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celestie0 · 2 months ago

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gojo satoru x reader | oneshot smut [18+]

title. around the clock

Hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision.

ᰔ pairing. babysitter/boxing au - underground boxer & babysitter!gojo x college student!reader (f)

ᰔ summary. when underground boxer gojo satoru becomes a little strapped for cash, he gets a day job as a babysitter for a five-year-old kid named yuuji who most definitely has adhd (but that’s besides the point). the kid’s mom gave gojo two rules, and two rules only: don’t accidentally kill my son, and do not flirt with my daughter. he’s pretty sure he’s got a good hold on the former, but he’s got no self control over the latter.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem!reader, smut, casual sex, lil bit of fluff, lil bit of crack, slight age gap (reader’s 22 & gojo’s 27), cum play, creampie, unprotected sex, praise kink, slight degradation, gojo is a sleazebag that cares?, sort of porn-coded smut except there’s a lil bit of lore so it’s kinda porn w plot, uhh having sex with risk of getting caught, gojo beats people up at night & then plays father figure to a 5 y/o during the day, mentions of violence/alcohol/drugs/blood/cigarettes

ᰔ word count. 12.6k

a/n. hiiii friends jeez it feels like FOREVER since i've posted some good ol' smut (still has plot tho xd)...hopefully you enjoy n see ya at the bottom! lmk if i missed any warnings! if you asked to be tagged but didn’t get tagged it’s bc you have your tags off aaa :( even when some ppl tried to fix it i still couldn’t tag them i’m sorry!!

alsoooooo so very much love to @starmapz for beta reading this for me :”) really helped me w my posting nerves haha. she is also a wonderful jjk author pls go check out her works!! 💕 ART CREDITS: @/3-aem

➸ masterlist

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): heyy um i’m sorry if this comes off kinda rude i just am kinda bad with this but i was wondering if you could text my mom for questions about yuuji’s care instead of me?

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Oh 2:46pm Gojo Satoru: Yeah, sure

2:34 pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sorry i know my mom doesn’t know much ab how to take care of him bc i was the one that took care of him for a while but i just really want to separate myself from that guardian role now that i’ve transferred to NYU yknow? :/ i think it’s not my place anymore. i just wanna be big sis now haha

2:46pm Gojo Satoru: I get it. Sorry if I was making you uncomfortable with my texts

2:48pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): no no not uncomfy by it, thanks for looking after him. it’s just i’m kind of busy n stuff so it can be distracting

2:49pm Gojo Satoru: Ok, got it

2:52pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): and it was kind of an issue with his last babysitter

2:53pm Gojo Satoru: Oh?

2:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeahhh like he would keep textinf me n stuff uhh kinda weird things… i told my mom about it and she was super pissed so she fired him

2:55pm Gojo Satoru: Weird things?

2:56pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah he was always “accidentally sexting me” n like he sent me a dick pic once sooooo yeah

2:56pm Gojo Satoru: Who tf 2:56pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll go beat him up

2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): oh no no its fine lol 2:57pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): please dont beat anyone up 2:58pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i’m not saying you’re like him tho i just think maybe less texting unless its an emergency okay?

3:00pm Gojo Satoru: Are you sure because I will totally go beat him up for you

3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO I DONT WANT YOU TO BEAT ANYONE UP FOR ME 3:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): also no offense but you dont look like you could beat someone up

3:01pm Gojo Satoru: WHAT 3:02pm Gojo Satoru: Tf you mean “no offense” that’s literally the most offensive thing you could say to a guy

3:04pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeaa i mean you have muscles ofc but in the ‘ohhh i wanna look good for instagram’ way and not like real man muscles yknow

3:06pm Gojo Satoru: Ok princess next time you visit home and go on one of your stupidly large grocery hauls I’ll make sure you carry all those groceries in by yourself

3:06pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): NO 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): I WAS JUST JOKING 3:07pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): YOURE SO STRONG TY FOR ALWAYS CARRYING THE GROCERIES INSIDE 3:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): PLEASE KEEP CARRYING MY GROCERIES INSIDE

3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Nah 3:09pm Gojo Satoru: Should we be texting right now? I’m not sensing any emergencies here

3:11pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): pls. my groceries :(

3:16pm Gojo Satoru: I’ll let the kiddo know you say hi 👋🏼

The irony of it all was that, if Gojo really wanted to, he absolutely could beat the shit out of someone. And he has, hundreds of times, pseudo professionally. Although that isn’t something he’d admit to you, out of fear that you might relay that info back to your mom who would then become mortified that she’s entrusted her five-year-old son’s life to the hands of an underground boxer.

But he needed the money. A night-time job didn’t really make daytime money, not when they could easily replace him with the next dude the second he gets knocked out of the ring more than twice, let alone if he let it happen once. And although he sometimes made large sums, it wasn’t stable income. He needed a back-up plan, and so babysitting it was.

The babysitter working nights at unsanctioned dojos and gyms located in the back of cartel blocks, knocking teeth out of men twice his size, would put any decent mother into a coma or induce some episode of syncope, hence why it wasn’t something he put on his resume before he got hired. Not that he even needed to provide a resume; your mom seemed desperate to cover the position as fast as possible, that promotion at work was moving faster than she wanted to, and Gojo’s beneficial attribute that he possessed as a candidate to look after her son, compared to all the other potential hires, was that he had a penis.

He likes the kid. Yuuji. He’s got kind of a short attention span, and makes Gojo weary of his age. Hold up, that makes him sound like he’s geriatric, he’s really only the ripe old age of twenty-seven, but the immortality and infinite stamina that a five-year-old boy has on him is enough to have him huffing and puffing at the end of every single evening shift he takes on with the rascal.

Fighting is all sprint, and no stamina. Sure, there might be some more seasoned boxers that might disagree with him, but for someone as young as him in the field, it’s the tactic he’s been forced to gain. If he draws a fight on for too long, he'll get killed by a forty-two year old man with steroids clogging up his adipose tissue and enough testosterone to grow a full-body beard by the time the sun starts to set. No, his strategy is to knock them out within the first fifteen seconds. Use their weight against them, and whatnot. A tactic he’s found has worked, since he’s been undefeated thus far.

He can never wrap his head around it. The drug lords that run the rings who’ve gained millions the night before from selling crystal meth only to lose it all the night following in the second Gojo hooklines a solid punch to their betting boxer’s chin, making them see God & their Momma before they tap out (if they’re even able).

He doesn’t pocket much money from it, not anything compared to what the men who bet on him end up making at least, but it’s a decently solid sum. How lucrative it really is depends solely on what he thinks the value of his life is.

It’s not unheard of, boxers dying in the ring. Turns out, rich drug dealers care very little about the sheep they’ve captured to perform their entertaining little stunts. But Gojo wasn’t doing all of this to feel some sense of work-life pride, no, it was just sustenance. When basic needs are not met, humans resort to the most animalistic of all behaviors, and while he’s not proud of what he does, he can’t deny the fact that it’s turned him into an adrenaline junkie that gets a rush in his veins every time he knocks a jaw loose.

But balance was key. And hence why he’s a boxer by night, babysitter by day. For at least four days a week, he gets to pretend he’s the king’s most trusted appointed knight, or he’s the radioactive tyrannosaurus rex that wants to tyrannize all the other dinosaurs, or maybe he’s the evil power ranger (he always forgets which color that one was) that is determined to make the world a living hell by smashing mr. potatohead against the bunk bed post a billion times for all the other toys to see. Or whatever other imaginative hyperfixations Yuuji imposes on him in the later afternoon once he’s had his bowl of spaghetti-O’s and is ready to play. Lately, the kid’s been really into space. They’ve got all sorts of space toys these days. Back in Gojo’s day, he just had a good ol’ Buzz Lightyear.

“One rule, that’s it: don’t accidentally kill my son. Actually, one more rule. Don’t flirt with my daughter.”

There’s a part of Gojo that believes your mom kind of knows he’s up to shady shit at night, otherwise why else would she clause for him to not flirt with you if she didn’t read the slight swell to his eye and the healing gash across his cheek as anything other than this boy is trouble and I want him nowhere near my too-good-for-him daughter of reproductive capacity since that’s the exact tale of how I became a single mother in the first place. Or maybe he inherently looks like he’s up to no good? He’s not sure which angle is more offensive, and which one was more flattering. Well in any case, she entrusted Yuuji’s life to him, despite acknowledging the plausibility of harm, and that means she overall thinks positively of him, right? ……right?

The first night he met you, it was awkward to say the least. Gojo spends most of his nights performing deadly stunts for middle aged men with potbellies, and most of his days hanging out with a five-year-old (one who he’d argue is his only friend at this point). Sure, he’s got some people he sees occasionally back in his high school hometown when he can brave hearing about how everyone’s in college now or doing a masters or they’re working respectable nine-to-five day jobs meanwhile he has to lie to his Pops that he’s been working in insurance for the past two years. Listen, in fairness, he probably makes the same amount of money as an insurance broker would anyways, but he can’t exactly own up to the identity of his craft.

Anyways, the point is, he’s not used to seeing other people his age anymore. There’s the occasional hook-up with girls he hasn’t seen since Mrs. Tracy’s homeroom period back in sweet two-thousand-sixteen, or his twice-a-year hangout with Suguru where he only learns the day of where he's visiting from since the guy moves around more than Gojo can keep up with. But save for that, he mostly just sees your mom and then Yuuji.

So seeing you standing in the kitchen for the first time when he went to put Yuuji’s half-finished GoGurt back in the fridge was startling to say the least. When the sight of a woman startled him, he knew he needed to start getting out again.

You were on your tiptoes, reaching up to grab at something over the fridge, and wearing these ridiculously short shorts to where he could see the curve of your ass, his line of sight trailing down the skin of your bare legs. He couldn’t see anything of your form above your shorts, given you were wearing an extremely baggy t-shirt with NYU on it in big bolded university letters. As far as he knew, you were a senior at NYU, studying psychology, made dean’s list consecutively for the past three years given the way your mother posted all your stellar transcripts up on the fridge (he gets that she’s proud of her daughter, but doesn’t that kind of stuff usually end in grade school?) But other than that, it was all the information he had on you.

“Here,” he said, pressing his front to your back, maybe just to get a feel, as he reached over to you to finally grab the box of cereal you were swatting for, the one that he purposefully placed at the back because Yuuji learned how to climb counters recently. “Is this what you want?”

He had heard you gasp, spinning around on your heel fast, staring up at him with wide eyes like you weren’t expecting some random man to be in the house right now, and your first instinct ended up being to grab the knife out of the kitchen knife block and lunge it straight at his torso.

If it wasn’t for his boxer reflexes, he’d have ended up at the ER that evening. Or dead. All depending on the strength you could pack into a stab. But instead, he deflected it, though not without a gash to his torso through the fabric of his shirt, one that you spent the rest of the evening profusely apologizing for and eventually mending to with cotton balls and neosporin.

“I didn’t know you were my little brother’s babysitter,” you mumbled with a small wince on your face as you dabbed ointment on the wound while he pulled the hem of his shirt up to his shoulder. He’s never had an injury tended to before. It was nice.

“It’s fine, I get it, totally acceptable response to seeing a random dude in your house.”

He remembers the curl of your eyelashes while you stared down at his bare upper half, something he imprinted on his memory rather than the concern in your face as your fingertips traced the scars across his chest. He hoped they made you feel better about the one you just slashed into him, because after all, what was one more?

He knows he shouldn’t have, but he kissed you that night. Two minutes before your mom came home, and right after you bid him goodnight with one more apology, he backed you up against the door of your bedroom, his hands on your hips pulling you towards him, and his lips pressed against yours. Something seamless, from candid conversation that was heading towards an end, to full fledged making out against white-painted wood, his teeth nipping at your lip and he wondered just how touch-starved those university boys were leaving you given the desperate way you’d clinged to his shirt for dear life as he deepened the kiss.

The moment only lasted one minute and fifty-seven seconds, and in the remaining three, your mother’s key pushed into the front door and he had to pull away. Always, on the dot, 10PM, she was home. It was how he knew he had two minutes left to make a move in the first place.

So much for no flirting.

6:57pm Gojo Satoru: Bahahah I accidentally forgot where yuuji’s epipen is 6:58pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 6:59pm Gojo Satoru: Turns out this can-o-soup was just covering it in the cabinet

7:01pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): ??? why did you need to find his epipen

7:08pm Gojo Satoru: Oh he accidentally took a bite of my pad thai 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: I freaked cuz I thought it had peanuts in it but I remember I asked for it without any 7:09pm Gojo Satoru: shit’s crazy

7:10pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY THE FUCK DIDNT YOU TEXT ME????????

7:12pm Gojo Satoru: YOU SAID YOU DIDNT WANT ME TEXTING YOU UNLESS IT WAS AN EMERGENCY ?

7:13pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): SATORU YOU THOGHT HE ATE SOMETHING W PEANUTS IN IT AND YOU FORGOT WHERE HIS EPIPEN WAS THATSS A FUCKIGN EMERGENCY

7:15pm Gojo Satoru: THE KID IS DOING FINE HES ALIVE JESUS LEAVE ME ALONE 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo] 7:16pm Gojo Satoru: See. he’s chill 7:17pm Gojo Satoru: with intact airways might I add 7:18pm Gojo Satoru: Also isn’t he a little too old to still be watching baby sensory videos?

7:20pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): yeah my mom thinks he has adhd :(

7:22pm Gojo Satoru: oh

He tried to keep his word though (although he doesn’t recall ever giving it) out of the respect he had for your mom. She was a hard-working lady, single mom of two who went from working three jobs to now being a major administrator at a big law firm near the outskirts of town. It was an underdog story if he’d ever heard one, and he loved an underdog story.

But a little texting here and there wouldn’t hurt, right? Or so he thought, until you told him to cut it out with the contact. Maybe you were just trying to be the good one in this situation. After all, hooking up with your little brother’s babysitter? That sounds more like a bad porno than a sensible decision. Still, he’ll eventually get your replies to his which shirt should Yuuji wear to the park? and look, the toothfairy gave him the butt of a joint and a couple thumbtacks for his front tooth. he’s ecstatic texts, although in a less timely manner than before when you weren’t trying to preserve propriety. And when you’d occasionally visit every other weekend, he’d do his best to keep his hands in his pockets, and you’d fill up your nights with hangouts with your hometown friends to avoid spending too much time with him at the house. A silent agreement to not fuck each other, it was.

4:55pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): send pic of yuuji pls i miss him :(

5:04pm Gojo Satoru: [sent a photo]

5:08pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): IS THAT BLOOD?!?!?!?!

5:09pm Gojo Satoru: chillllllll it’s fake. We’re working on his halloween costume

5:09pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): WHY DOES IT HAVE BLOOD?!?!?!?!?!?

5:10pm Gojo Satoru: He wants to be a baby xenomorph and I'm his parasitic host. You know that iconic chestburster scene from the old school alien movies? yeah

5:12pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): satoru please for the love of god just dress him up as a dinosaur or something

5:13pm Gojo Satoru: I’m not the one that came up with the idea, okay? It was him

5:14pm yuuji’s sis (no flirting): because you let him watch adult swim with you before putting him to bed. you’ve deranged his brain.

5:14pm Gojo Satoru: He needs it. Builds character.

Gojo was living a double life, and if someone asked him, he’d say it was less of a Clark Kent way and more of a Bruce Wayne way, although in reality, he knows it’s close to neither. He’s no superhero with a concealed identity fighting crime, he’s a con artist that’s tricked a hard-working woman into hiring him just because he’s trying to save up enough money to get the fuck out of this godforsaken town, given he’s not knocked dead before then for the crime’s amusement.

But Yuuji looks up to him now. And Gojo’s grown attached to him too. He taught the kid how to tie his own shoes and piss inside the actual toilet like a real man. And that kid’s the only thing that’s made him question any of this. Maybe that’s what dads feel, suddenly held to all this impossible responsibility and the pressure to stop doing stupid shit so that you’ll stick around to see your kids get older. The thought that there are eyes on you now, eyes that are innocent and hopeful and learning, and because they know nothing at all, you feel the responsibility to protect them from everything. For fucks sake, remind him to never become a dad.

“Do you like my sister?” Yuuji had asked him out of nowhere one afternoon after he just got home from preschool, stacking a blue cube over a yellow one at the dining table.

“Uhh,” Gojo starts. He wondered if your mom had put a wire on the kid, so his answer was as diplomatic as he could manage. “Yeah, she’s cool. You’ve got a cool sister.”

“But. But.” Yuuji stutters, trying to find his big boy words. He stretches up higher to reach the top of his stack of blocks, but he only has so much arm real estate at the age of five. “Do you like her like you wanna kiss her?”

Gojo grabs the block from the kid’s hand, for a moment questioning Yuuji’s decision to want to put a blue block over another blue block, but he figures aesthetics are the least of a kid’s concern, and so he places the block where Yuuji wanted it.

Why does the kid know what kissing is anyway? Do kids know that kind of stuff at that age? Isn’t a kiss to a five-year-old just something their mom gives to them before they head off to preschool for the day? And not something that happens between adult men and women? Maybe he should stop watching that adult swim in front of him.

“No. I don’t want to kiss your sister,” he says, again, because he is suspicious of a wire. It was a lie and then some, because he wants to do a lot more than just kiss you.

Gojo lifts the RedBull he was nursing up to his lips and watches Yuuji in the corner of his eye as the kid stares at his growing stack of blocks with a concentrated expression on his face, his chubby fingers squeezing tightly into little round dimpled balls, like he’s putting together all his tiny brain cells together to form another coherent thought before turning to face Gojo on the chair.

“It’s ok. You can kiss her if you wan’ed to. You can marry her too,” Yuuji says.

Gojo almost spits out his RedBull. He barely manages to swallow it, a broken cough immediately leaving his throat when some of the liquid goes down the wrong pipe and he’s smacking a fist against his chest to knock the sanity back into himself.

“Where the fu—…where the flip did that come from?” he asks, blinking back tears from the rasp in his throat.

Yuuji’s small shoulders sulk as he sits back on his heels. “I want a papa.”

Oh fuck that hurt. Jesus christ, there was nothing more sad than that. Yuuji has literally never known what it’s like to have a dad, since his had left before he was even born. Gojo’s not really close to his old man by any means, but he had still been a fatherly figure in some pivotal moments when he had needed it growing up. Kids need their dads. And he’s seen enough people lose their way without one to know that the value of them is really underestimated.

He’s also kind of shocked that Yuuji really did think of you as his motherly figure. Maybe since it had always just been him and his dad, Gojo learned how to self sustain from a young age, and he and his dad became accustomed to just looking after their own interests to avoid the headache of tending to one another. My land is my land, and your land is yours, and there was the occasional Saturday night spent together with his dad’s millions of beer bottles emptied dry on the carpet in front of the 1992 box TV as the two shared a greasy pizza from the place down the street. That was the extent of family solidarity that he knew.

But he can’t imagine being barely eighteen and having to take care of your little brother all by yourself because your mom was too busy trying to put food on the table and was too poor to hire a babysitter. Your mom tried so damn hard to keep you away from the single teenage mother life, but somehow ended up giving it to you by proxy in the end anyway. It was no wonder you wanted space now that Yuuji’s a little older and your mom can afford a babysitter. No matter how much you might love your sibling, being their effective guardian out of pure necessity had to have taken a toll.

Gojo clears his throat before he speaks. “Buddy. If I married your sister, we’d be brothers. I wouldn’t be your dad.”

Yuuji’s eyes light up at the word brother. “Brothers? Me and you?”

“Yeah. Bros.”

The kid giggles, all bubbly with cheeks rounding fully and eyes sparkling. Gojo reaches out to ruffle at his hair before Yuuji gets down onto one stubby leg at a time from the chair then bolts towards the kitchen.

“Juice!!” he yells somewhere around the corner out of sight.

Gojo sighs, staring at all the toys he pulled out for Yuuji to play with, all left in a scattered mess across the table. He gets up out of his chair and heads towards the fridge. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll get you your juice, you little demon.”

The conclusion he comes to, and it might read like an obvious one, is that kids don’t really know the reality of life, hence why adults hide so much from them.

This is what he thinks of tonight when he wraps his worn out boxing tape around his hands and his wrist, tightening it with his teeth, and he can smell the sweat and grime from them. The back of the underground gym had an old dated locker room, and as Gojo stretches his neck side to side while sitting on the stiff metal bench, he eyes the peeling red paint of the locker in front of him, blurring vision making it look like spilt blood.

His phone pings with a text. He shuffles inside his duffle bag to look for it while his other hand scratches at his bare chest.

1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): hhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii 1:07am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): omgomgomg sor y i’m

He blinks at the screen, confusion flashing across his face. He types one letter, but then he sees three dots and a speech text bubble in the bottom left, so he waits for you.

1:09am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i drunk :(

The corner of his mouth ticks up slightly.

1:09am Gojo Satoru: Yeah I can tell

1:10am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): at a apartyyyy

His eyebrows raise slightly, the thought of you tipsy on some frat party couch flashing through his mind, yet of all things you could be doing at that frat party, you’re texting him? Must be a really boring party.

1:11am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): whyyy are you aawake?

1:12am Gojo Satoru: Couldn’t sleep 1:12am Gojo Satoru: Don’t you have a midterm in the morning?

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): wtf hwo do you knwo that

1:15am Gojo Satoru: Your mom keeps your schedule posted on the fridge

1:15am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): im so fucked;’;(((

He snorts. He’s got a bit more life experience than you, five-ish years to be exact, more than enough time to master the no-hangover hangout, but just before he can offer you some advice, he sees another text from you.

1:16am yuuji’s sister (no flirting): can i tell u smething

His gaze flits up to the ceiling briefly, and he hears commotion outside the thick walls of the locker room. The previous fight was over, and fast. The guy must’ve been knocked out in under twenty seconds tops, which means that Gojo was next up against whatever superbeast just beat him up.

1:17am Gojo Satoru: Sure

He stands up, placing his phone down on the bench before he flexes the muscles in his arms a couple times to get the blood flowing into them. And there’s the noise of another ping. Actually, four.

1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): sonetimes 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): i thikn of 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): when u kisse me 1:14am yuuji’s sis (no flirting): *kissed me

His eyes widen slightly, irises dry to the ashy cigarette smoke from outside lingering in the air, and his heart rate picks up a bit. An adrenaline junkie with close to no fear in his veins due to the way his amygdala’s been fried to a crisp from years of boxing, yet he’s got his breath hitched from the memory of your soft lips against his. It makes the blood rushing through the muscles of his arms rush somewhere down south instead.

Loud banging on the door of the locker room jolts him out of his trance, and he’s stiff around the edges once more.

“Satoru! You’re up, man,” he hears Danny, the fight coordinator, yell at him from the other side of the heavy & poorly-installed steel door.

Gojo sighs, glancing down at the texts on his phone. To respond, or not to respond. You’re off your face, clearly chatty from the alcohol, and he knows for certain you’ll regret every life decision you’ve ever made once you wake up in the morning and see the self sabotaging behaviors you’ve engaged in tonight. He knows that responding to you might put you at ease rather than straight up ignoring you, but the feeling will pass, and he has a match to win with no more room left to stall.

He makes his way out the locker room, pushing past the crowded halls of people underneath dim flashing club lighting, some dudes angrily jerking to face him when he pushes past them with a stiff shoulder, only for their eyes to widen when they see just exactly who pushed them.

There’s strippers in the ring, doing some routine for pre-match, and Gojo narrows his eyes at the man he sees laying back over the rubber boundary rope, head tipped back up to the ceiling with a wicked grin on his face. So that was his opponent? He’s never seen the guy before. Was he from a different district? Different district talent was tough, you had no background info on them, while they’ve been preparing to be here for weeks. Hence why boxers tend to do better when they visit a different district than they do in their own. There have been rules made to limit these types of fights, mostly over outrage that it was unfair to bid on them, but they were also usually more entertaining to watch. Gojo’s got a sick feeling to his stomach as the strippers clear the ring.

“Hey,” Gojo calls out, grabbing Danny by the back of his collar and dragging him towards him and away from the girls stepping down onto the floor, “what’s in for this fight?”

Danny glances up at the ceiling. “Tarp’s bettin’ tonight, so it can’t be anything less than ten grand for you. I’d say tops fifteen?”

Gojo narrows his eyes further, then glances off into the ring again. The man stands up, and Gojo gets a better look on his face. He’s got short hair, neon green in color with a dark fade underneath and tattoos all over his face. But those eyes. They were freakishingly red, and it made him uneasy. He knows the type. The type of boxers that do this to genuinely hurt people for thrill. Make no mistake, Gojo understands he’s made himself out to be like that too, gaining some kind of rush out of this profession, but this type of fighter was different. The type to literally continue smashing a dude’s face into the floor until they’re a bloody mess even minutes after the winning call, and no referee to stop it because that’s the kind of action the spectators wanted.

Danny reads his line of sight. “That’s Gale. Newton’s new boxing toy. Came outta nowhere about a month ago. He’s undefeated so far in his district, and Newton specifically wanted to see you up against him tonight,” Danny tells Gojo, resting his elbow up on his bare shoulder. “Chances are he’ll compete with Tarp for final bid if you win this one. I’m talking twenty-five grand in the next if you can knock him out in this.”

“Uh-huh,” Gojo acknowledges, rolling his shoulder so Danny’s elbow falls from it. Forget the money, he just wants to make it out of this alive.

He sets his foot up on the square, ducking through the dividing boundary straps and the tacky caution construction tape that the gym thinks creates an exciting ambience. He hears the static of the speakers as the announcers call out Gojo’s name, then this other guy, loud bass club music booming through Gojo’s chest as he tries to take a few deep breaths through the thick air of this low-ceiling arena.

The dim overhead lights flickered, casting shadows over the makeshift ring, and the crowd pressed tight around at every perimeter area, yelling and pushing, one even tosses a beer bottle on the square and it shatters, spreading glass all across, a few shards reaching Gojo’s feet and he looks down at them with a shudder. A fight immediately breaks out in the crowd over something related or possibly entirely unrelated, and he’d have no way of knowing as he swipes the shards away with his heel.

The influential men always sat up on higher seating, off towards the back in their own VIP section where they suck in the smoke of fat cigarettes and peer through 100% tinted sunglasses to assess the boxers they’ve bid thousands on. The light reflects off the golden grills of their teeth with every snarl at any passerby that gets too close, like a lion in its den. That’s what the sanction was called. Lion’s den.

Gojo sighed, eyeing the twisted grin of this Gale guy across from him. Was that his real name? Usually, foreign district guys get nicknames. Gojo’s always thought the nicknames were tacky, and he’s accumulated some of his own over the years, but to his ears, none of them ever really landed, although The White Fox admittedly was kinda nice. Reminded him of throwback shooting games.

He sucked a breath in through his teeth, holding his hands up in front of his chest in weak fists, storing energy in them in the form of pure anticipation alone, and then the bell rang.

His opponent lunged towards him immediately, fists flying in a barrage of reckless strikes, and Gojo’s eyes momentarily widened in the briefest moments of hesitation he had been allowed before ducking and dodging every one of this guy's shots, then jumping a step back to create distance.

Fuck. He was fast. Not just boxer fast, athlete fast. There was a difference. And it wasn’t a good one to be up against.

Gojo picked up light on his feet. He couldn’t win this one fast, that much was certain. One single careless or reckless move, and he’ll get tackled. He knows that by the malicious look he sees on that guy’s face, grin wide like he’s some cannibalistic beast.

Stepping back towards the center, Gojo purposefully set himself up for Gale to swipe a vicious hook towards his head, before Gojo last minute ducked down, crouched to the floor, and swung his leg out to knock the guy off balance by his ankles, and he falls onto his back with a loud thud!

There’s a moment of momentary silence from the crowd, right before Gojo put the man in a torso-lock, twisting him in a way a human body should absolutely not be twisted, hearing the grunts of pain and the crack of spine even through the shouts of the crowd.

He can hear it. Kill him! Knock his fucking teeth out! Snap his neck like a goose, man! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM! FIN-ISH HIM!

He feels like throwing up.

Gojo looks up at the referee, who wasn’t really a referee, just there to run the clock when there was action and only barely stop it before near death. “This is enough, right?” he asks.

The referee nods. “1-0, next round.”

Gojo lets go of his opponent, leaving him there to heave for a moment before he gets up onto his feet again. Just needs one more, and he’s a winner. Ten grand in his pocket, and he won’t have to come back here for a couple weeks.

Gale gets up, swiping at the spit that had trickled out the corner of his mouth down to his chin, and he had an enraged look on his face. The second the bell rang for the second round, he exploded forward towards Gojo with even more fervor than before, gritted expression with a thirst for violence fueling the storm of punches he was throwing towards Gojo but he tried to remain calm, light on his feet, swiftly duck and avoid before he can find another opportunity to clear a sharp, clean jab right to the ribs—

sometimes, i think of when you kissed me

Gojo misses his strike, leaving his guard wide open, and Gale takes the opportunity to land a solid punch straight to his jaw, sending his mouth guard flying straight out of his mouth into the air, and knocking him backwards onto the ground with a thud and then he finds himself staring up at the rusting metal ceiling and a ringing in his ears that almost matches the roar of the crowd.

His head is in a haze, dizzy like where one second could feel like a millennia. He feels a soreness underneath his chin, a pain that radiates to his mouth, and he briefly swipes his tongue over his front teeth to make sure he still has all of them.

What the fuck was that? That intrusive thought. There’s no intrusive thoughts allowed in life or death situations, not when he was always just one smash to the head away from a permanent concussion. But, fuck, he can’t help it. Can’t help thinking of you. Even when his vision has gone blurry and he should really be weary about what happens next in this ring, his mind’s just thinking about you, at some frat party, tipping back shots of tequila and waiting for a text-back in response to your tipsy ones. Were you even waiting up on him? Have you already passed out on the couch, or were your friends dragging you back to your dorm? Or are you fucking some other dude right now? Has he got his hand up your top, squeezing at you, sleazily feeling you up before spilling beer all down your shirt, and are you kissing him back with the same enthusiasm, your phone now somewhere long slipped between the cushions of the couch and out of sight?

Even though it’s still sore, he tenses his jaw. Grinds his teeth, even. Tasting blood somewhere along the line of his gums, he realizes his lip is split. He licks at it, the flavor of copper more rich on his tongue, and he clenches his fists tightly. Why’s he thinking of that right now? It just pisses him off, the thought of you with some other dude. Maybe that’s what he needs to win this fight. Spite. Although he’s not sure why the guy across from him at the ring has to pay for it.

He lifts his head up off the ground, and while it felt like years he had been down, a glance at the timer tells him it’s only been a solid four seconds. A solid four seconds that his opponent had to fully charge a lunge towards him with the look of death in his face, raising his elbow up into the air in time with his leap, ready to come straight down, and Gojo’s eyes widen at the sight above him from where he’s still lying on the wood.

“Shit—” he cusses, rolling his body over to the side so that the dude falls straight down onto the floor rather than elbow Gojo in the fucking ribs, and then he gets back up on his feet.

Stakes were high, he has to end this, he has to end this now, and he flexes the muscle in his right bicep, channeling everything he has into this one blow, and before Gale even really has a chance to turn around and face him again, Gojo’s already three-fourths set up a knockout undercut that he drives straight up the guy’s chin, with so much force it has him lifting up off the floor, a vertebrate stretch to his spine before he’s sent flying backwards and slammed against the tight rubber lining of the ring to where he was half hanging over it.

The room fell silent for a split second, then erupted in a roar as the referee fell to one knee beside Gale, checking him for any semblance of consciousness, and when he found none, he waves the match off.

Gojo’s eyes flit up towards the lion’s den, the only opinions that he really needed to care about were sitting in those mahogany chairs with glasses of scotch swirling around in their hands, and he sees some of them looking straight at Gojo before leaning towards one another and discretely talking about something he can’t make out because he doesn’t know how to read lips.

He feels someone tug at his arms from behind, pulling him to crouch down and he balances back on the balls of his feet. He glances down through the ring at the floor. Danny was leaning against the wooden surface of it. “Dude. Go.” He jerks his head towards Gale, who still laid there sprawled across the now stretched out rubber perimeter bands. “Go fuck him up. Knock a few more teeth out, I don’t know, get some more blood out of him.”

“What?” Gojo huffs, yanking his arm away from Danny’s grip. “The fuck are you saying?”

“I told you, man, Newton’s here and he’s got his eye on you. Go give him a show,” Danny says, “do it.” And when he sees clear frustration on Gojo’s face he sighs. “Twenty-five grand, consider that, will you?”

Gojo sneers at the man, an awful taste in his mouth as he spits blood towards Danny’s feet. “Go fuck yourself on his cock if he wants a show that bad.” And then he ducks underneath the bands and hops back down onto the floor, pushing past people who were trying to grab at him and pull at him and lift him up and even throw him down until he made it through flashing hallways and back to the locker room.

He shuts the door behind him, sliding the bolt lock into the frame so no one can follow him inside, and then he leans his weight back against the chilling steel before tipping his head back until it hits the surface too.

He lets out of a few deep breaths, then stares down at the sting he finds over his knuckles. Red and blistering from the last punch he delivered, and he’s almost certain he broke a bone in his hand. Fuck. It was bleeding across the cuts, too. He had to figure out a way to get it all healed by tomorrow, as if that was humanly possible, just because he doesn’t want Yuuji questioning him about it.

Yuuji. For fucks sake, when has he ever thought about the kid this much? When has he ever thought about much of anything when he’s out here or in the ring? He’s a babysitter by day. He’s a “part” of your family when the sun is up and normal functioning society is breathing their lives into the clean air. That’s it. He’s no five-year-old’s caretaker in front of all these primetime drug lords, and he certainly shouldn’t be thinking of you when facing big, burly men he’s aiming to rough up, all within the dead hours of night. So then how come these thoughts are on his mind at all times, twenty-four-seven, around the clock?

He heads further into the locker room, glancing down at the bench where he’d left his phone, then picks it up, neck craned all the way down to glance at the screen as he holds his phone by his hip because he doesn’t have any energy to pick it up any further towards his eyesight.

He sees your messages. You never sent any follow-up ones, just your horrendously typed out sonetimes, i thikn of when u kisse me *kissed me across the span of four texts, and Gojo runs a tired hand down his face.

He tips his head back to groan at the ceiling, guttural with no basis other than a release of all the pent up frustration of every sort, then he types in a couple messages to you,

3:23am Gojo Satoru: That’s nice 3:24am Gojo Satoru: I think about fucking you all the time

—and then tosses his phone into his duffel bag to call it a night.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

You’re awoken to your alarm blaring heavily, and you whack your arm across your nightstand table beside your tiny twin-size bed to hit the snooze button, then rub your eye with a loose fist while smacking at the residual taste of alcohol you have on your tongue.

“Mm…” you mumble to yourself. And then the thirst hits you. The overwhelming, intense, unquenchable thirst that leaves your mouth feeling like the Sahara desert before you grab your twice-dented Hydroflask from the nightstand, twist the cap off and chug about twenty ounces of water in one breath.

You let out a deep exhale and fall back into bed, your hand resting on top of your water-filled tummy, and you stare up at the ceiling of your dorm.

Last night was horrible. You knew you shouldn’t have gone to that frat party, especially given you have an exam in—you checked the time on your phone—about an hour, and an hour was not enough time to recover from the raging hangover headache that’s pounding through your head. But your roommates insisted you went, and so go you did. You never knew what to expect, always torn between shaving your pussy before you go or throwing on a stained pair of sweatpants to keep the guys away instead. Sometimes, it was a combination of both. But last night, you ended up drinking more than you usually do, and that always led to poor, poor, poor decisions, in which all the sense of pride you had in yourself was washed down with the puke that you hurled into the upstairs toilet.

You grab at your phone again, briefly seeing that your friends had sent you some photos from the night. You immediately swiped off to the side to dismiss the notifications, because as far as you were concerned, you never wanted to see those photos in your life.

And then, in the briefest of moments, you saw a familiar name in your notifications that made you heart skip a beat.

Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter)

With an immediate gasp, you pulled your phone to your chest and held it there, blinking up at the pale yellow ceiling, your heart picking up in rhythm.

Oh fuck.

That was right.

You drunk texted him last night.

You drunk texted your little brother’s hot babysitter.

Fuck.

Mortified was an understatement, possibly because you don’t even remember what you said, and so you don’t even want to see what he replied with.

You groan, rubbing both your hands across your face then kick your sheets back with your feet like a child having a temper tantrum because you were so embarrassed you had even texted him at all last night. I mean, he was hot. A little older than you, really gorgeous eyes, tall, and, yeah, you gave him shit for the Instagram muscles thing, but that’s only because you thought he’d find it cheeky that you were trying to humble him despite the fact that he’s more toned and ruggedly sculpted than any other man you’ve ever met. You didn’t want to have a flustered schoolgirl attitude because it would just seep through to his ego.

In any case, he was hot, there was no denying it, so can you really blame yourself? But still. There was collateral with this. You had to see him every other weekend. He knows your family, even your extended since they invited him to Thanksgiving dinner a couple weeks ago. A high-risque drunk text recipient if he ever was one (of course he has been, look at that face). Why couldn’t you have just drunk texted ECON160 guy from last semester who Clit DJ’d you underneath your desk at the back of the lecture hall instead?

The thing that made you nervous about Gojo Satoru was that he was just so…confident? Like, in that I was raised to be this way confident and not that I fought inner demons my whole life to barely end up this way confident, y’know? Never had to fake it ‘til he made it, he just was. At least that was the kind of energy you got from him, and unfortunately for you, it was nerve wracking but enticing all at the same time.

You sigh. “Stupid. Stupid. Stuuuuuupiiiiidddddddddddd. You. Are. So. Stuuuuuupiiiiddddddd,” you sigh, running your hands through your hair to grip at the strands.

You pull your phone away from your chest, and finally brave yourself to read the texts from your notifications screen, but not without blurring your vision a little to further stall. And then you finally refocus it to read them. The first one you see has you gasping—

3:24am Gojo Satoru (yuuji’s babysitter): I think about fucking you all the time

It has heat spreading across your cheeks, and you blink at your screen, then quickly swipe up to read the previous messages with rushed glides of your index finger on the screen to see that he had sent it to you in response to your barely coherent texts about how you still so often think about that time he randomly pressed you up against the door of your bedroom to kiss you that night you first met him.

I think about fucking you all the time

At 3 in the morning? He decided to send that text at 3 in the fucking morning? That was the devil’s hour. What’s he trying to tell you?

Oh come on, you’re not stupid. And you know he isn’t either. The sexual tension was palpable, it was there since the day you two met and you almost stabbed him, and also everytime you were visiting the house, and his shoulder brushes against yours when he’s trying to get past you in the kitchen, or when you’ve got Yuuji in your arms and the kid is clinging to Gojo’s sleeve because he wants him near him at all times. There’s even sexual tension over the phone, in those stupid texts he sends you all the time about meaningless child care stuff, and honestly, those little updates made your day.

But… you don’t know much about him, and your mom would kill you if she ever found out you wanted him. And she’d probably pulverize him if she found out he ever made a move on you. Cremated without leaving a trace behind would be an understatement. She thinks he’s no good and she thinks you’re too good. You know she’s warned him before to not get close to you, as if she was pre-emptively expecting him to try to get in your pants like it was some canon force of the universe, hence why he’s probably so fucking awkward around you whenever she’s there too. Like if he accidentally got caught staring at your ankles, your mom would light him on fire, so he’d rather not risk it by just avoiding looking at you at all.

Your mom has always been protective of you. Your father was a deadbeat, one she thought she loved, only to watch him leave. And she had to raise a baby all by herself. He re-entered your lives right before you graduated high school, knocked up your mom again with Yuuji, and guess what? Left again without a trace. To be doubly humiliated by a man is a fate you wouldn’t wish on any woman, but that’s exactly what your mom went through. It was a wake-up call for her, though. No more living paycheck to paycheck like you had been your whole lives up until Yuuji was born. The kid doesn’t even know how lucky he is with everything he has right now. Your mom worked her way up the corporate ladder and made something of herself and now you guys were comfortable, so it was safe to say she had some sort of right to look after her daughter, of whom she simply doesn’t want to follow in the same naive footsteps of her youth.

You get it. She wants to break the generational cycle. But it made being with men tough on all fronts, let alone dating. You could never bring a guy home because he’d never be enough, even if he cured cancer or could make you orgasm while doing a sixty-nine handstand. And while her overbearing paranoia over what you do or where you are or who you’re with has since dimmed slightly since you officially moved out to finish your last year of higher education at NYU, you can still feel her disappointment from a hundred miles away when you’re making out with some random frat guy on his beer-stained couch at eleven AM on a Tuesday.

But you got to college. You’ve already made it this far. You’re on dean’s list. You graduated high school as salutatorian. You’re the most highly decorated cello player in the state. You won Miss County pageant when you were sixteen for your philanthropic efforts towards feline leukemia. You did online community college for three years so you could stick back after high school and help your mom raise Yuuji, which meant that you had to forfeit your scholarship to Cornell. You’ve spent your whole life being good, you just wanna be bad for a little bit.

And if bad meant fucking the hot and mysterious babysitter, then so be it.

You pick your phone up, begin blasting what the hell by Avril Lavigne on your dorm room bluetooth speaker, then type a message to him that says—

10:34am you: do it then

—then shove your phone under the sheets and belt out the lyrics aaaall my life i’ve been good, but now, ahhhh i’m thinkin’ what the hell!!! while kicking your feet and clutching your pillow.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Gojo has no clue what divine entity has overcast their gratuitous spirit over him on this blessed Monday afternoon, but he’ll thank them for it later once his balls are empty.

He’s got you on your back, sprawled across the couch in the living room, the first fuck being a rushed one that you offered him with before he has to go pick Yuuji up from circle time at preschool, which wasn’t ideal, but he’s delirious at the sight of you underneath him right now. Your little NYU shirt, a tighter one this time, bunched up over your bare breasts, otherwise entirely naked other than the flimsy panties dangling at your ankle, and the view of the tip of his cock looking hot and heavy against the velvet of your cunt, slowly pushing in, feeling the warmth of your walls squeeze around him paired with the sweet moan that leaves your lips, makes him fall forward with a bracing hand dug into the cushion by the side of your head because the sensation feels so fucking good he can hardly keep himself upright.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he grunts, pushing himself in further to try and bottom out but he’s still got a couple inches he needs you to take, and so you curl your hips upwards towards the cieling to make more room for him, practically putting yourself into a mating press and soon enough he’s balls deep, “you on any birth control?”

“Uh-huh,” you moan, eyes closed and head tipped back with one hand squeezing your own tit.

“I can cum inside then, yeah?” he asks you, pushing your knees to your chest, slowly drawing his hips back and you squirm underneath him.

“Let’s get there first, and then we’ll discuss,” you breathe out.

“I’ve been there for the past ten minutes, baby. I could cum at any second with the way you look and feel,” he informs you flatly, because it was just the truth and you had to know it, then he feels himself twitch inside, slowly working up to a languid rhythm, almost fearfully like your mom’s going to pop out somewhere around the corner with a camera crew ready like one of those retro TV shows just to humiliate him on national television for not keeping it in his pants like she’d told him to.

“Harder,” he hears you whisper, and he rolls his eyes shut to just focus on the feeling. The feeling of your nails grazing down the skin of his chest and his abs, tracing the scars he’s collected over the years, and he feels you tightening around him. He leans down to kiss you, fucking you properly now with the squeak of the couch springs echoing across the room, your hums of moans seeping through his lips until he’s fully taking them on with an open-mouthed kiss of sloppy tongue.

The fact that it was wrong felt right to him, and he realizes in this moment he’s lost all sense of control. He wasn’t just an adrenaline junkie that liked to rough up dudes, he was an adrenaline junkie that wanted to fuck you against all better judgement or moral compass. The way your tits were bouncing, the slap of skin on skin, his balls slapping against your ass while you wrap your legs around him tighter, all convincing him that any consequence made it worth it.

“Good,” he groans the praise, pinning your hands above your head as he rams his hips against yours, your cute moans and squeals sounding like literal music to his ears and he feels heat spread all the way up his neck, “goooood, keep squeezin’ me like that, fuck.” He slows down momentarily, just to take a moment and watch, really look and see the way his length disappears inside of your pretty self with every push forward, and then he works back up to a relentless pace that has you tipping your head back with a slack jaw and eyes closed tightly shut, sprained expression of pleasure spread across.

“Oh, oh my god, Satoru—” you mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name from your softly parted lips.

“Fuck, I’m gonna—” His hand finds it’s way between your legs, calloused pads of his fingers brushing against your clit and you jolt underneath him, gasping as your hand shoots out to dig your nails into his bicep for purchase. “I’m gonna cum, better tell me where you want it.”

“In me,” you moan, “nowhere else.”

He presses his mouth against your cheek in a lazy smile, “Atta girl,” he drawls before pushing your ankles down as far as they’d go near your ears, folding you in half and then reigns all hell into your cunt. He should really care a bit more about your pleasure, but testing your flexibility like this with both his hands holding you down was doing sinful things to his brain, and besides, you had yourself covered with the messy circles you were rubbing over your clit. It was hot to see that too, your nimble pretty fingers so close to the place where he was pounding into you.

“Oh shit, shit, shit—” he grunts when starts to see blistering white in his vision, balls straining with a pleasure that was almost painful. The moment he finishes feels like hot flashes in his brain, a heat like the cum he begins to paint inside your walls in time with your release, thrusting over and over and over, each one more staggered as he lets off a long, drawn out groan that comes from deep within his chest with the feeling of you milking him dry and the sound of you enjoying every second of it. He can’t remember the last time he came this much or this hard and even after coming down from the high, he feels the remnant pulse of your orgasm around his now half-flaccid dick.

He leisurely pulls out, hearing you let out a soft whimper as he marvels at the sight of his cum slowly dripping out of you and down towards the couch, before he scoops it up with a couple fingers and pushes it back inside. You grip his wrist tightly, but you weren’t stopping it, that motion of him plunging it all back into you.

“Want a taste?” he asks, casually.

“Mhm,” you nod, face looking flush.

He pulls his fingers out of you, coated with sex, then plugs your pussy with the fingers of his other hand because he kinda likes the idea of you walking around all day with him inside of you, so he doesn’t want it getting out. He’s then pushing his other fingers past your lips, pleased to find he’s met with not even so much as a grazing of teeth, and he grins, “bet you take a dick in your mouth as good as you take it down here.”

Your furrow your brows at him, the pout of your lips seen in the way they were puckered to lick his fingers off clean, and when you release the suction with a smack of your tongue and his fingers were wet from your saliva now, his eyes narrow with desire. You push his face away with the heel of your palm to his forehead. “Flattery won’t make me suck your dick.”

“Alright. So? How is it?” he jerks his chin towards your face, pushing against your hand with his forehead until he’s hovering over you again, “taste good?”

“It’s cum, Satoru.”

He shrugs. “Bad?”

“No,” you say, and you can’t make eye contact, “good.” You sigh. “Hot. I don’t know. Salty, sweet. I’m the sweet. You’re the salty. And this conversation is obscene.”

He kisses you, capturing your lips softly, tongue darting out to taste what’s on yours. “I like it that way. Dirty. Nasty. Obscene, whatever.”

There’s the slam of a car door heard from the driveway, and the two of you instantly make eye contact with round eyes.

“Sa—” you stutter, “Satoru.”

He gets up off the couch in a panic, and heads to the window of the living room fully butt-ass naked, then peers through the blinds to see—

Your mom was making it up towards the front door, rustling with her keys in her purse. And the last thing he sees before he turns around to face you is her pushing the keys through the lock.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he cusses, finding his boxers off of the floor, hopping on one foot with his cum & slick coated dick flapping around and slapping against his thighs unceremoniously as he tries to get one leg in through them and then the other. You’re trembling as you hook your panties back into place, pull your shirt back down your torso, and even in his extremely panicked state, he’s still sad he can’t freely stare at your tits anymore. You’re rummaging for your skirt in a haste, looking everywhere for it, and he finds it underneath the coffee table before tossing it to you and then he side-to-side hops towards the coat closet while he pulls his sweatpants up over his ass, in time for you to quickly run and shut the door of the closet closed just before the front door of the house swings open.

The inside of the coat closet is dark, barely enough space in there for a six-foot-four two-hundred-and-twenty pound man, but it’s better than being balls deep inside his boss’s daughter on the couch when said boss just came home from work.

He hears conversation on the other side of the door, albeit muffled, and he presses his ear to it to hear better while he tucks his dick into his boxers from where it was hanging over the waistline.

“Mom! You…you’re home so early,” he hears you squeak out.

“Yes,” your mom says, “The rest of my meetings today are online, so I figured I’d come home when there’s less traffic.”

Gojo feels you lean against the coat closet door.

“I see, I see, how was your day at work?” you ask with a tremble in your voice.

“Fine.” And then nothing. The silence could mean that was all she had to say, since your mom wasn’t really a woman of many words, or it could be a silence that means she’s suspicious about something. “Darling, why is your skirt flipped up and tucked into your panties? Your whole butt is showing.”

Through the wood of the door, he hears you softly gasp. “Oh, um, I just went to pee. Must’ve—…must’ve got caught when I pulled it back up.”

“I see,” your mother says, and Gojo can hear her dropping her heels down near the shoe rack at the entrance. “You know, I really don’t like those short skirts you wear often. Maybe it’s just your generation, but I think it looks tacky and cheap.”

“Mom,” you say, in as stern of a voice as you can manage without sounding embarrassed.

Your mother sighs. “In any case, where is Satoru? I still would like him to go pick up Yuuji. I don’t have the patience to sit in preschool & daycare traffic right now.”

“Oh gosh, I don’t know,” you chirp, and then he hears you let out a small oh no before you lean even more weight against the door, this time somewhere lower, and he realizes you’re pressing your ass against it. His eyes narrow with a small frown, and then he realizes— his cum must still be trickling down your thighs. You couldn’t put your panties on fast enough.

Shit. That’s hot. A little fucked up, but hot. He feels his dick harden against the fabric of his boxers, and he rests his forehead against the door, fringe stuck to his forehead with sweat as he slips his hands down his sweatpants and then gives his cock a firm squeeze. The thought of you discretely swiping his cum up your inner thigh and smearing it against your thin panties so your mom doesn’t catch sight of it dripping down your legs has him slowly working up to a rock-solid erection, and he almost lets out a broken grunt from the feeling.

“What?” your mother says, “what do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’ve just been watching TV this whole time,” you say, “last time I saw him…he was…um, in the backyard pulling weeds?”

He lets out a small scoff through his nose at your cover-up. Cute. And not bad.

Your mother sighs loudly, and he glances down at the strained veins on his dick as he tugs it through his hand, the tip rearing and appearing flushed and dripping with precum. God, you were just on the other side of this door. Less than a few inches away, and he’d be inside of you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Go find him and tell him to pick up Yuuji soon. But before then, change into something less revealing,” your mother says in a more or less detached tone, and he can hear the stomps of her footsteps up the stairs from above him in the coat closet.

The two of you wait at least a solid minute, and just when the coast is clear, he hears you turn the knob of the coat closet and slowly crack it open.

“Okay, I think she’s in the shower, I hear the water running,” you whisper at him, “you can go now—” You glance down towards his groin, your jaw dropping. “What—…Satoru, why the fuck is your dick staring at me right now?!” you whisper-hiss at him.

He pulls you into the coat closet, pushing your front against the door to where it clicks shut, and you gasp when his hands pin your wrists crossed behind your back and his dick presses into the plush of your ass.

“You talkin’ to your mom while your pussy’s stuffed full of my cum was the single hottest thing that’s ever grazed my lizard brain,” he tells you, flipping your skirt up and hooking your panties to the side, his index finger briefly brushing against your entrance to find it still leaking from the way your walls were pulsating from his words. And then he aligns his tip to your entrance. “Now keep quiet while I do this, ‘kay?”

“Oh—” you gasp, your cheek pressed against the door as you arch your back and push your ass out for him, “okay—” you say, barely vocalizing the first syllable before he’s already stuffing himself inside of you with one solid glide of a push, making you yelp loudly and he has to instantly cup a hand over your mouth.

“Shhhhhh,” he hisses at you, immediately starting to pound you from behind, “told you to— fuuuck,” he catches sight of his length covered with a mix of your glassy arousal and his white cum, now starting to cream at the base of his cock, “jesus christ—” he breathes out, squeezing the flesh of your ass harshly with his other hand and you let out another yelp, “I told you to fuckin’ keep quiet.”

“I’m—mff,” you muffle against his palm, “I’m trying but,” your hips move back in time with his, “feels good, feels too good,” you mewl, and his hand desperately yanks up the fabric of your shirt so he can squeeze at your breast.

“Yeah?” he grunts, hypocritical for telling you to keep it down when he was slamming his hips against your ass with so much fervor he wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was reverberating across the entire house, “you like it when I fuck you while your mom’s all clueless just up the stairs?” His rhythm falters, feeling his release building, and his hand reaches in front of you to rub your clit, making you drop your head against the door with tightly closed eyes. “Gets— you—wet, doesn’t it?” he torments you, his lips near your ear as he slams his hips against you harshly with every enunciated syllable.

“Mhm, mhm,” you easily agree, or maybe that’s because it’s all you can really articulate, and he angles his hips up so his balls slap more fervently against your clit, making you scream into his palm while he picks up the pace of the circles he draws on your clit and in one, two, three— beats of his pounding heart, he feels you come undone around his cock, gushing wetness leaking out of you, he can feel the mess of fluids splattering on the skin of his thighs due to each of his heaving thrusts as he cusses out a fuuuuuuckkk before spilling his cum inside of you, a short-lived and thicker release this time that has you mewling from overstimulation, and in a few following thrusts, he’s given you everything he had to give.

His eyes open, he wasn’t even aware he had shut them in the first place, and he glances down at where the two of you were joined. Rings of arousal coat the length of his half-pulled-out dick, and the second he retreats all of it, a bulging push of his cum seeps out of you, dripping and pooling all over the hardwood floors.

“Holy shit, I wish I could take a picture of this,” he says, taking a step away to commit the sight to memory, your legs trembling and still slightly spread, ass pushed out and when you wiggle it a little, he lets out a huff of an exhale because he just can’t believe how sexy you are. Are all college girls like this? He’s never been to college, his old man’s been trying to get him to go for years, but maybe this is what finally convinces him.

“No pics,” you breathe out once you catch your breath, standing up straight slowly, “that’s my one sex rule.”

He takes a step closer to you, flipping your skirt back over your ass while you shimmy your shirt down to cover your chest. “That’s the only rule you have? Anything else goes?” he asks.

You spin around to face him, his eyes briefly flitting down to the still exposed skin of your midriff. “I have a feeling I’d be making up more specific rules if it was with you.”

He smiles, his hands grabbing your hips before pressing you up against the door again. “I also had a rule. It was to not fuck you. Wait, no, to not flirt with you. Which, technically, I didn’t do.”

You blink your eyes at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“What?” he asks, genuinely confused, “I didn’t.”

“Huh—” you scoff, “how do you think we got into this situation in the first place?? You didn’t just say wanna fuck? You were insufferably flirty with me.”

“Nahhh nah nah nah nah, baby, that’s not flirting,” he tells you, thumb running circles over your hips, “that’s, like—…I don’t even fuckin’ know how it worked on you to be honest, I was just being stupid.”

“Oh okay so I’m stupid.”

“I never said you were stupid?”

“Well you said you were being stupid so me falling for it must mean I’m stupid.”

“Pshhh. You’re cute. Pulling weeds, by the way? Adorable.”

Your hand slowly roams up the front of his shirt, the fabric bunching at your wrists until you uncovered up to his collar bone, and you stare at his skin. He tries to not let the way his heart’s beating faster show through the heave of his chest.

“Why do you have all these scars, anyway?” you whisper to him.

“Too many girls tryna stab me,” he tells you.

You roll your eyes. “Seriously.” Your thumb traces the one you had left on him.

“I—” He stops himself.

Does he tell you? Should he tell you? What, just because he’s seen you naked and you took his dick like a queen he’s supposed to open up to you about these things now? He doesn’t know. Maybe he could? Maybe you already suspect what he does at night. And if not, at the very least, I’m an underground boxer might make you think he’s hot? At the very worst, you’ll report him to the cops and he’d get fired as your little brother’s babysitter then thrown into jail, but not before the busted cartel gets him first.

“Maybe I’ll tell you some other time,” he says, his hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling it from his chest, “no hyper personal details until you’ve had my dick in your mouth at least once or twice. That’s my one rule.”

You snort. “I could’ve guessed that rule from a mile away.”

He hums. And then there’s the sound of steps creaking down the stairs above the two of you.

You both make eye contact, eyes widening, internally yelling at each other: how the fuck did we get into this situation twice?!

This time, Gojo opens the door and stumbles out of the closet, leaving you inside of it, just in time for your mom to come down the stairs.

“Satoru. I was looking for you,” she says as she rounds the post. “Have you picked up Yuuji? He has to go for his swimming lessons soon.”

“Ah, nope, was just about to head out,” he says, letting out a cough to diffuse tension, “sorry, I was—” he points his thumb over his shoulder to behind him, “…pulling out some gnarly weeds.”

She narrows her eyes at him. “I see. Well, thanks. If you want, I can add a gardening stipend to your paycheck. Let me know.” And he’s not sure how to respond because he’s not sure if she’s joking.

He heads out the door, the keys to your mom’s minivan in his palm as he throws them up into the air and catches them a couple times. And just before he gets inside the car, he turns on his heel to face the house and pulls his phone out of his pocket to type in a message for you.

3:22pm Gojo Satoru: Send over those me-specific sex rules soon

[the end]

a/n. hope u enjoyed im shitting bricks posting this bc i haven't posted a oneshot smut since february but thanks so much for reading i appreciate u!! i got way too invested in the whole underground boxer thing 😂😂 but the fact i managed to keep everything under 12k is an accomplishment to me bc if u read my other fics you know i’m a yapper LOL i have another kind of a similarly written smut oneshot n it’s a lil angsty (totally different au tho) i’ll probs post that one next but yea i really like, hmm, i really like exploring entire characters within a short amount of time i enjoy writing the obscure lore drops xd it’s been kinda fun so far anywho much loveee hope to see u around! <3

➸ masterlist

taglist:

@joemama-2 @erencvlt @pickuptruck01 @hanakotateyama @nuronhe

@beabadobeee @air3922 @timetoletmyimaginationfly @chiyokoemilia @jotarohat

@sirencholia @sorcerersseestars @horisdope @to-dabi @staoru

@aliidarling @ninjaturtletoes @lavender-hvze @lanadelreylover11 @chckn-pi

@satoryaa @gojodickbig @v4mpieres @reinam00n @sleepyyammy

@haikomaiko @tbzzluvr @myahfig4 @arabelluhhh4200 @bloopsstuff

@nat-the-gayass-down-bad-mf @badbclub @blackunecorn @geniejunn @n0tviv

@verystrawberryhottub @iheartshopping @peonysfordayz @dreamsxmerci @aishies-stuff

@milkm4nz @athinasaurus @sashisuslover @welldamnsatoru @aeriiixhh

@crystalymin @dcvilxswish @miakxn @satxoru

11K notes · View notes

sleepyhoon · 18 days ago

Text

bang bang, kiss kiss. - p.js

pairing. boss!jay x employee!reader genre. age gap, porn w some plot, long drabble warnings. swearing, infidelity (jay cheating on his wife), homewrecker!yn (sorry), age gap (reader is 21 jay is 31), smut [ office sex, impregnation kink, creampie, oral (f. receiving), degradation, pussy slapping, manhandling, spit ]

a/n. attempt number 2 of trying to make yn a bitch ahaha anyways enjoy whats been plaguing my mind the past few nights. not proofread so pls disregard any typos haha

Park Jongseong's wife had a lot of nerve.

Calling the workplace and disrupting Mr. Park with nonsense you cant even begin to comprehend. He's far too good for her, adhering to her every beck and call, missing out on detrimental meetings and interviews with high-profile clients just to tend to his dumbass wife.

God, you hated her.

As Jongseong's personal secretary, it was your responsibility to keep his business in order, and most importantly, keep him stress-free; which is why you were more than happy to suggest he keep his cell phone off and locked away in your desk for the day, to ward off any unnecessary distractions.

"Always looking out for me, huh?" Jongseong asks, leaning against your desk with a smirk as he willingly hands you his locked iPhone.

"Always," you repeat, not breaking eye contact as you drop the phone into your drawer and slam it shut.

"And what if my wife needs to reach me?"

Your expression goes stoic, and a little bit annoyed. Jongseong knows you hated whenever he brought up his wife in any context, even a hypothetical one.

"She knows your e-mail address," you respond through gritted teeth, your eyes panning over to the empty excel sheet on your desktop.

Jongseong nods, amused and slightly aroused at the distaste you have for his wife. It's fucked up, he knows it is, but he just can't help it. The jealousy in your eyes at the mere mention of his wife was enough to drive him crazy. He loves that you hate her, and how envious you were of her; so desperate to be his wife instead.

"I suppose that's true; but if she calls, just forward her over to me, yeah?"

You don't respond, blatantly ignoring him as you open a new Google tab on your desktop and search 'avg cost of divorce south korea'.

Jongseong leans over, eyes lighting up in a mixture of surprise and amusement as he peeks at your screen, "You're funny, YN," he says, biting back a laugh.

"I'm not joking."

"I know," he stands, shoving his hands into his pockets, "that's the best part. I'll ping you if I need anything."

You nod, chin resting in the palm of your head as you continue to stare at your computer. The results of your Google search were anticlimactic, not one direct answer on the average cost of divorce. Just your luck.

Jongseong discretely glances around the office, making sure all other employees were occupied with their own tasks before leaning down and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, the sudden action causing you to stare up at him wide-eyed and raise a confused brow at him.

"And you let me know if you need anything, okay? Anything at all." He says, voice dropping to barely above a whisper.

Music to your ears, really, having Jongseong at your disposal while his own wife would have to fight tooth and nail to even speak to him today. It's a dream come true.

You clear your throat, adjusting your glasses as you straighten your posture, "Okay."

Jongseong smiles down at you one last time before turning on his heels and making his way down the hall and into his office.

A few minutes have gone by when you receive a message.

Jongseong Park [ 10:20 am ] : Around 1-5M KRW, higher if there are any court battles involved.

You [ 10:20 am ] : noted :)

Of course she'd show up to his workplace, so fucking relentless.

You can't really blame her, not being able to call or text Jongseong all day only to have his personal secretary dodge any calls made to the office surely would drive you crazy. Still, she has a lot of nerve.

"Sir, your wife is here," you grit into the phone, glaring daggers at said wife, Park Yunjin, as she scrolls on her phone.

"Shit, should've known," he sighs, "I'll be out in a few, just finishing something up."

You don't bother saying goodbye, slamming the phone down so hard that it startles Yunjin and a few of your coworkers. "He'll be out shortly."

Yunjin smiles, "Thank you, I got kinda worried when I wasn't able to get in touch with him, you know?"

Not interested in making small-talk with Yunjin, your responses to her are limited to hums and polite nods, fighting the urge to slam your head on your desk while ripping your hair out.

After what feels like an eternity, Jongseong finally emerges from his office and calls out for Yunjin, holding back a smile at the sight of the two of you being in the same vicinity.

Yunjin turns, cocking her head to the side with an annoyed look on her face, "Are you busy?"

Jongseong shakes his head, "Not at the moment, come in," he says, pushing his office door wide enough for her to enter.

Adjusting the purse on her arm, Yunjin makes her way down the hall and into the office, glancing at you over her shoulder one last time as she does so. She's suspicious of you, that much was obvious. You're much younger than her, obviously attractive, and the only other person who spends as much time with Jongseong as she does. You know him like the back of your hand, while she could barely get her husband to open up to her.

She has every right to be suspicious, though, considering you are fucking her husband behind her back.

Thirty minutes have passed when Yunjin finally exits his office, her expression unreadable as she shuts the door behind her, strutting out of the office without so much as a glance in your general direction.

Your eyes follow her every movement, staring so intently that you nearly miss the newest messages from Jongseong.

Jongseong Park [ 3:54 pm ] : Are you able to stay a little longer tonight? Need your help with some stuff.

Jongseong Park [ 3:55 pm ] : Dinner on me as an apology for the inconvenience

You [ 3:58 pm ] : of course, whatever u need :)

You don’t think much of it when you slip into Jongseong’s office later that evening.

He doesn’t bring up the incident with his wife and neither do you, opting to engage in light, easygoing topics as you help your boss complete his workload. It wasn’t much besides transferring over data into excel and responding to some emails, surely not enough work that required staying after hours, but Jongseong’s promise of a free dinner was enough to intrigue you.

And the fact that you’d be spending time alone with him, of course, free of your coworker’s wandering eyes and his wife’s disruptive behavior.

Your remaining coworkers had finally left for the evening, stopping by Jongseong’s office to briefly wish the two of you a good night and a safe trip home.

It’s around seven p.m. when you’re finally finishing up the excel sheet, your tired eyes carefully inspecting each and every corner of the screen, double-checking for any minor errors.

“Almost done?” Jongseong asks, swiveling in his office chair to face you.

You nod, offering him your laptop, “Think so, just need you to look it over.”

Taking the laptop from your hands, Jongseong looks over the screen for half a second before shutting it and handing it back to you. “Looks good to me. Get on the desk.”

You pause, mouth falling open as Jongseong begins to loosen to tie, “Wait, can I expl-”

He crosses the short distance between your seat and his, snatching the laptop from your grip as he forces you to stand, “No more excuses.”

Tossing the MacBook onto your now empty chair, Jongseong hoists you up on his desk, his rough, calloused hands bunching up your skirt until it’s settled around your waist. He doesn’t even give you time to prepare, sliding your thong down and off your legs with a quick yank of his hand.

He lowers himself before you, knees hitting the carpet as he becomes eye level with your cunt. Jongseong gathers a wad of saliva in his mouth, staring straight at you through hooded eyes as he spits directly on your pussy.

You shiver, swearing under your breath as he rubs the saliva onto your folds, “Think you’re so fucking funny, huh? Trying to upset my wife.”

Ugh, there he goes again talking about his stupid fucking wife.

“She’s a distraction, you got so much done today without her bitching in your ear.” You plead, gripping onto Jongseong’s desk with your eyes squeezed shut as he slips a thick finger into your hole.

It’s true, Jongseong had managed to get a lot more work done today than usual now that his wife wasn’t distracting him. Still, he can’t admit that, your ego was already big enough as it is. He’s sure if he inflated it any further your head would explode.

He teases a second finger at your entrance, amused at how easily it slides in from his wet you’ve gotten; it hadn’t even been five minutes and his hand is practically drenched because of you. “Doesn’t matter, you should’ve listened when I said to forward her calls. She already doesn’t like you and you just made it worse.”

Yunjin seeing you as a potential threat had you over the moon, a wicked grin on your face that only pissed Jongseong off further.

His fingers thrust in and out of you at a pace he’s never used before; he’s rough, flustered, and downright mad. His eyes narrow up at you, pulling his fingers out of you entirely to deliver a harsh smack on your clit.

Your body jolts, the sting of the slap sending an unfamiliar, yet arousing, shockwave throughout your body. You’re suddenly grateful that all the other employees have gone home for the evening, because the loud miss that escapes your lips surely would’ve had them running to HR.

Jongseong doesn’t even give you time to recover or process what’s happening, a smug look on his face now that he’s successfully wiped the cocky smirk off of yours. He leans forward, plump lips wrapping around your already swollen clit, swirling his tongue around it as he tugs it into his mouth.

He spits again, using his tongue to mix his saliva with your wetness to make a mess of your cunt. ”That’s funny to you? That you just made shit worse?”

You nod eagerly, another painful slap being delivered to your cunt as a result. You jolt again, tears welling up in your eyes as your back arches off his desk. He rotates between aggressively lapping at your clit, thrusting a third finger into your sopping hole, and delivering more slaps to your cunt, each smack harder than the last, leaving your entire body quivering.

By the seventh slap, the knot in your belly finally snaps, a loud slew of sweats falling from your lips as you come on the palm of Jongseong’s hand.

He doesn’t even give you the chance to catch your breath, standing as he shoves various paperwork and other miscellaneous items off his desk before forcing you on your back.

“I hope it was fucking worth it,” he grumbles, undoing his belt and zipper.

You nod, “It was.”

“Shut the fuck up.” He says, punctuating his sentence with another smack to your cunt. Your body is still spasming from your orgasm, the aching sensation between your thighs only adding to the overstimulation.

He pulls down his trousers and boxers in a swift movement, fully-hardened cock smacking straight against his abdomen. He pumps himself a few times before aligning his tip against your entrance, not giving you any time to prepare or adjust to his size before plummeting himself into you with a harsh thrust.

You cry out Jongseong’s name, back arching off his desk as you reach to hold onto his shoulders. His fingers move to your clit, rubbing harsh circles as he picks up his already fast and aggressive pace.

He’s relentless, fucking into you as if you were his own personal pocket pussy. There’s no doubt Yunjin would let him do this shit to her.

He takes your hand, pressing it down on your own abdomen as he pushes himself inside of you. Even from the outside you can feel his cock bulging into you. “You feel me right there?” He asks, breathless.

You nod wordlessly, a tear trickling from your eye as you do so. Jongseong leans down, unintentionally pressing himself further into you as he kisses the tear away, “You okay?”

You nod again, cupping Jongseong’s face with your hands before bringing him down to kiss you. It’s soft and sensual, making your heart rate increase as he tilts his head to allow himself further into your mouth.

Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling his body closer and furthering his cock deeper into your pussy. He swears under his breath, pulling away to press open-mouth, wet kisses on your neck and cheek. He stills for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your warmth wrapping around him as he’s peppering kisses across your collarbone.

He grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers together before thrusting into you again. He starts off slow this time, seemingly relishing in the feeling of your cum coating his cock.

He doesn’t let up after that, his thrusts becoming much harsher than what you expected, so rough that you’re nervous he may break the wooden desk supporting both of your weight.

“Fuck,” he groans, tip of his cock practically slamming into your g-spot, “gonna cum.”

“Please,” you beg, eyes fluttering shut as your second orgasm approaches.

Jongseong opens his eyes, taking note of your smudged makeup and how fucked-out you look. “Want me to cum inside you, huh? Fill you up until you’re nice and pregnant with my baby?”

You nod embarrassingly because you do want that, to be able to carry Jongseong ‘s child, clinging to his side to let everyone know it was him that did this to you.

He shakes his head with a chuckle, “Fucking knew it.”

That exchange seems to be enough to drive him to his orgasm, because a few seconds later he’s spilling himself inside of you, thick, white ropes of cum coating your insides. It’s the most he’s ever came, chest heaving with exhaustion as he catches his breath.

You’re only a few seconds behind him, ironically calling out for God as your own orgasm hits you.

His office goes quiet, the only sounds being your staggered breath along with his overhead ceiling fan.

Jongseong pulls himself out of you, immediately shoving two fingers inside your hole to keep his cum from drilling out of your pussy. Your body jolts again as you let out a pathetic, “Jongseong, please.”

“Not letting it go to waste.” He says simply, using his thumb to rub small circles on your clit. “Besides, you said you wanted me to fill you up right?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Good,” he groans, “now lie on your stomach.”

#enhypen #enhypen smut #enhypen imagine #enhypen x reader #park jongseong #park jongseong imagines #park jongseong smut #jay park #jay park imagine #jay park smut #kpop imagine #kpop smut #park jongseong x reader

1K notes · View notes

taasgirl · 2 months ago

Text

blame - driver!reader x grid

summary: driver!reader goes to war protecting her teammate and best friend, max verstappen.

a/n: this is NOT a romance smau!!

liked by user76, user98, and 6, 872, 014 others f1 Following a breach of conditions set by the FIA, Max Verstappen will serve a mandatory community service period.

tagged: maxverstappen1

ynusername just say ya'll can't handle him and move on!!!

user27 be careful y/n, they'll send you too user46 HAHA SHE'S SO REAL

user51 this is so stupid

user90 who decided this???

user75 Okay I understand him getting community service for the Ocon incident, but for swearing?

user21 they're treating max like he's a child

liked by oscarpiastri, redbullracing, and 2, 379, 918 others ynusername unbothered, moisturised, and definitely plotting to overthrow the fia!

tagged: maxverstappen1

user59 My dreams 5 minutes before my alarm:

user61 y/n and max are never beating the platonic soulmates allegations

user87 Get yourself a teammate that fights the FIA on your behalf @/estebanocon

maxverstappen1 I was going to say something nice then I saw the last photo.

ynusername pls still compliment me x

oscarpiastri I agree with the caption

landonorris ur too ashy to be moisturised

view ynusername's story...

caption only the FIA could ruin a beautiful flight @/alex_albon

liked by carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 1, 256, 280 others ynusername me and bro suiting up to destroy the FIA

tagged: carlossainz55, landonorris

lewishamilton This is why you're my favourite on the grid

ynusername this is why you're the 🐐

oscarpiastri Hey I hope you were joking when you said you'd be turning into a grid terror haha (please be joking)

ynusername don't worry ur safe xx

landonorris WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS Y/N???

landonorris If me and my gang pull up ahh post

ynusername yup you're now my number one target for unironically using 'ahh'

maxverstappen1 I hope I am bro

ynusername there's no one i'd rather serve community service with

liked by fernandoalo_oficial, lewishamilton, and 3, 287, 3389 others ynusername don't worry I won't actually replicate crashgate. however, please know that I have free reign over my radio xx

landonorris Thank god u had me scared for a minute

user49 y/n is taking this too far 😭

ynusername oh i can go further if needed

lewishamilton HAHA this is gold y/n

ynusername when I have the praise of sir lewis hamilton then I know that I'm doing something right

user20 OMG Y/N GOING INSANE ON RADIO IS A NEEEED

user91 y/n is the only reason i'm tuning in this weekend

view ynusername's story...

caption: I have some business to attend to this sunday afternoon

liked by user62, user87, and 209, 557 others f1updates Not shy on the radio so far! Y/N on the formation lap, and she'd already quizzing her engineer.

user83 she's so unserious i love her

user90 This is my sign to strictly watch her onboard today

user41 y/n really is going to put on a show huh

liked by user 34, user75, and 1, 722, 981 others f1updates A few of the unhinged thing's Y/N was saying during today's race. Safe to say that she may be sporting a ban for the next race.

user38 her engineer replying with 'affirm' is so fucking funny to me

user92 And ya'll still wonder why she's my fave driver

user47 THE WAY THIS ISN'T EVEN EVERYTHING SHE SAID

user28 what else did she say??

user47 @/user28 she went on a whole tangent about how stroll is a prick that shouldn't be in f1 😭😭

liked by charlesleclerc, landonorris, and 3, 615, 248 others ynusername FIA knew I'd be too powerful for another race (hey at least bestie doesn't have to do community service).

maxverstappen1 You're insane I love you

ynusername dinner is still on you right?

landonorris NOOOOOO RIP Y/N

ynusername bitch i'm still alive

oscarpiastri Welcome back Kevin Magnussen liked by ynusername

redbullracing She might be crazy, but she's our kind of crazy!

ynusername pls keep me employed ya'll

view landonorris's story...

caption Yes, she still has the helmet on

view maxverstappen1's story...

caption Okay time for us to get to work

eeee i hope you guys liked this, please let me know if you did!

1K notes · View notes

softspiderling · 3 months ago

Text

est-ce que tu m’aimes? | j.v

summary:

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

OR; Jace’s reaction truly confuses you, you settle in at Dragonstone and a surprising addition to the team makes themselves known.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: Jace being a little mean (we all know he’s capable of it)

word count: 5,6k

author’s note: yoooo pt. 2 is finally here!! i hope you love it sm!!! pls don’t forget to reblog/leave comments etc if you liked it!!!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I cannot believe you would let her waltz into our home like that! She’s putting all of us in danger!”

In less than two days, you were sat outside a study as a heated argument about you took place behind closed doors. It was merely a coincidence that it was within the same family.

After Jace had stormed into the council room, meeting you with open hostility, Rhaenerya had asked you to give them some privacy. You had barely left the room before Jace had started spitting ill words about you.

“She saved me, Jace!”

“What if this is some plot for her to put herself in our midst and feed information back to King’s Landing?”

“Was she not residing in Oldtown with Daeron ever since we left for Dragonstone? It is doubtful she has been let in on the plans to usurp the throne.”

Jace let out a frustrated groan and it was silent for a few moments before Rhaenyra spoke again.

“It seems to me you have a different issue with her… Is it because you have feelings for her?”

Your breath stocked in your throat, your hand stilling against the door. Jace’s behavior towards you confused you deeply. It seemed like he harbored resentment, but you weren’t sure when it had started, when you had suddenly become a traitor in his eyes, instead of a friend.

“Don’t be ridiculous, mother.”

The way Jace scoffed hurt you more than ten daggers in your back, and you pressed your lips together, refusing to let the words of a man affect you.

“I only wish to protect you.”

Swallowing thickly, your hands balled into fists and you jumped back when the door suddenly opened, a knight gesturing for you to step in.

Hesitantly, you entered the room, the tensions still high and you looked at Jace, but he refused to meet your eyes, turning his head away.

Rhaenyra on the other hand stepped up you, taking your hand in hers, cradling it gently.

“I will never be able to repay the debt,” she said in a soft voice, her eyes warm. “You saved my son, even though you weren’t obligated to do it. For that, I will offer you a place here, at Dragonstone, and a place in my council, if you wish to take it.”

“Mother!-“

Rhaenyra ignored Jace’s protest, her voice unwavering. “I believe your insight into our enemies will give us an advantage to win this war.”

“I do not wish to cause a drift between you,” you said honestly. “If Jace does not wish for me to stay-“

“It is not his place,” Rhaenyra said and Jace only scoffed. You fought the urge to glare at him, you didn’t want to antagonize him even further.

“Thank you, your Grace,” you said, lowering your head. “I would very much like to stay.”

Frankly, you wouldn’t know where to go, had Rhaenyra not offered for you to stay, you weren’t sure what expected you, would you return to King’s Landing; it surely wouldn’t go over well.

“And the seat on the council?”

You pressed your lips together. It was an honor, an offer like that, but you could tell Jace wanted you to say no with the way he was looking at you when he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“May I think about it?”

“Of course,” Rhaenyra said, squeezing your hand. “Ser Lorent, escort the Lady to her chambers. I think the ones in the West Wing will be fitting.”

Ser Lorent bowed, before gesturing his arm out to you. “My Lady, if you please follow me.”

You bowed your head to Rhaenyra, turning to leave, but just before you stepped over the threshold of the room, you glanced back. Luke gave you a small smile, but Jace had turned his back to you again. You tried not to let it go to your head, but your mind was racing with questions after Ser Lorent had dropped you off in your chambers.

The sun was shining through the windows when you awoke the next day. You had chosen to take supper in your chambers the night before, trying to give Jace some space. There had been no maid to wake you, so it must still be early. A loud clang of swords floated up from outside and you wrapped a robe around your shoulders as you got out of the bed, glancing out the window.

It turned out that your chambers laid directly above the training grounds, where Jace and Luke were currently in the middle of training. It was nice to see Jace without a scowl on his face for a change, and you took the opportunity to look at him.

He had grown into a very fine Prince, his hair long, curling around his face, his cheekbones high. You had always known he’d grow up to be very handsome. It was hard to imagine he’s the same boy who had told you to write to him every day.

Now, he hadn’t spoken to you a single word after his agitated discussion with his mother.

“Lift your sword up higher when you are in offense, but when someone is advancing on you, make sure to defend the lower part of yourself as well.”

Luke sighed, dropping the point of his sword on the ground, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his tunic. “We have been training since the sun has risen, can we go break fast now?”

“No, you need this.”

“What am I to do with a sword when Aemond descends upon me with Vhagar? Slash at her wings?” Luke scoffed. “I’m not lacking in swordsmanship.”

You pressed yourself against the window as Jace laid a hand on his younger brother’s shoulder, lending him comfort similar in a way you have done with Daeron.

“It will not happen again, Luke. I will make sure Aemond will not get the chance to get near you again.”

Jace let out a breath, his face pained, you could even see it from a distance.

“It was foolish of me to suggest we go deliver the messages,” Jace sighed. “I should’ve gone with you, you had no protection. I never would have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.”

“Jace…” Luke looked at his brother, his forehead creased. “It wasn’t your fault. Our uncle behaved himself with no honor.”

“I should have expected that.” Jace smiled at him wryly. “You were lucky to escape Vhagar when you did.”

“I wasn’t lucky, I had help.”

Jace let out a loud sigh, giving Luke a squeeze on the shoulder.

“Let us go break fast, then.”

“Oh so now you want to end training,” Luke nagged, resheating his sword. “Because I mentioned Lady-“

“Do not speak her name to me,” Jace snapped, stopping Luke in the middle of his sentence.

Luke only sighed at his older brother.

“Jace… None of this is her doing. You cannot-“

A knock on your door quickly made you push away from the window, your cheeks red, almost having been caught eavesdropping.

The two young women standing in front of your chambers gave you a friendly smile, their hair - already twisted in intricate fashion despite the early hour - immediately told you of their parentage.

“You must be Baela and Rhaena.”

One of them, you assumed Baela, as she was wearing riding gear and last you had heard, Rhaena had yet to claim a dragon, inclined her head in yes. You gave them a smile.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I’m-“

“Oh we have heard all about you.”

Rhaena gave Baela a jab in the side, glaring at her sister and even though Baela had fallen into your word, it did not seem like she had done it in chargrin, as she had a friendly look on her face.

“We were about to break fast. Her Grace asked us to extend the invitation to you,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“Thank you. Let me get dressed and I will meet you in the dining hall.”

After getting dressed and making yourself presentable, you made your way to the dining hall. Well, you tried, at least. The keep was much bigger than you had anticipated. Finally you rounded the corner, thinking you had reached the dining hall, but instead you were standing in a hallway that split into three more hallways.

“I could have sworn this was the way to the dining hall,” you muttered to yourself, looking around in confusion, when someone called your name.

“… Are you lost?”

Luke stepped out of his chambers, lingering in the doorway. He must have gotten changed after training in the pit, his doublet a little askew as he walked towards you.

“I was exploring the keep.”

Luke gave you a suspicious look, a grin growing on his face.

“How long have you been wandering around?”

“Why do you assume I wasn’t waiting for you to walk me to the dining hall?”

Luke laughed, offering you his arm, which you accepted gratefully as the two of you walked together. You found it was easy to converse with Luke, he was telling you about Arrax and how he has been faring ever since you got back, and that he wished for some more meat instead of fish. His cheeky grin reminded you a lot of Daeron when he was pulling one of his jests on his uncle. It was nice, to have something to remind you of home in a place that felt so unfamiliar.

“And here we are, at the dining hall,” Luke announced as you stepped into a completely different hallway, the large doors to the dining hall open.

“I never would have found my own way here,” you admitted and Luke laughed.

“I know.”

Judging by the sound of easy conversation coming out of the hall, you were the last to arrive. You were hesitant, unwilling to cause any tension but Luke tugged on your arm, sensing your discomfort.

“Come. You shall sit with me.”

You relented, following the young boy inside. The conversation at the table ceased as you entered, everyone bidding you a good morrow. Well, almost everyone.

“Have you slept well?” Rhaenyra asked as you sat down next to Luke. You nodded, giving her a smile.

“Yes, thank you. I am very grateful that you have offered for me to stay. And for the clothes, of course.��

Next to Rhaenyra, her lord husband Daemon only gave you a subdued smirk.

“It appears we are the ones who have to offer our thanks,” he said, his fingers circling the brim of his cup. “You acted when it was easier to do nothing. You showed true courage.”

“Please,” you said, nearly melting into your seat out of embarrassment. “I did what was right.”

You ignored how Jace visibly rolled his eyes, turning his head as he took a sip from his cup. He seemed incredibly displeased by this all.

“You should have seen her,” Luke said, nodding fervently. “She leapt from Vhagar to Arrax just above the clouds like it was a small jump over a beck.”

“That sounds terrifying,” Rhaena said and you nodded.

“It was. I truly do not know what came over me in that instant.”

“Sometimes we don’t know how brave we are until the moment asks for it,” Rhaenyra said with an encouraging smile and you nodded, your cheeks red. Thankfully this scene of praising you was interrupted by the servants starting to serve food.

“You have been living most of your recent name days in Oldtown, is that right?” Baela asked curiously, leaning towards you.

“Yes, Alicent sent Daeron to Oldtown and asked me to accompany him to make the distance from home easier.”

You have always thought it cruel of Alicent to send Daeron away from his family, his siblings. But now you wondered if Daeron was better off for it.

“It was really different from King’s Landing. The grandmaesters were incredibly wise and I have learned a lot from the them,” you told her, a smile on your face. “Daeron of course always dragged his feet, but I knew he enjoyed it as well.”

“How old is Daeron now?” Luke asked, swallowing his food.

“Eight and ten,” you answered. “Not quite a man just yet, even if he believes otherwise.”

The family laughed, and even Jacaerys cracked a smile, though it seemed more unkind than the rest.

“That seems to be running on his side of the family, no?” he asked, taking a sip from his cup. His voice was so cutting, and the light mood seemed to dissipate at once. “Aegon, Aemond, none of them display characteristics of a what a real man is… I wonder if Daeron turned out any better than his usurping and kinslaying brothers, though I-“

Before Jace could continue, you slammed both of your hands on the table as you stood, the tableware clattering. The table grew quiet, the tension thick as everyone laid their eyes on you, but you paid them no mind, your focus on Jace as you glared at him, and he seemed surprised at your outburst.

“Please excuse me,” you pressed out, eyes gleaming with anger. You barely waited for Rhaenyra to excuse you as you left the table, your food still untouched on your place.

As you hasten out of the dining room, you could hear Rhaenyra raising her voice.

“-unacceptable behavior!”

“Why are you all rushing to her defense? Or Daeron’s? She’s just being sensitive!”

“I have lived with you about as long as she has with Daeron,” Rhaena argued. “Would you not come to my defense if someone spoke ill about me?”

You didn’t wait to hear Jace’s answer rushing past the Queensguard that was standing by the door. By some miracle, you easily found your way back to your chambers, the heavy door falling shut as you threw yourself on the bed, letting out a scream of frustration.

You were at a loss.

Jace seemed to use every opportunity to antagonize you, treating you like an enemy instead of a friend he had grown up with. You were no damsel in distress who couldn’t handle tough words, but it was to hard to hear them from someone you harbored feelings for.

You wished you could talk to someone about this. You wished you could talk to Daeron about this. A part of you longed for the days when you were in Oldtown, before any of this occurred.

A knock brought you out of your thoughts and you lifted your head from the cushions, frowning.

“I wish to be alone for a little longer,” you called out. It was probably a handmaiden Rhaenyra had sent to check up on you. You hoped she would respect your wishes, but the knocking didn’t cease and with a small sigh, you pulled yourself up, heading to the door.

“I am sorry, I-“ you pulled the door open, but to your surprise, you came face to face with the source of your sorrows.

“Jace,” you spoke, voice even, crossing your arms over your chest. “Have you come to throw some more insults? Maybe some at me this time?”

Jace clenched his jaw, his hand on the goddamned sword again. Was he itching to take your head off so badly?

“I have been told that my behavior this morning was unbefitting for a Prince,” he ground out, the words like gravel in his mouth. “I’m here to extend an apology.”

You bit back a scoff, rolling your eyes. “Fine. Go ahead, then.”

He guffawed at your words.

“If you are going to be like this, I am not sure it makes much sense for me to apologize,” Jace said haughtily and you snorted.

“If I were to believe that a single word of your apology were genuine, I would readily accept it.”

Jace only scoffed, shaking his head but not denying your accusation. His nostrils were flared and you searched for his eyes, but he refused to meet your gaze. Exhaling softly, trying to let go of your anger, you uncrossed your arms, letting them fall to your sides.

“Why are you so angry?”

Suddenly, Jace’s eyes snapped up to yours, his lips parted in disbelief.

“My mother’s claim to the throne has been stolen by her usurper brother, my uncle! Whereas my other uncle tried to murder Luke, and you ask why I’m angry?”

You let out a small sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Forgive me, I should have been more clear. Let me rephrase,” you said. “Why are you angry with me?”

Jace took a step back, surprised by your question.

“You treat me like I myself have usurped the throne, Jace.”

You looked at Jace expectantly; his mouth opening, like he wanted to say something, before he closed it again, his words unspoken. Before you could demand an answer, hurried steps came down the hallway, Ser Lorent appearing, stopping next to your chambers. Jace seemed relieved at the distraction as the knight inclined his head at him.

“My Prince, the Queen has requested your presence for the council meeting.”

Jace nodded, giving you one last glance before stepping towards Ser Lorent, expecting him to leave right away, but Ser Lorent turned his eyes on you.

“You as well, my Lady.”

Jace let out a scoff and turned on his heel without waiting.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath as he stalked away. You sighed, glancing at Ser Lorent but he only extended his hand in silent invitation, leaving you no choice but to go with him.

The painted table in the council room was already fully seated, save for one empty space, two seats down from Jace. Most of the council consisted of lords of various houses, who eyed you sceptically as you took your seat next to Baela.

“What is a girl like her doing at a council meeting?” The Lord sat across from you asked, clear disdain on his face. You only stared back at him, not knowing how to answer yourself, but disliking his tone towards you only for the fact that you were not a man.

“This girl,” Jace replied, and you already resigned to another slight at you, “Has saved my brother up thousand feet on the air with no training. What have you achieved for my mother, Lord Bartimos?”

Lord Bartimos only let out an aggrieved sigh as he leaned back in his seat, while you turned to Jace with a surprised look on your face. He didn’t meet your eyes. Luke on the other hand, was ducking his head to hide a grin, failing miserably.

“She can offer us insights into the plan of the usurpers,” Rhaenyra said, effectively stopping any more arguments. “I hope we can avoid any bloodshed.”

“Avoid?” Daemon asked, leaning forward with a crease in his forehead. “They blatantly attacked a messenger after you wished for some time to think about their offer.”

“Daemon is right.”

Jace’s voice was strong as he agreed with Daemon, his shoulders tight.

“This is not the time to sit back and watch their plans unfold. We have come too close to unimaginable tragedy.”

Jace’s eyes flickered to his younger brother, before he turned to look to his mother. “We need to fight back.”

Rhaenyra opened her mouth, seemingly to disagree with her eldest son, but a commotion outside caught everyone’s attention.

“Dragon!”

“It’s a dragon with a rider!”

Everyone at the table looked at each other, unsure of what was happening when a knight from the watch outside came storming into the room.

“Your Grace!” he called, bowing quickly. “There has been a dragon sighted with a rider, he’s headed straight for Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra’s forehead creased in concern.

“Do we know who it is?”

“No, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra stood, her strides quick as she walked outside, the rest of you were not too far behind her. Outside, the folks were rushing in, trying to get to safety from an imminent attack from the dragon.

“I will mount Moondancer,” Baela said, already turning on her heel but Rhaenyra stopped her, shaking her head.

“No. We do not know his intention yet, another dragon might provoke him into attacking.”

You lifted your eyes to the sky, sight blinded by the sun for the first few moments. The dragon’s movements seemed familiar to you, and as your vision adjusted, you let out a laughter, relief coursing through you.

“That’s Tessarion!” you exlaimed, turning to Rhaenyra with a smile. “It’s Daeron!”

You broke out in a run, skirt of your dress lifted as you skidded down the stoney hill, ignoring how Jacaerys was yelling after you to wait.

Tessarion landed on the green grass, stretching her orange-blue wings, as Daeron slid off his saddle, feet on solid ground again. He oriented himself looking around, before relief took over his face when he saw you.

“Sister!”

“Daeron!”

You fell around his arms like countless times before and he held you so tightly, you were afraid he’d never let you go.

“You promised,” he whispered into your neck in a choked voice. “You promised you wouldn’t abandon me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” you mumbled, squeezing Daeron. You didn’t let go of him until his hold on you lessened, knowing he needed to realize that you were, and not gone. Pushing his hair out of his face, you gave him a watery smile.

“How did you know I was here?”

“Brother.”

Rhaenyra’s voice brought you back to reality, as the both of you stood straight, Rhaenyra’s face null of emotion. Jace was furious, his eyes flitting between you and Daeron continuously, while Daemon stood behind Rhaenyra.

“Are you here to deliver a message from the false King that is your brother?”

“I am not a messenger,” Daeron said, his voiced heated. “And as I recall he’s your brother as well.”

His tone is starting to border on disrespect so you glanced over to him, your eyebrows creased. Daeron let out a small sigh.

“I hold no loyalty to my brother,” he added, his voice softer. “Nor am I here to deliver any messages.”

“Then what is your purpose of being here?”

“I’m here because she is,” Daeron answered simply, squeezing your hand. “She has been more kin to me than either Aegon or Aemond. I want to stay on Dragonstone, if you allow it. Fight alongside you.”

“Are we offering shelter for anyone who comes here now?”

Jace’s voice was directed at Rhaenyra, but Daeron narrowed his eyes at him.

“What happened to him?” he muttered to you under his breath. “I do not recall him being this miserable.”

“Daeron!” you hissed, the corners of your mouth tugging up anyways. Jace scoffed, taking a step forward, only to be stopped by Rhaenyra.

“If you are willing to trust me, you have to trust Daeron,” you said, looking at Rhaenyra. You understood that she was wary, she and Daeron barely spent any time together, he was a stranger to her. But you hoped that her trust in you was only half as strong as your trust in Daeron. “If anything, it adds another dragon on your side.”

Rhaenyra regarded you with a impressed smile, giving a small nod.

“Very well. You might stay, Daeron,” she said; behind her, Jacaerys and Daemon exchanged a look, neither of them happy about her decision. “However, I wish to speak with you, alone.”

Daeron nodded, and you squeezed his hand as you followed Rhaenyra back inside the keep, trying not to let Jace’s piercing eyes on you bother you.

“I think it odd. Seeing Rhaenyra again after all this time. My sister.”

You were sitting out in the grass, Daeron’s head in your lap as he talked. He had spent the last two hours in the council room speaking to Rhaenyra. You weren’t sure what exactly they had talked about, but when they both came out, they seemed calm, almost peaceful. You didn’t pry, knowing that Daeron would share whatever he felt comfortable with.

“Does she feel like kin to you?” you asked, knowing how distant Rhaenyra was to Alicent’s children, even when they were younger.

Daeron shrugged, ripping up a blade of grass with his hand.

“She was polite enough. She knows what advantage she has having me on her side. I cannot see us become closer,” he said. “Like us.”

Daeron peered up at you with a grin and you rolled your eyes. Something was still nagging at you, and you knew it wouldn’t leave your head until you had answers

“What happened when Aemond got back? How did you know I was here?”

Daeron’s smile dimmed a little and he looked away, his eyes focusing on the blue sky above you.

“I was already searching for you by the time Aemond returned. I could tell by the look on his face that something had happened, so he told me that he had been out in Storm’s End to secure pledges for Aegon, and that you had come with. Luke had arrived just shortly after Aemond had negotiated with Lord Borros and he got angry, starting a fight, bringing up what had happened at Driftmark.”

Your brows furrowed. You had suspected that Aemond wouldn’t tell the truth, but blaming Lucerys for his bad temper? Anything to paint you as the villain.

“Aemond said you took Luke’s side, your feelings for Jace swaying you.”

Your cheeks reddened. You hadn’t realized that your affections for Jace were so apparent that Aemond would take notice. Daeron continued, unperturbed.

“- and that was when Aemond returned to King’s Landing.”

“That’s not-“

Before you could finish, Daeron interrupted you, his eyes finding yours again.

“I know, Rhaenyra told me what truly happened.”

“But did you really believe what Aemond had told you? That I would just go with Luke because of an argument, leave you?”

Daeron shrugged with his shoulders, his eyes downcast.

“I did not want to. But what was I supposed to do? Call Aemond a liar? I don’t think that would have gone well,” he argued. “I did not have choice but to accept his truth as mine.”

“Then why did you come here if you thought me a traitor?”

Stilling, Daeron pressed his lips together.

“Helaena… She was behaving peculiar… I was sitting with her in the day room, watching Jahaerys and Jahaera play, and all she kept saying was “To save her brother, you must trust your sister” while looking between me and Jahaera,” he told you and you frowned.

To save her brother, you must trust your sister?

“What does that mean?”

“I am not quite sure,” Daeron said, shaking his head. “But I knew it must mean that Aemond was not telling the truth, that you had left because of something else.”

You bit back a smile; it amused you how Daeron did not hesitate to think of you when someone mentioned his sister, but hummed in thought, unsatisfied with his words.

“What if she did not mean me? What if she was talking about Rhaenyra?”

The sound of footsteps crunching on the gravel leading up to the small cliff made the two of you paused. You both looked up just to see Jace arrive to the top, stopping at the edge of the field stiffly. Daeron propped himself up on his elbows, glancing to you, then back to Jace slowly before he got to his feet, dusting off his clothes.

“I should go to the dragon mount. See how Tessarion is faring.”

You knew exactly what he was trying to do and you shook your head quickly, pulling yourself up.

“Daeron…!” you almost shouted, but the young Prince already departed. As he passed Jace, the older gave him an almost imperceptible nod, before Daeron disappeared down the hill. You let out a small frustrated huff, your eyes flickering to Jace before you turned away again. His steps were careful as he came closer, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, not looking at him as he came to a stop next to you.

You were the first to speak.

“I am surprised you didn’t call Daeron a traitor as he passed you.”

In hindsight, you could have chosen less biting words. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Jace clench his jaw.

“I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I am not!” Jace sighed. “I did not come to argue with you.”

“Then what have you come for?”

Jace fell silent again and you shook your head in exasperation. It was hard for you to read him; he seemingly had made it a habit to guard his emotions. When Jace finally spoke again, his words surprised you.

“I always envied him.”

“What?”

“Daeron,” he clarified. “When you wrote to me that you were to be sent to Oldtown with Daeron, I was furious. I begged mother to let you come with us, but she said it would be seen as disrespectful towards Alicent. She wanted to avoid a fight.” Jace scoffed, shaking his head. “The irony does not escape me.”

He paused, his gaze on the horizon. Two dragons had made their way out of the dragon mount, flying in the sky, stretching their wings. One, you were able to recognize as Vermax, with his orange green scales. He had grown exponentially since the last time you saw him. The other dragon was unfamiliar to you, but the dragons seemed to have a bond as they flew around each other playfully. You took your eyes off of the dragons to look at Jace. He was already looking at you, his cheeks pink.

“I looked forward to your letters every day,” Jace admitted, ducking his head. “… It eased my longing, if only slightly.”

Your lips pursed into a pleased smile.

“You longed for me?” you teased.

“Did you not long for me?” he asked quite bluntly, his eyes searching yours. “Or was what you had enough for you?”

Letting out a small huff, you shook your head, knowing what he was insinuating; the same thing that Aemond had hinted at only a few days prior.

“Daeron and I are like brother and sister, I do not long for him in any way than you do for Luke.”

Jace nodded, his smile delighted. But you let out a sigh, wringing your hands.

“If you truly felt like this… Why have you treated me so horribly ever since I’ve been here? Why have you stopped replying to my letters?”

“It’s not…” Jace trailed off, pulling his face into a frown. “After we received the news of my grandsire’s passing, mother has been on edge, preparing for war. We all have. And I felt guilty, I didn’t want to be distracted by anything, and whenever one of your letters arrived, I couldn’t get my mind on anything else than sitting down to write back to you. So I just… Stopped answering. And I thought I could write to you when all of this is over, but then you were suddenly… Here.”

Jace broke off, pressing his lips together. “You were supposed to stay in Oldtown, far away from the war that is brewing. Now you quite literally launched yourself right into the middle of it all. I thought it incredulous that you would just show up and save my brother… Like in a dream.”

Your chest ached. You had not realized how worried Jace was for you.

“But you thought I was spying for information,” you reminded him.

“I didn’t really believe you would be capable of doing so… But I couldn’t let my feelings cloud my judgement. Mother counts on me, and as her heir, I have to fulfill my duties.”

Biting your lip, you nodded, your chin low. While you understood why Jace had been behaving the way he was, it still hurt to be treated that way.

“I dislike causing you anguish,” he said quietly. “Can you find it in yourself to forgive me?”

“The way to forgiveness may not be easy,” you warned him, a small smile on your face. “I am not known for being very forgiving.”

“Then it will be so much more rewarding,” Jace quipped, smiling at you.

The both of you fell into a comfortable silence, staring out in the distance, the dragons dancing in the sky. You almost flinched when you felt Jace hesitantly reach for your hand; it was the first time he let go of the hilt of his sword since you got to Dragonstone. Swallowing nervously, you laced your fingers with his, feeling the tension bleed away from his limbs. For a while, you just stood there, hand in hand, lending each other comfort in the silence. A silence Jace soon broke.

“Do you want to go for a ride on Vermax?”

Your eyes lit up at the sudden invitation, but you held your excitement at bay, not wanting to seem too eager. Seeing Jace’s face however, it told you that you better work on masking your emotions. While the imminent war brewing in the near future scares you, you didn’t want to forego small moments of happiness, you were sure the war held plenty of misery and frustration. You would enjoy every single smile you could shed.

“I’d love to.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: before you ask, i’m not planning on writing another part! maybe a few drabbles in the future! 🫶🏼

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys x reader #jace x reader #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon fic

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iluvloganhowlett · 3 months ago

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Omg hiii, I just saw your “dating Hugh” hcs and I absolutely loved them... So could you pls write something where paparazzi are just bombarding him with questions about his relationship with the reader since there have been a lot of rumors about them breaking up but him still visiting the reader??? I would just love to see that respectful man handle all the nasty and out of pocket questions paparazzi go for

I LOVE HER ༉‧₊˚.

in which hugh humbles the internet by addressing false rumors

warnings: none, just fluff!

so my dumbass has no self control and i did unfortunately change the plot a little BUT i am planning to write a 2nd imagine on this same plot but differently! hope yall still like it

since working on the x-men movies with hugh, you two have been together ever since. happily, that is.

however somehow, from somewhere, rumors began to circulate that the two of you had broken up after your 23 years together.

and of course, you and hugh took these rumors to the press.

“so we’re aware that the two of you have worked together since the first x-men movie,” the host asks, earning a collection of nods from the two of you. “would you want to go into detail about how you guys began to date and just what the story was behind that?”

“yeah of course,” you began, hugh cutting you off.

he looked directly at the camera now rather than the host, pointing his finger at it in a silly manner, “and as far as i know, we are still together.”

the room erupts into laughter, most of it coming from you as you grab hugh’s other hand, intertwining your fingers in your lap. “yeah, oh my god i don’t know where it came from but for some reason all of twitter and tiktok and whatever else there is thinks we’ve broken up!”

the host smiles, “i saw that, in fact that was actually my next question on my list.”

“so you chose to ask the allegedly broken up couple about how they met and began dating before you ask them if they’re still together?” you joke, causing everyone to laugh once more.

though everyone was focused on your joke, the only thing you could focus on was hugh’s thumb rubbing up and down the back of your hand subconsciously. it was sweet, almost as if he did it without realizing.

“yeah.. yeah i love her so.. we’re not splitting until one of us dies.”

“hugh!” you smack his leg, brows furrowed close to your eyes in a warning manner.

he cocks his head as his eyes go wide, smiling brightly at your concern, “what?!”

“don’t talk about either of us dying, i don’t like that!”

his smile only grows as he chuckles at your rather unreasonable behavior, “alright i’m sorry.”

the host makes eye contact with the camera just as hugh had, “yeah i don’t think they’re breaking up anytime soon, look at them!”

the camera pans to zoom in on you and hugh; you’re still scolding him about how you don’t need to worry about splitting up when you’re perfectly fine while he’s trying to defend himself but is laughing too hard.

“i said im sorry!” he managed to get out, going weak as he brought his head down to your lap, trying to contain his laughter.

you smack the backside of his head gently, leaning to rest on the armrest of your chair as you roll your eyes, “and you’re not even taking me seriously, baby.”

“and they’re still holding hands,” the camera man points out from behind the scenes.

i guess it’s safe to say those rumors shut down, fast.

I HATE THIS WTF i’m sorry the end is so bad

taglist!!

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#hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine #wolverine fic #wolverine x reader #x men #mcu edit #marvel cinematic universe #marvel #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #deadpool

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hobicakess · 6 months ago

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ROYAL TREATMENT | KNJ

summary: Despite your arranged marriage you are coming to love Emperor Kim Namjoon and you surely do hope he's falling just as hard. Though in times like this you wished you never came to the Korean court, but Kim Namjoon sure does have a way with words and his coc-

rating: 18+ (I'm not your mother you're in control of what you consume)

pairings: Emperor!Kim Namjoon x Empress Reader

warnings: porn with a pretty plot , husband Namjoon, unedited, arranged marriage to lovers , period typical misogyny / ideals / themes , slight angst, minor violence , MC shakes the table , talks of having children, reader has a 'not like other girls moment' sorry , smug namjoon 'i want to eat his face' SMUT, Namjoon a emperor and a Dj? , clit pinching, fingering , nipple play, breeding kink no no no , very tame choking, big body tanned namjoon im seeing a pattern in all my namjoon fics.. love confessions, p in v, Namjoon loves his wife and MC loves her hubby 🫶🏼

authors note: Howdy hotties! this is my official apology for all the times i said i was going to update but i don't lol. this has actually been in my docs for a year… don't jump me pls have mercy!!! this is heavily inspired by Bridgerton and The great because i love a good hood jam!! anyway, hope you enjoy it and if you're new to my blog check out my other works xxx

Since you've come to the Korean court to marry Kim Namjoon, he has been nothing but a gentleman.

Taking his time to get to know you as a person never forcing you to do anything you didn't want to do. You rejoiced that he didn’t take you on your wedding night instead holding you until you fell asleep in his warm arms. In your months of getting to know Namjoon you were coming to love the emperor and you hoped that he was falling just as hard. Though as of right now in this moment you wished you'd never come to this court.

Never married, never taken the time to know and love the royal that is your husband.

The Ladies of the court made you want to disappear. They were gossiping geese who didn't even read, they didn't know anything actually, only thinking of the latest hats from France or Russia.

Aara was the leader of the flock and from what your handmaids had spilled– Aara and Namjoon used to have nightly affairs together before the two of you were married. You guess that's why she was so uppity and spiteful because she's bedded him, and you have yet too.

“When will you and the emperor have children?” Aara asked, raising her glass teacup up to her thin lips.

“I am not ready for children nor is he''

You and the emperor haven't even committed the act to conceive children, but she was the last person you'd tell this information to.

“When me and the emperor were intimate, he always said he'd put a baby in me. He's very vocal during lovemaking. That is too bad empress" all her geese cackle like witches while you sat in embarrassment.

Your jaw tightened, fingertips starting to shake as you blew out a loud breath attempting to calm yourself down. You didn’t want to act out due to the fact the court saw you as a cruel person all because you were a foreigner who looked nothing like any of the ladies in Korea. Apparently, half the court believed you were the spawn of Satan or a witch, some rumors spread that you weren't even of noble blood.

All they needed was one good excuse to try and have you dethroned as empress and executed, but you couldn’t just allow her to walk all over you and talk to you in any kind of way anymore. You were still her superior. Standing from your chair everyone except Aara followed.

Smoothing out your dress, you wait for her to move. Mockingly she looked around before she stood. “Oh, please forgive me for your grace. I did not notice you-"

The loud sound of the back of your hand making contact with her face echoed throughout the room. The music stopped playing and everyone went completely still and silent. Her geese tried to help her off the ground, but you raised a hand halting them to stop.

“Aara. Ever since I stepped foot in this palace you have treated me with the utmost disrespect. I have spared you multiple times from my wrath because I am the empress and it’s simply not lady like” watching in satisfaction as her face reddens.

“I do not care about your past relations with my emperor because at the end of the day. You were his whore, and I am his wife.”

“I will bring him success; you will bring him disgrace and illegitimate bastards who will never run this country. Disrespect me again and you will be thrown into the slums and forced to work in the fields” Nodding at the ladies you walked out double doors with a newfound confidence.

A Few Days Later

“SHE'S SAID WHAT?” you court maids' wince at the sound of your voice bouncing off the walls of your bathing room.

“Please do not be an angry empress.” Se-eun tried to reason by lightly pushing your shoulders back down into the milky lukewarm water.

“It is only a silly rumor.” Ye-Eun reassured you with a smile.

You settle your back onto the stone behind allowing Sumin to softly brush through your thick coils. While Yoon, Isa, and Si-Eun looked for fragrances to add to the water. The girls have been your only friends since you’ve stepped foot into the castle. Sighing you let yourself relax just a little bit “What if the emperor hears of this? Surely, he’s heard that I striked her only days ago”

“Yes, I’ve heard.” your emperor's deep voice echoed throughout the bath hall. Your Handmaid's scramble to bow but he simply raised his hand towards them “You’re dismissed.”

The girls bow toward you rushing off, now it was just you and your husband alone, and you were naked, but he couldn’t see your body through the creamy water. He walked towards you slowly moving into the spot behind you.

“I apologize for interrupting your bathing time, but I have been busy, and this seems to be the only place we can be left alone.”

“Of course, I understand my lord” you hum when you feel him brush through your hair. “I was gone from the palace for only six days' and yet you've already caused trouble.” He snorted, placing the brush down to lean on the tub's cold stone railing. “May I come in with you?”

You swallow hard, breathing heavily, nodding your head. You watched him wide eyed stand to his feet and start to unbutton his dress shirt showing off his golden chest, thick and toned. When he began to remove his pants you turned your head away placing your hands to your bare chest feeling your heart beating rapidly.

He stepped in leaning on the other side of the wall, “I've heard of you striking Aara, the whole noble country has” you sigh, sinking deeper in the water.

“You did well holding your own. I know she can be a.. nuisance.” he blew out a breath, thick arms stretching out to lean back on the marble.

“Because you used to fuck her no?” The emperor sputters, eyes widening at your word. “I have to get used to your vulgarness.”

You hummed feeling a creeping pettiness enter your body. "Just like I have to get used to your whores."

He stared at you with a playful glint in his eyes, "Are you jealous wife?"

You huff standing angrily, water dripping off your naked body, biting his lip tight, the pit of his stomach twisting in arousal as he stared at every curve and dip of your body. “I am not a commoner; I do not get jealous.”

He swallowed trying to find the right words but she they’re not leaving his lips. You continue on your angry rant as you leave the tub grabbing your own towel. “I came here all the way from ten buck two, married a man whom I have never met, and everyone has failed to inform me on how to deal with having a husband who likes to share his seed with women who will never-”

You squeaked as a strong arm wrapped around your body. Your bare back was pressed onto a wet chest and the warmth of his breath on your neck gave you goosebumps as you shiver. “Let… me go Namjoon.”

He hummed as his hand roamed your stomach embarrassedly kneading the doughy flesh. “You won't even let me say how proud I am? My empress, my wife who speaks her mind and lets her power over her subjects be known.”

You felt hot all over as his other hand softly wrapped around your neck then trails lower and lower to your center. “I wish I was there to see it” he pressed himself into your back and you felt it.

He was thick , and hot against your back as he groaned. “Tell me to stop and I will .. tell me please.” In front of you both there was a large mirror where you two stared at each other. He took your silence as a go to continue his touches on your body. He turned your head to him, pressing his lips to yours.

Roughly the two of you kisses tongues dancing over one anothers as his hands groped your breast, and nipples. When you both felt dizzy you part with a string of spit as you both panted. He smiled lazily brown eyes hazy as he partied your sticky thighs with his large hand. Finger swiping the essence that drips from your core.

“You squeal embarrassed, closing your eyes as he runs his finger effortlessly through your slippery folds, then taunting your clit. He effortlessly slipped his thick cock in between your folds, his hand gripping your hips tightly as he held your jaw in his other hand. He thrusts his hips into your pelvis smacking against your ass, your wetness coating his cock while he wildly fucked your thighs.

“Do you know how tempting you are?” He grunts in your ear while you gasp and wither under his touch. “I must hold myself back every night from pinning you down and fucking you worth an inch of your life.”

Your stomach began to twist from the pressure of his thumb stroking your clit in rough circles, “Joon-”

“There you go cum for me” You gasp, thighs quivering, feeling your knees wobble but he holds you up, thrusting quicker between your thighs. you fall apart in his hold shivering and gushing over him.

He pulls his cock from between your thighs hand wrapped around himself as he uses your essence to jerk his red and leaking tip. He cums with a deep groan, white ropes landing onto your ass. Namjoon's head falls onto your shoulder breathing you in.

“Lets clean up, hm?”

nodding weakly you allow him to bring you back into the now cool water of your bath. He cleans you without a peep only letting out soft deep rumbles

When the cleaning is done, he brings you to your shared bedroom that is connected to the bathing room laying you softly onto the soft fabric of your bed. You watch him busy himself grabbing the oils, and lotions you always applied after bathing. His hands started from your left foot rubbing you lovingly. The aching between your legs starts again, too aware of how close his hands were to your cunt as he makes his way use to the crease of your thighs. “I do not fornicate with. . . horses.”

Wow what a way to set the mood.

Namjoon chokes on his spit, a deep laugher bubbling from the depths of his chest.

#bts x black reader #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #yoongi x reader #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon x reader #namjoon fanfic #namjoon smut

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osarina · 2 months ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WASTELAND, BABY (I'M IN LOVE WITH YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: at the beach house, you can pretend that nothing is wrong. you know that avoidance will only get you so far, but you can't help but want to treasure the time you have with dazai... you don't know how much longer you'll have before everything catches up to you. until then, you'll enjoy the peace that you have, even if dazai does seem oddly intent on ruining it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: another week of minimal activity </3 sorry lil love bugs ive been so busy. BUT take civzai6!! and treasure it because this is the only chill chapter for quite a bit!! HAHAHHH no but for real i enjoyed this chapter so much that i literally had to split it in two because i wrote too much HAHAH, same goes for the next chapter ;) as always, reblogs are very appreciated!

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).

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: partially copy and pasted from the other series - if you guys read waterloo, you know the deal. y'all knew what you were getting into. this is the smut chapter. but again, i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole chapter just because there's 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FINAL scene. there is very little plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys, again, to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! there is NO plot development in the smut, i'll reiterate that at the end where i put the summary in waterloo, i restructured to make sure none of it was in it.

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited - i've been busy. dazai has some insecure thoughts. he's also actively being self destructive. this is an easy chapter—calm before the storm. not much to warn. i don't think i'm missing anything but pls lmk if i am, i didn't have time to reread

SMUT WARNINGS: unprotected sex, praise, dazai cries a bit, lil bit of body worship (f->m), sub!dazai, mostly pretty vanilla - short and sweet

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

Dazai wakes up to the sun peeking through the blinds of the bedroom he’d shared with you and the scent of pancakes wafting through the air. His lips twitch up into a small smile as he stretches, letting out a soft sigh as he sinks into the comfortable mattress.

He thinks he slept better last night than he’s slept in his entire life. He’s always been plagued with restlessness, he can hardly ever sleep and when he does, he’s haunted by faces he’d rather not see again: Oda’s bloodstained face looking up at him as he dies in Dazai’s arms, the glassy eyes of his mother as she swings slowly from a rope, his aunt’s twisted expression as she throws Dazai to the ground in Suribachi, the hurt look in Ango’s eyes as he took all of the vile insults that Dazai spat at him. Dazai dreads sleeping about as much as the average person dreads ever having to confront their worst fear.

But last night? Last night, Dazai slept peacefully. He fell asleep curled up in your arms, laying on top of you—you’d still been awake, tracing patterns on his back through his shirt. You’d been distracted by something all day yesterday; from when you picked him up at the hospital to when you laid down with him in bed that night, something had been bothering you. Your phone had been buzzing nonstop, call after call and text after text—you didn’t bother checking it but he could tell it was stressing you out.

He tried to ask you about it but you blew it off every time. Dazai supposes he should have expected that from you but your evasion was still irritating, especially after the conversation the two of you had yesterday. You had the nerve to try to distract him with movies and figuring out how to bake a cake with him; he had the nerve to fall for the weak attempts at distracting him.

He yawns as he pushes himself to a sitting position, rubbing at his eyes and tossing the blankets off. He tugs at the short sleeves of his t-shirt, feeling a bit too exposed. The bandages covering his wrists and arms are frayed—he’ll need to grab new ones to rewrap them soon, he hasn’t checked the bathroom to see if you had any stored. His shoulders ache a bit, he winces as he rolls them before making his way out of the bedroom and down the hall to the kitchen.

You’re standing at the stove, hand on your hip as you frown down at whatever you’re cooking. You’re still dressed in your pajamas—a thin black cami and loose shorts—and Dazai yearns, he feels it deep in his chest, feels it as a lump in his throat and a heaviness in his stomach. Because he could… he could picture it… he could picture a future with you.

He could imagine waking up to you every day—you’d always wake up before him because you somehow always wake up at the ass crack of dawn. You’d usually be dealing with some of your shady business when he wakes up, sitting at the kitchen table typing away at your phone, maybe you’d sometimes be on calls and you’d lift a finger to your lips to hush him when you realize he wakes up. Every once in a while, he’d wake up to you making breakfast for him—you told him that you enjoy cooking when you have the time for it, so Dazai imagines that it would be a rare treat.

Like today.

But still, he can’t help but wonder why today? Your phone had been blowing up last night and now… now, it’s sitting on the marble counter, screen dark and not buzzing at all. He glances up at you once to make sure you’re still looking at the stove and then shifts over to the counter quietly, discreetly pressing his finger against the screen to see if your phone is even on and then frowns when he realizes that you did, in fact, turn it off.

What is going on that has you so avoidant that you’d rather turn your phone off than confront it? His mind races to all of the things you’ve been bitching to him about, remembers that you told him you weren’t responding for days because you’d been busy finishing up negotiations with the Shimazaki-kai… is it something new, maybe? But why aren’t you handling it then? It doesn’t make any sense.

Dazai makes his way over to you, feet padding softly against the ground until he’s standing behind you. He slips his arms around your waist and plops his chin onto your shoulder, humming softly as he nudges his nose against your ear before resting the side of his head against yours.

“Good morning,” he says, voice still a bit rough with sleep. “Whatcha making?”

“Pancakes,” you reply easily and Dazai’s heart swells when you lean back into his chest, fueling the fantasy of his imagined future even more. God, he’s been waiting for the ball to drop since you talked to him out on the cliff’s edge—you can’t keep giving him hope like this, he can feel it blooming in his chest and he knows that there’s going to be something to ruin it because that’s just how his life goes but… “I don’t think they came out good though.”

“I’ll eat them anyway,” Dazai says immediately.

“You’ll probably get food poisoning.”

“I don’t care.”

“I do.”

You do.

Two words, so simple and yet they ring through his head over and over again so loudly. You care. You do care. You implied it last night when you told him you wanted him, that it scares you how bad you want him because of his life being at risk, but you hadn’t out right said it until now and it’s a devastating blow. Fatal, really.

The puff of air he lets out is shaky and when you turn to look at him, confused, he can only barely muster a smile as he asks hesitantly, “You do?”

The last time he asked you this, you changed the subject and evaded answering—he took it as an answer in itself, that you don’t care… but now, he’s let himself hope again, hope that maybe this time your answer will be different. What a treacherous thing, really, because even now he can feel the dark claws of anxiety start tugging at his heart in different directions, yanking it around and stretching it until it’s painful. He thinks it would’ve just been easier to carve it out and hand it over to you.

“I do,” you finally say, voice quiet. “I care.”

Dazai lets out a long breath, one that he hardly recognized he was holding, dropping his forehead down on your shoulder to hide his face against your skin. His arms tighten around your waist as his lips curve up, he presses his lips to your neck but for some reason, he can’t fully discard the dreadful feeling in his chest.

Even with your assurances and finally verbally admitting that you care about him, it’s like he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for something to shatter his idyllic paradise. And he has a feeling he knows exactly what will do it. So because Dazai is Dazai and he has been self-destructive since the day he was born, he brings it up.

“Why’s your phone been blowing up?” he asks, keeping his voice deceptively light like he’s just trying to have a normal conversation with you—you don’t fall for it. When you immediately stiffen in his arms, Dazai almost wants to backtrack.

“Nothing important,” you say, voice tight, forcing a smile onto your face as you step away to look up at him. “Nothing to worry about. Want to help me remake the pancakes?”

You use the same tactic Dazai used on you after Nakahara Chuuya showed up at your apartment. You’re good too because even though Dazai knows what you’re doing, he still wants to give in. Wants to play domestic with you, make breakfast together and then sit at the table and eat. But he can’t, so while you’re good at using the same tactic that Dazai used against you, you’re ultimately unsuccessful because he doesn’t show you the same grace that you showed him.

“Tell me anyway?” Dazai asks softly. “Even if it’s not important?”

You stare at Dazai for a moment, your lips pressed together and he could imagine the thoughts running through your head—how he’s never satisfied, and how he always has to push you. He can imagine you voicing it again, telling him how it’s always what he wants, but you don’t.

Instead, you shake your head. “I don’t want to talk about it, it’s stressing me out. I would rather just make breakfast with you,” you say.

Your voice becomes a bit more tense and Dazai knows that he should stop pushing, that it would be smart to stop now, but Dazai’s track record for dumb decisions gets longer instead.

“Maybe I can help,” he prods, taking a step closer to you, reaching out to rest his hands faintly on your hips. He nudges his head forward, pushing his nose against yours before smiling softly and pressing his lips to yours. “Tell me, please.”

Let me in.

Dazai’s eyes are big and earnest as he stares down at you, fingers digging just the slightest bit further into your hips. Your expression is unrelenting, much to his distress.

“It’s mafia business,” you finally say.

“You’ve told me about mafia business before.”

You exhale sharply, brushing his hands off of you and taking a step away, and Dazai knows he’s pressing too much—doesn’t even know why he’s pressing because he knows that it’ll shatter the illusion of peace that the past half a day in the beach house has given him.

Maybe that’s what he wants, for it to be ruined before he can get used to it.

You look out the window and don’t speak for a moment. Dazai itches to move closer to you again but his feet are rooted to the ground. Finally, you let out a heavy sigh and let your head fall forward a bit, shaking it as you turn back around to face him.

“Another organization has arrived in Yokohama,” you say, lifting your eyes to meet his. “A dangerous one. The Port Mafia… the executives are meeting to figure out how to handle the situation.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment. “You’re an executive.”

“I am.”

“You’re here.”

“I am.”

“But… why?” Dazai asks, voice hitching at the implications of it, not wanting to get his hopes up but unable to stop himself from it at the same time. “Why are you here?”

You stare at him silently for a moment and then you say quietly, “The call for the meeting came at the same time I got the voicemail from the hospital. I chose to go to you.”

Dazai’s breath catches as he breathes in and shakes terribly as he breathes out, unable to draw his gaze away from you. You… “You chose me,” he whispers.

“I chose you,” you repeat, swallowing as you turn your gaze down. “I did. I chose you.”

“Do you regret it?” Dazai asks softly—he wonders if he hopes you’ll say yes, that you’ll quash his hope before it’s too late.

“No,” you say. “I don’t.”

And Dazai doesn’t know how to respond to that. He’s never been wanted before. Never been someone’s first choice. Dazai has always been the one left behind for others, discarded for a better option. His throat is uncomfortably tight and his fingers are shaking a bit, and he doesn’t have pockets to hide them in now so they’re in full view of your vision before he clasps his hands behind his back.

But it’s too late—you’ve already seen it and you’re taking a step closer to him. You reach out to cup his cheek with one of your hands and Dazai’s eyes flutter shut as he leans into your touch.

“I don’t regret anything about you, Dazai Osamu,” you say quietly, so honestly that it makes a shiver run down Dazai’s spine, unintentionally letting out a soft noise in the back of his throat that he’s unable to smother. “Not a single thing.”

“Well, that can’t possibly be true,” Dazai tries to joke, to play off how much you’ve rattled him with only a few words, but you aren’t fooled by his tricks.

“It’s true.”

Dazai stares at you, his eyes sting and his fingers are shaking even more than they’d been before. The pads of your fingers burn against his cheek and Dazai thinks you’ve ruined him. You’ve ruined him entirely. You’ve shattered all of his carefully crafted walls, the ones that protect him from situations just like this, the ones that prevent him from being burned just like he has countless times before. You’ve ruined him and Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to put himself together again if this ends poorly.

He doesn’t know what to say in response to your words and he can’t handle the way you’re staring at him so intensely, so Dazai decides to change the subject with a shaky smile and a terrifying amount of hope blooming within him.

“Maybe you just need a fresh set of eyes. Tell me about this organization, I can try to help.”

You don’t even know why you’re considering this.

Dazai bounds next to you in the sand chatting about his poetry workship. He still won’t tell you what the project he’s writing on is about but he does seem to be mighty pleased with how it’s coming out since he’s bragging about how his is clearly the best of all of his classmates’ and that he’s sure he’s going to get the best grade on it. It’s cute, you think, a fond smile twitching to the corner of your lips as you watch him from the corner of your eye.

It’s still only mid-morning, the sun paints a pretty glow over the private beach and Dazai looks so… alive beneath it. His smile is bright and genuine, skin flushed and radiant, eyes reminiscent of pools of honey—you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so bright before. His fingers thrum excitedly against the book he’s bringing down to the beach with him: The Aeneid—he’s read it before, he very snootily told you when you side-eyed him for grabbing it, he just needs to refresh on it for his creative writing class.

When the two of you get down to the shore, you sit down in the sand right near the water’s edge, dipping your feet into the cool water. Dazai plops down next to you, pressing his shoulder against yours and you itch to wrap your arm around his waist, slide your hand under the comfy sweatshirt he’s wearing to rub circles over the bandages covering his skin, but your hands stay stiff in your lap as you stare down at the phone resting on your lap.

You have half a mind to toss it right into the bay.

But then Dazai nudges you, waiting for you to start talking, and you sigh, looking back across the bay.

“They call themselves the Guild,” you finally say. You can feel Dazai’s eyes on you, curious, and you think maybe you should quit while you’re ahead but you find yourself speaking anyway. “They’re a kind of… secret society. Based in North America. They’re powerful. A lot of influence throughout the world.”

“Why are they here?” Dazai asks and you can feel the way his face twists as he then adds, “More influence than you?”

You can’t help the amused smile that twitches to your lips at his words. “I’m not the end all of political influence, Dazai,” you tell him, the tension in your shoulders slipping away as you tilt your head to the side to look at him

Dazai gives you a look. “Please, I was at that event. I heard the way people talked about you. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the most influential person in Japan.”

“Probably the eastern hemisphere,” you correct, quite humbly, snorting as Dazai rolls his eyes. “No, I’m kidding. I have a lot of influence but there are plenty with more than me, especially considering I’m held back by the fact that I can’t make myself a public figure. Having to perpetually work behind the scenes is pretty… crippling.”

“You go to the big government events though,” Dazai frowns. “Those are-”

“Very, very confidential unless certain cockroaches worm their way in and feed information to the public,” you say dryly, watching as Dazai gives you an offended look.

“Did you just call me a cockroach?”

“If the shoe fits.” You shrug.

“My bella hates me,” Dazai sighs whimsically, dropping his head on your shoulder. “She thinks I’m a bug. A cockroach.”

You soften when he comes in contact with you, lifting your hand to cradle the side of his head. Your lips curl up into a small smile when Dazai’s lashes flutter shut as he leans into your touch. You brush your fingers through his hair, choosing your words carefully as you continue to explain what’s going on in spite of your better judgment.

“Anyway, they have more influence than me. I’ve been working all night trying to figure out what to do, pulled as many strings as I can trying to get the government to push them out of Yokohama but they’ve eaten their way right into the heart of Japan. They’ve been granted diplomatic immunity and they’re putting pressure on the government to try to get us—the Port Mafia—and some government agencies that are protesting the invasion of the city to back off. They’re trying to get their hands on a skilled business permit, we don’t know why but…”

“But you have suspicions,” Dazai finishes for you, sitting up straight again to watch you, ever perceptive. “Right?”

You don't respond for a moment as you watch him carefully. Dazai has always been perceptive—you’ve noticed it from early on when you would talk around the truth and he would train that sharp gaze on you, knowing that you were skirting around something but unable to figure out what.

Honestly, it should be concerning. Dazai’s smarter than almost anyone you’ve ever met. He’s sharp and quick—proved it with the way he managed to get his hands on the tapes behind the Tokyo City Hall to get evidence of your mafia affiliation; even proved it before that when he recognized that he had to go about information gathering in a different manner, trying to pin down your political opinions because he knew which sectors supported which opinion and wanted to know which one you were a part of.

“Does it have something to do with me?”

“You’re so conceited, not everything has to do with you.”

Dazai flushes red, scowling at you and physically turning his back to you. “Well forgive me for assuming because you’ve certainly been acting like everything has to do with me.”

You smile as Dazai huffs shifting closer to press your lips against the nape of his neck, arms slipping around his waist. He gives you a dirty look but relaxes back into your chest, leaning into you. You slip your hands beneath his sweatshirt, smoothing them out over the bandages covering his slim torso, feeling the way his breath hitches at your touch.

“They’re here because of something I did,” you finally admit quietly, ignoring as he looks up at you curiously. “One of the boys you met when you came to my apartment the first time… they had a bounty on the black market on him for seven billion yen.”

Dazai chokes, splutters over air as he looks up at you and squeaks out, “Seven billion-why?”

“We don’t know,” you say honestly. “I… didn’t think it was a good sign that they were putting so high of a bounty on a seemingly random ability user. It made me think there was more to it than meets the eye, that it would be… dangerous for us to hand him over to the Guild.”

Dazai’s brows furrow as he nods. “I mean, it makes sense. That much money for a what? Eighteen year old kid? Is his ability special?”

“He can turn into a tiger,” you tell him. “Can’t even control it.”

Dazai sits back up straight again, holding his book in his lap as he turns to face you, crossing his legs together. You feel a bit of fondness bubbling in your chest when you see how quickly he seems to be thinking, you can all but see the gears running swiftly behind his dark eyes.

“Is he the tiger? Is the tiger something of its own sentience? I did a research project on ability users two years ago, mostly I was just reading the studies of how they’re dragged into criminal organizations at a young age, but some of them talked about how some ability users can’t even control their ability because it’s like… a separate consciousness. Maybe it knows something? Or there are parts of his ability that he hasn’t been able to unlock yet?”

Is it sentient? Atsushi hadn’t made any mention of it and you hadn’t thought to ask. It wouldn’t be… unheard of. Dazai is right in that there’s been a record of ability users who claim that their abilities have a consciousness of their own. There’s a member of the SDUP, a higher up in the Family who you met a few years back, and even Chuuya. Arahabaki is its own sentient being within Chuuya, could that be why Atsushi can’t control his ability? You don’t know, you hadn’t really considered it but it’s definitely a possibility, and it would explain the Guild’s desperation to get their hands on him.

“Either way, I mean, I think you were definitely right to keep him close,” Dazai shrugs. “They clearly want him badly for a reason and since it’s not one that can be seen at face value, who knows what it could be.”

“I wish you had been at the meeting where I had to argue with all of them about it,” you say bitterly, still irritated over the hours you spent arguing with the other executives, who were dead set on getting the money from the bounty.

Dazai tilts his head to the side, an unreadable look crossing his face for a second but then he shakes his head and asks, “So political pressure isn’t working?”

“No. I mean, they don’t want the Americans here anymore than any of us but they don’t have a choice. After you fell asleep, I spent most of the night on the phone with the Minister of Foreign Affairs, talked to the US ambassador in Tokyo and asked our ambassador in the US to try to work with their government to get the Guild out of Japan. Got nowhere with it. If something could’ve been done politically to force them out of here, I would’ve gotten it done.”

You even called Tolstoy last night. You don’t like going to outsiders about domestic problems but you feel as if you’re backed into a corner—it’s your fault that the Guild is here and you can’t even do anything to fix it. And now-and now Dazai is at risk too. You have half a mind to keep him locked up in this beach house until you can figure everything out but you doubt that he’d stay in one place and he’s better off at your side than on his own.

He doesn’t respond for a moment, oblivious to the thoughts running through your head—or maybe not, he probably knows exactly how stressed you are about this. You’ve never been without your phone and you know you’re making a mistake by turning it off now but you just can’t bring yourself to turn it on, dreading whatever messages you might find. Chuuya’s rage at your disappearance, Kouyou’s disapproval and worst of all, Mori’s disappointment.

He would know where you are. Who you’re with. Why you disappeared and why you were unable to fix this before it became a major problem for the Mafia. He promised not to intervene if it didn’t affect Port Mafia business and you let it anyway. You ran to Dazai when you should have gone to the meeting and you can’t even bring yourself to regret it even when you know that you put him in danger, not just from your enemies but also from-

You feel Dazai’s hand brush your cheek as he reaches out, brows knit in concern as he looks at you and you realize that your breath has quickened noticeably, shallow and uneven. You try to calm yourself down but it only makes your heart rate spike more because you can’t figure out why you’re unable to get yourself under control.

“Hey,” Dazai says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to startle you, but he sounds like he’s underwater. Or you’re underwater. Something isn’t right—you know what isn’t right, you know what’s happening but you can’t stop it. “Hey, it’s okay-”

It’s not okay. It’s very much not okay. Your fingers dig into the sand, the small grains getting stuck beneath your fingernails as you try to physically ground yourself. You never should have started talking about this with him—you’d known it was going to force you to confront everything you’ve been avoiding the past few hours, your failure and incapability but he asked you and you couldn’t-

You couldn’t say no.

You need to-

“You need to make them want to go back.”

You’re so caught off guard by Dazai’s words that it startles you right out of your spiral. Your gaze focuses on him and you watch as he starts to light up, excited. His hands drop to your wrists, holding them gently as he urges you to pay attention to him.

“You need to make them want to go back,” he repeats, faster this time. “You can’t force them, so you have to make them choose to go on their own.”

You shake your head, still unsteady from your sudden bout of panic. You briefly shut your eyes and then say quietly, “Dazai, that’s a lot easier said than done. How-”

“The best defense is a good offense,” Dazai quotes at you, nearly vibrating. “Counterattack, do something to make them have to go back to America.”

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Oh my god,” you voice out loud, little over a breath. “Oh my god. Octavio.”

“Who?” Dazai blinks, staring at you as you fumble to turn your phone back on.

“Octavio Paz,” you say hurriedly, willing your phone to turn back on. “He’s the leader of one of Mexico’s biggest cartels, has been trying to expand his foothold into the central parts of the US for years but one of the Guild members—Twain, maybe, Steinbeck, one of them—they always prevented it. If I can get him to do something now-”

You’re stupid, you’re so stupid for not thinking of this sooner. Mori has always taught you it—the one that strikes the first blow wins the battle—you should’ve had Octavio Paz making movements in the US as soon as you decided to keep Atsushi with the Port Mafia. As soon as you were considering keeping Atsushi with the Port Mafia. You were stupid and you let the Guild make the opening move of the game, and now it could cost you.

But if you can act fast enough then maybe…

As your phone finally starts to turn on, you look back up at Dazai.

“I could kiss you,” you breathe out, watching his face light up at your approval.

You almost find yourself a bit suspicious of how quickly he came to this conclusion, how naturally this thought process seemed to come to him. You had been struggling trying to figure out what to do and you have over a decade of experience now—you were too focused on the fact that they were already here, so focused on the defense that you were scrambling and blinded to the prospect of an offense. And yes, it might’ve just been stupidity on your part—stupidity and carelessness, that is—but Dazai is a twenty-two year old literature student, how the hell was he able to figure it out in a span of a handful of minutes while you’ve been so lost?

“What’s stopping you?” Dazai prods, leaning forward.

His eyes are wide and imploring, a warm golden color beneath the rays of the sun; his lips are curved up into a sweet smile and you let all of your suspicions wash away. You reach forward to cup his cheek, watching as he immediately presses his face into your hand, eyes sliding shut as he brushes his lips to your palm before looking back up at you, expectant.

You lean in and graze your lips against his but just as you consider deepening the kiss, you notice that your phone screen has finally flickered on, so you lean back, not catching the way Dazai’s face instantly falls.

“I’m going to go make a few calls—I have to head back to the house to grab my laptop. You want to come in or stay out here for a bit?” you ask absently as you rise to your feet.

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit,” he says quietly. “Hopefully everything works out.”

You don’t respond as you make your way up the beach back to the house, wincing as you see a spam of nearly forty messages from Chuuya, a dozen from Piano Man, and a handful from Kouyou come in.

Worse, there’s not a single message or missed call from Mori.

A few hours later, you’re sitting with Dazai on the couch in the beach house watching a movie. He’s resting back against your chest, your arms loose around his waist—you think he’s falling asleep actually, every time you look down, his eyes are drooping shut but then snap back open whenever he realizes that you’re looking down at him.

You’re being spammed with calls again now that your phone is back on—both Chuuya and Piano Man have been calling and texting incessantly. You think they’re taking turns, honestly, when one isn’t calling, the other is. You had to put their numbers on do not disturb but you did reach out to Klaus and Akutagawa, giving them quick orders to do what they can to fuck with the Guild.

Now, you’re waiting for a text from Paz to confirm he’s made the necessary movements into the central parts of the US—you had to redirect a weapons shipment from South America up to Paz and his men, so you have to compensate for that with Machado down in Brazil, but he’s always been easily appeased. You’ll just have to take a trip down there some time soon to wine and dine him as an apology.

As soon as you get the confirmation from him, you can put your phone away and just spend the night relaxing with Dazai. Maybe try to figure out what’s going on in this movie. Honestly, neither of you are even really watching the movie so you don’t even know why it’s playing but it’s nice background noise at the very least.

“Can I ask you something?” Dazai asks quietly after a few moments, playing with your fingers and tilting his head up against your shoulder to look at you.

“You have no idea how much I dread those words coming from you,” you say dryly. “Go ahead. Ask.”

Dazai pouts at your words but there’s a serious look in his eyes that has you on edge, a bit concerned to what he might want to ask you.

“What did Chuuya mean the other night?” Dazai asks after a few moments, as if trying to figure out how he wants to phrase his question. When you only give him a confused look in return, he adds on, “He said that you couldn’t save someone last time. That this time wouldn’t be any different.”

Immediately, you stiffen and Dazai straightens up from where he’s sitting to turn to look at you, concerned. “I don’t-” you start to say, voice strained and tongue heavy in your mouth. “I-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Dazai tells you, seemingly a bit taken aback by how you’re struggling for words. “It’s okay. I was just wondering.”

You think you should take the out given to you because even just the thought of talking about what happened two years ago with Chuuya and his girl and the Serpent’s Tongue. Even after all of the time that’s passed, the image of Chuuya hunched over her body is still burned behind your eyelids. You still wake up gasping and sweaty with the sound of Chuuya’s screams still ringing through your ears. There are still days where the guilt of what happened is so crushing that you can hardly breathe.

“Chuuya… he was dating a civilian two years ago,” you find yourself speaking instead but your voice sounds distant, like you’re not talking but instead listening to someone else talk. You don’t even register that your lips are moving, they feel numb and prickly but the words tumble from your lips. “She was our age, a year older maybe. In her third year of university, on track for med school—I think she went to YNU actually. She wanted to be a doctor. I only met her a few times, but Chuuya never shut up about her, would brag about her to anyone who would listen.”

You sit up straight, smoothing your hands up and down against the skin of your thighs a few times anxiously. Your tongue feels weighted, you can hardly bring yourself to continue; you don’t want to continue so you don’t know why you’re trying to force yourself. Dazai’s gaze is so intense that you can’t even bring yourself to look up at him, you keep your eyes trained on your lap even as he reaches out to entwine his fingers with yours.

“How did they meet?” Dazai prods curiously, purposely trying to steer the conversation to a lighter topic when he hears the way your voice wavers.

“He was stupid,” you say, the wry smile that tugs to your lips is a bit more genuine. You pause and then amend, “We were both stupid when we were twenty—thought we were untouchable—but Chuuya especially. Was a bit too arrogant on a mission and got three bullets in the back because of it. He dragged himself out of the warehouse they were ambushed in and into an alley—she was coming back from a late night class and ran into him. Took him back to her place and patched him up, he couldn’t move for three weeks and he didn’t have his phone on him. I went crazy looking for him, thought he was dead or worse, captured.”

Crazy might be understating it, honestly. In the three weeks Chuuya was missing, you all but upended the entire Mafia. There was no information on who the assailants had been, the entire warehouse had burned to the ground and the only three survivors were comatose, so you orchestrated the end of five different organizations that had been pressing their luck in Mafia territory, hoping that one of them had been the culprit.

Realistically, you had known that if any of the organizations had captured Chuuya, they would have made it known that they had him, but you’d been so viciously angry that you hadn’t even cared in the moment… and you had thought at the time, that if he wasn’t captured, he was almost definitely dead, so you hadn’t wanted to consider the alternative as an actual option.

“But no, he was with a civilian girl who knew damn well from the wounds and his outfit what he was involved with but still decided to help him,” you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head. “She was just as stupid as us, I guess.”

“How did you meet her?” Dazai asks curiously. “Did Chuuya introduce you?”

Your smile softens a bit at the edges as you pull his hand into your lap, tracing along the lines of his palm and up his fingers. “Nah, Chuuya tried to keep her out of this as much as possible. Talked all about her but never brought her around, was careful to never give up too much information about her to people he didn’t fully trust.”

You sigh, gaze drifting from his hand over to the window, watching absently as the wind smacks a tree branch against the glass. You think there must be a storm rolling in—you’d noticed that the skies were getting cloudy before the sun had set earlier but you hadn’t thought anything of it. You hope it doesn’t knock the power out—you don’t think this place has a generator.

“I only met her by chance—was in the area with Klaus handling a small gang that was causing trouble for civilians because I had nothing better to do. I get there and lo and behold, they’ve got Chuuya’s girl backed in an alley. We got there before they could do anything but she was shaken, obviously. Was sweet though, she recognized me from pictures Chuuya has, invited both me and Klaus back to her apartment and made us tea. Chuuya flew across the city when I texted him, crashed right through the window.”

Your lips quirk up into another smile as you remember the way that Chuuya had quite literally crashed through her window, panicked and furious that some lowlives had tried to fuck with her. The way she spent thirty minutes shouting at him for breaking her window and forcing him to go replace it before he even had himself oriented.

Dazai snorts and then quietly asks the dreaded question, “What happened to her?”

“We were stupid,” you repeat, softer this time. “Thought we were untouchable. Chuuya—he’s the strongest ability user in the world—and I’m set to take over the strongest mafia in the eastern hemisphere. No one would dare try to attack either of us because they know it’s futile—a death wish. And we… forgot that the people we love aren’t as protected. That there are people out there who would do anything to try to cripple us if given the chance.”

Your throat swells, an uncomfortable lump forming as you stare ahead blankly, the movie still playing but none of it processing through your brain. You don’t even know what’s happening on it, all you can see are indecipherable blobs moving on the screen. Dazai doesn’t press you to continue but you can still feel him looking at you and the way he squeezes your hand, so you take in a deep breath before continuing.

“It was a Thursday night. Chuuya was meeting her on campus to bring her out of the city for the weekend as a surprise. She never walked out of the building her class was in and when he asked around, they said she never showed up. He went to her apartment to check on her because he realized something was up and the whole place was trashed—blood everywhere, windows shattered, they even killed one of her fucking cats. Chuuya called me but he couldn’t even speak properly, I tracked him to her apartment and realized what had happened.”

He had her other cat in his lap, you remember, stomach twisting uncomfortably. Was kneeling in her blood next to the other one with the living one curled in his lap, licking his wrist as if begging him to get up and snap out of it. You’d never seen him like that before—face so pale that he looked bloodless, eyes wide and haunted, not processing anything around him—he was usually good in emergencies, never froze up, always moved forward. He didn’t even fight Klaus and Akutagawa when you told them to get him to your apartment, to not let anyone see him like this.

“I… he wasn’t in the right state to lead or plan an operation, so I did. I took over,” you say quietly, “and I failed.”

It wasn’t your first failure. Itou’s death was your fault no matter how much people try to convince you otherwise. Even if the information you’d been given wasn’t accurate, you still should’ve been quicker on your feet. You’ve circled the what-ifs in your head over and over again, there were so many routes you could’ve taken but you’d frozen up in the face of a situation out of your control and it cost Itou his life.

Wasn’t your first failure, but it was the first that had been entirely in your control. You took too long to figure out who had her, took too long to get the Black Lizards organized, by the time you got to their base, she’d already been dead.

“They were called the Serpent’s Tongue. A younger organization that had been based in Kyoto before they came to Yokohama. We hadn’t been taking them seriously,” you tell him, voice hoarse. “Should have been, obviously. By the time I’d figured out who had her and where they were… Chuuya was demanding to come with us, wanted to be the first face she saw after getting her out of there. Wouldn’t budge on it. We got there and they left her head for us to find. Chuuya had barged into the room first and…”

You still hear the way he screamed her name in your nightmares, still see how he’d fallen to his knees. He’d unleashed corruption in his grief, devastating the area and nearly killing you with it—when you pulled him out of it, he told you that you should’ve let it take him. You let out a heavy breath, gaze drifting to the side again.

“I don’t have a good track record for saving people,” you say quietly. “I don’t… her death destroyed Chuuya. And if you… if something happens to you now when I know better…”

You’d never recover from it. Never.

“... That’s why you were so mad,” Dazai realizes after a few moments. When you give him a confused look, he elaborates. “The day we got my suit tailored and I texted you.”

You snort. “I had Chuuya on standby and was about to put the Mafia’s equivalent of the special ops on standby because I thought you were in trouble.”

Dazai flushes bright red. “I didn’t know,” he complains. “How was I supposed to know?”

Your lips curve up into a fond smile as you reach out for him, beckoning him to come back over to you. He pouts but he crawls back over, wrapping his arms around your waist and pushing you back until you’re laying on the couch so that he can lay right on top of you, burying his face in your chest. You bring one hand up to cradle the back of his head, the other sliding down to his back to hold him close to you.

You feel his lips pull up into a smile as he tilts his head up, big brown eyes peeking up at you, a soft brown under the dim lighting of the room, sweet and adoring. You’ve never had someone look at you that way in your life—like you’re something worth being treasured, someone to treat gently. Your breath catches in your throat as he leans up to brush his lips against your jaw and-

And you think you love him.

The thought is so jarring that you almost physically flinch as soon as it crosses your mind. You only realize something’s wrong when you notice that Dazai’s eyes shot open in surprise and instantly, your mouth floods with ash.

No way.

“What?” he breathes out.

“What?” you echo, voice flat.

“What did you just say?” he asks, a bit more rushed, eyes bright but expression hesitant—as if he’s trying to not get his hopes up but can’t help himself. “Tell me what you said. Say it again.”

You have half a mind to deny it but Dazai just looks so… he looks so happy. Hopeful. Like you’ve told him something that he never expected anyone to ever say to him. So all you can do is steel yourself and clear your throat as you say quietly: “I think I love you.”

Dazai doesn’t respond; he stares at you and you think he’s hardly even breathing. His eyes rapidly search your face, desperately trying to figure out if you’re telling him the truth or not and when he finds his answer, he looks entirely devastated, as if you’ve taken his world and ripped it right out from under him.

“I’m not someone made to be loved,” he tells you, voice so quiet that you barely even hear it. His fingers clutch your shirt tightly like he’s scared to let go of you.

Your smile softens. “Yet here I am.”

“You’ll regret it,” Dazai says shakily, throat bobbing as he swallows. “You will.”

A part of you wants to tell him no, that if anyone ends up regretting anything, it will be him—that if anyone isn’t made for love, it’s you—but you don’t have it in you. You raise your hand to cup his cheek, watching as his lashes flutter shut; you lift your other hand to brush his hair back behind his ear.

“I won’t,” you tell him quietly.

“You will,” he insists. “You really will. I-”

“I won’t,” you say again, firmer this time, and Dazai lets out a noise in the back of his throat, dropping down to lay flat against you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck.

His lashes are wet, you can feel the dampness against your skin, and you can also feel how hot his face is. You smile as your hand slides to the back of his head again, absently playing with the dark locks as you tilt your head to the side and kiss his temple.

Dazai takes in a wet, ragged breath at the casual and unexpected action. You can feel his shoulders shake as he tries to regain control of himself and your free hand rests between his shoulder blades, thumb drawing circles against his skin.

“What happened to the cat?” Dazai suddenly asks after a few moments of him trying to settle down, voice cracking and wavering over the words as he desperately tries to change the subject to something that doesn’t have him on the verge of collapse.

“The cat?”

“The cat, the one that lived. What happened to it?” he asks more insistently, not bothering to even look up from where he’s hiding his face against you.

“Oh.” You realize what he’s talking about. “Chuuya took it in.”

Dazai makes a sharp noise of disgust. “Gross,” he complains. “He doesn’t even seem like a cat person.”

You can’t help the puff of laughter that escapes your lips. “What is your problem with him?” you ask. “You’ve had it out for him from day one.”

Dazai sniffs. “I just don’t like him, that’s all,” he says defensively. “I don’t need a reason.”

“Sure,” you agree, amused. “Whatever you say.”

Dazai lights up suddenly at your words. “Whatever I say?” he prods, finally lifting his face to look up at you, eyes gleaming. You give him a suspicious look but Dazai only gives you a sweet smile in return.

“Nothing,” he sings without you even needing to say anything, making you even more suspicious, but then he lays back down on top of you, nudging his nose against the side of your face. You feel him smile against your skin, he kisses your cheek once, twice and then a third time before settling back down. “Let’s watch Despicable Me.”

“No.”

“You said whatever I say-”

“No!”

“Are you asleep?”

Dazai pouts as he nudges you gently—he’s been wide awake for over an hour now and he knows he shouldn’t bother you considering you didn’t sleep the night before, but he still finds himself seeking out your company. He’s half laying on top of you, head resting on your shoulder as he continues to bop his forehead against your chin to wake you up.

The two of you had gone back to the bedroom a few hours ago and you’d fallen asleep pretty quickly. Dazai had dozed off for a bit too, but he found himself startled awake by a particularly loud cracking noise from outside, a tree toppling over from the wind probably, and now he couldn’t fall back asleep.

And a Dazai left with only his own mind as company is not a good Dazai.

He tried to distract himself with you for a bit. Watched you sleep for a while—creepy as it is, he found peace in watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, the soft puffs of air that left your lips, how every time he tried to pull away from you, your brows would furrow and your arms would tighten around him. He’s never had someone who wanted him before, much less someone who wanted him so genuinely and unconditionally that even in their sleep, they seek him out and want him close. He didn’t even know what to think of it, honestly, a part of him was still waiting for you to start laughing and telling him that this is all some big joke.

I think I love you.

His breath shakes the same way it does every time your words echo through his head, fingers trembling from where he’s running them up and down your arm softly.

Love. Love. Love.

You love him. Him. Someone who can hardly function on an everyday basis, someone who has to wrap himself up in bandages because he’s embarrassed of what lies beneath them, someone who has only ever had death and misfortune follow him around his entire life. You love him even though you’ve listened to him fumble over words like a fool because he gets tongue tied in your presence, you love him even though he blackmailed you into giving him a chance because he was that desperate for your attention, you love him even though you had to pick him up at the hospital after a failed suicide attempt because he has no one else in his life to call.

You love him. Him. You love him in spite of all of his flaws—and he knows very well there are a lot of them. You love him in spite of all of the pushback from the people around you. You love him in spite of the fact that your world is completely different from his, in spite of the fact that you could do so much better than him, in spite of the fact that Dazai is Dazai and you’re you and you’re so far out of his league that Dazai doesn’t even think he should be breathing the same air as you, much less curling up next to you in bed. Even though it puts so much at risk—your life, your occupation, everything—you love him still and Dazai just can’t understand it.

And Dazai loves you.

He does. He thinks he’s known it since the beginning, since that day at the school library when you came over because he was sitting all alone at a table that was clearly meant for a group of individuals and not just one, when you realized something was bothering him so you gave him your name even though he had been rude to you when he got embarrassed over having no friends. Since that day at his apartment complex when you showed up to deal with his shitty landlord; he’d made a joke about how you should waive his rent, not expecting anything of it, and you did. Since you rushed to him while he was at the men’s warehouse—he’d thought it was odd that you seemed so irritated by his dramatics trying to get you to come to him, but now that he knew it was because you thought he was in trouble, thought he was in danger and rushed to him like he was the only thing that mattered even back then…

Dazai loves you, and he didn’t tell you when you told him—he wants to tell you even though the thought of pushing those words out of his mouth terrifies him, so he returns to trying to wake you up.

“Wake up,” Dazai complains quietly, booping his forehead against your chin again. “Wake up, wake up, wake-”

“What’s wrong?” you finally ask through a yawn, voice rough with sleep as you shift a bit. One of your hands comes up to run your fingers through his hair and Dazai hums at the feeling, eyes drooping shut again as he sinks back into your chest. “Dazai?”

“Osamu,” he corrects quietly, “... will you call me Osamu?”

Your fingers still in their steady strokes through his hair and for a split second, Dazai thinks that he misstepped. But then, you lean your head down to press your lips against his forehead and he can only let out a shaky breath, nuzzling his face into your body.

“Osamu,” you repeat, voice soft and a bit more awake—and god, the sound of his given name leaving your lips is almost heavenly, he thinks.

He can’t remember the last time someone called him by his first name, his aunt was probably the last and it was her screaming at him to get out of his car before she left him to die in Suribachi. It’s an unpleasant memory, and he thinks that maybe he’s only been able to associate his given name with unpleasantness because of it, but this… it makes him feel light and cozy, like the warmth of a hearth surrounding him after spending years alone in the cold wilderness. He thinks he could hear you say his name a million times and never tire of this feeling.

“Osamu, tell me what’s wrong. Why’d you wake me up?”

His lips part to say the three words he planned on saying but they wither and die on his tongue when his eyes meet yours. Even with your words ringing through his head, he can’t bring himself to say it. And it’s silly. It’s silly because he’s scared that if he says it, it’ll be the trigger the gods need to finally rip you away from him—everything he never wants to lose is always lost the moment he obtains it, it’s true, he told you this and he’s been treading such a fine line and he’s terrified that speaking those three words out loud will be enough for the twisted gods above to finally rip the rug out from under his feet.

So, he doesn’t say it.

“Osamu,” you frown—he’ll never tire of it, he has half a mind to ask you to say it over and over and over again, doesn’t care if it makes him seem crazy. “What’s going on?”

He needs to say something—the longer he sits here evading answering, the more concerned you’re going to get, and the more concerned you get, the harder it’s going to be to lie. Dazai’s throat spasms as he instead broaches a different topic that has been bothering him for a few weeks.

“Are you attracted to me?”

It has been a rather persistent thought in the back of his head, even more so since the two of you spoke at the cliff yesterday. At first, he thought maybe it was just because you didn’t really want him—that you were trying to evade any physical intimacy with him because he was backing you into a corner and you were uncomfortable.

But now? Knowing that you do want him? He doesn’t have any other explanation than the fact that maybe you just aren’t attracted to him… and he’s not sure he can blame you. Who would be attracted to someone who hardly takes care of himself and wraps himself in bandages like a mummy?

You stare at him for a moment, expression too blank for comfort before your brows begin to furrow. The longer you take to respond, the more embarrassed Dazai is.

“What?” you finally ask, voice stunted and perplexed.

Dazai’s face heats up, regretting his words immediately.

He should have just told you what he wanted to say originally.

“Nevermind,” he says, rolling over so that his back is to you, not wanting you to see his red face. “Forget it.”

“Hey, no,” you say, suddenly sounding all too awake and Dazai squeezes his eyes shut, wanting to crawl into a ditch and die. “Osamu, what? What are you even talking about? How is that even a question?”

He feels you sit up in the bed next to him and pointedly lays on his stomach to bury his face in the pillow to try to hide himself even as you shift to look over at him. It’s to no avail because you’re a brute and decide to just grab his shoulder to forcibly roll him back onto his back. Dazai scowls up at you, face still aflame.

“Don’t manhandle me,” he grumbles, averting his gaze but you only shift right back into his line of vision, frowning. “Stop, it’s nothing. Forget it. Really.”

“It’s not nothing,” you say, reaching out to cup his cheek and Dazai thinks you’re entirely unfair because he is simply too weak to your touch so he can already feel himself giving in when you look at him with a slight frown and say, “Tell me.”

Dazai huffs. He huffs and he bristles like an irritated cat, he scowls up at you for forcing him to explain himself and then his shoulders slump in defeat.

How embarrassing.

“I just… have tried to… initiate things and you… don’t ever… want to?”

Dazai thinks a gun in the mouth might be kinder than this.

And then-

And then you have the nerve to laugh at him. Or, you don’t laugh but you smile and you look like you’re about to laugh, so Dazai jerks up into a sitting position, offended. Your hand falls from his face and instantly, he’s yearning for your touch again.

“You’re laughing at me,” he accuses, voice dripping with disbelief. “You just laughed at me when I was opening up to you.”

“No,” you say and then laugh. You laugh and Dazai stares at you in abject horror. “No, I’m not laughing at you.”

“You’re laughing at me right now,” Dazai squawks. “You’re-I can’t believe you’re laughing at me.”

“Osamu,” you say, smile softening as you look at him. You reach out again, fingers brushing his skin before your palm settles against his cheek again, thumb so close to the corner of his lips. Dazai’s breath hitches, lashes fluttering as his eyes meet yours. “I knew that if we started something, I wouldn’t be able to stop. So I didn’t want to let it start. I… still thought you’d be better off away from me, out of this life, and I wouldn’t have been able to let go if I let anything happen between us.”

Dazai stares at you for a moment, processing the words, and then confirms, “... So you are attracted to me?”

“Yes,” you say, unbearably amused. “Very.”

“... But why?” Dazai asks quietly, voice a bit too vulnerable for his liking.

“What do you mean why?”

He clears his throat and looks up at the ceiling as he says, “I’m not anything special, y’know?” He’s careful to keep his voice light and airy, void of all of the insecurity that’s been ripping him apart since the two of you met. “I just don’t get it. You could have anyone you want—literally—so why me?”

You click your tongue and Dazai hears you shift around again, breath catching when you sit yourself right on his lap, lifting both hands to his face now to force him to look at you. With his face settled between your hands and your body flush to his, Dazai has no choice but to meet your gaze head on and he almost dies at the intense look in your eyes, can hardly breathe.

“Do you want me to show you why?” you hum with a teasing smile.

Dazai inhales sharply, eyes widening at the offer. His lips part to respond but no words leave them, so he just nods. You’re not pleased with that response, clearly, from how you raise your eyebrows.

“Yes,” he rasps out. “Show me. Prove that you want me. Please.”

You don’t even waste a second before you’re leaning in to press your lips against his. Dazai’s eyes flutter shut and his breath hitches as you press him back against the plush pillows of the bed. He’s suddenly acutely aware of the rough bandages covering his body that are probably prickling your skin uncomfortably, of his chapped lips and hair that’s a bit too dry because he never properly washes it.

“The first thing I noticed about you was your eyes,” you say quietly, pulling away from him so your gaze could meet his. He tries to chase your lips but you don’t let him. “I could hardly look away from them. I tried to walk away from you that night at the bar but every time I looked at you, I found myself lost in them.”

Dazai’s throat spasms, face flushing. “Don’t lie,” he tells you, voice hoarse. “Nobody likes my…”

Too wide. Too black. Too empty. Dull. Hollow. Soulless. All things he’s heard people say about his eyes—no one can ever look him in the eyes for too long before they find themselves uncomfortable.

“I’m not lying,” you say with a soft smile, there’s almost a wistful look in your eyes as you continue. “Right now, they remind me of the night sky, dark and endless, filled with countless glittering stars… I love the stars… They remind me of home.”

Dazai chews on his bottom lip as he stares up at you; he tries to speak but again, he finds himself unable to. You don’t force him to this time though, bringing your hand back to his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip as if to stop him from biting at it.

“Under the sun, they’re gold,” you tell him quietly. “The first time I noticed, it was the day we met at the ports. Sunset. You were standing right at the opening of the alley I’d been waiting in with Klaus and the sun hit you just right. You looked so pretty beneath it that I was almost tongue-tied. If we hadn't been interrupted, I would’ve made a fool of myself.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Dazai’s voice wobbles terribly. “You-”

“I’m not,” you murmur. Dazai’s breath shakes as you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips. This time, instead of going back to his lips, you kiss down to his jaw slowly. “The second thing I noticed about you was your smile.”

Too fake. Too teethy. Too strained. Unnatural looking.

“Not the fake one you love to put on,” you say, nipping his skin gently. “Your real one. I got a glimpse of it that day at the cafe—the second time we met—when you realized I’d actually been listening to you that night at the bar. But I really saw it that day at Kido’s when we started talking about poetry… I don’t even think you realized you were smiling, the corners of your lips were curved up and your expression was just so… soft. Peaceful. You looked happy and I think that was the first time I really realized that a large majority of the time you put on a mask when you’re around people.”

When you kiss down to the edge of the bandages around his neck, Dazai thinks you’ll ask him to take them off and he braces himself for the question. Braces himself for the discomfort of being bare in front of someone for the first time… ever maybe, because it’s not like he can say no if you ask him to take them off after he badgered you into this.

But you don’t. You kiss over the bandages as if they’re not even there, you tug at his shirt to get him to lift his arms up for you to pull it off and when you do, you continue kissing down his chest—over the bandages—and don’t even show the slightest bit of discontent about it.

“You’ve seen through me… since all the way back then?” Dazai swallows thickly when your hands rest on his slim waist, breath quickening. “But then why…”

Why did you stay?

“That day at the boutique… I was supposed to cut you off,” you admit quietly, sitting back on his thighs as your hands rest on his hips, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, but you don’t move to pull them off. Dazai’s body is uncomfortably hot, head frighteningly fuzzy, he can only barely bring himself to listen to your words. “My first thought when I realized that I’d gotten my first glimpse behind your mask was that I wanted to see more of you, wanted to see you smile genuinely, wanted to learn more about you, I wanted you. I’d realized I let it go too far—that I was starting to actually fall for you and I was putting you in danger—but even then, I couldn’t do it.”

His breath shakes as he breathes in and out, fingers digging into your thighs. He parts his lips to say something but you continue before he can.

“I spoke to Chuuya that same night—he told me that this had to stop, that I was going to get you killed. The next time we met was at the ports. One of the Port Mafia’s enemies had seen us together,” you say, expression a bit more serious now. “Klaus killed him. I had the entire organization exterminated that same night.”

Dazai thinks that shouldn’t have turned him on as much as it did. His heart rate spikes at your words, breath quickening and that pool of heat in his lower abdomen gets impossibly hotter, his mind almost entirely shatters at what you’re saying. Your grip on his hips tightens just a bit, lips pressed together as you look down at him with an unreadable expression.

“I would do terrible things for you, Dazai Osamu,” you tell him softy. “I have done terrible things for you and I would do them again and again and again.”

“Please,” Dazai breathes out, and he’s not even sure what he’s saying please for, but you do.

You do. As always, Dazai is seen when he’s with you and he can’t help the whimper that spills from his lips, the way his eyes mist over with tears. Dazai is seen and he is loved and-and he’s happy. He’s happy—really, truly happy for the first time since Odasaku’s death.

You lean down to kiss Dazai again—this kiss is sloppier than the last few, a frantic clashing of teeth as your hands slide down his body to pull his sweatpants off. Dazai lifts his hips to help you get them off of him, his own fingers clumsily tugging at your silk shorts to try to yank them off of you.

Once he gets them off, his hands drop down to your hips, pulling you down so that you’re sitting flush against him. He moans into your mouth when he finally gets the friction he’s so desperately been aching for, grinding his clothed cock against your panties. He feels almost dizzy with need, lips sliding messily against yours, nails digging crescents into your hips. He thinks maybe he might be able to cum just from this and the thought is embarrassing but he can’t even stop the way he’s rocking his hips up.

Your lips trail from his down to his neck and Dazai tosses his head back against the pillow when your teeth scrape against his skin before you bite down hard, a lewd moan escaping his lips.

“Please,” he gasps again, voice breaking over the only word he seems to be capable of saying. “Please.”

You lean forward as you reach between your bodies to ease his cock out of his briefs and Dazai nearly cums on the spot when he feels your fingers wrap around him, fingers sliding against the precum dripping down his length. You rest your forehead against his, lips dragging across his cheek back to his lips as you press the tip of his cock against your entrance.

He almost says it in that moment—foreheads pressed together, sharing the same sliver of air, both of you breathing shakily as his tip just barely sinks into you—those three words, he almost says them. They almost slip out when his gaze meets yours and he sees the soft, enamored expression on your face as you look down at him.

Dazai’s eyes knock back when you sink down on his cock, lips parted in a silent moan, vision white. For a terrifying moment, Dazai thinks he might’ve cum just from the feeling of your walls warm and tight around his cock. His whole body trembles, his head feels foggy and garbled—he’s speaking, he realizes, but he doesn’t even know what he’s saying. He can feel his lips moving, can hear something leaving them, but he’s so out of it that he can’t even process what it is.

You nip at his lips once, then twice, before you trail kisses to his ear, savoring in the way he shivers when you tug at his earlobe. You only start to rock your hips when your lips get to that spot behind his ear that makes him entirely incoherent. You suck and nip at the skin as you roll your hips slowly, each drag of his cock against your walls makes him choke over moans.

He’s not going to last long, he realizes absently, unable to even be mortified by the thought considering how focused he is on your body, warm and flush against his. His hands are moving sliding up your body to your chest, back down your body to your ass—he doesn’t even know what to do with them, honestly, wants to touch every part of you all at the same time, wants to make you feel half as good as you’re making him feel but he can’t even think with your lips sucking at his skin and your cunt squeezing his cock.

His moan breaks suddenly, cracking and quavering as it slips into a sob. His breath is ragged and shuddered, and his vision swims. He feels his cheeks wet and your hands leave from where they’re braced on his shoulders to cup his cheeks.

Your thumbs wipe away the tears spilling down his cheeks, you lean down to ghost your lips against his temple, and your voice is soft, so soft as you whisper, “I know, baby, I’ve got you. Let go.”

And he does. The taut cord in his abdomen tightens impossibly more before snapping, his nails drag down your thighs, leaving long red marks, his hips snap up and he tosses his head back against the pillows. One of your hands slides from his cheek to wrap around his neck firmly and Dazai is gone—his vision goes dark and spotty, a choked cry of your name escapes his lips and Dazai cums so hard that he thinks he blacks out momentarily.

You lean down and press your lips against his, moaning into his mouth as your walls spasm around him. Dazai’s breath is sharp and quick, lashes wet and heavy, his body twitches and trembles as you ride out your high on his spent cock. He can feel you panting against his skin, your lips sliding from his to press against his cheek as you try to catch your breath.

And Dazai thinks he could stay like this forever, basking in your presence, the feeling of your body pressed to his, his cock still snug in your cunt and one of your hands cradling his face while the other cups the side of his neck, fingers absently playing with the ends of his matted hair. Your forehead rests against his cheek, savoring his presence just as much as he is yours.

He feels warm, he feels safe, he feels loved.

He feels loved.

You shift back just enough to look him in the eye, close enough so that your nose is still brushing his, that you’re still sharing air. Your thumb runs along his cheekbone and your eyes are soft and adoring as you look down at him. As you admire him.

“I could give you countless reasons as to why I want you,” you finally say quietly, “but when it comes down to it, the main reason is because you’re you, Osamu.”

He feels loved.

Your weekend paradise with Dazai shatters with a single message not even six hours later.

Chuuya: I need you. Going to use Corruption.

smut development: minimal besides some dialogue. she told him that when she saw through his mask, her first desire was wanting to see/know more of him. also tells him what happened after she met him at the ports (ie. having the yakuza exterminated). tells him: i'd do terrible things for you - i have done terrible things for you and i would do them again. then at the very end, she tells him that the reason she wants you is because she's him.

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai smut #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd smut #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu smut #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs smut

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mariasont · 5 months ago

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hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees.

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace.

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did.

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face.

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified.

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body.

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding.

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

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minkiverse · 27 days ago

Text

CHOI SAN FIC RECS

Poly!Ateez Pt. 1 - Pt. 2 - Kim Hongjoong - Park Seonghwa - Jeong Yunho - Kang Yeosang - Song Mingi - Jung Wooyoung - Choi Jongho

Here it is the behemoth 😭😭 i knew this one was going to take some time but it had multiple delays due to irl stuf but IT IS HERE NOW!!!! except i could not fit it all in one post so a part 2 will come out eventually (after poly!ateez pt 2 most likely) n e ways Shout out this man who harassed my tiktok feed until i became double biased i lov him sosososososooooo much🥹🥹

DISCLAIMER none of these works are mine and majority are MATURE 18+, please read all warnings before reading!!!

Key:

✨ - My Favs

🔥 - Smut (MINORS DNI)

⛈️ - Angst

💗 - Fluff

🍑 - Humor

SERIES

ceilings pt 2 pt 3 - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✨🔥⛈️💗 Single Mom AU ✧ PE Teacher!San

i dont want to spoil anything but there is a good chance you can figure out this trope, which i know is not for everyone BUT I EAT THAT SHIT UP EVERYTIME!!!! this is just the cutest fluffiest lil series i ever read like I LOVE THEM!!!!

The Art of Climbing the Corporate Ladder pt 2 - @ennysbookstore ✨🔥⛈️💗 Office AU

i am still so mad at how long it took me to get around to reading this because man. I LOVE THIS FIC!!!!! i literally was telling my irls about it because the plot twist at the end of pt1 got me so fucking good 😭😭 i am truly in love with this san like i have no other words than please read this two shot it is incredible (also read every other work by this author pls)

ONE SHOTS/DRABBLES

what lies beneath us - @hongism 🔥⛈️💗 College AU

destiny - @tainsan ⛈️💗Time Travel AU ✧ Idol AU

Drowsy - @sxcret-garden 🔥

Am I your favorite? - @deja-yu 💗

Unholy Night - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Priest AU

Untitled - @yourfatherlucifer 🔥

Eggnog Confession - @stayteezdreams 💗

Mr. Jealousy - @sanhwaism 💗🍑

Convince Me - @littleocean-rose 🔥

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Sunrise - @sorryimananti-romantic 🔥💗⛈️ Soldier AU

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

incubus: coming of age - @byuntrash101 🔥Incubus!San

in the quiet spaces - @honeyhotteoks 🔥💗

Stay Focused - @beginningofwonderland ✨🔥 Office AU ✧ Tutor AU

god the tension between these two 😩😩😩 their banter is so flirty like even when san is helping the mc out with uni stuff its just sooooooooooooo 🤌🤌🤌🤌 it gives off a bit of romcom vibes WHICH I LOVE!~

Dry Humping with San - @littleocean-rose 🔥

chocolate - @mingigoo 🔥 Brother's Best Friend AU

obsession - @cheollipop 🔥 Mafia AU

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

[7:30 am] - @destiny-fics 🔥

Untitled - @k-hotchoisan 🔥

Tired - @thr34t2sanity 🔥

Untitled - @sxcret-garden 🔥

pool side - @beatteez 🔥

Depths of the Ocean - @joong-of-gold 💗 Office AU ✧ Single Dad!San

Untitled - @jeon-ify 🔥

superstar - @bro-atz 🔥

A Little Secret - @choism 🔥

Untitled - @cheollipop 🔥

Untitled - @orgverse 🔥

choi san boyfriend texts - @koizekomi 🍑

Wander though my body - @armpirate 🔥

misunderstandings w/ san - @beenbaanbuun ⛈️💗

Interlude | Opening Sequence - @luvt0kki 🔥⛈️ Sci-Fi AU

Untitled - @eightmakesonebraincell 💗 Friends to Lovers AU

prelude in e minor - @bro-atz 🔥⛈️ Professor AU ✧ Infidelity

motive - @yunhoszn 🔥 Gym Partner AU

u got it bad - @yoongiseesawmp3 ✨🔥💗 Baseball AU

I LOVE THIS FIC SO MUCH!!!!! how this author writes banter is just so real and funny and you just can't help but be charmed by san and mc!!! as a former sports anime fan, i love a sports au ok it will hit EVERYTIME!! and this is one the bests truly!

Love Death + Robots - @kitten4sannie 🔥⛈️ Cyberpunk AU ✧ Stripper!San

kiss me more - @miirohs 💗

Tall Trees - @sluttywoozi 🔥.⛈️💗 Personal Trainer AU

take a picture - @jeon-ify 🔥

y'know what they say about guitarists - @lomlhwa 🔥 Band AU

stretch marks w/ san - @beenbaanbuun 💗

[8:50pm] - @moamidzyism 🔥Neighbors AU

imagine being in a secret relationship - @byeolbeloved 🔥💗Badyboy!San

cockwarming w/ san - @beenbaanbuun 🔥💗

Boyfriend San - @cheeseceli 💗

roadtrip - @lomlhwa 🔥

leave the window open - @sungbeam 💗 Neighbor AU

crimson - @hwaslayer ✨🔥⛈️ Nightclub AU ✧ Stripper!MC

how these two just fall in love is so beautifully written 😭😭 its such an interesting dynamic but san so forthcoming with his feelings i could melt 🫠🫠 AND THE SMUT IS FUCKING INSANE 😩😩

backstage backshots with san - @kitten4sannie 🔥

the scentist - @k-hotchoisan 🔥Neighbor AU ✧ Scentist!San

steamed milk - @yunhoszn 🔥💗 Barista AU

Last Christmas - @kitten4sannie 🔥⛈️💗 Exes to Lovers AU

It's You - @minisugakoobies 💗 Roommate AU ✧ Best Friend's Brother AU

Stern, but sweet - @bvidzsoo 💗 Teacher AU

Trip Shenanigans - @hee0soo 💗 Dad!San

pretty kitty - @k-hotchoisan 🔥 Hybrid AU

periods w/ choi san - @beenbaanbuun 💗

untitled - @brainddeadd 🔥

Day 8 - @multifandomfantasies ✨🔥

as a large sub!ateez enthusiast this should not be shocking 🫠🫠 i just love a needy desperate san so much and this fic 😩😩 boy does it deliver

gold rush - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Cowboy AU

to taint you soul - @seonghwaddict ✨🔥⛈️ Incubus!San

when i went into reading this i just thought it would be pure demon smut, but like i fell in love with the mc and san so easily 😭😭 like the plot is devastating and how san like just takes care of the mc is soooo 🥺🥺🥺🥺 THE SMUT IS ALSOSDFJSFJOGSJRSGJGJ yeah its good highly recommend 👍👍

untitled - @teeskzagain 🔥

tied up - @beenbaanbuun 🔥

celebrate for you - @cheollipop 🔥💗

untitled - @sluttywonwoo 🔥

too sweet - @yoongiseesawmp3 💗 Model AU

Give in to Me - @hwallazia 🔥

Filthy Lips, Loving Touch - @ja3hwa 🔥💗

Ateez San as your BF - @kisshwa 🍑

boyfriend texts - @beenbaanbuun 🍑

realistic sex with san - @byuntrash101 🔥💗

Underwater - @bvidzsoo 🔥⛈️💗 Greek Mythology AU ✧ Ares!San

kitten fever - @kitten4sannie 🔥 Hybrid AU

head to head - @bro-atz 🔥

middle of the night - @kitten4sannie 🔥

untitled - @choism 🔥

rollin' - @bro-atz 🔥

handy - @hausofwoo 🔥💗

san x chubby!reader - @sluttywoozi 💗

Treat You Better - @starskq 🔥⛈️💗 Friends to Lovers AU

untitled - @thetypingpup 🔥 Stripper!San

knots - @bro-atz ✨🔥💗 Masseuse AU

i didnt think i had a thing for this au but i love it everytime! when mc just gets a really good fucking massage and then a real good fucking too aaadfsgsgfgdf but this is honestly so intimate and warm feeling and just san man 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

#ateez #ateez fic recs #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez angst #choi san #san x reader #san smut #i usually queue these lists but bcs this is probably a heavily anticipated list its going up tomorrow #also bcs its been a while since i posted a list......#merengue makes lists

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thebibliosphere · 5 months ago

Note

Hi hello i just finished Hunger Pangs and i am so mad I don’t have any more to read now?? Pls let me know how the second book is looking i am very much in Need and in Must Have for this book pls i beg.

I loved the 3 main doofuses and i loved the little book puns and easter eggs (Lydia and Kitty Collins is it i see you i see what you’re doing), i loved the little pepperings of politics and doom that made it into what was mainly a romance book until they just went WHAM PLOT NOW

Also there were several things that made my chekhov gun spidey sense tingle and i NEED TO KNOW WHICH ONES REALLY ARE CHEKHOV GUNS PLEAAASEEEEE

She's in the slow cooker still, but we're getting there.

And thank you! I'm so glad you enjoyed it and want more. As for the Chekov guns, it's probably all of them lmao. I am not subtle 😅. (Except for puns, and even then not really.)

#hunger pangs asks #it would have been more but I recently ripped out 20k because I realized the character dynamic makes more sense in the third book #there was a lot of swearing #but it was a good thing to catch before I committed to it so hey ho

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shixcherie · 23 days ago

Text

Can We Keep Her ? | Choi San & Jung Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 17 : Captor Sex

↬ [ Synopsis ] : What started as a cheeky game of playful hacking quickly turned into a nightmare as you found yourself trapped by the most feared mafia gang in town. With your survival hinging on successfully completing your first mission, you begin to warm up to your teammates, San and Wooyoung. Will this be where it ends, or could you end up being claimed by the entire group ?

☆Word Count : 5.6k ☆Genre : Smut with a lot of plot, Angst, Mafia Au. ☆Pairing : Mafia! member San x Rich! daughter F.Reader x Mafia! member Wooyoung

☆☆☆ WARNINGS : Smut with a lot of plot, part one of an upcoming series so treat it as a pilot chap, mafia themes and elements, oral (m.recieving), Whiny Wooyoung throwing tantrums, Soft! Dom San, a detailed world of the KZ, neck bites, nipple play, Mission-focused narrative with a constant sense of danger. Hinting at OT8.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 17 to you. This is the first part of a mafia series that’s gonna start on this blog so treat this chap as a pilot. There is alot of plot in here so pls have patience while reading. Hope you like it ma chéries.

"Get that fucking person to me right now!" an angry Hongjoong threw his glass of whiskey, which shattered into pieces as it crashed against the wall on the opposite side of the dark meeting room.

"It is impossible to breach our security system. No way some random person could have hacked into our system and messed it up so... eloquently." Yeosang said, almost amused by the culprit's skills as he adjusted his glasses and took notes on the laptop in front of him.

"I don’t care who, how, or why this happened. All I care about is that we might loose 100 billion dollars worth of gold, and now we look like dumbasses who don’t even know who did it!" Hongjoong banged his hand on the table, startling Yeosang, then shifted to stand with his hands braced on either side of it, “Fuck!” he screamed loudly.

"Calm down, Joong. We'll find out who this bastard is. Let’s have faith in Yeosangie's skills, okay?" Seonghwa chimed in, rubbing Hongjoong’s back. Hongjoong began to calm under his touch, while Seonghwa’s other hand caressed Yeosang’s hair, soothing him as well.

"When will Wooyoung and San be back?" Hongjoong asked Seonghwa, trying to suppress his anger.

"Tonight. They’re almost done with their mission. Also, San has a boxing match in two days." Seonghwa answered his boss.

"And Mingi?"

"Still on his mission in the Neighhaw district, undercover. He should be back in a few days as well." Seonghwa replied smoothly.

"I-I might have a few coordinates on this person, um... but I’m not sure if it’s the right one." Yeosang spoke again, hesitant and unsure of the information at hand, catching Hongjoong and everyone else's attention.

"Yunho, Jongho, bring him to me!" Hongjoong ordered the Ho-e brothers, who were leaning against the wall in the corner of the room, arms folded, observing the chaos as they waited for their boss’s orders.

"Not him. It’s a her." Yeosang squeaked, gaining all of their attention as he turned his laptop toward them, showing the picture of the person responsible for the masterful breach.

Everyone’s eyes filled with different emotions, some with shock, some with amusement, but Hongjoong’s were burning with fiery anger.

"L/n Y/n is her name. She’s the one who broke into our system, stopped all of our gold-dealing operations, and planted a virus that nearly wiped out all of our data. Thankfully, I caught it just in time and stopped it." Yeosang continued, a bit surprised himself as he studied your profile.

Hongjoong turned to Yunho and Jongho. "Get me her, tonight," he ordered them, voice firm laced with authority “Let’s show her the true price of crossing the KamorraZ.” with that KamorraZ boss Hongjoong left the room.

“I am done with the evening tea, so I am taking my leave now.” you said, gently tapping your lips with a tissue and glancing up, not really surprised to receive any replies.

Your dad, the CEO of Nexus, a tech empire known for crafting masterful cameras and tech gadgets, was engaged in an intense conversation with your elder brother about some business matters, barely glancing at you.

While your mother was too busy feeding your younger sister, a bratty 15-year-old who still managed to capture all of her attention, warmth, and affection. Being the middle child was definitely the worst!

Shaking your head, you got up and left for your room. It did hurt sometimes,being ignored, not getting attention, and receiving minimal love,but they did shower you will limitless money making you get used to this life. And honestly, you were not complaining, not at all.

Not constantly being on their radar gave you the freedom to explore everything from horse riding and boxing to advanced coding and hacking, with hacking being your favorite pastime.

You liked messing things up, the thrill of not getting caught while still making your presence felt gave you immense joy. Randomly breaching various organizations' security systems and corrupting them with viruses was something you were extremely skilled at.

Does that make you a bad person? An irresponsible adult? Probably.

Do you care? No.

Did they care about you? When you were away from the house for a whole night, did your family even notice? No.

Did they come looking for you? No.

So what’s the point? Should you care anymore? Fuck NO!

A fat middle finger to you, cruel fucking world.

8PM, in your room.

Your fingers quickly worked on the keys, tapping away blocks of code. You were almost there with fucking up this security system that you somehow got hold of, ready to mess it up once you get past these operations, which seemed like some kind of gold dealings.

Eh, who cares? Let’s fuck this shit up.

With that, in dramatic fashion, you warmed your hands for the climax as you sabotaged the gold dealing of an organization called…KZ ? Interesting. Breaching their security system was a bit difficult, kinda advanced compared to the other orgs you had played with in the past.

But it’s Y/n here! And there ain't a system you can't fuck up.

Then you started injecting the virus into their system. Your fingers raced over the keyboard, typing commands to sneak the harmful code inside their defenses. Excitement rushed through you as the screen lit up, showing lines of green text while the virus worked its way through KZ’s security.

A dark look crossed your soft face, and a wicked smile appeared as you thought about the trouble it would cause. Just as the final command ran, the room's door banged open, startling you.

Your bratty sister, Anya, burst into the room, a mischievous grin plastered across her face.

“Guess what? Mommy, Daddy, Hyung, and I are off to Giovanni’s party,” she announced in that screechy tone of hers, practically glowing with delight. “Oh, and don’t bother waiting for dinner, we’ll be out all night! Enjoy your lonely little meal!” The sheer audacity of this brat made your blood boil.

"Have fun, Anya. Try not to embarrass yourself too much in front of your precious friends.” you sassed back at her, not even bothering to look up.

"Hump!" she replied, unplugging your system and making your screen go blank at once.

Blinking a few times you looked up at her, anger boiling through your veins. She shot a satisfying wicked grin at you before walking out.

Eh, you were anyway done with it. With that, you decided to go for a walk, alone in the extremely safe neighborhood of yours, unaware of who was waiting for you.

10PM, outside your house.

A chill went down you spine as the cold breeze wooshed past you, the ambient night sounds ringed your ears as you walked in your neighbourhood. Your neighbourhood filled with elite families, had highest security, so walking alone at night was completely safe.

But tonight’s a bit differnt. You didn’t feel safe walking alone.

A black car closely followed you, keep tracking of your every turn as you started walking fast. As you speed up walking, turning back from time to time to see if they still followed you.

Your heart raced, and you quickened your pace, but it wasn’t fast enough. The car screeched to a halt just ahead, cutting you off, the KZ logo did not go unnoticed. Two figures emerged, one insanely tall and lean, the other buff and well-built. Yunho and Jongho had their faces hidden with only their intense eyes visible exuding a cold and intimidating presence.

You barely had time to react before the tall one caught your arm, yanking you back with ease. You struggled, but buff one moved in swiftly, silencing you with a hand over your mouth, chlorofom clouding your senses.

"That was almost too easy. No, Jongho?” the tall one, Yunho, teased exchanging looks with the buff one, presumably Jongho."Were you hoping we’d catch you, sweetheart?” he mocked,breath hot against your ear as your conciousness slowly started to slip.

“Most likely, Yunho. Lets take her to the base.” Jongho replied sparing you one final glance, a playful smirk dancing on his lips.

A blindfold was slipped over your eyes, and you were shoved into the car. The doors slammed shut.

"KamorraZ always on top." Yunho and Jongho laughed, their voices dripping with confidence as they exchanged a playful high five.

Oh, fuck! KZ - THE KamorraZ, the most powerful mafia gang had you. And now, you were at their mercy.

That’s it you’re consciousness fully slipped of darkness clouded your brain.

The blindfold was yanked from your eyes, you blinked rapidly, struggling to adjust to the harsh light flooding the room. As your vision cleared, the reality hit hard, Hongjoong stood at the center, his icy gaze piercing right through you. Surrounding him were the KamorraZ members, all of them watching with unnerving intensity—Yunho, Jongho, Wooyoung, San, Seonghwa, and Yeosang. Mingi was notably absent, but that wasn’t comforting.

You tried to read their faces, hoping to make sense of the situation, maybe also trying to figure out what’s gonna happen with you now.

Hongjoong’s voice cut through the tense silence, sharp and confident. "I see no reason to keep you alive," he said, his fingers tapping impatiently on the table. "You’ve trespassed into our world, and for that, death is the only price.”

You gulped trying to keep a composure, but inside you were a freaking mess.

Your throat tightened. This is it? you thought, panic swelling inside. I’m going to die now? Wow… I haven’t even had proper sex yet!

A few of the members shifted uncomfortably. Yunho, leaned casually against the wall, gaze flickering between you and Hongjoong. Jongho stood stoic as ever, arms crossed, though his face gave out nothing. Yeosang, meanwhile, watched from the shadows, his sharp eyes never leaving you while Seonghwa, standing beside him, seemed more contemplative. His expression was hard to read, but there was a flicker of something, pity, perhaps?

San and Wooyoung exchanged a glance, something unreadable passing between them. You couldn’t tell whether they were in favor of or against your fate.

Wooyoung broke the silence stepping forward, speaking confidently, “She hacked us.That alone shows she’s got skills. Skills we can use.”

Hongjoong’s eyes flickered toward Wooyoung, unimpressed. “Skills?” he repeated, voice laced with skepticism. “Skills that nearly cost us our security. That’s not something to celebrate, Wooyoung.”

San chimed in, standing beside Wooyoung “If she’s good enough to get through our systems, she could be worth more alive than dead,” he argued, his tone playful but serious underneath. Wooyoung’s partner in crime, hence proved.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, his patience thinning. “And if she uses those same skills to betray us? Do you really want to take that risk? We’re not in the business of charity, San.”

Seonghwa, standing to the side, spoke next. His voice was calm yet firm, “We should at least see what she can do before making any rash decisions.”

Hongjoong’s gaze shifted to Seonghwa, clearly annoyed. “Rash decisions? I’m trying to prevent a disaster. You know what happens if word gets out that we let someone hack into our system and walk away.”

In the shadows, Yeosang, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke, his presence subtle but commanding. “She’s already in too deep,” he said, his voice low. “If she’s loyal, she could be an asset.”

He continued, “I’ve reviewed her background thoroughly. She doesn’t seem to have any allies, so it looks like she’s been doing this alone… just for fun, I guess?” His gaze shifted to you, studying your every move, searching for any sign that contradicted his words. When you nervously bowed your head, it confirmed what he suspected. He was right.

The thick tension filled atmosphere dawned like a veil, your survival literally dwindled on a thin thread. Everyone’s eyes were now on Hongjoong, waiting for his final call. The leader’s jaw clenched, clearly irritated by the pushback, but he wasn’t someone to ignore the voices of his crew especially when Wooyoung and San were pushing this hard.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Hongjoong let out a low sigh, frustration clear in his voice. “Fine. One chance.”

You nodded slowly, your heart pounding as Hongjoong continued. “In two days, there’s a boxing match. You’ll assist Wooyoung and San. Arthur, a member of a rival gang, has the gold deal secured.Yeosang confirmed it. Fix what you messed up, under the cover of the fight. Wooyoung and San will fill you in on the rest.” He finished, gesturing toward Woosan, both now had smug smiles on their faces, having just won you a chance to escape death.

Leaning in, his breath brushed your face as his voice darkened with a mix of threat and intrigue. "If you succeed, you live. But if you fail..." His eyes held yours, a slight smirk on his lips. "You'll beg for death, but it won't come easy.”

After spending two days with Wooyoung and San, you slowly warmed up to them. The three of you shared meals as you learned about every member, they also told you stories of their past missions, and you entertained them with your absurd stories of hacking into security systems and causing mayhem.

From the very beginning, it felt like you would get along well, and that assumption turned out to be true. At least here, with them, you felt heard—unlike in your soulless home. Wooyoung’s playful charm and constant flirting, paired with San’s unexpected warmth and casual touches, made the cold, brutal reality of KamorraZ a little easier to bear.

But the two days weren’t just about bonding. They were also filled with intense preparation. Self-defense training and running through the mission details with Wooyoung and San consumed most of your time. You learned that San was scheduled to face off against Arthur, a key figure in the rival gang, in a boxing match. Arthur’s men would be scattered throughout the arena, watching closely, but your mission was clear. While the fight served as a distraction, you’d sneak out, locate Arthur’s car, secure his laptop, sabotage the deal, and alert Yeosang. After that, you'd return to the match unnoticed. San would finish Arthur in the ring, ensuring that the night ended in your favor.

It was a solid, well-thought-out plan. What could go wrong? Apparently, everything.

San paced nervously in the back of the van, his usual bravado slipping. From the driver’s seat, Wooyoung caught your eye through the rearview mirror and offered a reassuring smile. “He always gets like this before a fight,” he said with a soft chuckle. “He’ll be fine once we’re there.”

You nodded, trying to calm your own nerves, but the tension in the air was thick. Watching San run a hand through his hair, his brows furrowed, you couldn’t just sit there.

“Hey,” you said softly, moving closer. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this.” Your hand brushed his arm, and he glanced at you, his eyes softening briefly.

San managed a faint smile, though his shoulders remained tense. “It’s not just the fight,” he admitted, voice low. “If we mess this up, it’s all of us at risk.”

His vulnerability struck a chord. “I’m nervous too,” you confessed, scooting closer, placing your hand on his. He gripped it gently, his fingers wrapping around yours. “But we’re a team, right?”

San’s gaze lingered on yours, the tension in his eyes betraying the brave face he tried to wear. His thumb traced soothing circles on the back of your hand, but the longer you stared, the more your heart raced.

Who’s calming who?

You glanced up at San, his breath hitching as your hand grazed his thigh. His usual bravado faltered, but the darkening in his eyes showed he wasn't as confused as he pretended to be. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, and the air between you both thickened.

“Maybe I can help.” you whispered before you could stop yourself. Slowly, you slid off your seat, settling between his legs. San’s breath hitched as your fingers toyed with the waistband of his pants, the tension growing.

“Yah! Don’t have fun without me!” Wooyoung yelled from the front, glancing at the rearview mirror, grip tightening on the wheel. His dramatic reaction only added to the teasing mood.

You shot him a playful look. “Eyes on the road, Woo.” you teased with a wink, then turned your attention back to San.

Freeing his thick, veiny cock, you paused to admire him for a moment. San's smirk grew, giving you the approval you sought. With one kitten lick across the tip, his composure shattered, a wave of pleasure taking over as his nervousness faded into thin air.

Maintaining eye contact, you swirled your tongue around his tip, watching pleasure cloud his gaze as he let out a low, breathy “Fuck.” His head fell back against the seat, eyes closed, and a shudder ran through him as your other hand massaged his balls.

Pumping his hard length slowly, teasingly, you pushed him further with every stroke, his soft moans fueling your desire. Without warning, you took him fully into your mouth, your lips wrapping tightly around his girthy cock. San’s hands tangled in your hair, pulling it into a makeshift ponytail as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each movement.

The van filled with the wet sounds of your mouth, drawing out San's breathless moans. Wooyoung, still watching from the mirror, groaned dramatically. “This is torture, you know,” he whined, tossing his head back in frustration but keeping the van steady. His grumbling only heightened the playful tension, and you could feel his frustration adding to the heat in the moment.

“Y/n, I— I’m gonna—” San’s voice cracked as his hips bucked slightly. You quickened your pace, hollowing your cheeks, your jaw stretched pleasurably by his thick length. The sensation of his tip hitting the back of your throat made you push through the ache, desperate to take every inch.

San’s body tensed as he twitched in your mouth, spilling himself into you with a groan. You swallowed everything, your tongue still working him until he had nothing left to give.

Pulling away, you wiped your lips with a satisfied smirk. “Feel better?” you murmured.

San’s eyes were half-lidded, his face flushed, a lazy smile playing on his lips. “You reallyare something else!” he breathed out, still catching his breath. “But,I am feeling much better now.”

From the front, Wooyoung groaned, throwing his hands up dramatically. “You owe me for this, San. Big time!” He shot you a teasing smirk through the mirror. “And you, babygirl, get ready for your punishment once I’m done driving.” His playful threat sent a shiver down your spine, adding to the delicious tension filling the van.

—

Now with San behind the steering wheel, you decided to work on the mission a bit. You studied Arthur’s profile and the routes you need to take in the parking lot to reach his car. Getting everything ready to corrupt his system, you also prepared a sneaky surprise for the rival gang.

The van came to a sudden halt and stopped with a jerk.

“Gas station. Pit stop.” San shouted from the front as Wooyoung got down the van shooting you a dirty look.

What was that now ? Why is this guy sudddenly acting weird ? Is he..jealous ?

As San headed inside to grab food, you found yourself alone with Wooyoung by the van, the tension between you two lingering. He leaned against the side of the van, arms crossed, pretending to ignore you while his jaw clenched slightly.

You decided to break the silence. “What’s with the look, Woo? Jealous?” you teased, a smirk tugging at your lips.

He scoffed but didn’t meet your eyes. “Jealous? Of San? Please. I’m just—" Wooyoung paused, searching for an excuse, but you could see right through him. "I’m annoyed, that’s all."

"Annoyed, huh?" You stepped closer, tilting your head slightly. “You’ve been pouting since then. Come on, admit it. You hate when someone else gets the attention.”

Wooyoung finally looked at you, his usual playful grin creeping back. “Me? Pout? I don’t pout. I’m just... irritated that San got all the fun back there, while I had to focus on keeping the van on the road.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused. “Sounds a lot like jealousy to me.”

"Jealousy?" Wooyoung straightened up, inching closer with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Please, if I were jealous, I would’ve thrown San out of the van and taken his place."

You chuckled. “Oh really? So what’s stopping you now?”

Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond but quickly closed it, narrowing his eyes at you playfully. "You know what? Fine, maybe I am jealous. But only because I didn’t get to show off my skills first."

"Skills?" You burst into laughter. “So that’s what this is about. You feel left out.”

You leaned against the van next to him, grinning. “Don’t worry, Woo. I’m sure you’ll get your chance soon enough. Besides, it’s cute seeing you all worked up.”

Before Wooyoung could respond, San returned with bags of snacks, completely oblivious to the banter that had just unfolded.

“What did I miss?” San asked, glancing between the two of you as he handed Wooyoung a drink.

Wooyoung snatched it, side-eyeing you with a playful grin. “Oh, nothing. Just figuring out who’s more jealous in this van.”

San raised an eyebrow, confused, while you and Wooyoung exchanged knowing looks.

Making your way inside the van, San once again took the steering wheel while you settled in the back with your laptop, preparing the surprise for the rival gang. A wicked smile crossed your face as you dramatically rubbed your palms together, imagining the chaos your plan would cause.

Lost in your thoughts, you barely noticed Wooyoung until he settled behind you, his legs trapping you in place as his warm body pressed against yours.

His hands began to softly rub your waist, pulling you slightly closer to him. "Woo, what are you doing?" you muttered, eyes narrowing playfully, a faint smile dancing on your lips.

Wooyoung’s breath, hot against your ear, sent a shiver down your spine. “Showing you my skills.” he whispered, his voice laced with mischief. He dipped his head, leaving soft kisses along your neck.

“Eyes on the laptop, babygirl.” he threw your tease back at you, his smile evident against your skin as his lips began trailing open-mouthed kisses. Occasionally, his teeth grazed your skin with gentle bites, causing you to suppress a moan.

Despite the distraction, you tried to stay focused, fingers hovering over the keyboard, but Wooyoung's attention made it increasingly difficult to concentrate. "How am I supposed to work like this?" you asked, breathless, feeling his lips linger on your pulse point.

“Multitask, baby.” Wooyoung murmured, his breath hot against your skin as his hands slid up to your chest, massaging gently but firmly. His fingers brushed over your nipples, teasing with just enough pressure to send a jolt through your body. His lips trailed along your neck, sucking lightly and leaving faint marks.

His hands squeezed and kneaded your boobs over the clothes making it impossible to focus. You tried to stay on task, but each touch clouded your mind further.

"Wooyoung…" you gasped, voice shaky, eyes closed as he chuckled softly against your neck. "Keep working…" he whispered, fingers pressing harder. "I know you can handle it."

San’s deep voice suddenly broke through. “If you two are done, a little focus on the mission would be nice,” he teased. “Unless you want me to pull over and join.”

You flushed as Wooyoung smirked. “Feel free, Sannie. But win the fight first. You gotta earn it you know ? ” he shot back teasing, his hands still on you.

San chuckled, meeting your gaze in the rearview mirror. "Don't worry, I always earn what’s mine." he replied, voice low and filled with intent. "Just save some energy for later, you’re gonna need it."

As the van slowed near the arena gate, the weight of his words lingered. Wooyoung pressed a final kiss to your shoulder, whispering, "Time to focus, babygirl." You both quickly fixed yourselves and moved to the front, ready to face the mission ahead.

The underground boxing arena screamed of grit, raw energy and danger. Dim lights flickered above, casting shadows over the crowd, a diverse mix of mafia gangs all copped together in anticipation. The air was thick with tension, the stench of sweat and smoke mingling with the metallic scent of money.

Everywhere you looked, men in dark suits and expensive watches lounged around, whispering deals, exchanging deadly glances, and clutching their drinks with one hand and a beautiful blonde in their other hand.

The parking lot outside was a stark contrast to the grimy atmosphere of the arena. Sleek, luxury cars lined the lot, an indication of the wealth and power amassed here tonight. Ferraris, Lamborghinis, and armored SUVs gleamed under the faint glow of streetlights, guarded by stoic, armed men. It was a place where opulence and danger lived side by side, giving you a stark reminder of the stakes involved.

As the van rolled in, you passed a tough security checkpoint. Hulking men in black scanned the van, checking IDs, and giving approving nods before stepping aside to let you through. You felt their eyes on you, but with Wooyoung and San by your side, you slipped past the security with ease.

Inside, thecheerful roars echoed, crowds of people swarmed the arena floor, eager for the violence that was about to unfold. San stole a quick glance at you, a soft look adorned his face before egtting replaced with intense feline eyes. A calm exterior dawned him at the intense fight that lay ahead. You exchanged a quick nod. Wooyoung, on the other hand, flashed his trademark grin, leaning in for a quick “Good luck. Don’t get caught.”

Then, you parted ways.San to the ring, Wooyoung to manage the bets, and you to find Arthur’s car.

The arena buzzed as San climbed into the ring, greeted by Arthur, a towering figure with a snarl to match.The crowd roared as the two men stood infront and eventually bowed, marking the begining of the fight while Wooyoung collected the bet money on San’s name.

The fight began with a flurry of punches, San's lean frame dancing around Arthur's brute force. Wooyoung stood at the sidelines, eyes sharp as he handled the stacks of cash betted on San, his hands moving swiftly to manage the money while keeping a close eye on the fight. Every punch San landed, Wooyoung would grin, his confidence in San palpable as he entertained the others throwing down their money.

Meanwhile, you slipped out of the chaos, nerves buzzing as you headed to the parking lot for your first mission. The weight of it pressed on you, but you held steady, determined not to crack under pressure. Spotting Arthur’s sleek black BMW in a dim corner, your heart raced, but you reminded yourself to breathe.

This was your chance to prove yourself and not get killed.

You pulled out your tools and got to work, hacking into the car’s system. The dashboard lit up as you breached its firewall, fingers flying over your laptop as you worked to corrupt the data and plant the surprise for the rival gang.

Back in the ring, San was locked in a brutal exchange of punches. Arthur's size made him formidable, but San was faster, more precise. Each strike was calculated, his movements fluid. The crowd roared as he landed a solid punch to Arthur’s jaw, sending the man staggering back. San was in control, and it showed.

Meanwhile, you worked quickly, aware that time was running out. Arthur's car system was more than just a firewall; it was the nerve center of his entire operation. As you cracked through the layers of security, you stumbled upon sensitive files detailing a massive gold smuggling ring. But these weren’t just any dealings; they were KamorraZ's—your gold. Arthur had been skimming from KZ all along.

A smirk tugged at your lips as you wiped the data clean, erasing his transactions and taking back what was yours. Swiftly, you sent a notification to Yeosang, so he could lock this all down for KamorraZ, securing your regained control of the gold deal. Gold deal acquired. First Task done!

Next, you wiped the data clean, erasing years of shady transactions, leaving no trace behind and successfully planted a virus, rigged to not only erase all his data but also lock him out of his own networks. Second task checked off!

Now for the fun part, the cherry on top if you may say.

A program designed to send a mass email to every crime boss, claiming Arthur is “switching careers” leaving the mafia life to join a bunny band. Attached was a photoshopped image of Arthur in a ridiculous sparkly outfit, his crew labeled as his "backup bunny dancers," each given a humiliating stage name. Also, every time one of Arthur’s men would try to log into their accounts or communicate, their profile pictures would automatically change to cartoon characters, everything from clueless clowns to pink bunnies wearing tutus.

It was a deadly blow wrapped in a joke. In an instant, the infamous Arthur’s crew would go from feared mafia gang to a running joke in the mafia world. Laughter would ripple through the underworld, and Arthur’s once-feared name would become synonymous with mockery.

Final task accomplished!

Wooyoung, half-focused on San's fight, checked his phone. "Status?”

“Almost done,” you replied, watching the final upload. The plan was flawless. Arthur’s reign would crumble, his gold reclaimed, and his reputation destroyed in a way no one would forget.

Wooyoung signaled San that your work was done, a proud smirk adorning his face.

Fueled by adrenaline and the successful completion of your part of the mission, San delivered the final blow, a fierce uppercut that sent Arthur crashing to the mat. The crowd erupted into a frenzy, cheering and shouting as San stood victorious, barely breaking a sweat. Meanwhile, Wooyoung threw a fist in the air, collecting the piles of cash while flashing you a quick look from across the room.

“Mission accomplished,” you texted the whole group back at the base, as you made your way back to Wooyoung, the rush of success surging through you. As you rejoined them, San had just won his match, the crowd roaring with excitement as he raised his fists in triumph. Wooyoung was already collecting cash from the bets, his grin wide as he pocketed the money.

Just then, he big screen above the ring lit up, showing a hilarious photoshopped image of Arthur and his men in bunny costumes with tutus completed with exaggerated expressions.The crowd burst into laughter, adding to the night’s chaos. Even Arthur and his crew were too stunned to react, their fearsome reputation shattered in an instant. Your little bunny surprise had worked perfectly.

Wooyoung had a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “You're evil. Perfect for KamorraZ.” He chuckled, shaking his head as the crowd continued to roar with laughter, unaware of the all the other chaos you’d unleashed on Arthur’s operation.

Taking this as your cue, you shared quick glances with San and Wooyoung. “Time to slip out,” San said urgently.

You maneuvered through the crowd, securing the winnings from the fight, the gold deal, and the chaos you'd caused. Once at the van, you jumped in, adrenaline still surging.

“Let’s get back to base. They need to know the beautiful chaos you have caused.” Wooyoung said, counting the cash with a wide grin. San nodded, starting the engine and pulling away. As the arena lights faded behind you, you smiled at the success of your first mission. One that had shaken the underworld.

Back at the base, the atmosphere buzzed with celebration as crew members surrounded you, congratulating you for your successful mission. Wooyoung clung to your side, practically bouncing with excitement. “Look at you, all badass! Ready for tonight ?” he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

San leaned against the wall, a proud smile on his face. “You really nailed it,” he said, shooting you a smirk that made your heart race. It was clear both he and Wooyoung were down bad to steal you away for the night and finish what you had started back in the van.

Hongjoong stepped forward, his tough love evident as he clapped a hand on your shoulder. “Not bad for a rookie. You’ve earned my trust,” he said, his tone gruff but with an unmistakable warmth behind it.”Atleast we don’t have to kill you now.”

Seonghwa approached, a soft smile on his face. “You did well,” he said, his voice calm yet encouraging. “We knew you could handle it.”

Yeosang chimed in, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “I can’t wait to see Arthur’s face when he realizes what happened. You really pulled one over on him!”

Yunho and Jongho joined the group, both grinning widely. “You’ve got guts,” Yunho said, giving you a light punch on the arm. “Welcome to the family.”

Jongho laughed, adding, “Next time, let’s make it even bigger!”

As laughter filled the room, Wooyoung leaned closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “You know, after all this, I think you, San and I deserve some private time together” he said, glancing at San, who nodded in agreement, his expression playful yet intense. Your heart raced but you shot him a playful smile with a look in your eyes that screamed approval to his request.

You could feel the crew’s acceptance wrapping around you like a warm blanket. You were no longer just an outsider, you were part of the team.

In this moment, it felt more like home than your actual home ever had.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

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resolutepath · 4 months ago

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He does not miss the way her colour blooms on her cheeks but grants her the feigned ignorance by not pointing it out, there are some things that do not need to be mentioned. He's well aware that though his position's changed in society, she still sees the boy who fell asleep too many times in class, claimed the world was a drag and never really showed aptitude until he was bullied into it. He doesn't mind, it keeps him humble when the family elders are getting to be too much.

It does not suprise him that Kakashi is avoidant of his inauguration. He had heard Asuma-sensei complain many times about the jounin and his lack of fondness for responsiblity, yet with the information that came out during the war, the sign of Uchiha Obito and all that he had wanted to be - how like Naruto he had been - it made sense. He offers and amused smile and ducks his head in a nod, but does not delay the conversation for he is truly interested in the case she is going to set forth.

And she does not disappoint.

Well-prepared with stacks of documents that feed a brain like his own with the information necessary to support what he needs to hear, she speaks eloquently and succinctly on the matter that has clearly come to be a passion of hers. It is in her words that he can truly see the disciple of the legendary Tsunade, the fifth hokage's legacy, and he steeples his fingers before his face as he consumes all that she offers. Beyond that his movement is limited, almost statue like in his vigil as he processes the various cases she has put forward, the depth of the data she has collected.

When talk comes to her own case he does move, enough to get his hands away from his mouth so he might show a glimpse of sympathy for her, to meet her gaze steadfastly. The mere notion of tough it out has been outdated for some time and he sees no shame in her condition, only the beginning of strength in a renewal. And she's asking him to be a part of that.

As she comes to an end he straightens up and pours the tea, deliberately taking the time to consider his response. "The proposal you have put forth is comprehensive, I'm impressed." Words he does not offer lightly, for Nara Shikamaru sees no purpose in feigned compliments. It takes effort and dedication to catch his attention. "I will offer the same attention in response by reviewing all case files today." Even if it takes him till the dawn of a new day, he's determined that she know he finds this fascinating.

"You can sit up, Sakura, there is no need to bow before me..." he smiles and gestures to the tea as a gracious host. His hands find that familiar gesture, one of strategizing, and he hums himself. "I cannot promise you results right away, as Head of the Nara Clan I only have partial authority in these matters, I will need to discuss with my mother, the Doe and the council of elders before final decisions are made. But know you have a strong advocate in me."

He can see from the efforts she has gone to that this is now half-baked scheme, that this is time and dedication and sheer determination for change. "What I can do immediately is reassure you that you have my cooperation and should there be things you desire to make enquiry about I will answer as honestly as I can. I suspect the elders will take umbridge with information leaving the compound, but my doors are open to you."

It's not enough. He knows at the next council meeting he is going to advocate to give her entry to the Nara Forest, accompanied of course, so that she might see the flora and fauna first hand, the wealth of resources. "Fret not, Sakura, you have allies here. Give me the day to read over your research and I'll be able to draw you up a list of what the Nara might be able to offer you, and discuss with the elders the lengths the clan is willing to go to."

no need for formalities, sakura, he says, and sakura could feel the apple of her cheeks blossom further into a shade she's sure matches her hair.

and it isn't as though she doesn't think shikamaru doesn't deserve the title or anything like that ! in fact, sakura's almost certain that, out of all their peers, he might be the most deserving of it — and yet, she couldn't fully deny the awkwardness in addressing shikamaru with such a high honorific, only because they've known each other since they were little kids. and he might or might not be a repeated witness to her and ino's drinking game where they'd work each other up to see if the other could hold the alcohol better. suffice to say, neither of them genuinely could.

he'd probably seen her drunkenly conspiring with ino god knows how many times now — she understands the irony that she's here now, playing at humility. she's instantly glad for his quick change of subject.

❛⠀ah, you know how he is. ❜ sakura waves her hand, the relative hopelessness upon discussing her jōnin-sensei leaks into her voice, though it still comes out fond. familiar. ❛⠀still trying to evade the inauguration as long as he could. ❜ which... in all honesty, sakura hadn't minded. again, it wasn't as if she had anything against kakashi-sensei stepping up to be the sixth, but if he does, then it means tsunade-shishou had every reason to finally resume the life she had before the need to fulfil the hokage position fell onto her. she'd leave, and that would be another one added to the list. sakura deliberately does not try to think about the list.

❛⠀right ! ❜ and she is ready. sakura wastes no time: she pulls out her documents and findings. she spreads it out well in front of him, one stack after another, differentiate only by the chronological sequence and type. he will find later that some of her research are already annotated, debated, and proven. some are more theory than anything, waiting to have more studies to dispute or prove it. and others are hastily-written notes she'd scribbled in her personal medical journal when a possible resolution strikes.

❛⠀i'm sorry if this may seem too much, but i appreciate you setting aside a time to meet me, shikamaru. i'll start by putting forward that i've collected over four hundred cases the medic-nin have described as 'battle fatigue' from the fourth war. ❜ she goes forward to describe the usual symptoms: from the ones exhibiting it mentally to a much dangerous extreme which usually manifests in physical aggressions or complete detachment from current reality. in some worser cases, it'd be a combination of both.

sakura then carefully pats the next batch of documents she'd copied from the archived scrolls on past treatments, before moving on to the few considerably modern medical take on the condition. which, while it does work on certain people, their statistics are not much better off. anxious combatants remained paranoid or restless. before the war, many could resume their life normally after-missions, but they've now exhibited a persistent stress on the daily. for many, it has derailed their routine, effected the quality of their work, put a strain on their relationships. the list goes on.

❛⠀for the sake of total visibility, i will not lie to you. two months after the war, i was diagnosed with the same condition. i was given medication for it — mainly to manage my sleep better, but it's proven futile. ❜ her eyes meet shikamaru's then, serious, despite the vulnerability that comes with admitting such. most shinobis tough it out, after all. they don't sleep? then, they work. but it's not as simple as that, is it ? sometimes she still loses focus. stared into nothing for hours. ❛ i started the research then. i conduct the interviews and i've extracted any medical archives, both konoha's and other villages — the ones who'd respond — as best as i could. and i believe your family's records might be of help. ❜

the sting from when the hyūgas have rejected her still hurts. but this is different. maybe she can't study the byakugan's findings when it comes to the nervous system, but the nara— they accumulate medical knowledge for generations. their forest itself were said to host various medicinal herbs and properties. sakura would know; had she not learn it at tsunade-shishou's feet, she had long learn it at her father's knee, as otou-san drags his nail across konoha's forest on the map. telling sakura which land belongs to whom, which clan were the kindest, and which parts their family operates their lumbering business within.

❛ take all the time you need to go through my proposal. ❜ she ends, sucking a big gulp of breath, for on top of all the documents is the formal proposal to extend her research with the nara clan's archives. she would have to go through more than books and scrolls; she would have to take samples from their sacred forest. shizune-san had kindly remind her that, even if the proposal had gone through, the clan might still provide restriction. you might not be able to bring the scroll beyond their compound, though sakura thinks she'll accept nearly anything at this point. so desperate she is, she goes over to the side of the table.

sakura bows, head low on the floor, and hands together between her forehead and the tatami mat.

❛ i beg for your full consideration as the head of the nara clan, shikamaru. i believe my research can give ways to many new medication and deeper understanding of this condition — but i cannot raise a healthier generation of shinobi without you. without your family. so, please. i hope you will consider it. ❜

#fightaers #muses. [ shikamaru. ]#source. [ n.aruto. ]#( DHDKSHD I will ramble and ramble about the restrictions and how shikamaru avoids them and all the nara lore )#( pls know i am still in love with this plot )#queue. [ stars hide your fires; let not light see my black and deep desires. ]

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cl3fairyyy · 9 months ago

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hide and seek || edward nashton / the riddler x fem reader (nsfw !) ⋆｡𖦹°‧★

summary || your sex life recently with edward has been non existent. with him being so focused on his plans for gotham, you have found your needs being neglected. you decide to take initiative and plan a fun game for edward while he's at work.

warnings || SMUT!! there is plot but this is pretty much straight up porn lol. reader and edward role-play a kidnapping scenario but everything is consensual!! slapping, restraints, degradation, light knife play, overstimulation, p in v, pussy eating, choking, hunting(?kind of?), (fake) threats of violence, mentions of stalking, the suit stays ON during sex, some weird purity/ corruption stuff in this idk i think a demon possessed me halfway through writing this. minors please do not interact!!

word count || 4k i did not mean for it to be this long oopsie!!

notes || i haven't written smut in a LONG time so i am so sorry if this is straight up garbage pls go easy on me. recently reread year one and im seriously going insane the hyperfixation is so back guys. i love writing edward so much especially when it comes to writing some nasty porn about him LOL. i srsly had no idea how to end this so its kinda bad sorry D:

┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ┊ ˚★⋆｡˚ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ┊ ⋆ ┊ ┊ ★⋆ ┊ ◦ ★⋆ ┊ . ˚ ˚★

In recent months, you have found yourself growing increasingly frustrated. For the longest time, you haven’t had the faintest idea of what has been causing this, and that has caused it to manifest itself in various ways throughout your everyday life. You have found yourself much more easily annoyed by the most minor inconveniences, and have had repeated warnings at work to stop arguing with customers over the pettiest of matters.

One afternoon in late November, whilst attempting to share in your boyfriend’s body heat on the sofa of your freezing living room, watching the news and listening to him ramble about finally ‘revealing the truth,’ it hits you.

Edward hasn’t fucked you in months.

Even before this change, you didn’t have the most active sex life- you were both too busy holding down your day jobs whilst simultaneously investigating the corruption poorly concealed beneath Gotham’s cobbled streets. Still, you’d find the time every other week or so to take care of each other.

You love having sex with Edward; he’s so gentle with you, handling you like a precious gem that will shatter if dropped. He always makes sure your needs are met before he even thinks of himself, worshipping your body with an obsession akin to a deeply faithful Catholic’s love for Christ himself.

But sometimes... it can get boring. Not as boring as not having sex at all, but boring enough that you often find yourself lying awake at night, longing for Edward to keep up his Riddler persona for just a little while longer after he arrives home from doing whatever he does to have the coppery scent of blood soaking into the walls of your small apartment.

You know your frustration will only worsen the longer you go without having sex, so you decide to do a small experiment.

You take the next few days off work, pretending to be sick, and Edward, usually ever attentive to your every need, your Edward, who begins panicking if you all but sniffle the wrong way, barely notices. With your theory proven that his work has been turning him into someone who is evidently not your sweet Edward, you begin doing everything you can for even an ounce of attention from him. You give him shoulder massages after he returns home from a long day at work, cook him his favourite meals, run baths for him, at some point it evolves into you all but throwing yourself at him, and you have to take a step back to reevaluate your approach. Being that desperate for sex is not a good look, especially when your boyfriend is completely oblivious to how horny you are.

You decide you need to formulate a plan to force him to focus on you.

It starts with the lingerie. You scour the shopping apps on your phone for an embarrassingly long time, trying to find something perfect. You eventually come across a pretty lilac set, its sheer mesh bra framed with soft ruffles and feminine frills to accentuate your chest, and immediately order it, even begrudgingly spending a little extra for next day delivery.

The next step of your plan is to come up with a simple puzzle, something stimulating but still to the point- you're so horny that you know the next time you’re in a room with Edward while he still has that Riddler costume on, it’s going to take some real self-restraint to stop yourself from ripping it off him.

The final step of your plan is waiting for the perfect moment to put everything into action. You realise it isn’t the most complicated or glamorous scheme to ever exist, but if it manages to work and allows you to finally get some action, you won’t be complaining.

One evening, when it’s well past 5pm, and definitely well past the time Edward should have been home from the office, you get a text from your beloved.

hi honey, moved tuesday’s plans forward to today. got an opening with savage and cant miss it. will be home late- ill pick up food on my way back. love you.

we’re finally making some REAL change : )

You almost leap out of your chair with excitement, rushing around the apartment to make sure everything is in place for your little game of hide and seek.

When Edward finally returns home, the apartment is dark- it’s well past 11pm, so he figures you’re in bed. He sighs, setting down the takeaway bag on the coffee table and calling out your name, pausing when you don’t answer. You always wait up for him when he’s running his late-night ‘errands.’ When he thinks about it more, he realises you didn’t even text him back earlier this evening; you’ve been sick, too- what if you collapsed, or had complications, or worse?

Before he can begin panicking, he finally notices the lit candle on the kitchen counter. Next to it is a piece of paper, which Edward gingerly picks up with shaking hands, reading the five words scrawled across it.

‘Dear Riddler,

Come find me.’

Confusion clouds Edward’s mind for a moment before he realises that he’s reading your handwriting, and the sweet flowery scent giving him a headache is his favourite perfume of yours. He stands still for a moment, rereading the note as the familiar feeling of want begins to curl in his lower belly. You’ve never actually addressed him as the Riddler before.

He definitely likes it.

You crouch uncomfortably in your hiding space beneath the dining table, straining your ears against the silence of the apartment as you try to gauge how Edward has taken your little game based off his breathing. You hear the rustling of fabric and the sound of something zipping up, and realise he must’ve slipped his jacket and mask back on because his breaths are definitely muffled now.

He begins taking slow, deliberate steps around the apartment, his combat boots loudly thudding on the wooden floorboards as he does so. You suddenly feel very vulnerable in only your undergarments and wonder if this is how his victims must feel, a thrill tingling deliciously up your spine.

You shift a little in your spot, trying to find a way to crouch comfortably while also remaining out of sight. Your heart pounds so hard in anticipation of being spotted that you’re sure Edward can hear it, especially when his footsteps begin to head towards your hiding spot.

You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the sound of your breathing to an absolute minimum; the silence in your apartment is deafening and, for the first time in all the years you have known him, you begin to feel almost weary of Edward’s presence. In this moment, you’re not just Edward’s partner.

You’re his prey.

So wrapped up in your own mind, you don’t hear Edward’s footsteps behind you. You feel two strong, gloved hands grab your hips and rip you out of your thoughts. You squeal giddily as Edward throws you onto the wooden dining table, biting your lip to stifle the giggles that threaten to spill out.

Edward looms over you, his glasses glinting in the moonlight that seeps into the apartment through the cracks in the blinds. He is completely silent, save for the heavy breaths muffled by his mask. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and raspy, and the sound of it sends tiny shivers of excitement up your arms.

“I’ve been watching you for so long. Every move you make, I’ve followed from the shadows, waiting for the perfect moment to snatch you up. Do you know how hard it’s been? Hearing your pathetic whimpers while you fuck yourself every night, and having to wait until it’s me making you unravel? But now I have you here, all to myself, and no one is around to save you.”

The sight of him like this, so indescribably large compared to you, looking down on you like a lion that has captured its prey and is about to rip it to shreds- it sends sparks of arousal through you that pool in your sheer underwear. You look up at Edward through your eyelashes, smiling innocently.

“Looks like you caught me.”

With that, he drags you up, throwing you over his shoulder as he heads towards your bedroom. Your face burns, unsure of when or how he got so strong, and the anticipation of what he is about to do to you sends tingles of delight down your spine.

Edward throws you carelessly onto the bed before straddling you. He wordlessly grasps your wrists in one gloved hand, holding them above your head while he rips off a piece of duct tape from the roll that dangles from his belt, and binds them together securely. He subtly tilts his head to the side, and you can read him so well at this point that you know he’s asking if your restraints are too tight. You shake your head, and he immediately melts back into character, sweeping his gaze down your exposed body predatorily.

His gloved hands reach forward, roughly groping your breasts, pinching and rolling your clothed nipples between his fingers. You squeak, writhing beneath him, deciding to put on a bit of a show with it.

“P... please, don’t...” you whimper pathetically, bucking your hips into his. You hear him groan under his breath above you, removing one hand from your chest to grip your chin harshly, squishing your cheeks together. “Shut up.” His voice is low and dangerous when he speaks, a complete contrast to the sweet voice Edward usually addresses you with. “You’re trapped here, and no one is coming for you. You can scream as loud as you want, it won’t make a difference.”

“You’re so pitiful, dressed up like one of those whores on the street just to get my attention.” He breathes out slowly, slipping a gloved finger beneath your bra to massage your nipple. “I can’t say it hasn’t worked, but a whore is still a whore. You need to be cleansed, like the rest of the filth in this city, and the only person willing to do that is me. That’s why,” he pauses, the hand gripping your chin roughly yanking your mouth open as he leans over you, pulling up his mask slightly and spitting in your mouth, “you will take everything I give to you like a grateful little bitch.”

He slaps your face, hard enough to sting but not enough to bruise, and you swallow the mixture of your saliva and his. You can’t stop the moan that slips out from between your parted lips, and he locks eyes with you, his pupils blown so wide with arousal that his eyes appear completely black in the low light. He leans forward again, pulling up his mask, and harshly kisses you, pushing his tongue into your mouth as his knee forces your legs apart. You whimper when you feel his erection brush against your thigh and he bites down on your bottom lip, hard. He moves his focus to your neck and collarbones, attacking the sensitive skin with kisses and bites, marking every inch of you that’s visible.

“This is so,” he murmurs breathlessly between fervent kisses to your skin- and, Christ, is he smelling you?- “everyone knows you were fucked by the Riddler. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? For everyone to know that you’re such a whore that getting fucked by a serial killer gets that pathetic cunt of yours completely soaked.” You moan at his words, arching your back to press your chest against his as you grind against his knee.

“Such a needy little thing. One touch from me and you’re already at my complete disposal.” He leans back on his heels to look over you, your hair a complete mess, your lips swollen and as red as the flush on your skin. The strap of your bra has slipped down your shoulder and Edward’s breaths become haggard as he reaches for the knife on his belt; he cuts away the fabric hiding your breasts from him, much to your dismay (that lingerie set was pretty fucking expensive), and immediately takes one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before biting down lightly. You moan louder, squirming against your restraints and trying to pull away from him.

He slaps you again, harder this time, running the flat side of his knife against the mark that begins blooming on your cheek. “If you don’t shut up and take it like a good girl, I'll have to hurt you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your parted lips. “I wouldn’t want to ruin a face as pretty as yours.”

You whimper, rubbing your clothed core against Edward’s thigh, feeling the arousal in your lower belly build from the stimulation. Edward certainly doesn’t miss this, his eyes widening slightly as he peels your underwear away from your pussy. A string of your own slick connects you to the mesh fabric, and you can hear the amusement in Edward’s voice when he says, “oh, I’m going to ruin you.”

He cuts your underwear away, dragging his knife down your body painfully slowly. You shiver from the cool metal, whining from frustration when Edward’s gloved fingers spread your glistening folds, pointedly ignoring your throbbing clit.

“You pathetic girl... so wet for me. No one else could get you to react like this from their words alone, could they?” You shake your head rapidly, wiggling your hips in an attempt to get closer to Edward’s fingers. “Say it, then.” He begins lazily rubbing circles into your clit, causing you to cry out with relief at him finally touching you. He runs the blunt end of his knife across your neck, twisting it in his hand so the tip presses into your skin, not quite breaching your flesh. “Nice and clear for me. Tell me that you’re my bitch.”

You moan when he begins speeding up his movements on your clit, stumbling over your words. “I.. I’m your- your b-” He cuts you off with another slap to your cheek, and the action sends a sharp jolt of pleasure right to your clit, causing you to choke out a moan. “Not quite, pretty girl. Try again. Whose bitch are you?” Your eyes narrow with confusion for a second before you realise what he wants you to say.

“I’m th- the Riddler’s bitch.”

He nods, satisfied, pushing two gloved fingers inside of you while the other continues rubbing your clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching embarrassingly fast, whimpering and giving Edward a pleading look.

He nods wordlessly and you unravel, your orgasm enveloping your body in a blissful warmth as your pussy clenches hard around Edward’s fingers. He breathes out through his nose, hard, as he watches you cum, his cock throbbing at the feeling of your pussy spasming around his fingers.

Edward pulls his fingers out of you when your body finally finishes shaking, inspecting your wetness on them in the low light of your bedroom for several moments, before pushing them under his mask and sucking them clean. He moans at the taste of you, and you feel his dick twitching against your leg as he closes his eyes, savouring you. He sighs, opening his eyes.

“I need more.”

Before you can react, he’s gripping your waist with strong hands, dragging your body up against him, holding you up almost completely off the bed, and hooking your legs over his shoulders. Edward gazes at your drenched cunt with a hunger in your eyes that you've never seen displayed by him, his breaths deep and shaky as he smells the arousal leaking out of you. You squeak, thighs still quivering from your previous orgasm.

“W-wait, Ed- Riddler, I... I’m still t-too sensitive for...” You cut yourself out with a cry of pained pleasure as he latches his mouth onto your pussy, pushing his tongue into your sensitive hole. You sob as he sucks on your clit, shocks of overstimulation wracking through you as you weakly kick your legs against him, your body growing limp. The sounds Edward makes as he devours your pussy are obscene, the room filling with echoes of your cries and Edward’s moans as he sucks and licks crudely at your sex.

He pulls away occasionally, praising and degrading you in barely coherent pussydrunk babbles: “such a perfect girl for me,” “stupid bitch, such a needy whore for your savior,” “so pretty with mascara running down your face,” “any louder and I'll give you a real reason to cry,” “taste so good, i need all of you.” And it’s all so much, his tongue writhing so deep inside you, the grip of his hands on your ass, the cool leather biting into your flesh, the way he moans and ruts into the bed from the taste of you, and before you can even breathe you’re cumming again, and you’re cumming so hard your back lifts off the bed entirely, the strength of your orgasm rocking you all the way to your core. Your mind goes blank as a chain of choked moans and sobs spill from between your lips, all you can focus on being the way Edward continues to fuck you with his tongue all the way through your orgasm. You can feel your slick sliding down your thighs, and when Edward pulls away you can see it dripping down his chin, and you don’t miss the proud grin on his face as he pulls down his mask.

He drops you back onto the bed, straddling you once more and wiping your slick from his chin with his finger, motioning for you to open your mouth. You obey him and he pushes the digit inside, motioning for you to suck it clean. When he pulls his finger from your mouth, his eyes darken, and you can practically feel the smug smile in his words. “Such a good little girl for me, aren’t you? No one can make you cum like I can... and I can still smell how horny you are for me. You’re so needy, yet you’re never satisfied.”

He tilts his head, and the dim light from the lamp behind him illuminates him similarly to a halo, and you almost find yourself beginning to create a religion in your head just to worship him.

“I don’t think you’re being very grateful.”

You begin crying out words of thanks, rubbing your legs together to lessen the ache of overstimulation. Edward's knees cage you in, and he grips one of your thighs with his hands.

“Quit your grovelling and stop fucking moving when I’m talking to you.” His hand travels to your face, cupping your cheek with a surprising tenderness as he sighs. “You’re still so filthy... look what this city has done to you. I suppose I’m your last hope.”

He unbuckles his belt and unzips his trousers, finally freeing his cock from its confines. The tip is an angry red and leaks with precum, and Edward lets out a breathy moan as he strokes it. He spreads your legs, lining himself up with your sex and pushing into you slowly. He gazes down at you, a complete mess beneath him, and groans. “You’re so lucky... being fucked by Gotham’s salvation...”

You can barely think, let alone speak, and when Edward begins moving his hips, his thumb finding your clit and massaging it, you sob, tears streaming down your cheeks. He moves in and out of your agonisingly slowly, and when you look up at him, you can make out that his eyes are closed as he savours the feeling of you.

“Your virgin pussy is so... so fucking tight. Oh... h-how does it feel to be fucked by your saviour? Your God?”

You sniffle beneath him, choking on your sobs as he speeds up to a punishing pace, his cock bruising your insides. He grabs at every inch of you, his hands finding refuge around your throat.

“Oh, you’re so good. You were so filthy, but I will cleanse you. I will purify you; I will plant the seed of hope within you, and you will be saved.”

He babbles on as he fucks you, squeezing his fingers around your throat, verging on crushing your windpipe but never quite gripping hard enough. You cry out for him, so cockdrunk and lightheaded from your sudden lack of oxygen that you find yourself looping your bound wrists around his neck, pulling him forward and crashing your lips to the rough leather of his mask. He makes a noise of surprise before his fingers once again find your clit, rubbing at it desperately as his hips begin to stutter against your own.

Edward, ever the gentlemen, wants you to cum before him; you feel your cheeks grow warm at the thought, and pull away to look at him. You can barely keep your focus on him, your vision going hazy, and he begins assaulting your clit with more fervor.

“Be a good little angel and cum for your savior.”

Your vision goes white as the orgasm rips through you, your entire body spasming as your pussy clenches down hard on Edward’s cock. He has to stop moving to prevent himself from cumming as he guides you through your own orgasm, his fingers weaving through your hair as he coos at you.

“Yes, that’s it. Such a perfect girl. So pretty cumming on my cock.”

He begins speeding up again, his hips slapping against yours with a clumsy rhythm, his breathy moans growing louder and more desperate with each thrust. You lay, exhausted, whimpering incoherent words of encouragement to him as he chases after his own climax.

You feel him begin to pull out and you weakly wrap your legs around his hips. “W-want you inside. Need... need you to cleanse me from the inside.”

Your words are what tip Edward over the edge, and he whimpers loudly as his cum spills inside you, his hips grinding into yours as he relishes in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Thank God you're on birth control.

Edward slowly pulls out of you and cuts the duct tape that binds you, gently pressing kisses to the insides of your wrists. He pulls off his fogged up glasses and his mask, placing a gentle kiss to your lips as he smiles at you worriedly.

“I didn’t go too far, did I?”

There's your lovely Eddie.

You shake your head, laughing weakly and he smiles, pushing his glasses back up his nose as he helps you to your feet and guides you to the bathroom, letting you use his body for support. Edward sits you on the lip of the bath and dampens a towel, gentle cleaning you up and placing loving kisses to every bare patch of skin he can reach. He reluctantly leaves you alone to freshen up as he straightens up the bed, changing into his pajamas and finding your favourite t shirt of his to sleep in.

When you re-enter the bedroom, with a slight limp that Edward definitely notices but refuses to comment on, he dresses you and tucks you into bed before lying next to you, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

“Sorry I’ve been so... distant lately.”

When you go to answer him, he rubs his thumb soothingly on your cheek and you get the message that he hasn’t finished talking.

“We have big things planned, we both know that, but... it wasn’t right of me to not look after you when, now that I look back at it, you really made it obvious that you needed me to. I hope you can forgive me.”

You smile, pressing a shy kiss to Edward’s lips.

“Don’t apologise, Eddie. There’s nothing to be sorry for. You can apologise tomorrow when I can’t feel my legs or sit down properly for a week.”

He laughs and buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“I really love you, you silly girl. A-and..."

He pulls away from you but continues to avert his gaze, his cheeks pink and a lopsided grin tugging at his lips.

"The, um, th-the lingerie was very pretty, you looked really lovely. I'm, ah, sorry about..."

He doesn't meet your eyes and you snort, bringing a hand to rest on his cheek with a fond smile.

"Yeah. That I'm not so quick to forgive. You have no idea how expensive nice underwear is when you're a woman."

Edward laughs shyly, delicately holding your wrist and pressing tender kisses to your palm that leave you melting. The heat in his eyes, however, is undeniable.

"I absolutely will not complain if you decide to spend all my money on pretty lingerie and then decide to model said lingerie for me."

"You're unbelievable."

You both laugh as Edward continues peppering soft kisses up your arm, then your bruising neck before finally meeting your lips in a tender kiss. He pulls away, and the way he looks at you with such love and adoration almost makes you tear up.

Edward twirls a strand of hair around his finger, pulling you closer to his chest. His fingers reach up and he begins combing them through your hair properly, whispering sweet praise to you as you find yourself dozing off.

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