others is a bad thing. This is just a few chapters after Yuji said that what makes life meaningful is the memories you leave behind with other people. Which is the exact same sentiment.

Yuji is able to break free from the cog mindset when he realizes that all the people he connected to in his life gave his life meaning, even if they died tragically, even if he only knew them for a short time. Choso's final words are "Thank you for being my little brother" and that connection was incredibly important even though they only knew each other for about a month. Yuji's life became meaningful because he went out into the world and made all these important connections.

Now Megumi is doing the same thing. He's resolved that even though his sister is dead the world is full of people he can connect with. That he can come to love other people the same way that he did. That his life is still worth living because he can find new people to love. Is Megumi deciding he can try to live for the other people in his life and his connection to those people even after the loss of his sister made him feel like his life is worthless and he'll never love anybody that way again, really that different from Yuji deciding that the people he made connections too gave his life value?

Jujutsu Kaisen lifts from other manga, this is pretty common knowledge. Killua and Shinji Ikari are probably the two biggest inspirations for Megumi and both are two very passive characters who are entirely reactive. They don't decide, they don't act, they react to the decisions of people around him.

Killua's ultimate moment of character development isn't beating his abusive big brother, or his abusive parents in a physical fight after getting a power up. Killua's greatest moment of character development is accepting Nanika as a part of Alluka. Something he was too afraid to do because it would mean that his family would continue to try to exploit Alluka for her wish granting abilities.

Killua finishes his arc with the resolution to protect both Alluka and Nanika from the rest of his family. Considering that Killua has been centering his entire self worth around his usefulness to Gon by this point you could call it Killua is just replacing Alluka with Gon as a crutch if you were cynical. Or you could just say that Killua, like Megumi is someone who lives for their loved ones and finds value in the bonds he makes with other people.

Shinji Ikari spends the entire 26 episode run of Neon Genesis Evangelion not making a single decision, and his final moment of character development isn't really that much character development. He simply makes the decision to reject instrumentality and try again. To go back to the real world and try to be a person in the world again, because as long as you're alive there's still a chance to be happy.

Megumi like Killua, never really changes. It's in Megumi and Killua's nature to be a protector / a nurturer. They want to take care of the loved ones in their lives. Megumi and Shinji both have an arc where it takes the entire anime / manga to take the very first step. Their arc is there to depict how hard it can be to take that first step on the journey to change when you're as traumatized as someone like Shinji or Megumi.

Megumi's arc especially is about him making his very first decision in the whole manga. As I said the central question of Megumi and Yuji's relationship is can you save someone who doesn't want to be saved and Yuji eventually finds you that you can't.

Yuji's greatest moment of character development and empathy for Fushiguro is realizing he can't force savlation on Fushiguro if Megumi doesn't want it. He can't force Megumi to live. He can't just tell Megumi to be stronger.

In doing so Yuji does something that no one has ever done to Megumi in his life, and offered him a choice. Gojo expected Megumi to be as strong as him and saw him as a mini-gojo never once taking his opinion into the matter. As I said above Gojo sees being strong as the soliution to all of life's problems. His adivce to Megumi was don't be weak, otherwise you'll be left behind.

Yuji allows Megumi to be weak. He says that Megumi doesn't have to be strong and suck it all up. The metaphor of Yuji and his grandfather works well to show how Yuji truly understood Megumi in a way Gojo never did. Gojo expected Megumi to be as strong as him. Gojo encouraged Megumi to grow up into another Gojo. Gojo failed to understand Megumi in many ways because he wasn't Gojo, and enjoy Jujutsu and being a sorcerer the way that Gojo did.

Yuji relates the story of his grandfather rejecting chemo treatment. At the time he didn't understand why his father would refuse the treatment just because it was painful, because Yuji being young would have been very easily able to handle the pain. However, after Yuji went through trauma and started dealing with suicidal ideation in the aftermath of Shibuya he understood why some people wouldn't want to keep fighting.

Yuji knows what it's like to be weak and want to give up so he doesn't want to force Megumi to be strong. Gojo projected himself onto Megumi and expected Megumi to always be strong and to love Jujutsu like he did, and didn't understand the ways Megumi was different than him. Yuji on the other hand accepted Megumi for who he was with those words, even though Megumi was weak and didn't want to continue living Yuji didn't crticize him he accepted that Megumi was different from him. He accepted the fact he didn't really understand Megumi's pain. He validated Megumi's pain and didn't try to dismiss it.

This parallel to Gojo and Megumi's first meeting is so important, because Gojo showed up in that child's life only to exploit him. While Yuji gave Megumi a choice. Even if it meant that Yuji would be lonely and heartbroken, he still gave Megumi a choice on whether or not he wanted to live.

In the end Yuji gave Megumi a choice, and Megumi made that choice to keep living. Just like Shinji, Megumi's entire character arc was just leading him up to taking the first step on his journey. Just like Shinji, Megumi's entire arc is defined by his choices being taken away from him but the very first choice he makes is his most important one: the choice to live.

So yes, a Megumi corruption arc would have been really cool but I think the answer of "You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved, but you can still love them" is a beautiful one.

#jjk meta #megumi fushiguro #yuji itadori #itafushi #satoru gojo #suguru geto #satosugu #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen spoilers #jjk 271 #jujutsu kaisen 271 #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen meta

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