#I wanted to capture what the possession may of looked like | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

1920sladydectective · 1 month ago

Note

Mhhhhh, maybe

-Ambessa x Babett's "Worker"

-A captuered War Prize 😌

But also

-A Servant of Hers

Please dont feel forced to write anything, Just saw your request and wanted to give Suggestions.🙊💕

Hello darling! Thank you for the ideas, whilst I may visit them all I have done a captured war prize for now. It was supposed to be short and sexy but then it became..this? She plays the slow game and conquers the reader in other ways.

I hope you like it, thank you for the support <3

I haven't proof read it much because I am literally exhausted lol

MDNI 18+

Warnings - Manipulation, Mind Games, Captive, Degradation, Pet names, Reader doing accidental voyeurism, Oral, hair pulling.

Her Prized Possession - 3.8K NSFW

They’d come through like a tornado, ripping apart your entire life and feasting on the rubble. People had fled, terrified of the swift and unforgiving invasion. Those who remained were rounded up and tossed into carts. The ground shook, frightened by the fury of Noxus and at the heart of it all was her. Ambessa Medarda was renowned for her cruelty, her efficiency and most of all her greed.

You were the perfect example of that.

You had been pulled from your apothecary’s hut, cotton dress filthy from your attempts to hide. They raided you of your life’s work, people throwing you into a pile of frightened villagers. The air shifted, the soldiers straightening as certain steps commanded their attention. Without looking up you knew it was her, and fury burned bright. This self obsessed, pompous woman had destroyed your life and for what? She lingered a step away, sword raised lazily as if taunting farm yarn animals. You only had a few seconds, and even if it was fruitless you had to try.

As others cowered, obeying her cruel words, you slipped your fingers around the knife in your sock and shot forward. Somehow it made contact, slicing a gash into her leg, trailing down her leg.

“Monster,” You snarled.

You were risen into the air by your hair, a pained yelp leaning you as you stared into the eyes of a hungry beast. Golden eyes gazed at you, surprised and amused. You were going to die now, and she was laughing in your face.

“She’ll do,” She said easily, throwing your body at the ground behind her, before wandering off with no sign of injury. Confusion had eaten you until two lean Noxian soldiers had appeared, spears in hand.

Their touch was uncomfortably gentle, ushering you like a scared dog from the village into an imposing, structured tent. Fear licked at your bones, a fate worse than death settling on you like a thick cloak. Maids with pretty eyes and practised fingers removed your dress and replaced it with a soft red silk slip. Oh. You were a prize, an object like the towering pile of goods in their camp, to be used and discarded.

It didn’t take long for them to chain you to a small post next to a large, velvet armchair. There you sat, resting on your knees on cold marble. You felt ornamental, your humanity dripped away as you merged with the surroundings. You could only be thankful that it was warm in the tent, for the winter winds howled outside as afternoon beckoned.

When she entered you refused to look up, muscles tensing.

“Sulking, are we Dear?” It was honeyed, as fabric dropped to the floor, “I wouldn’t, it was a good hit, if you’d gone up slightly it might have even done something,”

Your cheeks coloured with frustration. You hated her, hated how small she made you feel, how effortlessly she had crushed you. Worst of all you hated the beauty she wielded. Like a serpent, blinding you with glittering scales as she wound around you, squeezing you till you burst.

“Don’t tell me you’re ignoring me now,” She pouted, summoning your eyes instinctively, “There she is, brave warrior,”

You frowned, “I suppose it’s not enough that I’m here, you have to mock my only agency,”

Ambessa moved forward leisurely, in only black underwear and a robe, settling into her armchair, “I never mock a bold manoeuvre, little one, no matter how fruitless,”

She tugged you forward slightly, your head forced to rest on her thigh as she poured a cup of tea. You grunted, staring at the rug between her legs as she intertwined her fingers in your hair. Her touch was kind and repetitive, caressing your locks as she picked up a book and began to read aloud. Adrenaline was drowning you but your anticipation garnered nothing. She stayed like this for hours, muttering to you. The fire and her touch forced you into acknowledging your exhaustion. Occasionally she would offer water, fingers wielding a crystal glass for you. It took five tries for you to accept, your throat aching from dehydration. You were rewarded with a scratch under your chin as her voice continued to wash over you. In another life this would have filled you with contentment and it grated at you.

Moments later you were being moved again, picked up as though a feather to rest on her silky thighs. The hand she reattached to your head pushed you into the crook of her shoulder, her smell potent and warm. Iron and sweat clashed with spices and sea air, leaving your flagging mind woozy. You couldn’t escape and you had no way of harming her, so sitting in her lap became your only option.

You hadn’t noticed your fluttering eyelids and heavy breath until your stomach growled, cramping at its emptiness. Her voice stopped immediately as the book slammed shut. Those eyes, now kind, surveyed you. With a melodic ring, a bell to her side beckoned two maids.

“What do you wish to eat?” Ambessa asked, tucking a strand behind your ear, “I shall share whatever you have,”

“Pork stew,” You muttered, desire for food and comfort outweighing your doubts. If she’d wanted you dead, you’d be a corpse.

“A local delicacy, I’m told,” Her words are in your ear, lips practically against them.

The food arrived faster than you’d thought possible, steaming and hearty in little gold bowls. Your stomach interjected again, eyes wide and desperate. To your immense surprise, she undid your shackles and allowed you to feed yourself. Though you were still anchored to her lap by a strong arm, this newfound freedom caused a rush of joy. The stew was exceptional, though more decadent than you ever would have had it. The chef must have had a heavy hand with the spices, no cares as to their cost, the heat flooding you. Ambessa seemed comforted too, her portion over double yours as you watched in subtle amazement at her appetite. It could have fed a family of four from your village with ease.

Whatever plans she had for you, it seemed she would not be enacting them tonight. Your silk slip was a nightgown and nothing more, as she moved with you through the tent into an adjoining room with a large, fur covered bed.

“Now then,” Her hand held your chin, “Shackles for bed tonight, wouldn’t want you wandering off until you’ve proved your loyalty,”

Loyalty? That’s what she wanted?

The metal felt warmer than before, less weighted as she clasped it shut and bundled you up. Her form slid in next to you, though she mercifully did not insist you touch her. You did not speak, unable to give her the satisfaction after having to tolerate so much, though she wished you a tender goodnight.

Your sleep was fitful, filled with slashing blades and burning embers. You awoke alone, furs wrapped tight. A slip of parchment was to your left in a sharp hand.

I shall be away all day,

There are clothes and some books on my armchair for you.

Mira will see to anything you need,

A.M.

True to her word, a slight serving girl entered the moment you moved to the main space, trays of food and drink with her. She helped you dress, braided your hair and even undid the shackles.

“Lady Medarda said this is a show of trust,” Her words were clear, as if dictating from a note, “If you attempt anything, guards will be on you before you can lift a scrap of the tent’s fabric,”

“Lovely,” You grumbled to yourself, “Her trust gives me the ability to lift a glass unaided,”

“If you behave she will bring your medical journals and allow you to sleep without restraint,” She said, a smile on her face. Of course she had predicted you’d complain.

The book she had read to you yesterday was in the pile and after breakfast you found yourself wanting to learn its conclusion. Warm in the wool trousers and jumper Ambessa had provided you, you sat in the chair and finished it. If Mira had any opinions about you sitting in her Mistress’s chair she did not voice them, and the small rebellion quieted some of the caged panic that rattled in your chest. Her slowness to act just gave you time to think of an escape plan and then you could get away elsewhere

The sun set quickly, your time wasted with dozing and books as you memorised each corner of the room. Though this was technically a tent, it was secured enough to act as a house, with the only way out being forward which wasn’t a way out at all. Lady Medarda ensured that.

When Ambessa returned dinner had long since passed, and you had begrudgingly put yourself to bed. The curtain parted and her fatigued face came into view.

“There you are,” She sighed, “I thought you would have dug a tunnel out of here by now,”

“Cutlery’s too dull, no doubt a coincidence,” You found yourself quipping, observing the way her mouth creased into a grin.

“No need for a sharp knife when your meat is tender,” She purred, moving to the other side of the bed and removing her outer clothes, “Did you have a restful day?”

She seemed genuinely interested, and not for the first time you wondered where the wolf had gone. Shifting your tactics in the hopes of softening her, you gave a muffled answer. Mollified, she curled up as she had the night before and fell asleep almost immediately.

You were gloriously shackleless and yet if you fled now she would probably crush your throat before both feet hit the floor. It was expected this first night, and probably the second, a test of your resolve and patience. The only way to go would be when she genuinely trusted your obedience.

Ten days and a camp change later you were beginning to lose patience. She was vigilant, but considerate and it left you now windows of opportunity. You weren’t a hardened warrior as she had joked that first day, you were an apothecary with nothing to do but lounge around and be read to by a infamous warlord. You were beginning to feel mad, a life of leisure so roughly thrust upon you. The conditions only improved with the move and her tent now had its own bathroom, a humongous glistening tub calling to you. Ambessa had begun to ask you for opinions on her expansion plans, seemingly wanting to preserve the charm of your land whilst overpowering it with Noxian glamour. WIth your input she kept the old churches and allowed your people to tend to their lands if they swore allegiance to Noxus.

In a gilded cage, miles away from your home, you weighed the advantages of staying entangled against the bliss of freedom. The guards were becoming more lax, allowing you to wander through parts of the camp and make friends with Mira and the other maids. She had not harmed you, save pulling your hair that first day and you were well provided for. She’d even managed to tug more substantial conversations from you, even when they lacked a business element. You’d told her of your journey to becoming an apothecary, and she had explained the first time wore armour, clattering to the floor mid fight.

At night, as rain slammed down and the wind chilled your toes, you would gaze longingly at the doorway and then find yourself tugged into warm, firm arms. Much like reading time, you were held and pressed into her, scent dizzying. She smiled, you had noticed, when she cradled you in her sleep. Each time it would wipe the door from your mind as you succumbed to a more contented sleep. Most confusing of all, she was showing no signs of tiring of you as a ‘toy soldier’ as she had affectionately dubbed you. Nobody seemed to understand why you lingered in her space rather than being given your own, perhaps not even her.

On the thirtieth day things shifted. After dinner, a heavy dress floating around your feet, you slipped back into the tent and were met with breathy, loud moans. Not Medarda’s, though she was clearly the cause. Hidden by the thick curtains, a high female voice begged and cried the warlord’s name, the creaking of your bed audible.

Your bed.

Her bed, you corrected grimly, embarrassment sticky in your throat. The noise ceased almost immediately after you had entered, and your feet froze to the ground. A nameless, unknown girl slipped from the bedroom, meeting your gaze with a pleasure struck face. A vapid giggle left her as she slipped past you.

Ambessa appeared moments later, robe loose around her, with an easy expression. It darkened imperceptibly in your presence, though you felt the subtle chill.

“I didn’t realise you were back, Warrior,” She muttered, voice heavy, “That wasn’t planned, I-I shall notify you if I intend to use our space like that,”

Our.

Wait, did she think you’d be jealous?

“How the mighty have fallen,” You scoffed, unable to meet her gaze, “Shouldn’t I be fearing consequences from you, as the captive,”

“You’re not the one with a new leg scar,”

Touche. She seemed to hold you on a pedestal for that act alone and you had yet to decipher why.

It was made clear by the flurry of people that the bedroom was stripped and remade. It calmed you, the faceless woman erased from the space though you and Ambessa lingered. You didn’t care what she did with her love life but you decided you didn’t need to know about it.

Unfortunately, it was hard to avoid. Trysts, people trying to charm their way into your her bed as you ate at the communal table and several conquests leaving that you had to face the next day. It made your stomach ache, fingers dancing with nervous energy every time she lay next to you, her scent changing every so slightly if she had had company. Almost another month passed with you on tenterhooks, stuck between the safety of your leisure with her and the stain of sin on your sanctuary.

The worst of all had to be tonight though. You had awoken alone for the first time, colder than ever, when you heard it. Ambessa’s blissful sigh. She was actively being pleasured in her armchair whilst you fucking slept. Through a crack in the curtain you could see tan legs kneeling just as you had that first night, between her thighs with their head on her skin. The notable difference was how they devoured her, pulling dark moans and filthy words from her gravelly voice. It was hard to ignore, her scent drenching you in the bed you shared as she used another’s body. You tried to stifle the noise, covering your ears and burrowing into the bed. This made the scent issue exponentially worse, especially when the mattress dipped and her still sex slicked body curled against your form. Her lips kissed your forehead, the burn of her skin scalding you.

Her pleasure haunts your dreams, lurking shadows and echoing noise. Close, but just out of reach. For the first time you wake before her, skin muggy and unsettled as you dressed in a robe and wandered into the morning dew. The grass was beginning to have that telltale icy crunch, cracking under your velvet slippers as you slipped out of the camp unnoticed. Your thoughts sit like damp coffee grounds, thick and grainy as you fight the memories of the night before, choking what they make you feel. It was not jealousy, it was anger to be sure.

There was no direction to your wandering. The treeline called to you with its snowy arms reaching high, animals dancing through the dense white landscape. Not too far in the distance there stood a frozen lake and a childish part of you yearned to skate across it, your body moving you unbidden. It was larger up close, iridescent swirls of nature showing the loose water below. It reminded you of how you felt about your life now, about Ambessa.

Fear and nostalgia sat steadfast as your ice, hardening your resolve and keeping your wit sharp, but beneath was the flow of her. In two short months she had managed to nurture your underfed body and mind, relishing in your rebellion and cherishing your input. The warlord existed so clearly to you, but you could not reconcile her with the reader who brewed you floral tea. One stirred anxiety and the other calm. Picking up shards of ice and flinging them across the lake, you attempted to untangle the Noxian web within you. Sparkles of sunlight grew higher as you stewed, beginning to blind you as you stepped closer to the edge, ice grunting under you.

“I’m not sure you’re dressed for whatever this is,” Ambessa’s voice rang out, her body leaning against a tree.

You had sensed her, though her movements were muffled, form tightening.

“Something troubling you?”

“Just fancied a walk,”

“In a robe and slippers?” She snorted, “Some walk indeed,”

“Did you need something?”

“You, Dear,” She muttered, at your back in an instant, “I woke up alone,”

Your heart panged oddly, her presence fueling the rushing currents under the ice, as you lent into her warmth. “Here I am,”

Her cloak engulfed you, dragging you under as her dulcet tones rasped in your ear, “Let’s get you home, Little one,”

Home.

It occurred to you then as you stumbled back with her that perhaps you hadn’t been a prisoner in a while. Here you stood, free and yet wishing only to return to the warmth she had made for you.

A bath was drawn and you crawled into it obediently. Her eyes were shut, though she cleaned your hair and muttered to you about her day to come. It was peace. It was bliss. It was your worst nightmare. Cold receded and you allowed yourself to slip into a warm lull.

She left soon after, leaving behind new pyjamas and a sweetbread. You stayed in bed, as confused and dazed as those first weeks.

That night you were awoken by the same wanton sounds in the living room and your nostrils flared, fingers crushing the softness of your sheets. Your emotions flopped again. You hated her. She was vile and infuriating and brutal and somehow constantly having fucking sex.

When Ambessa slid into bed this time, sweet smells of pleasure wafting from her, you let out a growl.

“DId I wake you?” She muttered, a smile etched on her lips.

“You don’t touch me like that,” It slipped out, fury and turmoil.

“Pardon?” Her eyes had darkened, observing you curled and tense.

“W-We do everything else, you treat me as an equal and give me freedom, but you use our space for cheap pleasures whilst I sleep,”

“I was unaware it was a pro-”

“You don’t touch me like that,” It was a whine now, “Why?”

“You’ve never asked, little warrior,” Her voice was sin, soaking you and tugging you close, “I didn’t realise you were unhappy with me,”

“Please,” You croaked, gripping her forearm weakly, “I-”

Her lips were on yours, firm and rough, her tongue slipping into your mouth. Pretty girl, she thought, delicate and hers. You melted like butter, nuzzling close and stroking her grey curls. She was perfect, and you finally had all of her. Her fingers danced along your silk nightgown, cupping a breast with a firm hand. Leaning forward, she nipped at your neck as skilled hands massaged neglected flesh. You were keening instantly, eyes glossy and lips parted.

Minutes drained away against her ministrations as your thighs rubbed together, the burn beginning to hurt as she teased your pebbled nipples in her mouth. Your nightgown was wet from her saliva, and the friction of the fabric with her tongue had you rutting against her thigh. Bruises were forming on your neck, your upper body ruined before she’d even undressed you.

“Please,” It seemed the only word you could remember, puffy mouth slurring it at every opportunity.

“Again,” She teased, finally ripping your clothes from you, “Louder,”

You pleaded and gasped, each word heightening your arousal, your desperation, as her fingers stroked your folds. She was kind, allowing you the pleasure you yearned for, slicked thumb rubbing circles on your clit as she stretched you slowly.

Ambessa felt a swell of triumph. It had taken her endless hours of uncharacteristic kindness and stern patience, allowing you to cycle through defiance, anger and acceptance as often as you needed until you finally succumbed. You were drenched and mewling against her, sex drunk eyes stuck to her. It had been fulfilling, breaking you in, just as she had suspected when she caught eyes with a crazed, dirt covered woman with the audacity to wield a blade to her.

Tugging orgasm after orgasm from you, cunt quivering and tensing as you drooled mindlessly, she relished in her victory. Her power was etched into you now.

“Silly girl,” She cooed, voice a knife edge, “I knew I could make you mine,”

Her words cut through the tingling fog. You realised, with a dizzying stab, that you had always been her war prize, she just hadn’t conquered you till now. Each tender touch and measured interaction was to break you into her willing little toy and here you were, fucking yourself shamelessly on her thick digits. You would have been more hurt, a flare of resistance kicking in, if it weren’t for the unabashed love and satisfaction in her eyes. Well then, you guess you’d both been played. The mighty warlord may have broken you, reshaping your desires, but she had fallen in love in the process and you would relish that till your dying breath.

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to just use me months ago,” You quipped, starting a slow and methodical worship of her scarred body.

“You wouldn’t have wanted it, warrior,” She muttered, amused by your acceptance, “I am many things, but I only fuck those who ask,”

“I want it,” You sucked her nipple, humping her leg as her eyes slammed shut.

“I know, doll,” Her hands pulled your hair, making you yelp happily, “You soaked my hand like a good girl to prove it,”

For a moment, as you curled between her legs and began to eat like a woman starved, you wondered if this was the right choice.

Ambessa let out a noise, confusing to your ears. It was nothing like the others you had heard in her time with others, it was delirious and light, happy pants slipping out as you sucked and fucked her with your tongue. She came quickly, face blank as she suffocated you with her cunt. Her touch, despite it all, was tender. She was yours and you were hers.

There was nothing more right than that.

#ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda #ambessa smut #arcane ambessa #reader insert

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bunny-jpeg · 2 months ago

Text

all bark, no bite

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, halloween fic, costumes (reader dresses as a puppy), collars, team principal!max, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), power dynamic, semi-public sex, quiet-ish sex, clothed sex, dirty talk

a/n: have a happy halloween, i'm writing more team principal au, if you have any suggestions for future installments, please send them to me. i love hearing what ya'll come up with!!

"you are not going to the party like that." you felt like you were being scolded by your father rather than your boss. you made a face and looked over to see your team principal near by.

you stuck your tongue out, "too bad." then started to walk further away from your driver's room and towards the exit. but, you didn't get far, not while your boss had a longer stride than you.

he captured your wrist and pulled you back, closer to him. in your heels, you staggered backwards. you looked up at him and frowned. he said, "i said, you're not going out like that."

"i don't have another costume." you bit back.

max made a face, "go as a verstappen racing fan. i don't know. but i'm not having you cause a scene because you decided to dress like a whore."

you had a complicated relationship with your team principal. you had seen the jokes over the years of tps having interesting dynamics with drivers, even drivers not on their team. you had even seen memes about your own dynamic with max verstappen.

if only they knew.

he had you pinned to his chest, with his hand on your wrist as he examined your neck from the odd angle. he clicked his tongue and said, "what is this costume even supposed to be?"

you replied, "a puppy."

"a puppy, huh? usually puppies have some manners. they at least look a little apologetic when their owners are mad at them." he sad as he used his other hand to touch at the collar around your neck, "you're not very apologetic towards me."

"you're not my owner."

he replied, "you may not have my name around your neck. but you have my logo across your pretty tits every time you race. i'd say that's about the same thing." you are max verstappen were intimate in a way that would send the press into a heated frenzy. you gave him racing results and he gave you the world.

but he had such a possessive streak through him. a jealous old man. you whined when he held onto your throat a little tighter. you shifted a little under his touch.

he leaned in to kiss you on the lips and squeezed the collar a little, thus squeezing your throat. he groaned, "if you wanted me to fuck you on halloween, you only had to ask." he held on a little tighter.

there was no one else around. there wouldn't be. halloween was on a thursday, practice didn't start till tomorrow. you eventually ended up on the transport boxes with the skirt of your dress hiked up.

you were dressed like a dalmatian, except anyone could make out the shape of your body. max had expectations for you as a driver for his team. he knew what it was like to be young with the world at your fingertips. he was meant to guide you. especially with how everyone recorded anything.

"hoping to get lucky tonight, puppy?" he asked as he pushed the dress up, exposing the thin, white cotton panties underneath. he licked his lips, "we could've gone back to my hotel room and played all night. fetch, tug-o-war, maybe you'd even get a bone by the end of the night." he licked his lips.

your face flushed and you shifted against the metal and plastic of the boxes. the surface was uneven and left your back feeling sore. this felt so public, it wasn't in the most excluded area. you swallowed, "oh my god, shut up." and whined when he kissed at your neck. your panties were around your ankles.

and when he kissed you, you heard the clink of his belt buckle and the zip of his jeans. he loomed over you. he was boarder than you, he could easily overshadow and overpower you. you whined when you felt his cock rub up against your slick entrance.

he said, "aw, look at that. they're kissing." he was talking about his sticky cock up against your slick pussy. the blunt head up against your clit. it made you feel a rush of pleasure through you.

you could feel the excitement, the risk of it all. if some stray reporter came through here or a security guard. you knew what the headlines for the weekend would be.

young, promising driver takes a ride on her team principal.

he sank into your sweet cunt and your ached your back. you let out a small noise and max put a hand over your mouth. your nose was left uncovered so you could breath. his other hand was on your thigh as he rocked against you. he said in a low voice, "you know i love when you're loud, but you have to to stay quiet. you can be a good puppy, right? be a good girl for me."

his praise made something bloom in your stomach as he moved against you. you had a total kink for his praise, that was why you always pushed yourself so hard on the track. it was why you were over a hundred points ahead of the second place racer. you thrived off of it, to have someone like max give you praise.

you moaned against his hand, your voice muffled as he rocked against you. his cock slotted in you so well. you exhaled deeply through your nose. you couldn't feel your headband anymore and hair got in your face as he fucked you in such a public space.

"fuck." he groaned, "you have no idea what you do to me.' he moved against you further, "i never know i liked costumes. maybe next year, you should go as me." he chuckled as he curved over you and got at a deeper angle, "but i sort of like you in a collar better."

you groaned and reached for his shoulders. you clutched onto his shoulder tightly. his cock hit up against the softest parts of you and it made you see stars. you panted heavily and tried to keep quiet even though max's hand was good at muffling most of the noise.

you pretty painted black nails dug into his shoulders through the verstappen racing t-shirt he wore. you looked good with his logo across your chest, but he looked just as nice in a black t-shirt.

hunger ran through you as he fucked your feverishly. there was no time for tenderness. while he loved taking you apart with his tongue and fingers. there really was no time to waste.

you felt the heat on your body, your costume stuck to you in a weird way. the blank tag on your collar bounced with the movements of your boss' thrusts. something about this felt wrong, it was wrong. you were certain there had been casual affairs throughout the decades of formula one.

but nothing quite like this. the protege of one of the greatest being fucked by her boss. your pretty tits bounced with a whorish movements as she got railed in the paddock of her team. quite the scandal if it got out.

most thought you fucked your way to the top. but, in all fairness, max saw how you drove before he saw the sway of your hips. he valued your skill more than your ability to suck his cock or take his thick fingers in your slick pussy.

you were his champion, sex was just a component of it. he took your virginity, and you gave him the points he needed to win. you tightened your legs around him as he continued to drill his cock into you. the pace increased as you felt the swarm of pleasure in your head.

you weren't going to the party tonight. you could already tell.

"next time." he said, "i'll get you a proper collar. something a little more padded. with a tag with my name on it. if you're going to be my puppy then, you'll have to look the party. don't worry about a tail or ears. you'll do just fine in lacy lingerie that i can tear off with my teeth."

you swallowed, your cunt clenched around him as he continued to fuck you with a heavy pace. your felt any sense go out your ear, fully engulfed by the heat between you two. max knew how to make you feel good, he knew exactly how to get your yearning for more. if you were a puppy then he was the big, bad wolf.

you whined around his hand and he pressed his palm further against you. he shushed you and held onto your hip tighter as he thrusted against you. he watched your eyes roll a little from the pleasure of the entire situation.

he could feel the leap in his chest and the sweat on his back. he didn't often fuck you in such a public place. but he couldn't help himself. you got to prance off to some luxury party hosted by drivers of another team. you were going to be with liquor, boys and whatever else money could buy.

of course he was going to be concerned about his darling driver. his superstar. after all, he had high expectations for you. you were going to be the best if you weren't already. and he wasn't going let you ruin it over some cheap shots and boys with small packages. he knew you needed someone older, someone like him.

the pace became faster, erratic with little formalities. there was little rhythm to it as his cock kissed the hottest parts of you. the parts that made you pant under his hand. your gaze became unfocused and your blood pumped in your ears.

you clutched onto him and whined something that max couldn't hear. he replaced his hand with his lips. the kiss was hot as you held onto him tightly. it was all too much, the pleasure crossed through you like a heated sword and you came around his cock.

he groaned when you clenched around him. your nails dug into his skin. it only fueled his need to fuck you harder. while not the most ideal position. he'd make due. when you broke the kiss, you panted heavily with your gaze unfocused. you looked whorish, but max loved it.

the pace continued, and max made sure that your body was wracked with more lust as he continued to fuck you. he cursed in dutch under his breath as he gave it a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you.

you both moaned a little louder than you hoped for. you leaned forward against him. your pressed your cheek against his clothed chest as you tried to catch your breath.

max composed himself quickly and combed his fingers through your hair tenderly. he groaned, "good, puppy."

you looked up at him and asked, "can i go to the party tonight?"

he chuckled and patted your cheek with a little force. he chuckled, "cute. no, no. you're going to get your messy panties back on and we're going back to the hotel. i'm not letting a good puppy like you get into trouble." he pinched your cheek which made you whine.

"plus, i think you need some more training."

the following morning, your teammate was walking through the paddock beside you. the two of you were chatting, but your stomach dropped when he looked over and noticed something over one of the boxes.

you two stopped and before your teammate could say a word. your teammate pointed at the headband. you felt a cold sweat as he asked, "are those... dog ears?" then looked at you, "those look like the ones you were supposed to wear to the party last night... you never came to that."

you chuckled nervously, "well, i got tired... but mine are in my hotel room." you heard whistling and looked over to see your team principal walking by. you called for max, "max, isn't my costume in my hotel room."

he perked up and looked over. he pointed to the headband on the box and replied, "oh no.. those are yours." your boss broke into a grin. and your eyes went wide as he walked away.

you could feel your ears burn as your teammate asked.

"where were you last night anyway?" <3

this is part of the max verstappen team principal au

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misstycloud · 6 months ago

Note

Helloo i just wanted to say youre doing god's work with the whole yandere omega x reader thing. You really hit an obscure niche (compared to other omegaverse stuff) and im really happy to see someone writing about this kind of trope! That being said, may i ask for a yandere omega who's married to their alpha reader, and how the omega's yandere tendencies still manifest even though they're already married to the alpha reader? Like maybe they're still a little possessive over their alpha or they still stick close to their alpha no matter what? Thank you so much!

Yandere!omega who is living the dream. They have everything they could ever ask for; a walk-in closet with the hundreds of fine garments, multiple boxes with accessories, a lavish room with windows facing the endless garden, and a generous spouse who spoils them rotten every chance they get.

Yandere!omega who can’t help but revel in the glory and the fact that they have it so good compared to their old bullies. The same people who used so mock them for their looks and pathetic-ness, now writhe in envy. It was a satisfying sight, to say the least.

No longer were they that small and weak nerd forced to eat in the bathroom during lunch. That was in the past. It seems that the hard work had payed off and they can finally experience happiness.

Yandere!omega who, despite knowing you’d never betray them, can’t help be feel anxious whenever others gawk at you when you’re out. You’ll be walking down the street and people would turn around to look at you. You’ll sit at a table in a fancy restaurant and all they’d be able to focus on is how the serves gossip about you. Everyone wants you, it seems. Although, it’s not very surprising considering your appearance and status.

Yandere!omega who, deep down, is still insecure. What is they’re not enough? They know that to most- if not all-think that you’re way above them. Still, they managed to capture your heart and have their love reciprocated. Somehow you love them out of everybody. It’s got to count for something. But what if you see pieces of the old them and you decide everything’s over? It can’t happen. They can’t live without you!

Yandere!omega who in turn gives all those people a foul glare. There is no way they can have you. You belong to someone already; them. And they’ll never give you up. Not even if it was by your own will. Didn’t you promise on your wedding day, you’re theirs and they are yours forever? Oh, you can’t just break promises.

Yandere!omega who complains of how your secretary is bullying them and refusing on letting them into the building to bring your lunch(your secretary married themselves). They cry to you that your family is still not accepting of them and want you to break up, so you need to make choices. They tell you that your friends are bad influences and will get you in trouble one day.

Yandere!omega who hates when you spend long hours in the office. Won’t you spend more time with them? Don’t they matter, or is the paperwork more urgent? Wow, they must be soooo important to you then.

Yandere!omega who screams that you obviously don’t love them anymore. Why would you work overtime nearly every day if you weren’t avoiding them like the plague?

“I gave you my heart, soul and body the day we wed. Is it so hard for you to do the same?”

#oc #yandere oc #obsessed #possesive #misstycloud oc #toxic #yandere #yandere x reader #Yandere husband #alpha reader #yandere omega #omega yandere #yandere omega x alpha reader #yandere omega x reader #yandere boyfriend #omega x alpha reader #yandere omegaverse #yandere spouse x reader #yandere omega spouse

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osarina · 2 months ago

Text

ᡣ𐭩 CHIVALRY FELL ON ITS SWORD

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: history always repeats itself. dazai is captured, you're facing enemies on all fronts, and it's only a matter of time before you hit your breaking point. you can't let things turn out the same way they did two years ago. you can't—you'll do whatever it takes.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy friday my peeps, i hope your week has been good. ive been looking forward to this chapter for sooooo long so i hope you enjoy ;) unfortunately, there will be no wykyk update this week (i mean it this time), i've fallen behind in civzai and really need to focus on it. reblogs and comments greatly appreciated as always!! ENJOY!

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. depictions of psychological torture (commit by reader), both reader and dazai are wildly unstable, mori is a bit of a cunt LOL, a bit of legal proceedings in the beginning but i didn't want to deep dive into japanese court proceedings so i just based it mostly off us court proceedings, but again, not entirely accurate because i'm not in that field and didn't feel like doing intense research.

ANOTHER THING TO NOTE: our lovely reader IS A MAFIA EXECUTIVE !! as a port mafia executive, she does port mafia things, this will become very apparent in thIS chapter and the rest of the upcoming chapters. it might be a bit jarring to read but it is something to keep in mind. additionally, she is FLAWED. i wanted to add this warning just to give you all a bit of a heads up.

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“... Your Honor, I have to object to counsel’s petition for bail, the defendant…”

“... If I may, Your Honor, we don’t even know how this footage was obtained and the prosecution has not acknowledged any of our requests to ensure that this is reliable. For all we know, this footage is edited or illegally obtained. It would be a disgrace to our justice system if we were to keep the defendant detained with no bail…”

“... not only a flight risk, but we’re risking witness and evidence tampering. Respectfully, this isn’t an unarmed robbery the defendant is being accused of, Your Honor, this woman is a threat to public safety, she’s being charged with connection to the most dangerous criminal organization in the Eastern Hemisphere, and not just as any ordinary member, but as an executive. I have to insist-”

“Your Honor, the defendant shouldn’t have even been brought into custody considering all current evidence might not be admissible. And the prosecution cannot sit here making baseless claims of risk when the only supporting evidence is inadmissible. I don’t even understand why I have to sit here and argue this.”

“Counsel seems to think-”

“Enough. Order. I’ll sustain the ob-”

“Your Honor… I don’t mean to interrupt but you may want to see this before…”

“What is it, Hasegawa-san?”

“... I see, very well. The defense’s petition for bail is granted. Bail will be set at one hundred and fifty million yen, bond at thirty million yen. The next hearing will be set for two weeks out, I trust that gives the prosecution enough time to prove the legitimacy of the evidence…”

“Don’t look at any of the cameras.”

“No shit,” you mutter as your attorney, Tachibana, leads you from the courthouse to where a car is waiting to pick you up.

There are so many flashing lights and microphones in your face that you can hardly see a few steps in front of you. So many people talking that each question melds into the next. You couldn’t entertain the media even if you wanted to with them all talking over each other to shout at you. Your head hurts and the bright lights aren’t helping—you grimace as you turn your head to the side but you’re only met with another face full of cameras and microphones.

“Back up,” a familiar voice booms and at once, the tension in your body dissipates as Iceman shoulders his way through the crowd toward you. The man sneers at a paparazzo who tries to cut him off and all but knocks him out of the way to reach forward and grab your wrist, yanking you toward him.

He ushers Tachibana forward and keeps you tucked under his arm as he guides the two of you to the black car. It’s only when you’re inside and the door is shut behind you, that you can finally relax, but it’s only for a split second before Albatross is bursting into laughter in the front seat before you’ve even sat down yourself.

“You look ugly as hell in a prison uniform,” he wheezes, having the audacity to point at you as he turns around to look at you. “God, I never thought this day would come. Someone take a fucking picture.”

“Fuck off,” you snap at him, which only makes him laugh harder.

“The entire world has pictures at this point,” Doc says dryly, looking over you once and frowning at the bruises on your wrists where the cuffs had been tightened too much. He clicks his tongue as he runs his finger across them as you pass by him before sighing, “They really waited as long as they legally could for your arraignment, didn’t they?”

Two whole days. You haven’t eaten because you had to watch the prison guard spit in your food before passing it over to you—evidently, his brother was killed by the Port Mafia and he decided to take that out on you, which was nice. So as if you weren’t dealing with enough bullshit, you haven’t properly slept or eaten in two days.

More than that, you’ve had no confirmation concerning Dazai’s status in two days.

That alone has left you with no appetite and no desire to sleep anyway. You’ve been restless trying to figure what to do if Klaus wasn’t able to get Dazai away from the Guild. That is, restless, and increasingly more violent and angry. You’ve never been someone prone to choose violence as the answer, but you think the only thing that will satisfy you now is the entire organization eviscerated. Not only have they gotten you thrown in prison, but they have Dazai.

You finally take a seat next to Chuuya. He’s stuffed in the back corner of the limo so that no unsavory eyes could catch sight of him when Iceman ushered you and Tachibana into the car. As soon as you take a seat next to him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and squeezes your bicep. You almost want to collapse into him—you’re so tired and hungry and just so mentally and physically drained that all you want to do is sleep, but you know you can’t, not until you have Dazai back.

Just as you’re about to look up at Klaus and ask him how things went, Piano Man speaks up, addressing Tachibana. “How are things looking?”

The man grimaces. “Not good. They could hold her liable for all of the crimes attributed to the Port Mafia if the jury finds the footage as proof of her affiliation,” Tachibana says. “The last time they had a Yakuza boss on trial, they had him sentenced to death and he was only being held vicariously liable for one murder and three assaults. They have her down for six and all of the other crimes they’ve been gathering as evidence against the Port Mafia just in case they were given an opportunity like this. If-”

“Why are we talking about a jury trial?” you ask tightly, giving Tachibana a cool look from the corner of your eye. “Get the charges dropped.”

A frustrated expression crosses Tachibana’s face. “But-”

“No buts, do your goddamn job and get this dismissed,” you tell him before turning your attention to Klaus. “What’s the situation with the journalists?”

Klaus looks mighty proud of himself as he raises his chin. “They’re dead. Do you want to hear how I did it? It was quite ingenious if I do say so myself.”

He looks excited to tell you, eyes gleaming and smiling wide, so even though you should just drill him for information about Ui and Dazai, you decide to entertain him and nod.

“Tell me,” you say, hoping at least hearing that those irritating pests got what they deserved is enough to ease the seemingly insatiable bloodlust the past few days has caused you before you get back to headquarters and have to deal with Ace.

Klaus is clearly trying to hold back a laugh as he prepares to tell you. From the way Atsushi looks a bit green next to him, you know whatever he’s about to tell you is going to be gross.

“They’re called the Ivory Eagle, right?” he says rhetorically, blue eyes dancing as he stares directly at you, waiting for you to nod again. When you do, he continues, “You see, when I was back in Europe with the Pale Flame, we learned a lot about ancient torture and execution methods. Nabakov had the trafficked ability users fight in rings, y’know, gladiator style—the winner of the fight would pick a method to punish the loser with in front of everyone. The vikings had a ritual execution method called the blood eagle, so I thought it would be funny ‘cause y’know, the name? Ivory Eagle, blood eagle? They can keep their theme even in death!”

“I should not be hearing this,” Tachibana sighs, covering his ears and closing his eyes.

You snort. “May they soar to greater heights,” you mock their slogan and Klaus lets out a loud bark of laughter, bouncing in his seat in excitement.

“I knew you would get it, I’m so funny.” he laughs, nudging Atsushi hard, but the weretiger only looks like he’s about to start crying, so Klaus looks back at you, teeth glimmering as he smiles widely.

“What happened with Ui?” you ask, glancing down to see Chuuya passing you a bottle of water. You give him a grateful look before redirecting your attention back to your subordinates. “And where’s Akutagawa?”

“That ugly journalist confirmed they worked with the Guild to get the footage from your boyfriend,” Klaus says, and even though you knew this, it still makes you feel sick. “... I went by his apartment. It was totally trashed, there was blood on the sidewalk. I’ve spent the past two days trying to hunt down the Guild but I can’t find them anywhere. I was planning on going to the Armed Detective Agency later today to get that one detective to tell me where they are. Figured they wouldn’t be opposed to helping considering they’re getting the shit end of the stick with the Guild too, I heard two of them were trapped for days in an interdimensional space before they were able to get them out.”

“Akutagawa and Kyouka-chan are out doing rounds around the city. Kyouka-chan found one of the lower-ranked Guild members wandering around the city, she’s hoping that she’ll lead her back to their base,” Atsushi adds, answering your second question.

You let out a heavy sigh, looking down at your lap. Apartment trashed. Blood. The water you had just sipped threatens to come back up, you feel Chuuya squeeze your bicep again to try to comfort you, but you don’t care for comfort, you only want Dazai. You want him back in your apartment, back in your arms, you want him safe, you want him.

You want him.

“We’ll get him,” Chuuya promises like he can hear your thoughts. You suppose it’s probably written all over your face. “I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? I won’t let the fucking Guild take him from you.”

He’s spent two days with them. God knows what they’ve done to him to try to get information about you—the thought makes your skin crawl, your chest weighs with guilt. You brought him into this life knowing this risk and you still couldn’t protect him. You need to do something, you need to-

“Chuuya,” you say quietly, “can I borrow your phone?”

Chuuya’s brows furrow but he nods, passing his phone over to you. You ignore the way your fingers tremble as you type in a familiar number and press the phone to your ear, you wait a few anxious seconds for the person on the other line to pick up.

“Hello?”

“Leo,” you breathe out. “Are you still in New York?”

“You’re okay,” Leo Tolstoy sighs, the relief in his voice palpable. “I saw the news. I figured they wouldn’t be able to keep you locked up long. I’m still here, yeah, I have a flight to Tokyo in an hour. I just had to finish up-”

“Cancel it,” you say immediately, fingers digging into the thin pants you’re wearing. “I need to call in a favor.”

“Hit me with it,” he tells you. “You know I’d do anything for you.”

Good, you think, lips curving up as you tell Tolstoy your plan.

There’s only one way to force Fitzgerald into giving you Dazai back, and you’re willing to go to any lengths to do it.

“You’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice notes just as Dazai starts stirring awake. “Good.”

He’s been in and out of consciousness for two days now—awake for a few hours, asleep for double that. He almost wishes that the blow to the head had killed him, because each time he wakes up, he’s questioned sharply about you and he’s tired of it. The first two days of captivity, when Dazai was awake, he spent most of his time staring at the ceiling, your words ringing through his head and your twisted expression plain as day. He’s recounted every word of his conversation with you before he fled, he’s noted every place where he messed up and could have done something different to avoid this, he’s felt so numb that he would almost prefer pain and he’s felt so much regret that it did physically pain him.

Now, he’s just irritated.

Irritated and tired and hungry and most of all, he misses you. Misses you so much that you’re the only thing he can think of clearly. Misses you so much that it makes him sick. Misses you so much that he’s started casting up prayers to gods he doesn’t believe him because he just wants the chance to see your face again.

Thus far, he’s been able to evade answering any questions, but he has a feeling it’s only a matter of time before they start taking more extreme measures to get the information out of him, and Dazai has never been one to deal well with pain. He doubts he’ll be able to get away with lying to throw them off trail for long.

“Nope,” he says tiredly, rolling over onto his side to turn his back on the man. “Still sleeping, unfortunately.”

Dazai doesn’t know who this one is.

He’s gotten used to the other two over the past forty-eight hours—the redhead is called Mark Twain, a high-ranking member of the Guild whose preferred form of torture is casual conversation. It’s predictable and Dazai, naturally, doesn’t fall for it, but it doesn’t stop him from trying. He comes into the cell with food and water that Dazai refuses to touch and talks to Dazai from the moment he wakes up to the moment he passes back out. He asks about you and the Port Mafia without actually asking about you and the Port Mafia, talks about his own woman back home and bitches about his work with the Guild, seeing if Dazai will chime in with his own commentary and grievances.

Dazai doesn’t, of course—there’s not much he can say about the Port Mafia anyway, the things you’d talked about with him are irrelevant at this point, and Dazai certainly is not going to tell Twain anything about you. He knows that the Guild must be looking for information on your ability and Dazai will be damned if he lets anything about it slip. The most he’ll make is snide comments, hoping to piss Twain off enough to leave, but then he has to deal with the other man, James, who is far less pleasant to deal with. Dazai can hardly stand the sight of him and he isn’t sure if it’s because 1) he’s just unappealing to look at, 2) his head injury, or 3) he still has a grudge over the head injury.

He thinks maybe it might be all of the above.

Regardless, the voice of the new arrival is neither Twain’s nor James’s, which means he has a new yet equally undesired visitor. Dazai, naturally, is wary of the unknown. He’d overheard Twain and James talking about Francis getting involved and he remembers that you mentioned the leader of the Guild’s name is Francis Fitzgerald. He has a distinct suspicion that this must be him and Dazai’s only thought is that this definitely doesn’t bode well for him.

“Mister Dazai, please, you need not make this difficult on yourself,” Fitzgerald sighs. “We already have all of the information we need anyway. We want to help you.”

What.

Dazai’s cautious now as he sits up to face Fitzgerald, mind racing as he tries to figure out what exactly he means by ‘we have all of the information we need.’ Dazai has been so careful not to let anything slip—even when he was half delirious from his head wound, he bit his tongue. He didn’t utter a single thing until he was certain that his brain was functioning well enough for him to carefully choose each word he spoke.

There’s no way that they managed to get anything from what he’d said.

The blonde man sitting on the opposite side of the room is dressed in a fancy suit and wears a watch that probably costs more than anything Dazai has ever owned in his life. He looks unusually earnest as he leans forward, elbows on his knees as observes Dazai. Dazai thinks that he’s decently good at reading people, and he can’t find a hint of deception in Fitzgerald’s face, which leaves Dazai feeling distinctly unnerved, unable to predict what’s about to happen to him.

“I find that hard to believe when your subordinate bashed my head in two days ago,” Dazai replies, keeping his voice light but watching Fitzgerald carefully.

“My friend, Henry, is quite excitable,” Fitzgerald sighs, faux-remorse dripping from his tone. “I apologize for him, I was very clear that you weren’t to be injured.”

That doesn’t really help Dazai at all. He needs to figure out how exactly he’s going to press Fitzgerald and figure out what he learned from Dazai. Luckily, he doesn’t have to say much at all because Fitzgerald takes it upon himself to continue talking.

“There were some pieces of information I kept to myself during our endeavor here in Yokohama,” Fitzgerald says. “There are too many… rats scuttering around the sewers. It’s hard to tell who’s listening at any given time. Everyone has their own agendas, and there’s just some information that’s too valuable to risk falling into anyone’s hands but your own. Even supposed allies’.”

Rats. Allies. Agendas. Dazai’s mind races as he notes it all down to tell you as soon as you get him out of here. He doesn’t respond to Fitzgerald’s words, waiting for him to make the mistake of continuing his little monologue so he can have more information to report back to you. From what he’s able to piece together, there’s more than just Fitzgerald and the Guild at work here, but you haven’t mentioned any other organizations besides them, which makes him antsy because if you don’t know that this is multiple organizations working together against the Port Mafia…

You could be in danger.

“I was already made aware of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, watching Dazai for a reaction. He’s careful not to give one, but his words make Dazai’s skin crawl. You’d said that your ability was the most well-guarded secret in the Port Mafia. That only the upper echelon was aware of it.

So how?

The traitor.

Dazai’s throat swells and it’s much harder to keep his distressed emotions off of his face when he remembers the tip-off that Professor Ui had received about a situation happening at the ports on Shinko, remembers that he alluded to someone within the Port Mafia’s inner circle being the informant, remembers that in his meltdown, he never even told you.

Shit.

“Henry, he is also an ability user,” Fitzgerald continues. Dazai is grateful that he seemingly doesn’t notice his increasing panic. “What Maisie Knew, an ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying. My intention in bringing you here was not to interrogate you, but to find out if you knew the extent of the manipulation happening around you.”

Dazai blinks slowly, letting the words process through his head. An ability that notifies him when somebody around him is lying… but would that even work on Dazai? You tried to use your ability on him with and without touch and it didn’t affect him, so this one shouldn’t either. And if he wasn’t notifying him when Dazai was lying about knowing nothing about your ability…

“Henry told me that you were telling the truth when they asked you about your knowledge of her ability,” Fitzgerald says, and Dazai almost hates the pity thinly veiled behind the man’s eyes. He doesn’t like anyone thinking that he doesn’t know something about you, but he lets this slide because it might just work in his favor. “Her ability is a form of mental manipulation. She influences the emotions of people around her to trust and adore her. What you felt for that girl was nothing more than what she wanted you to feel—she’s spent months shaping your mind to make you believe you care for her so that in a situation like this, you would choose to protect her even at the cost of your own life.”

The surprise that shifts across Dazai’s face is genuine—not because of the revelation of your ability like Fitzgerald believes—but because Fitzgerald does know your ability, and he knows it in an alarming amount of detail. He wishes he had some way of contacting you now, but he needs to focus now on figuring out how he’s going to play this.

They didn’t kidnap him to interrogate him. They kidnapped him to try to make him willingly turn against you by revealing all of your ‘manipulations’ in an effort to rattle you into making a mistake. A decent plan, honestly, and if Dazai were anyone but Dazai, it might’ve worked… but Dazai is Dazai—he’s never been affected by your ability, or Fitzgerald’s subordinate’s, or any ability for that matter, and he would rather die than turn against you.

But… would it be better to make Fitzgerald think that he has turned against you? It would be safer for him, surely. If the man thought Dazai was swayed to his side, he might even have a chance to escape… but it could also throw you off if Fitzgerald tells you, and Dazai isn’t sure if he wants to risk that considering there’s apparently other allies of the Guild that you don’t know about. You would see through it eventually, but in those few moments that you didn’t…

Any mistake now could be fatal.

“She’s in federal custody right now,” Fitzgerald says.

Dazai almost feels dizzy, hands falling from his lap to the bed to dig his nails into the sheets to steady himself. He knew this—he knew it in his heart when Twain mentioned the flash drive and pointed out the sirens but Dazai had still had hope that you managed to evade arrest, that you wouldn’t have been dragged down by his mistakes.

Fitzgerald is still talking and Dazai knows that he should be listening, but instead his mind racing, thoughts so quick and jumbled that he can hardly get them straight. If you’re in federal custody right now, the last thing you needed was to get out and hear news of Dazai turning against you. You’d be worn thin, stressed, alone. You don’t think clearly when you’re under a ton of stress, especially when people you love are at risk. You try to, but when it gets too much, you shut down like you did at the beach house and you can’t shut down with the Guild at your door and god knows what other enemies lurking in the shadow, preparing to strike.

If you’re in federal custody, then the chances that you’ll see through this is even lower because you’ll already not be thinking clearly. There’s a much higher chance that you don’t see through it, that you think the Guild tortured him until his mind broke and he turned against you. And considering your past with Nakahara Chuuya and his lover, it might be the only logical conclusion your brain comes to.

He can’t risk it. It’ll put you in danger—he’s done enough of that lately, but this time, your life really would be on the line.

Instead, he’ll put his on it.

“No,” Dazai says suddenly, cutting Fitzgerald off mid sentence. The blonde looks at him curiously waiting for him to continue. “No. I don’t believe you—about her, about using her ability on me. I don’t believe any of it. Get out.”

Dazai doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to pretend to be blind with love—maybe he can convince Fitzgerald that he’s still under the effects of your ability, that might buy him a few days, but it won’t last forever. He doubts that the Guild will kill him if they want him to turn against you to batter you down, and they want him to do it willingly, so they’ll probably spend a few more days trying to convince him before they resort to making him turn on you through force.

You just need to get to him before that happens.

Fitzgerald doesn’t look surprised by Dazai’s words, but he does look disappointed. He braces himself for the man to press the issue, but to Dazai’s relief, Fitzgerald stands to leave. Dazai needs time to think, time to formulate how exactly is the best way to go about this to buy as much time as possible.

“I figured that would be the case, months under an ability like that takes more than a few days of separation to be free of,” Fitzgerald tells him before he leaves. “Think on it, you could be very useful to our cause… and we could be useful to you too. I’ll be back for an answer.”

“Don’t come back anytime soon,” Dazai replies snidely as the door closes, pulling the blanket tighter around him and resting his head against the wall.

As soon as the door is closed, a heavy feeling settles over his chest and Dazai feels so alone that it makes him sick. He’s become so used to your presence in his life that every moment without you feels like his chest is being hollowed out. The room he’s in is cold and uncomfortable compared to the warmth of your apartment. He wants to be curled up in your bed, surrounded by your scent, wants to be watching some lame movie or forcing you to watch him play an even lamer video game.

He misses you desperately, and his nails bite into the fabric of the blankets as he tries to ground himself, losing himself in the thoughts of you, praying that you come for him soon.

“Ah! Our resident convict has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

“Oh, Ace, it’s impressive, truly, how everyday you manage to become more stupid than the last. You must not have any brain cells left in that empty skull of yours… You’re not much unlike a protozoa honestly, ” Piano Man sighs whimsically. When Ace’s face twists in confusion, Piano Man gives him a sweet smile. “That’s a single-celled organism. Basic biology, I fear, thank you for proving my point so quickly.”

“She hasn’t been convicted, you dumb fuck,” Chuuya snaps. “And you sound way too pleased over the matter, should probably choose your tone more carefully considering it was you and your subordinate who got her arrested. Sounds a bit like, I don’t know, treason. Did you betray the Port Mafia, Ace?”

Wow, you think, they came in hotter than you expected.

You don’t even bother to address Ace as you make your way to your place at Mori’s right side, taking a seat in the chair left empty for you. You don’t look at him until you’ve taken your seat, but even then he gives you no cues, violet eyes watching you listlessly as he waits for you to say something.

Once the circular table is fully seated, your gaze finally flits to Ace.

“Go on,” you say. “Answer Chuuya’s question.”

Ace’s face twists at your words. “That’s a ridiculous accusation,” he says, raising his chin. “That-”

“Is it?” you interrupt coolly. “You pride yourself on the use of your collars and their ability to control your subordinates. Either your collars are not quite as effective as you’ve so ardently claimed them to be or you’ve betrayed the Port Mafia. Which is it, Ace? Both will have consequences, naturally, one will just be more… final than the other.”

Unless there’s some otherworldly interference, Ace is going to die today.

He’s the reason you were arrested. His subordinates are notoriously fearful of him and his ability to kill them with just a passing thought once he has the collar around their necks. The chance of one of them acting on their own to try to kill you is slim to none. And you know that he knows you know he did it just from the amusement thinly veiled behind the outraged expression on his face.

He’s too smug.

Something’s not right.

“Unfortunately, it seems as if my efforts to deter disobedience have gone ineffective concerning one of my subordinates.” Ace waves his hand, lavender eyes meeting yours pointedly as he speaks his next words: “No need to fret, I’ve dealt with him accordingly.”

That… was not anticipated. You’re careful not to react to his words, gauging the reactions of the others in the room trying to figure out if this was something they all talked about while you were being held by the government, but Piano Man and Chuuya look just as appalled, even Kouyou hides her pursed lips behind her fan as she gives Mori a careful look.

Mori does not look surprised as the rest of his executives.

What did you do?

Chuuya is the first to speak, voice low, “You’ve what?”

“A betrayal of this magnitude is not something for an executive to handle alone,” Piano Man says, the airy tone of his long gone as he stares at Ace. “Especially the executive in charge of said traitor. You acted out of line—this should’ve been brought in front of us all before any action was taken.”

“Out of line?” Ace’s voice becomes more mocking now, clearly enjoying knowing something that Piano Man doesn’t after the snide comment. “Not at all, I acted on orders of the Boss.”

At once, the conference room goes quiet. You see Chuuya and Piano Man turn to look at Mori for the corner of your eye, but you keep your gaze trained on Ace instead and he keeps his on yours. He looks entirely too pleased with himself, eyes cool and taunting, the corner of his lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“It’s true.”

Mori offers no explanation—he doesn’t need to, he’s the Boss, but you know there’s something else going on here. He never liked Ace, spoke poorly of the man’s easily bought loyalties and undue arrogance. Only gave him the executive position for financial purposes after the Dragon’s Head Conflict left Yokohama in shambles. Let him stay because his arrogance makes him easily manipulated but always keeps him at arm’s length, ready to cut off at the first whiff of betrayal.

And now he’s what? Scheming with the man he’s despised for years against you? Is it punishment for everything that has happened with the two Yakuza syndicates and the Guild? Punishment for Dazai?

You can’t understand it, you can’t.

You look at Mori from the corner of your eye, blood running hot and only barely able to keep the fury off of your face.

What are you planning?

Mori’s lips curve up as if he can hear your thoughts, eyes flickering with amusement as he looks at you.

You’ll find out, little hime.

“What is Tachibana-kun’s opinion on the indictment?” Mori asks instead, leaning back in his seat and folding his hands over the table as he looks at you.

“He’s going to get the charges dropped,” you reply flatly, nails biting into the slacks you’d changed into before coming to the meeting, suddenly feeling far too cornered as you realize you have enemies around every corner—even within your own home. “This will be over within two weeks.”

“Hm.” Mori sounds more entertained than anything as he tilts his head to the side and studies you. “And the Guild? How do you plan to handle them, little hime? More importantly, that boy you’d been silly enough to allow the information that led to your imprisonment… I trust he’ll be properly handled?”

Putting you on blast in front of all of the executives… Kouyou is watching you carefully, Chuuya is stiff, Piano Man tense, and Ace, of course, is mildly amused. You feel like a circus monkey performing for the lot of them and you know it’s exactly what Mori wanted.

You’re sure not to let your irritation slip onto your face as you smile thinly and reply with: “The Guild will be taken care of by the end of the week. I fear that the boy is not the issue in this situation, Ace would be more suited to answer any questions regarding my imprisonment. Isn’t that right?”

Ace’s smile tightens. “Not at all,” he says coldly. “What are you implying?”

“That it was your subordinate that had dealings with the Guild, of course,” you say with a sweet smile. “What else would I be implying?”

“Right.”

“I mean, I do trust that you managed to get information out of him before killing him, right? We’ve all been trained to do that,” you add, raising your eyebrows and tilting your head to the side. “You did get the information, didn’t you?”

“I would like to know how you plan to handle the Guild considering you’ve failed spectacularly up to this point,” Mori intervenes, preventing you from questioning Ace about the ‘subordinate’ that ‘betrayed the Port Mafia’.

You give him a heavy side-eye, wondering what game he’s playing and why he’s protecting Ace of all people—he must have some plan in the works that involves the man, but what? What could he possibly be using Ace for that’s so important that it makes the cost of keeping a rat in his inner circle trivial? You’ve always struggled to understand the way Mori’s mind works, but never more than now.

You decide to be plain with your accusations now. You’re tired of playing coy; although you’re stuck in limbo now as you wait for Tolstoy to come through with the favor you’ve asked of him, you still feel like you could be doing more productive things to try to figure out how you’ll actually approach Fitzgerald to get Dazai back.

“I don’t feel comfortable divulging that information in this setting,” you say simply, watching as Kouyou’s eyes widen just a bit, Chuuya and Piano Man share a look, and Ace stiffens as he prepares for a scathing comment, but a motion from Mori has them settling down. “Regardless, I think there are more important issues to discuss. Namely, the setbacks we now have to deal with on the political front because of my indictment. I can reach out to the politicians that I’m close enough with that the accusations won’t sway them, but I worry that we might’ve lost a lot of key swing votes in the upcoming bill going through the Diet.”

“We can’t let that bill pass,” Chuuya says tightly.

Kouyou sighs airly as she fans her face. “I can reach out to my connections,” she offers. “I assume Lippmann will have significant influence as well. Between the two of us, we can hopefully compensate for the losses. Do you think the indictment will prevent you from ever returning to handle political affairs?”

You purse your lips. “I doubt I’ll be back at any government events anytime soon, but I’ll be able to get work done from behind the scenes. It’ll be harder, but not impossible.”

Kouyou hums as she nods, glancing back at Mori. “If this is all, I had a prior commitment with our friends in Tokyo… It would be best for me to not miss it considering the circumstances.”

“I also have business to handle,” you say, gaze cutting back to Mori. “If necessary, I can meet with you later to tell you about how I plan to handle the Guild.”

“It’s not necessary,” Mori says lightly. “You’re dismissed, I promised Elise-chan tea time anyway. I expect results this time, little hime… Successful ones.”

Your lips tighten. “Of course,” you reply tensely. “I hope by the time of our next meeting, the rat infestation will be handled. I’ve seen a few too many since I’ve been back at headquarters today, it’s unsightly.”

Ace bristles and looks to Mori like a child seeking their parents’ support. How ironic, you think bitterly, but you don’t give anyone time to respond to your words as you rise to your feet and leave the room, intent on getting back to your apartment as quickly as possible. You don’t even wait for Chuuya or Piano Man as you get into the elevator and press the button to close the doors as quickly as possible.

Your gaze is pinned on the cityscape as the elevator begins to go down to the first floor. The sun has crossed its point in the peak of the sky—it’s still midday, it’s been sixty-six hours since you were taken into custody, likely just as long as Dazai’s been captured by the Guild

Sixty-six hours.

The Guild is not an organization that usually stoops to torture. Of all of the organizations in the world’s shadows, the Guild is probably the one closest to the light—they take advantage of it by forcing its members into the public spotlight. It’s why they’ve done so well in Yokohama so far; they’ve used their political presence to force countries into giving them diplomatic immunity, essentially making them untouchable.

You’re sure they have some degree of blood on their hands, everyone in this world does, but torturing a civilian of a foreign country would be a bold move—if it got out, and you would make sure it did, it would ruin their station… But then again, would they even care?

Fitzgerald was so desperate to get his hands on Atsushi for whatever reason—the bounty and now this… There might not be any length he wouldn’t be willing to go to in order to get his hands on the boy. And Dazai… he wouldn’t give up the information, you know it in your heart. You wish that he would if only so he could protect himself, you’d be able to pivot and readjust your plans, but he won’t, especially not after his spiels about being a burden and wanting to help.

What an idiot, you think desperately, ignoring the way your eyes suddenly sting as you make your way out of the main headquarters to head over to your own building. You’re not even fully processing everything that’s happening around you—you ignore the subordinates that greet you, don’t even hear Albatross calling your name, and when you get to your building, you don’t even notice the doorman sitting at the desk in your building.

It’s not until you get back up to your apartment that you’re finally able to break down.

Physically and mentally drained from two days in custody and now Mori’s schemes, it only takes the sight of Dazai’s sweater tossed on the back of your couch and his backpack lying haphazardly on the ground next to it for you to crumble. You don’t even make it to the couch—your knees give in as soon as your fingers brush the soft material of his sweater. You hit the ground hard, back pressed to the back of the couch as you pull the sweater down to your knees and you cry.

It still smells like him—well, a mixture of you and him since he’s started using your bath soaps—and you miss him so bad that it makes your chest cave in. You muffle the ragged gasp you take in with the sweater and curl in on yourself; you miss him, you miss him so bad that it’s painful, so bad that regret weighs on you like the burden of the sky, so bad that you think you might die. You’ve felt pain like this before when Itou died, but Itou’s death had not been entirely in your control, not like how this was.

You let this happen. The moment you let him into your life, you damned him.

You’ve been teetering on the edge of collapse for days, only sheer willpower and the thin shred of pride you had left prevented you from falling apart during your time in prison, but now there’s nothing left to keep you together. Any remaining willpower was obliterated the moment you walked into your apartment and saw his sweater and backpack exactly where he left them before fleeing because of your words; any remaining pride was destroyed by Mori and his schemes refusing you at least some semblance of justice for your own imprisonment.

Now alone, faced with only the consequences of your own decisions as company, you’re forced to acknowledge the bitter truth: you may never see Dazai again.

You may have gotten him killed.

He may already be dead—spent his last moments alone and in pain, wondering if you were ever going to show up.

You try to convince yourself that Fitzgerald won’t kill him before trying to use him as a bargaining chip over you, but the thoughts are only shallow consolations because you can’t push away the image that’s been haunting you since the day you met him. His body cold and rotting after having been abandoned in one of the dumping grounds the underworld uses as a mass grave, forgotten and nameless, left for the rate to devour. You knew this would happen from the beginning, but you still allowed it.

You’ve never prayed before.

You’ve long believed that if there was a god out there, it was a cruel one who took delight in suffering because what other god would allow people to suffer the way you have?

What god would allow an eight year old girl to sit amongst corpses for hours only to be saved by a man who would drag her down a path so dark that her blood would rot black and her soul would be so far beyond salvation before she was even old enough to attend secondary school?

What god would show someone love only to rip it away before his very eyes in the most brutal way possible?

What god would dangle the ‘what ifs’ right in front of your face just to taunt you knowing that the moment you let yourself indulge them, you would be reminded exactly why they should’ve remained ‘what ifs’?

You’ve never prayed before, but now, you find yourself crying to any that might listen to you because you don’t know what else to do. There’s no guarantee that your plan will work and you can’t give Fitzgerald what he wants, you can’t. So instead, you cry, you beg, you plead, you bargain. You don’t know what divine being might be out there, but for the first time in your life, you hope that there is one, because you’ve never saved a single person in your life. You got Itou killed, you got Chuuya’s lover killed, countless men on the warfront who were banking on your ability fix their minds, at this point, you’re sure that even the loss of your family and village was somehow blood on your hands—everywhere you’ve been, ruin and death have followed you, and this will be no different.

You won’t be able to save him, just like you’ve never been able to save anyone else before. Your only hope lies in the hands of the very beings that have designed this moment and every other misfortune of yours before this. It’s a sick joke, you think, but still, you pray. You cry, and beg, and plead, and bargain. You ask them to bring him back to you, you tell them that he’s good and that he never belonged in this life; you promise that if they bring him back to you, you’ll do what you should’ve done from the very beginning.

You swear it.

You don’t know how long you stay on your floor with his sweater pressed to your chest—could have been minutes or hours, you don’t even hear the elevator arriving at your floor, don’t notice someone is in the room with you until you feel fingers brush your shoulder. You stiffen and futilely try to dry your eyes, lifting your gaze to figure out who had entered your apartment without calling up first. There’s only a handful of people it might be and-

And for just a split second, you think that it might be Dazai.

It’s not, of course, your eyes meet the familiar ones of Klaus’s, the expression he wears is full of guilt, regretful, and just as your lips part to ask him what he wants, he whispers: “I’m sorry I couldn’t find him. I really did try.”

You’ve only seen Klaus cry twice before. Once, two weeks after you took him in when he realized he was finally free of the fighting rings he’d been forced to compete in since his ability manifested. And a second time after he failed his first mission, tossed back into a memory that had him curling on the ground begging you not to send him back. Now, he doesn’t cry, but his throat spasms and his eyes shine with unshed tears.

“I know you did, Klaus,” you say, voice too raspy for your liking

“... I left him alive,” Klaus tells you after a few moments. Before you can ask what he’s talking about, he continues, “Ui. I thought you might want to be the one to deal with him.”

At once, any exhaustion that might’ve been plaguing you disappears, the ice that spreads through your veins promises only one thing.

“Bring me to him.”

“It has been two days since little miss princess was released from prison, how’s that make you feel?”

Dazai stares blankly at Twain, who looks far too pleased as he tilts his chair back and watches him for a reaction. Dazai wishes that he was closer so that he could kick the chair back and watch him go sprawling, but even if he was closer, his body feels rooted to the bed he’s sitting on. Dazai has alway had a quick brain, but now it’s slow as Twain’s words echo through his head on repeat and he starts to understand the implications of them, unable to accept them as truth.

“Guess she doesn’t care about you as much as ya thought she did.” Twain shrugs like it's all some big joke, grin crooked. “Hasn’t even bothered to reach out to ask us about you. Port Mafia’s been active too, guess she just has more important things to deal with than some kid she played around with for a few months. Francis seems more bothered by it than I thought he would. I think he really thought she’d really fight for you—for your sake.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, gaze sliding from Twain to stare at the wall in front of him. It’s been a long four days in Guild custody. He’s hardly had a moment to himself, and he’s been careful to keep up the act of the lovesick fool who refuses to see things as they ‘are,’ but he’s tired and lonely and he misses you. It’s all wearing him out.

He can keep up the act—if it means protecting you, he could do this forever—he’s put on masks and fronts for people his whole life, this is nothing compared to all of that… it’s just that it’s harder when he’s had a taste of life with someone who he doesn’t need to put up masks for. It’s harder when he wants nothing more than to just be back in your apartment, basking in your presence. It makes him dizzy with longing and it makes him careless.

And… he thinks Twain’s words are hitting him a lot harder than they should be.

“I’m not all too surprised though,” Twain continues absently, waving his hands around. “You’re not anything special, and I heard her boy Tolstoy’s back in town. She doesn’t need you to entertain her anymore now that he’s around.”

For a second, Dazai can see the dams cracking. All of the pent up emotions that have been building the past few days batter the splintering walls holding them back, and Dazai can only barely bring himself to try to reinforce them because now’s not the time for this. But every time he manages to fortify one section of the crumbling dam, another starts to collapse.

It can’t be true. It can’t be—Dazai knows this, in his heart, he knows it—what you had with him… it was special. It was. (Wasn’t it?) The way you looked at him, no one could look at someone that way and not mean it. No one could speak the words you did and not mean them. There must be something else going on, you must be planning something—you’re not going to rush headfirst into a trap, not when it could end with Dazai’s life in danger and especially not with your past with the Serpent’s Tongue, but…

… but Twain’s mention of Tolstoy rattles Dazai badly. You’ve talked about Tolstoy before to him, and it was always with a certain fondness that made Dazai uneasy, and for a second, Dazai thinks it might be possible that you could just be cutting your losses with him and moving on. Because Twain is right, Dazai is nothing special, and it’s not like the two of you ended off on a good note before his capture—you were mad at him, he was cruel to you, he blamed you for all of this even though he forced it onto you.

Dazai wouldn’t even really be able to blame you for not coming for him after that; for months, he’s been forcing your hand but when he felt backed into a corner, he threw it all in your face.

Not even to mention that it might not even be as simple as you coming to save Dazai—there were other factors at play too, the Port Mafia being the biggest. You’re an executive, you can’t just throw everything away to come rescue him when he got himself into this situation after you explicitly warned him that this would happen.

If you had to choose between him and the Mafia… could he really be certain that you would choose him in that scenario? He wants to say yes, he does, but the word feels weighted and bitter on his tongue, like he knows it’s not quite so cut and dry.

Realistically, you might not come for him. Even if Twain is wrong and it’s not a matter of whether you care about him enough to come for him, there are too many variables that could prevent you from coming for him… but Twain might not be wrong.

“Mark,” Fitzgerald’s familiar voice chides as the man steps into the room Dazai is staying in. He doesn’t even hear the sigh and comment that Twain lets out before leaving because he’s too lost in his own thoughts.

Dazai has never felt so entirely out of control of a situation like this before—he’s always been so careful and meticulous in his interactions with people and his surroundings because he likes being able to predict how people will act around him, it makes it easier for him to figure out how he should act. He’s even had a good hold on himself, learned how to school his emotions and convert ones he doesn’t like into ones that are easier for him to manage. But everything about this has just been so impossible for him to get a handle on, he’s tried in every way that he could, but the realization of the fact that you might not be coming for him is sending him over the edge

“I wanted to break the news to you myself,” Fitzgerald says and Dazai feels bitter and angry about the sympathy in his voice, wants to spit at him. He doesn’t need anyone’s pity, much less his, but he only finds himself staring listlessly at the man instead. “I waited a few days to see if she would reach out, but she never did… I’m afraid I can’t keep waiting anymore, I need to move on with the next stage of my plan.”

This is it, Dazai thinks distantly—now is when they’ll finally switch from persuasion to force. He thought he would have a bit longer to figure out how he would proceed and now he can’t even get himself thinking straight to try to figure out how to evade this. His thoughts are scattered and distant and so many different and unfamiliar emotions are battering him from every angle; he can hardly pay attention as the man across from him speaks.

“I want you to cooperate willingly,” the Guild leader continues, but his words are going in one ear out the other. “... don’t have to worry about them targeting you for betrayal. We have enough resources to shield you from the Port Mafia. Additionally-”

“No,” Dazai says quietly—the refusal slips out before he can even process it.

Fitzgerald pauses. “No?”

“No,” he reiterates, voice more strained, the words tumbling from his lips. “No, I don’t need your protection. I’m not going to cooperate. I won’t betray her—not for anyone, but especially not you. She’ll come. I know it.”

Something changes in Fitzgerald’s expression at Dazai’s words; it becomes twisted for just a second, but then it softens, his lips curl up into a faint smile. One that’s almost fond, but Dazai can’t understand why for the life of him.

“I see, so even knowing all of this and realizing that she might not be coming for you, you still choose to stand at her side,” he murmurs. He doesn’t try to persuade Dazai like he thought he would. “There are not many who are able to see the worst of someone and still make that choice… I’ve only met one other… You remind me much of her.”

“She chooses me too,” Dazai says. He thinks, for a second, that he’s only saying it to scare Fitzgerald into realizing that you’ll come for him, but as soon as the words leave his lips, he knows that it’s true. That he believes it. He believes you’ll choose him, he believes you’ll come for him no matter what the cost might be. Even after everything that happened the other day, even knowing that you’ve been free for days and haven’t made any moves to rescue him yet, his faith in you hasn’t wavered. “She’ll come for me, and you’ll regret this.”

Fitzgerald exhales as he rises to his feet, gaze lingering on Dazai for just a moment before he tells him, “For your sake, I hope your faith is not misplaced.”

“The human psyche is unbearably fragile. It’s one of the first conclusions I came to during my studies,” you say absently, sitting back in your chair. “I don’t have a combative ability. I can’t control any elemental force and I don’t have a superhuman body. I can’t summon entities to fight on my behalf and I certainly can’t shapeshift. Chuuya spent a lot of time studying physics to fine tune his power, my path laid in psychology. You see, my ability isn’t flashy or showy like many others, but it is an ability nonetheless, and even the weakest abilities can become dangerous in the right hands.”

Ui Koutarou stares up at you from the corner that he’s curled up in, his pupils are blown wide and his skin is pale and sweaty. You don’t know if he’s looking through you or at you, but you suppose it doesn’t matter.

“Usually, conditioning a human mind to have automatic responses to particular stimuli can take months, but I’ve learned to utilize my ability in a way that can speed up that process from months to days,” you explain, watching carefully as you flick the lighter in your hands. “You’ve realized that, of course, I’ve spent the past two days here rewiring your brain to react to things the way I want it to. You can’t control the way your heart starts racing when you see this flame, right? I can see the way your breath is short, your pupils dilated. You don’t have any reason to be scared of it, it’s harmless, but you’re still terrified. Why?”

He doesn’t answer, of course, you didn’t say the word, but when you rise to your feet and take a step forward, he scrambles back impossibly further, shrinking into the corner. Your lips curve up as you flick the lighter off and take a seat, watching the way he immediately begins to relax again.

“My ability isn’t mind control, I fear if it was, my life would be much more simple,” you sigh, looking up at the ceiling momentarily before lowering your gaze back down to him. “I can induce emotions and states in the human brain—the weak-minded naturally are much easier than the strong-willed, but I can make both bend to my will, it’s just a matter of how much effort I’m willing to put into it.”

You tilt your head to the side as you observe him and then pull a pen from your pocket, tossing it in his general direction. You can see the way his chest visibly stutters at the sight of it, breath ceasing, and then he darts to the opposite side of the room. In his desperate flee, his foot brushes the pen and you smile lightly as you activate your ability, watching the way he immediately hits the ground, screaming his throat raw as he curls into a ball. After deactivating your ability, you wait a few seconds for him to calm down before continuing.

“The human psyche is fragile, but the brain is very malleable. As soon as it recognizes that a certain action will always bear a negative consequence, it will adapt and do everything it can to prevent you from taking that action to avoid the negative consequences.” You lean forward, looking down at him. “It’s recognized now to associate fear with a flame and a pen. You can’t control the way that the sight of either of these two objects make you react—it’s reflexive because your brain has already taken the necessary steps to ensure that you don’t get close enough to either to trigger the consequence that comes along with touching it.”

The flame is a necessary step. It’s easier to force the brain to associate fear with something that is inherently dangerous, and you needed to see how long it might take for you to move on to something that’s not inherently dangerous. It took three hours of conditioning to make his brain adapt enough to have reflexive responses to the sight of fire.

Then you moved onto a pen, because you thought it was ironic for a journalist to fear the same thing he uses to complete his job. That took six hours.

“When you stayed away from the two objects, I rewarded you,” you explain with a thin smile. “It must’ve been so relieving… all of the pleasant emotions you felt after nearly five days of being locked up here. Happiness, hope, gratitude. I’m sure it was confusing too, because you didn’t know why you felt that way but you were so quick to bask in them that it didn’t matter.”

Ui continues to watch you, so you continue speaking. You think you’re talking more to yourself than to him, you don’t even know if he’s capable of processing your words at this point, but you need to keep yourself busy while you wait.

“When you touched the objects, I punished you,” you continue. “Guilt, sadness, but my favorite is fear. It’s the easiest emotion to induce in someone, it’s not one that I have to actively keep applied because the human mind spirals once it has a taste of it. They call it the mind killer.”

The last sentence tastes bitter on your tongue. It reminds you of Dazai.

“I did the same thing with your ability to speak… Speaking is a voluntary action, it’s a bit different than conditioning reflexive responses, but it still worked. Now, you can’t speak until I say the word, right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“Yes,” he rasps, voice wet and shaky. “You’re right.”

“I even made sure that no one else could trigger it. I brought Klaus in here and had him order you to speak. Every time you listened to his order, I punished you. Every time you listened to mine, I rewarded you. Do you remember that?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“I remember,” he replies. “I remember.”

“Dazai Osamu was captured by the Guild because you worked alongside them to have me arrested. Isn’t that right?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

Your voice is colder this time as you say: “Speak.”

“I didn’t mean for him to get kidnapped.” He has the nerve to sound like he’s about to cry. “None of my students, I didn’t mean for it-”

“That’s not what I asked. Speak.”

“Yes,” he chokes out. “Yes, he got kidnapped because of me.”

“That’s right,” you agree, “and he might die because of you too. Was it worth it?”

He doesn’t respond. You didn’t say the word.

“Speak.”

“No,” he whispers. “No, it wasn’t worth it.”

“I know,” you say, more to yourself than him. “But I suppose we’ve all done things that had consequences that weren’t worth it.”

You sigh, glancing to the side to see a figure waiting outside the cell. Chuuya’s face is twisted in displeasure, an unreadable look in his eyes as he stares at you.

“If it were up to me, I would let you live,” you admit. “A journalist too scared to ever pick up the pen again… the man trying to bring down the Port Mafia little more than a puppet for one of its executives… an ironic fate, possibly one worse than death.”

You rise to your feet and walk to the door of the cell, leaving the room. Before you leave, you look over your shoulder and say:

“Luckily, your fate is not up to me.”

You leave the cell and close the door behind you, looking up to meet Chuuya’s familiar eyes, cool and disapproving.

“Don’t you think you might be going too far?” he asks quietly.

“Says the man who leveled an entire ward,” you reply coldly and he winces at the reminder. “I don’t want to hear anything from you about ‘too far’. If anything, I haven’t gone far enough.”

Chuuya sighs, but he doesn’t press the matter.

“You should get some rest,” he finally says. “You’ve pretty much been up for two days straight, and I know you didn’t sleep while locked up.”

You click your tongue and look away. “I slept yesterday.”

“For an hour and a half,” Chuuya replies dryly. “Torturing the fuckin’ journalist isn’t going to bring Dazai back-”

“No, but it makes me feel better,” you interrupt, gaze sharpening.

“Does it?”

“It does, in fact,” you say, giving him a thin smile, “more than you could ever believe.”

Chuuya lets out another sigh, this one heavier than the last. “I’m worried about you,” he says, voice tight. “I-”

“I don’t care, Chuuya,” you say, watching as Chuuya’s face twists in frustration. “I don’t need your concern. I need Osamu back and until he is-”

“This isn’t going to bring him back, you-”

“I don’t care!” You don’t even realize you’ve raised your voice, don’t even register your own movements as your hands dart out to shove Chuuya back hard. He only stumbles a few steps, but he gives you a pointed look. Suddenly, you want to cry again and your voice wobbles as you repeat, “I don’t care.”

He’s right. You know he’s right. Torturing Ui Koutarou isn’t going to do anything to help Dazai. The man is useless, gave information to the Guild that he shouldn’t have, but has no idea their whereabouts or even who he spoke to. And it’s not making you feel better like you claim it is, the sick bit of glee you may feel watching the journalist-turned-husk dissipates quickly whenever the thought of Dazai crosses your mind.

The Guild hasn’t even reached out to you.

You don’t know if it’s a good sign or a bad sign—probably a bad one. If they were trying to use him as leverage over you and the Port Mafia, then they would’ve done that by now. They could be waiting for you to reach out, it would give them the advantage in negotiations, but you can’t reach out before you have something to negotiate with.

But the longer you wait… they’ll use it against Dazai. They’ll tell him you don’t care to come after him. They’ll tell him you’ve been out of prison for two days, yet you haven’t bothered to reach out to the Guild to get him back. They’ll make him feel worthless and Dazai already has such a poor perception of himself that you fear he’ll believe it, but you can’t do anything yet.

Not yet, but soon.

Soon.

“The Diet postponed the military bill,” Chuuya says, changing the subject. Your gaze snaps back over to him. “Ane-san just got word from one of her friends in the House of Councillors. They pushed it two weeks out.”

You grimace instantly, shaking your head. “They want to see what happens with the indictment. If it gets dropped or goes to trial. If it goes to trial, we’ll lose more swing votes.”

“I asked Piano Man if he could talk to Tachibana, see what’s going on with getting the charges dropped, I know you have a lot on you right now, but I figured you’d want to know this,” Chuuya murmurs apologetically, squeezing your wrist.

Dazai is gone. The Guild is at your doorstep. There are countless indictments that you’re not sure are going to get dropped. The military bill is still looming over you. God, it’s never ending. You’re so tired.

“I’m glad you told me,” you finally tell him, but your voice is strained. “I’ll figure something out about the bill if the worst case scenario happens.”

Chuuya’s lips part like he’s about to speak, but he pauses suddenly, eyes flickering behind you. A dreadful feeling suddenly hangs over you as you turn around to face none other than Mori—the man never comes to the torture rooms himself so you know he must be looking for someone and that someone is very likely you.

Chuuya takes off his hat and lowers his head. You usually would follow suit but you don’t this time, keeping your chin high as you stare at Mori. His lips only curve up in response to your lack of respect, much to your displeasure.

“Chuuya-kun, may I?” Mori hums, doesn’t have to specify what he wants because Chuuya knows, nodding and excusing himself so Mori can speak to you alone.

His eyes slide away from you to the cell that holds Ui Koutarou. You watch as he looks between the pen on the ground and the way the man is as far away from it as possible. He tilts his head to the side in amusement, lifting his fingers to the chest pocket of his lab coat, pulling out the pen he always has stashed in there before tossing it at him. Ui is unable to dodge it fast enough, doesn’t realize what’s happening until too late.

The moment the pen touches his body, you activate your ability, watching him let out another blood curdling scream before focusing your attention back on Mori, who looks oddly pleased by what he’s found.

“Two days of work?” he questions.

“A little over.”

“How impressive,” he murmurs—for the first time, he says it without the mocking lilt that usually accompanies it and your throat swells, eyes flickering away from him to the wall.

You know that he’s probably only saying it to try to ease your anger at him, but you can’t help the way it makes you feel after years of trying to get him to say those very words to you and mean them.

“Did you know?” you finally ask him, voice too hoarse for your liking.

“Did I know what?” Mori asks, raising his eyebrows to look down at you with sharp eyes that tell you he knows exactly what you’re asking but isn’t going to make this easy for you.

“Did you know that Ace was setting me up? Was it punishment?” Your nails dig deep into your palms as you wait for a response, so much so that you can feel the blood trickling between your fingers. “Did you?”

“Of course not, I would never risk our political position so recklessly. Especially with the military bill in the Diet,” Mori scoffs, looking away for a moment before glancing back down at you. “Nor would I risk you so recklessly. You should know that by now, little hime.”

You avert your gaze, shaking your head. He’s only saying this to appease you, you know it, you don’t know why you’re still falling for it.

“I don’t know anything that goes on in your mind,” you bite back, grateful that your voice is steadier than how you feel. “Why isn’t he being punished then? He betrayed the Port Mafia.”

“I still have something I need him to do,” Mori replies easily, lips curving up into a smile that unsettles you. “... Don’t fret, my dear, when the time comes, you can be the one to handle his execution.”

You click your tongue sharply. “It better be soon.”

You can only define the smile on his face as sinister, and you almost regret your words when he replies, “It will be,” because you don’t know what exactly he has planned for him to be smiling like that.

Before you can interrogate him on what the hell he’s even talking about, Klaus comes stumbling down the steps with wide eyes and an excited expression on his face. He pauses when he sees Mori, gaze darting between the two of you.

“I’ll speak to you later, little hime,” Mori says dismissively—you wonder what he came down here for, he wouldn’t have come to speak to you without some sort of agenda and you don’t know what he would have achieved from this conversation beyond unnerving you. “... Keep up the good work.”

Your throat tightens as he turns to leave, gliding past Klaus who awkwardly lowers his head in respect as he walks by. As soon as he’s out of sight, Klaus turns to you, lips spreading in a toothy smile.

“Tolstoy is here.”

Your eyes widen instantly. “Take me to him.”

You thought he would be a bit longer. Your chest is tight with anticipation as you follow Klaus to another level in the main headquarters. You were expecting to have to wait at least another day or two for him to complete the favor you asked for him and another thirteen hours for him to fly from New York City to Yokohama. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised, Tolstoy has always exceeded your expectations, but still… you hadn’t dared hope.

The man is leaning outside the door Klaus leads you to, lips curved up in a familiar smile, blue eyes glittering playfully as soon as he catches sight of you.

“Princess,” he greets, holding his hand out for you to place yours in. You roll your eyes fondly as the blonde lifts your hand to his lips to ghost a kiss against your knuckles. He winks at you. “She’s all yours.”

You thank him quietly before pushing open the door to enter the conference room in front of you. The woman waiting inside is prim and elegant, wearing a long dress with jewels decorating her neck and wrists. Her expression is cool and closed off at first glance, but you can see the glassiness of her eyes and the way her thin fingers tremble in her lap.

You give the woman a soft smile as you approach, kneeling in front of her and taking her hands in yours. You make sure your expression is gentle and genuine as you look up at her, watching as your ability instantly goes to work when her fingers stop trembling and her own expression softens as she looks down at you.

“Hi, Zelda,” you greet, voice sweet and honeyed. “You don’t need to be scared. I’m a friend.”

When Zelda Fitzgerald lets out a soft breath of relief, the tenseness in her shoulders easing, you know that she’s made the fatal mistake of believing you and your smile becomes a bit more authentic.

Finally, you can make your move.

“Come, let’s go somewhere more comfortable. We have a lot to talk about.”

#dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai osamu x you #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you

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intuitively-her · 26 days ago

Text

You have an innocent look to you. "Damsel in distress" vibes. You might attract partners that want to take care of you or save you in some way.

Your lovers tend to become possessive of you pretty easily. You're like a trinket that they want to keep tucked in their pocket to carry with them everywhere they go. You probably have multiple people in competition over you right now.🤭 Someone here has a lottt of social media stalkers, especially if you post thirst traps.😅

Your energy reminds me of Cher from clueless. You're a very beautiful and high-value person. But you still remain very down to earth and friendly to others.

You could have naturally curly hair. Someone here has blonde or black hair. You could have beautifully tanned skin as well.

The way that you command attention without even trying. You have a very confident and humble energy. But you also have this air of mystery to you as well. You are so aloof at times that you may not even realize how much attention is really on you.

You can be a little stubborn at times and prefer to stick to your own way of doing things.

You turn your pain into power! You're always onto the next best thing and following your goals. I feel like you've had to defend yourself and stand on business with a lot of folks lately.

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Taurus, Aries, Aquarius, Scorpio

Your energy is very exciting to be around. You are very free spirited and adventurous. Someone here likes to take solo trips/road trips.

Someone here could be into plants and botany. You could have a garden/greenhouse as well.

You know how to keep your situations surface level and keep your business on the low. People never really know what your next move is.

Someone specific here is a brunette or you could have blue/purple hair. You could also have a kinky hair type.

You are very independent and all about your money. Someone here owns a nice home. You have a lot of stability and actually take the time to move away from the things that don't serve you.

Someone here likes to get pedicures. You could also wear high heels often as well.

You have a generous and warm energy. People feel accepted by you. There could be people that look up to you in some way. I also sense a cutthroat energy from you as well though lol. You have a sweet x spicy duality to you.🥰

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Cancer, Capricorn, Pisces, Libra

Your dedication to your work and goals.

Your ability to bounce back from situations by yourself and transform into new energy. Alchemist energy.

Someone here likes to wear knee-high stockings or leg warmers.

For my masculine's here, you could like to dress up in business casual attire or you could wear a lot of sneakers.

Your rebellious energy.⚡

You are very family oriented and hold your close relationships to a high regard. You have a very kind and sentimental energy. You could like to capture memories with your loved ones as well.

Someone here has their hair in a bob haircut, or you could have hair that flows all the way down your back.

You may have a tendency to ghost your flings/romantic partners or could be the type to lead people on at times.🤭

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Heavy water and air energy

You're a jack of all trades! Your skillset is very admirable. Someone here could play different sports, or you could be a part of some type of club/committee. There are many people that want to learn from you.

Someone here has tattoos.

Your sweet and loving vibe.

When you wear dresses or more fitting clothes. Your jewelry/accessories are very appealing to the eye as well.

You stick to your values and beliefs. You could be a "goody two shoes" lol

Your creativity.

When you wear your hair tied up in a bun or pigtails.

Someone here wears glasses.

Your rbf; y'all often have this bored expression on your face like you couldn't be bothered to interact with anyone around you.😂

🤍Zodiac confirmations: Sagittarius, Leo, Libra, Virgo

*ONLY TAKE WHAT RESONATES*

🤍Please DO NOT copy, repost, or steal my work! Thanks!🤍

*Credits to @anitalenia for the text dividers🤍*

Masterlist

Paid readings

#tarot #tarot reading #pick a card #collective reading #111 #angel number 888 #999 #angel number 1111

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danhoneyyysblog · 7 months ago

Note

hi! can i request for wuthering waves male characters, can it also be yandere with headcanons? want to see how you would view them as yanderes! if so, thanks!

author note: finally, my first request! of course i can! if you don’t mind, i’ll do three characters — Male! Rover, Jiyan and Scar! hope you’re okay with those.

MALE WUWA (WUTHERING WAVES) HEADCANONS, AS YANDERES!

➵ CHARACTERS MENTIONED IN THIS: MALE! ROVER, JIYAN, AND SCAR!

➵ WARNING, MAY CONTAIN: lowercase intended, may be slight ooc — as game recently released, simple information on each character. if you don’t enjoy ooc, don’t suggest! pet names mentioned (loved one, darling, love), mentions of obsession (Jiyan), mentions of possession (Male! Fover, Jiyan), mentions of overprotectiveness (Male! Rover, Jiyan), mentions of manipulation (Scar), mentions of sadistic behaviour (Scar), mentions of delusional behaviour (Scar).

MALE! ROVER:

➵ of all honesty, his was terribly difficult to think about, but with enough work from how he acts. i believe he would fall beneath possessiveness and overprotectiveness.

➵ you see, with possessiveness, i believe he would most certainly prefer if his loved one would dependent on him. of course, as shown throughout the story, there was times Scar is trying to convince him to join him as he is a ‘black sheep’. huh? what’s that? you want to join Scar? not on his watch. if he joins, so will you. if he doesn’t join, you won’t either. don’t be surprised if he finds a way to get you dependent on him.

➵ with overprotectiveness, i think that is WAY TOO OBVIOUS! if you were simply his peer, he would be the average level of protective, but… unfortunately for you, you’re his darling, you are the one breaking his overprotective meter! what do you know, you’re suddenly captured! he is running to save you! he has to be your shining knight in armour. if he isn’t, then who will be?!

JIYAN:

➵ okay, hear me out on this: he would DEFINITELY be obsessive, possessive AND overprotective.

➵ with obsessiveness, he would be fixated on you. like… if he was with the Midnight Rangers, he would think to himself: ‘i wonder how they’re doing’, ‘i hope nothing severe is happening to them’ which eventually shift into… ‘i haven’t retrieved a letter in approximately days. are they upset?’, ‘they are definitely pissed. what should i owe them? my kisses, hugs, cuddles? no… they need something more. my heart, my soul… would they be happy if they got that?’. all of that overthinking could led into him losing sleep, which is rarely given to him due to the amount of work they have to do at night. nobody would even tell what’s going on in his head with that casual stoic expression of his!

➵ for possessiveness, listen to me on this: you know how dragons are possessive of their treasure? exactly. you don’t need to rely on family, friends or any of those people, he could insist you — he gains money for doing his work. what do you want, love? new clothes? more food? a bigger house? anything you want, he can do his best to make it possible! just rely on him, darling! and no… if you asked him to go away, he would most likely not do that.

➵ as for overprotectiveness, it somewhat follows the obsessiveness and possessiveness. if there was a day you managed to convince him you wanted to take a walk further than you usually do, he’ll accept, in one condition: he follows along. he’ll literally glare at anything he believes is a threat towards you, whether it is an ordinary person passing by, a tacet discord, even an animal as simple and small as a bunny! sometimes, people who roam by worry over you. it looks like you’re being held hostage, which you literally are! also, another thing, if you want to join the Midnight Rangers, it is going to take WAY LONGER than it’s supposed to. he will literally find every possible way to deny, you need to be bribing him to let you at one point… ‘i’ll give you more kisses than usual, on the lips, too.’, ‘that won’t work on me, (reader).’, ‘how about we cuddle for two hours instead of one?’, ‘still won’t work’. despite wanting to do it so badly due to the fact it was coming from you! thankfully, you found a way to make it work, but with extreme supervision from Jiyan…

SCAR:

➵ MANIPULATIVE, SADISTIC, AND DELUSIONAL. I REPEAT: DELUSIONALLL!!! i said that with no hesitation. i am so sorry…

➵ with no hesitation, he would most likely manipulate you. what’s that he hears? you’re already in a relationship? too bad, there are two options: 1. he manipulates you into thinking your lover is a bad person, forcing you to leave them. 2. they are going to get burnt alive. to make stuff fun for him, in front of you! it’s safer to go with option 1… even if you are in a relationship with him, doesn’t mean you’re safe. you want to leave?! what do you know! he is literally using your secrets, weakness, fears, all of that against you! literally stay with this man, for the sake of you…

➵ no doubt on this one, since he basically emotionally manipulates you. he probably enjoys when you get all scared, begging him not to admit all of the stuff you fear coming out. trust me… even if you make a run for it, this man is literally going to hunt you down. may as well tackle you onto the ground, throw you over his shoulder and laugh while you’re screaming, crying, punching, kicking. believe me on this, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

➵ HERE IS WHERE THE DELUSIONAL KING COMES OUT. tying all of the manipulation and sadistic behaviour together. he, most definitely, most certainly, believes you’re acting that way to purposely become hard to get. if you’re doing something for him out of kindness, which may be rare due to how much of a crazy guy he is, he’ll definitely think it’s out of love. if you say you’re not in love with him, or anything that comes out rude, he’ll think they are lies or that you’re simply shy — bringing back the fact he believes you’re playing hard to get.

author note: i apologize if this doesn’t suit as realistic to the characters. as known, it’s nearly been a week since the game released and the more that comes out, the more we’ll learn about them. i’ll re-do this in the future, maybe with more characters? you never know!

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heeseung64 · 15 days ago

Text

NEED IT BACK

last minute faults before performing are the worst, but maybe this one was a blessing in disguise to repair what it was for you and jay.

EX SITUATIONSHIP TO LOVERS IDOL! EDITION. GUITARIST JAY X GUITARIST FEM READER | SMUT ANGST FLUFF | JAY JUST WANTS YOU BACK

"You're fucking kiddin' me."

Jay fumbles around the strings of his prized-possession fender, unscrewing the lead caps in the process to see why on earth it's not making the tone he so generously practiced up until now. His frustration was only getting worse as the time crunched by the minute- soon, the whole group will have to be up, smiling and adoring their foreign fans before they break off into an instrumental- which Jay may not be performing if he can't find another replacement guitar.

"Didn't you have another one packed in the van?" Jungwon tries to ease for more solutions, making Jay silently dismiss him, biting his lip as the members watch- anxious. This time, Sunoo picks up the conversation, making small talk between Jay and their managers, "Maybe it'll be fine playing it just like that, our fans can only understand, Jay-"

"No, I-I can't play like this! I want this to sound right-"

"What about y/n?"

Fortunately enough, they weren't the only idol group on set that has a renowned guitarist. And for a big day like today, everyone can't afford to lose composure.

"What did you just say?" Jay groans, walking close to Sunghoon who could only put his hands up in defense. "She has a good guitar like yours, you would know." He adds. Their managers hesitantly agree, rearranging a way to ask for your group's manager.

"No, she wouldn't just-- give it to me.. She... ." Jay mumbles, fingers running through his hair, "She's not..." Jake puts a hand on Jay's shoulder, shaking it a lil to ease him up. "It's an emergency, and you happen to always have her as your last resort."

⠀more below ㅡ。

Jay paces across the room, tapping his soles as the members exchange looks- silent conversations held within their eyes as they see your group's manager passing a guitar case towards the nearby table before bowing off- wishing the group a respectful good luck.

Jay stands above the table, a silent groan vibrating across his skin. Goosebumps, it was, seeing your guitar he'd always see on display when he used to come by- presented perfectly to him atop of the dark crimson case, with a note left behind. Jay- hesitantly, brings the note to his eyes, capturing a whiff of your scent before reading the cursive words you had to say.

"Take care of it. You owe me."

A makeshift cover consisting of paper tape and coloured stickers covered her engraved initials on the face of the guitar- making Jay chuckle. The colours of the stickers were- cute. Yet he falters, damning himself. Just like the seconds away, Jay reminisces his closeness with you, wishing he had more time to make it right. In fact, he never did want to break things off. He loved you, yet- the passion for work always prevailed, and it seems it lead off to a bitter end.

"Will it do?" Heeseung chimes, checking on him as they begin to be escorted out towards the stage. Jay could only smirk, keeping the note inside his back pocket, before strapping the glossy guitar around his arms. "It'll do; more than what I expected."

Hurriedly after giving away your guitar with no second thought, you and your members debriefed- wondering if you were so ever obviously present in the back of his mind. But you always had doubts, I mean- it's been a whole year since the so called relationship was called quits in bitter words and tears. It wasn't your fault you wanted him exclusively, but it wasn't his for prioritising fame.

You watch behind the scenes of their performance, how Jay gets singled out under the spotlight with your guitar, gliding his fingers softly across the strings. You watched as he lifts the corners of his lips, smirking as he feels up the frets with his finger tips- slowly pushing up the whammy, before clearing his voice to sing.

If there was one thing you were in denial for, it was the fact that he 'wasn't hot whenever you watched him play guitar' knowing that heat pools between your thighs every time you catch a glance.

You felt a tug in your stomach as you watched him look at the camera, breathing out as he stops playing. "In the end, the answer is always you." He sings, which you remember was a lyric from their discography, but you had your doubts, hopelessly wishing you're still regarded higher than just a spare guitar.

"I heard they have to leave immediately after this. They've got too much on their schedule, I bet they're flying back to Korea immediately."

"But what about my guitar?" You stand up, pointing at yours on screen. "Relax babe, he knows where you live." one of your members hint, causing a playful slap across the arm. "I will not let him in." You mumble, which only caused the members to shake their heads, "You most definitely will."

"Whatever- I'm ignoring him."

You kept your mouth shut, knowing you would. Soon enough your pride about Jay fell, and you began to crave him all over again.

Nothing like the post-performance clarity hit Jay like a truck, realising it's his fault that now you can't perform, seeing you apologise for a last minute change up while he sits in the back of the van- caressing the problem he created. If only his guitar worked in the first place, now he's more definite than ever that he MUST repay you. Usually he'd be mad at this sort of situation, but why is it that he can't bring himself to cross his eyebrows, and huff like he always would? The way he hides his smile pushes the members to joke, taunting him- lecturing him.

"Funny how she sacrificed her image for you, when you clearly broke it off thinking you'd break her career."

"Hah! I knew it, you waited for her to reach out to you because you're a coward-"

"Jake he's not a coward."

"You're right, he's a loser-"

"Shut up." Jay pushes away the playful endearment, scrolling through old photos as he awaits your flight back home. "I'll visit her the moment she settles back home."

"Bet she won't let you in.-"

"I will do anything for her to let me in." Jay folds the corners of your note, a heart tugged by the strings as he sets sea in his mind- he's been dying to make it right.

The first few weeks of you without your guitar were painful, and if it wasn't for the small updates from Jay's instagram with pictures of it well kept- you would've found yourself in a ditch. You even considered unblocking him just to call you back, but you knew your pride was bigger than that.

You finally realise the little messages he hides behind his stories. Posting the cute stickers you placed there with his hands casually ghosting over your initials, with a bandaged heart emoji covering the rest. The next occasional posts of him wondering the foreign streets were accompanied by the songs that both of you would learn on guitar together, and even songs that you both would eventually constantly sing together.

He was playing your little game you used to do that he would often get frustrated at, scared that he'd be caught from conscious fans and stalkers alike- but now he's shameless, constantly posting places and references that only you would know- so you decided to post a pretty photo of you back on instagram, adding a significant song you and Jay used to make love to; a happy memory that also signified your second date with him.

He read your message clear, it was all so obvious you missed each other. At this point he wanted to tell the world how badly he fucked up. You even unblocked him briefly to see if he had ever messaged you on the day that he'd landed, to which he did;

⠀Last week

J: Baby I want you back so bad I messed up

J: Angel I'm doing everything I will to get you back

J: Who's that guy in your story?

⠀Two days ago

J: I miss you so bad it hurts

J: Never thought I'd cry again about us

J: Made a song about you

⠀Yesterday

J: I know you'll unblock me soon

J: I feel it in my bones baby

J: Fuck Dispatch and fuck the crazy fans

J: I'm coming over and I'm going to get you back

"I'm coming over, angel."

MDNI

The silhouette of Jay's figure at your front door's intercom hollowed your eyes, there he was, in all his glory, holding your guitar case, hands behind his back fumbling.

"Y/n." He calls for you, breath raggedy as his mind chases, wondering if it was too early to come over- besides, he read your schedule down to a T- he was confident you were here even if you blocked his contact; but it's not like he was stalking! he just so happens to know everything about you- still.

You sighed, looking at his figure and his open button up, the sleeves bunched around his elbows, and his jaw sharp, clenched; his brows knitted as his musters the words to call you again. This time you answer before he could say anything, swinging open the door to see his other arm hold the knob, pushing himself inside before closing it swiftly, leaving to corner you in the hallway.

"These are for you." He looks down at you, red roses emerge from behind his back, they were just as dark as the velvet on your guitar case, encapsulated by his old perfume; one you got really attached to. Your smile falters by the interaction, doubting this sincerity as you barely try to reach his eyes.

"Oh- It's fine, really. I didn't need the flowers-" You get stopped by his hands grabbing yours, bringing them up to kiss them. "You're right, I should've gotten you other things." He mumbles, looking away as his ears perk up red.

"Jay." You stop him, walking away to the kitchen as he follows you, "You got what you wanted." You start off, licking your lips in stress. Jay watches you, ears perked and eyes glossy, finding the right time to interrupt you again, "What I wanted?"

"Yes! You got what you wanted, so you can leave!" You pan back to him, his shoulders slumped as he leans against the kitchen doorway.

"What exactly did you think I wanted?" He crosses his arms, taking small strides closer to your figure behind the counter. "You think I wanted us to end like that? You think I used you for sex? Tell me," He huffs, eyebrows knitted, "What do you think I so fucking want?"

"Your success? I know you wanted a perfect performance, I know you value your reputation so bad, so-" You huff a breath, "You got it, and now you're just here to give back the guitar so, why can't you just leave?"

"Leave you? Again?" Jay raises his voice, rushing to your sides. "Believe me when I realised what I said to you that time was wrong, and it ate me up every time we exchanged looks like we were strangers, angel. Strangers!"

Your eyes flutter at the old nickname, fingers balling into a fist, "That's what you chose, though. You chose to make me believe it that way too." you fight back, only to see Jay inch closer to you, shaking his head.

"No, angel. I really believed that it was all I ever wanted, but I realised-" He stops himself, cloudiness forming in the corners of his eyes, searching your body for an ounce of intimacy.

"..I neglected what I needed."

Those words crushed you. To be void of emotion when interacting with each-other off and on camera, when not so long ago you were crying your heart out in bitter disputes- you two admit you never healed, and now there's a crack in your heart you now believe can be repaired.

"Take me back. Please..." Was all he said, holding your hands as he lowers his head to meet yours, tears forming in the inner of his eyes. You could only speak spurts of words, clearing your throat from the sudden desperation.

"You're gonna have to prove it to me that you'll never reject what you need for rest of your life, jjong." you softly respond, your gaze lurking upon his face as he chuckles, a frown on his lips as his heart leaps from the old nickname, one he never passed on. "Yeah?" He responds, "Fuck, angel.. I'll prove you with every second in the world." His voice cracks, carrying you to your own bedroom.

"Fuck, I missed you." He mumbles against your neck, bringing you close, sliding his hands on your sides, "'M gonna buy you all the guitars you want, baby." He mumbles, drunk off your scent. You smell his whisky breath to confirm his actions, it was obvious it was hard for him to do this sober. "Jay, how much did you drink?" You whisper, to which he smiles, kissing your neck, "Just enough to remember."

"I've missed you." You whisper again, looking into his eyes as you lift a brow, watching how his eyes slant, his lips turning up into a smirk. "You won't have to miss it anymore, my sweet girl."

"Whatever." You chuckle, "You still owe me." you bring up the note. Jay sits up properly, caging you in his arms as he tilts his head, "I know a way to prove my love and repay you at the same time my sweet, sweet angel." He whispers, his body towering over yours.

"Please?" He practically frowns for your acceptance, his hands hovering over your shirt, rubbing your tummy and sides as he begs to touch you more. You nod, huffing as he lifts your shirt up, throwing whatever you had on away from the space.

"'M not gonna make y'cum until you accept me as your boyfriend, baby." He boldly warns, cupping your breasts as you moan in relief, happy that they've been warmed by familiarity. "Be honest with me, Jjongie-" You cry out in moans, "You've hooked up with others have you?"

The question only angered Jay, making him pinch your nipples, groping your breasts, with your bra thrown across the room. "You really think I'd do that?" He responds, "I lied back then, I've stopped hooking up with others the moment I met you." His voice contained remnants of desperation, kissing your neck down to between your breasts, kneading them in circles as you moan in pleasure. "You're the only one I want, angel."

Jay stopped kissing between your breasts, going back to your lips as he crosses his brows, "Don't tell me you saw other men." He says, only making you pout, responding in a small voice. "I don't think you know how bad you fucked me up."

"Am I that good?" Jay chuckles, ghosting his fingers over your cheeks. "And bad." You respond referring to split, frowning. Jay stops, looking at you in the eyes before diverting his eyes to your lips, kissing you passionately as you had your hands on his chest kissing back. He pulls away, pecking your forehead as he lowly breathes, watching how you react- smirking, knowing that he can go further.

"I'll fuck the bad memories out of you, m'kay? How's that sound?" He whispers, kneading your thighs, palming the wetness around your heat.

"Please, baby." You moan in return, making him smile. "I missed that sweet voice of yours.." He mumbles, "Okay, yeah." He starts, pulling you closer to the edge where he has you caged between his arms, "I'll give my girl what she wants." He whispers, kissing your inner thighs while he kneads your ass. Jay takes his time, kissing your heat, tasting you as he desperately pushes you against his lips. "You always taste so fucking good." He murmurs, "I missed you so fucking much."

His hands were causing imprints around your legs like tattoos, and his tongue was too busy kissing your spot, stimulating you with his fingers and nose bridge. You brush your fingers through his hair, making him go crazy all over again. His moans vibrate against your heat, and your legs bucked around him. He's only getting harder, spitting on your opening before going back to your lips, kissing you rough. "More." You beg, making him blush, smirking at your doe eyes while you squirm beneath him.

"So needy." He smiles, going against your clit, rutting against it as you reach your high. He could feel you jittering like a mess, occasionally pausing- so he could edge you again. Pussy drunk, Jay pulls away from your pink mess, seeing your hole leak of juices; overstimulated by his vibrating approach.

"Fuck I'm so hard, angel." He cries, and you pause to capture his stance. You see his stained, loosely unbuttoned shirt being unclothed by his sticky hands, revealings his toned abs which only made you wetter, he palms his bulging crotch under his dress pants- unbuckling his belt before revealing his member. Jay's cock slapped against his own stomach- pink and sensitive, making him quiver. He bends a little down, sticking his tip against your clit and your creamy heat, capturing the slick to rub against his shaft.

You eyes flutter from his warmth gliding between your lines, and you moan. "Feels so good baby." You say before going on your knees, your plush body puffing down on the centre of the bed, giving him doe eyes as you glide your fingers down his abs before stopping at his tip. "I need you so bad angel." He pleads.

His face goes flush, biting his lips as he watches you go down on him. He pauses, grazing his fingers on your cheek before swirling his thumb in your mouth: "Fuck baby," He moans, cock twitching. "If you look at me like that again I'll cum."

His cock was so sensitive to your touch, giving you physical evidence of his desperation. With just a sloppy kiss to his blushed tip, his cock jerks, twitching with spurts of pre cum. Jay could only breathe heavily holding your hands and intertwining them as he craved more of your intimacy. "Please angel more, please please.." He begs, on his knees as he pants. You could only smirk in return. "Only because you want me so bad-" "I do baby, so so so fucking much-" And you gag him before he could even finish his sentence, slobbering your warm touch and gummy cheeks around his sensitive arousal. His hips bucked, drilling his cock deeper down your throat as you hum, vibrating against his shaft.

"Fuck!" He moans, whimpering as you bob your head, using your hands, twisting them as you continue to suck him. He watches your hands leave his cock, massaging his thighs and toned abs as he captures the drool of your wet pussy, stimulating it with his middle finger. You moan in response, causing Jay to groan, feeling your hum against his tip. "Baby I can't-" He pants, "I'm gonna fucking cum-" And you lock eyes with him, looking up at him as you allow him to fuck your pretty little face.

He shoots the loads down your throat, sighing highs as he jerks back, bringing your face up to kiss you, before throwing you down on the bed.

"My sweet, sweet angel." He cooes, seeing your salivated lips and your hazy eyes take in his own cum. "I'm gonna make you cum so fucking hard, I'm making you take everything, okay?"

Jay doesn't give you a second to respond, spitting on your clit as his sloppy dick drives into your tight cunt, dragging your waist close to his before drilling deeper into you.

You mewl in response, your tits bouncing so harshly below him as your plush and pink thighs clap against his rough humping. Thick juices clump together before webbing out with every thrust, forming bubbles around his rim. He locks eyes with you, watching how yours look up, mouth agape as he fucks you drunk. "Fucking missed this pussy so much." He groans, spitting against you again, pulling out of your hollowness to slap his slick against your clit and make you moan before shoving it back in.

It wasn't long before you reached your high, and Jay often treated you as a princess, giving you your orgasm when so greatly needed, but he needed you so badly, he doesn't want you to imagine a world that was better without his cock; so he makes you so desperately crave it.

Before reaching your high he takes it out again, grabbing your legs before pressing your thighs against your stomach, pushing your own legs into you. "Jjong, please I need to cum-" He stops you by slapping your ass, "No." He dryly replies, rougher and drunker by your slick. "Baby!" You moan as the tip hits you deep. Your bed was filled with cream under your ass, spilling out as endless pre-cum and juice multiplied in your heat. His thrusts were only quicker this time, his voice whining and mumbling lewd words under his breath as he begins to be so fixated on your lips.

He kisses you so passionately, and he slows down, chasing his breath before turning you around. "Jjong, please-" You beg while ass was up to worship his face. "I'll only make you cum when you accept me as your boyfriend, baby." He starts, "I've given you proof and I'll continue to fuck you this good to get you to say yes." He growls. Slamming his cock into your spongey spot several times, holding your arms as your tits jiggle mid air. You see your silhouettes against the curtain, and your back being blown that your voice register is no longer working. "So," Jay starts, whispering against you as he fucks puddles into you.

"Will you take me back?" He pleads, stuttering his flow as small tears run down your eyes. You were fucked out of your mind, and you knew the greatest decision was to-

"Fuck!" You moan as Jay pounds into you, his soft demeanour changing as he grows impatient, hating to see you hesitate. "So?" He grips onto your waist, slapping your ass, pre-cum already leaking out of him again.

"Yes!" You moan in pleasure, begging him to cum in you. "I can't hear you." He groans louder, groping your tits before going down to rub circles on your clit as he continues to thrust into you from behind. "Yes yes! Please baby-" Your wishes have been heard as he gives one final jerk, deep into you as he overstimulates your clit- making you cum against his own high- endless white and clumps of stickiness leaking out of your pussy as Jay mindlessly uses his tip to stick it back into you.

You smile hazily as you continue to catch your breath, going to lay on your back as your stomach rises and falls. Jay plops down next to you on his side, rubbing circles on your stomach as he kisses your temple. "Great decision baby." He smiles against your lips. "I'll get us cleaned up." He always says after sex, carrying you to the shower only for him to fuck you again in it before cleaning you up.

Clean sheets, two guitars on the bed and a sunrise ahead, the two of you lay against each other humming and whispering love. You catch up with him again, and its like he never changed, only got wiser in the end as he continues to confess his undying love to you sober this time.

You go on your phone, seeing news outlets blowing up about Jay. And you both look in mild surprise that Jay was spotted with your guitar case and roses, crossing the street looking like a triple threat.

You look up to him, furrowing your brows, "You went out in public? Did you want to be seen?" You genuinely ask, knowing the main reason you didn't want to date surrounded the transparency of publicity.

"Yeah, I wanted them to know." He proudly says, "I don't fucking care anymore baby." Follows, grabbing your chin before kissing you slowly. "I got what I wanted."

perm taglist:

@nikiswifiee @ja4hyvn @ancnymcnzjy @17ericas

other tags:

@lazuxag @jiiyen

#enhypen x yn #enha x reader #enhypen #jay hard thoughts #jay hard hours #enha jay #enhypen jay fluff #enhypen jay angst #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jay x reader #jay enhypen #enhypen jay #park jongseong #enhypen jongseong #jongseong x reader #kpop smut

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igotanidea · 10 months ago

Text

A moment of weakness: Damian Wayne x reader

part 1 : Family rules

***

Everything that happened after seemed like a blur.

Her hand in his when they were sneaking out the ballroom.

Escaping watchful gazes of both their fathers.

The rustle of her dress on the carpeted floor that muffled the sound of their feet.

And then.

His lips on hers.

One of his hand on her cheek, and the other on her waist as he was pulling her closer to him. Stubbornly yet lacking the proficiency his older brothers may possess. Which was perfectly understandable since she was the first girl to capture Damian Wayne’s attention. The first that put so much charm on him that beyond all that hateful, snarky attitude something much more delicate and caring started to bloom.

“I still hate you…” she whispered pulling back, feeling the need to make it very clear that this kiss was stemming only from that emotion and nothing beyond. Even if her ragged breath and dilated pupils were enough of an evidence of her lying.

“Naturally” he responded. His rapidly beating heart and the sensation of her body in his arms causing this young boy to almost tremble. At this moment, when they were finally alone for the first time in years since they have known each other he was torn in two directions. Not making a fool of himself in front of her and proving that he wasn’t a foolish boy who could be easily charmed but a strong, capable and dominant man. Regardless of the fact they were both seventeen.

“I hate you too. And if you think there’s something more just because of the fact I’m kissing you right now you’re gravely mistaken.” Damian whispered brushing his lips over hers again, already intoxicated and losing his cool head.

“Kissing?” she mocked melting into him and snuggling closer to his embrace “Didn’t notice…”

“Mhm…”

“We shouldn’t…”

‘You’re absolutely right…”

“No one should know about it…”

“No one will. You won’t tell anyone out of fear of daddy dearest, right?” he looked at her with eyes shining with the familiar mischief and mockery.

“And you will keep the steam out of your mouth due to embarrassment, won’t you?” she retorted, matching his level of sarcasm.

And then they kissed again.

Her hands in his hair, running through soft dark strands.

His arms wrapping around her securely as if never wanting to let her go.

Just a little moment of weakness they both would deny if asked.

But for now, with no one around they decided to indulge in the lack of rationality, with both intensity and shyness of two teenagers confused by their own emotions.

So good. So right. So messed up.

Lost in the best meaning of the word, as if the world stopped turning and even existing just because they wanted to cherish the moment.

Foolish little kids.

Torn from the fantasy by the sound of cameras and flashes of light shooting straight into their eyes.

“Damian! Damian, look here!”

“Damian, who’s your mystery girl!?”

“Come on, pretty one, smile for the picture!”

“What is your name girl?!”

Too many questions and sounds for the person who was not used to having any attention at all. And being attacked by paparazzi and reporters who were skilled in intimidating was simply too much for poor Y/N whose head started spinning immediately.

‘Hey, I know that girl!” one of the scribblers yelled “she’s the daughter of Wayne’s competitor on the market!”

Shit.

Now that was a problem.

While her first instinct was to run away and hide in whatever hole would appear first, Damian stood proudly without an ounce of emotion on his face, preventing her from doing anything stupid or reckless.

And that cold, strong façade, making him look just like his father, finally got the reporters to stop yelling and taking photos.

“leave.” He said coldly spurring on another wave of shouting. ‘LEAVE. You were not invited here nor asked to interrupt the private life of the habitants. Your sole purpose on this gala was to focus on the official part. Therefore, you are trespassing beyond your scope of passage. And that will not be tolerated. I will not repeat myself. LEAVE NOW unless you want to deal with the consequences.”

Under any other circumstances this would probably be grotesque, but no one wanted any trouble from the son of the Bruce Wayne aka Bruce Wayne himself, so the intruders finally retreated.

“Damian—”

“I’ll take care of it.” He retorted coldly moving away from her turning back to his cold self, hiding in the shell.

“But what if-?” she could only fear what were to happen if the photos of them together leaked into the press – or worse – internet.

“I said I’ll take care of it, haven’t you heard?!” he snapped.

“Oh I heard loud enough! You’re just not very capable in taking care of things, forgive my audacity. So are you really that surprised I’m skeptical about it?!”

“Don’t you dare—” he took step forward reaching for her arm but she wriggled out swiftly

“You stay the hell away from me Wayne.”

“No. you stay the hell away from me Y/L/N.”

“With pleasure!”

“Great!”

“fine!” she cried out crossing arms over her chest

“fine!” he barely held back from sticking tongue out at her

And with that they got back to the gala, using two different ways to not be seen together and pretended like nothing had happened.

***

The next day, Sunday passed without anything extraordinary happening.

Not a word from either of them.

Even if she was reaching for her phone countless times ready to shot him a quick message and check up if he was doing fine.

Even if he was one foot out the door every time a thought of her crossed his mind.

“Idiot” she was thinking throwing her phone away for a hundredth time scrolling through her contact list.

“Harridan.” he was smacking his forehead trying to get some sense in his brain throwing the coat away and retrieving into his room.

***

And then there was Monday.

One of those grey-clouds, rainy, windy Monday when getting out of bed and focusing on duties seemed impossible.

But from the moment she walked through the school door something felt odd. Just like in those stupid teenage movies she was met with whispers and furtive glances followed by malicious giggles and finger pointing.

The hell?

Y/N barely got to her locker when one of the most popular and obviously, the meanest girl in school crossed her way slamming the locker door into her face.

“Lisa.” Y/N almost rolled her eyes.

“Y/N.” the self-appointed queen B grinned like a predator “did anything fun this weekend?”

“Are you trying to make yourself feel better now or something?”

“Don’t you dare talk back at me, you little slut!”

“I’m sorry, what did you just call me?!”

“oh, it’s not just my opinion.” Lisa smiled mockingly “the whole internet keeps talking about the entertainment you got yourself on Saturday.”

“What--?”

Lisa clicked on something in her phone and put the screen into her face.

So it was officially settled.

Damian fucking Wayne was completely helpless when it came to dealing with things.

And the fact that she was looking at the picture of them both, taken at the gala, showing each details of them kissing and holding each other was enough of a prove.

All the problems stemming from the leak put aside as she focused on one thing and one thing only.

She was going to kill him.

***

Meanwhile Damian was greeted in school with charming smiles and encouraging shouts.

It’s always easier for the boys.

“Was she good?” one of the boys smirked at him.

“What-?”

“Y/N Y/L/N. Was she good?”

“Huh?” none of that were making any sense to Damian who frowned in confusion.

And then he saw the same photo and the blood drained from his face.

Someone was going to pay for this.

That is- if he could actually convince Y/N that he had nothing to do with the publishing of it. That it was his intention to actually protect her himself from scandal.

However, judging by the way she was walking his way, with the rage of a buffalo, it was going to be rather complicated.

part 3: Despite everything

@gabriiiiiiii @6000-fandoms @jinviktor

#damian wayne x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #robin x you #robin x y/n #damian wayne fluff #christmas bingo #batfamily x reader

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suiana · 8 months ago

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Hey!! I hope that you are having an amazing day 💞💞💞 If requests are open, may you please write some hsr yandere!Sunday headcannons?

✎ yandere! sunday headcanons . . .

✎ warnings . . .

― possessiveness, manipulation, obsessiveness etc.

(gn! reader x male yandere! character)

✎ yandere! sunday who can't help but adore you. he'd never have thought someone who'd capture his heart would be so near to him! right here in the heart of penacony! of course he's going to talk to you! what, did you think he'd just ignore someone who's got his attention?

✎ yandere! sunday who is extremely touchstarved and probably fell for you because you hugged him once and told him he was cool. yeah bird man liked how warm your hug felt, what about it?

✎ yandere! sunday who gets to know you better as the perfect family head. surely you'd fall for him, right? i mean, he's perfect in every single way. you'd be a fool to reject him. and of course u rejected him😜🙏

✎ yandere! sunday who's absolutely flabbergasted when you reject his proposal to be his. what? are you serious? out of his league? duh he knows that- you're supposed to be thankful that he proposed the idea and accept!

✎ yandere! sunday who hates it when things don't go his way. he's a perfectionist and everything has to go according to plan... oh wow would you look at that? you went against his plans and rejected him! even said you wanted to be friends... hah! he couldn't believe you said that! you don't know how hard he bit down on his tongue to prevent himself from cursing at you.

✎ yandere! sunday who subtly changes the way he acts towards you. no, he's not acting passive aggressive. you're just delusional. what do you mean he's glaring at you? it's just the angle silly!

✎ yandere! sunday who obviously looks over you with his weird robot bird drone things. they resemble a real bird fairly closely (save for the Family crest he has embedded in them) and he'd be an idiot to not have an eye on you 24/7.

✎ yandere! sunday who's an obsessive freak and you'd think you'd know how obsessive he is by now but... it's far more worse than what you'd expect. bro has a whole ass shrine dedicated to you, and you just know that he has a small dreamscape designed for you. bro will throw you in there if you misbehave 💀

✎ yandere! sunday who gets other people to do the dirty work for him. he's a man of status, why would he need to dirty his hands? plus, he hates it when things get dirty. how uncouth.

✎ yandere! sunday who always has a smile on his face. you bet your ass he's going to be smiling when he tells you that your family mysteriously died in the dreamscape. of course, he's going to feign sympathy and comfort you but... there certainly won't be a frown on that gorgeous face of his.

✎ yandere! sunday who gracefully accepts you into his arms when you come crying to him that you can't leave. oh you poor thing. you did the wrong right thing coming to him for help. he'll definitely help you through this tough time. by making it worse 💗

✎ yandere! sunday who molds you into his perfect lover. oh dear me, you're permanently stuck in the dreamscape with him! it's an error no one has experienced before and you need to stay here with him to ensure your safety! no it's not a lie, why would he do that? after all, he only wants the best for you. don't worry, you can pass time by being his cute darling for now!

✎ yandere! sunday who will never let you go. and... why would you want to escape in the first place? he loves you and you love him now, don't you? besides, he's sweet, handsome, charming... you will never find someone better than him. so don't misbehave and just stay with him, won't you? besides, the Family doesn't tolerate traitors in the slightest. and you're a part of the family now, aren't you? his beloved little darling ♡

✎ "oh dear, now where do you think you're going my love?"

#suiana's sinners #yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere character #yandere character x reader #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #yandere sunday #yandere sunday x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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theyluvlyss · 5 months ago

Text

𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐥 & 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲...

my head is all but consumed with thoughts only of wade wilson, logan howlett, and remy lebeau. they're all I can process in my head (besides shazam, but that's a given considering no one loves shazam the way I do, so🤷🏽‍♀️) and I y e a r n desperately for an influx in "wade x y/n x logan" fics and the "remy x y/n" fics... dare I even ask, humbly ofc, hear me out... for a splash of "wade x y/n x remy". genuinely, I'd kill for some of that ngl.

and I bet you're wondering, "lyssa, why not do it yourself🤔?"

short answer: I am swamped with requests, and even if I wasn't, I'm not ready yet lmao I fear I do not possess the skills to capture them in my writing perfectly😔 ... yet😈.

in the meantime, tho *😈evil little laughter😈* may I plz suggest the following prompts and pairings to and for anybody willing to work with them or wanting ideas (begging any writers that see this to please write these and tag me plz plz plz plz plz 😭🙏🏽😃plzplzplzplzplzplzplzpl-)...

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

⚠️trigger and content warning btw lol -

mentions of fighting/violence/bloodshed, death, gore, (like c'mon,,, bffr, look at who you're reading about😐🤨), anxiety/panic attacks, harsh words/themes/elements/physical injuries, abuse and/or negelct, separation anxiety, mental disorders, brief mention of sickness/illness, drugs (just 🍃 and painkillers), age gap (nothing illegal, chill out🤨✋🏽), use of a derogatory term (not used in a negative sense tho lol), and some semi-common smut themes that I won't list here, but be wary if that stuff makes you uncomfortable :)♡. also, these are all under the pretense that the reader is a cis girl, she/her/hers pronouns (so ig you could think of this as one, big, mass request to all writers willing from me lol🤭🥴🫶🏽).

𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭/𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭/𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭 :

- reader having a panic/anxiety attack and ofc being comforted (causes my vary; maybe right after a fight/battle, or because of over-worrying or too much pressure, maybe after a fight with another loved one, etcetc). definitely wanna see this with all three of them, but separately, tho. like, one fic or list of "preferences/headcannons" for logan, one for wade, and then one for remy.

- near death or death (followed by resurrection swift after). it could be reader almost dies or dies (then gets resurrected, get creative with it/how, fr, yk?) or the reverse; the POI (person of interest) dies, although given two of the three's abilities, y'all might have to get creative if you want it to translate for logan and/or wade so this one would be mainly for a remy x reader.

- I personally love a good "POI says sumn mean/outta pocket, hurts reader's feels, stuff happens idk, but they eventually kiss and make up" trope. I'd eat that up, especially cuz OHHH,,,, wade taking a joke or playful argument or something too far? logan being a little too mean/angsty to you for comfort?? remy saying something that gets lost in translation, so it comes out harsher than intended??? 😫😫😫‼️‼️ AND IF YOU WANNA GET MESSY WIT IT, RUNNING TO ONE OF THE OTHER THREE FOR COMFORT🙈🙈⁉️⁉️⁉️.

- a classic; reader getting injured (mildly or worse, doesn't matter), needing to be taken care of, but is stubborn about it?? always a good one.

- getting a little crazy and silly here, but I like a good "abusive and/or negelctful ex/current partner" trope. like hell yeah, one of you big, strong men get over here and save me, whisk me away and show me what I really deserve😻‼️. NOT romanticizing/glorifying it obvs, like no, I mean that wade, logan, and/or remy would not be the red flags in this scenario, they're the one(s) doing the saving FROM the red flag ex/current partner lol.

- getting a little crazier and sillier with this one, but one where reader gets snatched up🙂? oouuuu, miss girl got kidnapped?! once again, somebody come save me, and if "somebody" is not wade, logan, and/or remy, then don't bother, I don't want it. matter of fact, just gon' on ahead and leave me, I'll figure it out myself🙂✌🏽. I think I'd want these separate, actually, bc I wanna take in the individuality of their reactions, like,,, logan going feral?? pretty predictable tbh lmao but still hot. remy?? idek ngl, y'all gon' have to figure him out. BUT WADE BEING SERIOUS AND NOT AS TALKATIVE FOR ONCE UNTIL HE KNOWS YOU'RE SAFE???? OOOHOOHOOOOOOO, GIMMIE🖐🏽👹🖐🏽✊��👹✊🏽!!!

- ig this could be put in the panic/anxiety attack category, but I also feel like this might be it's own separate thing, so idk, but... separation anxiety on reader's part. whatever the circumstances may be to breed it, reader is just (not in a unhealthy way) attached to the POI(s), so them leaving for whatever reason is pretty hard on her (and the POI(s), too, because hello, they don't wanna make their reader upset, but things gotta get done fr yk😫🥲),,, lots of reassurance, comforting, and maybe distractions ensue??

- reader with an alter ego/inner beast, whether that be a result of her powers or a mental disorder (think like,,, split personality or maybe DID or something like that, but I do wanna say, if you're gonna go the mental route, make sure you do your research so that you're representing it - not only accurately - but you're not dehumanizing or dumbing it down as well) or just anything that would cause the reader to, as I said, have a different side of themself,,, werewolf type deal, yk? "normal" for the most part, but then has her moments where she be on demon time and then when she's back to herself, she's just like "???" while everyone else is like "!!!". I suppose this could then be followed up/solved with a "the sun's getting real low" typa thing/moment from the POI(s), but that's neither here nor there, do what feels right fr♡.

- reader (just barely) escapes cassandra nova??? that could be cool (a.k.a. very, very angsty bc surely the encounter has messed the reader alllll the way up both mentally and physically, especially knowing what typa timing cass be on lmao😃). love a good hurt/comfort, I can't get enough, actually. this one (given the movie context) may or may not work with wolvie and/or pool (again, up to the writer to get creative), but gambit?? he's been in the void his whole life, he knows cass, sooo it'd make more sense for him to have a higher understanding of the situation in full, but do what y'all want, I'm just the idea woman🤷🏽‍♀️.

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟 :

- morning cuddles and softeness and ughghfhfhdjd♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!! and then the opposite, night/bedtime cuddles and softness and uugjfjdkwkfke♡!!♡!♡!!♡!♡!!♡!!

- height difference teasings and shenanigans. we can always stick to the classics, ofc, short reader, tall wade, logan, and/or remy. maybe its an advantage in fights - fast, lethal, and small + big, shielding, and strong - but sucks in more domestic/calm cases like reaching for shit on the top shelf or wanting to kiss somebody. but I'd also love some tall gworl reader type shit, miss strong, lean, runway model energy, stepping on any heads and wooing any men that are in her path🥴😻. bending down with a smile so she can hear him, mindlessly playing with his hair, occasionally makes a quip here and there on the difference without thinking lol and he haaaaateeees all of it (but he looooveeeessss all of it🤭).

- reader being THAT GIRL, literally being in a 1v26 or sumn crazy like that and she's just kicking ass and shit the whole time, and then there's the POI(s),,, gawking and in love like "damn that's MY GIRL fr\😻/!!".

- *imagine a vine boom after every bolded word, okay, go* teen/minor/young PLATONIC NONSEXUAL NONROMANTIC (literally I can not stress this enough) NOT DATING AT ALL EVER reader and one/two/all of them. I think it'd just be silly seeing them (wade, logan, and or remy) working/paired with/having a bond with this little gremlin yet sweetheart of a reader who's somehow able to tolerate/put up with/ignore/maybe even indulge in their craziness lmfao. maybe just as or is even more crazy than they are, chaotic and desensitized type shit. you could even get ansgty with it, have this teen reader need saving or something like that, yk?

- sparring match and reader BEATS POI(s) in said spar cuz she's cool, awesome, and mega baller like that. lots of tension and goofiness, especially from the reader, cuz she knows damn well she's the shit. or, a different route!!... total dumb luck that she beat him/both/all of them, and is very obviously playing it off/acting like she won on purpose lmfao, cockiness ensuing.

- can't go wrong with a sick-fic lol. who doesn't wanna be taken care of?

- reader needs/wears glasses🤷🏽‍♀️. it can be the discovery of actually needing them, reader always squinting tryna read/see shit, or nearly getting herself in and out of danger bc again, she blind lmao. or it's just the case of reader never wears them out and about, but in calmer moments (where she doesn't run the risk of breaking them) she'll put them on, so she decides to bust 'em out one day and it's just the POI(s) being like ":O...😻😻!!".

- *olivia rodrigo voice* JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY, YEAA-aAAH😫😫‼️ ... reader who just,,, she don't play that shit, man, lmfao it's called you can prove yourself either friend or foe,,, stay tf away from my man or get your ass beat. pick one. and it's the POI(s) just absolutely flattered and amused with this energy from reader lmfao, reassurance ensuing quick after ofc. or, if you wanna get silly with it (and by silly, I mean violent♡), reader with a girl who can't take a hint😀 *eye twitch* so she finally makes shit clear one way or another (one way; does sumn with the POI(s) that makes the girl uncomfortable so she fucks off. another; reader pretty much beats that girl up and it's the POI(s) laughing but also trying to pry reader off of her cuz "stop it, I'm yours, I promise, you don't have to kill her, she didn't know any better😭!"). or just completely switch it up, vice versa, role-reversal POI(s) get jelly and it's reader having to deal with whatever may happen after/due to the fact lol.

𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 :

- shameless flirt reader!!!! she's not obnoxious or out of character/proper timing with it, but definitely a reader with helllllaaaaa rizz. is mainly on some "is somebody gonna match my freak?" type shi. wade would find it very silly and he'd match the freak ofc. logan,,, maybe he'd start off annoyed by it, then get used to it, only realizing you've actually grown on him once you start to pull back a little/stop completely? REMY WOULD LOVE AND BE AMUSED BY IT, so all I'm gonna say here is this: rabbits🐇🥰. iykyk♡.

- a smoke sesh leading to some good, old fashioned high/sleepy sex🥰. that's it, that's the prompt♡.

- lord, free me from my sins🙏🏽, plz don't judge me y'all😔 ,,, age gap😃? NOTHING CRAZY, CHILL, but yk, like,,, just a little young thing in her 20s or sumn being scooped up by one (or two🤭) of these older, more mature, aged like fine wine, and experienced men,,, that's all🥰.

- that moment when reader is a whore and is actually literally prancing around without a care in the world, fucking three different guys (wade, logan, and remy obvs) because "they're hot lol" - not necessarily behind their backs - but no one's saying anything or telling her no, nor does anyone seem to have any issues with it/are opposed, sooo😗🤷🏽‍♀️.

- do y'all think,,, because wolverine is yk...wolf-like-ish-whatever.... do y'all think that he,,,, that maybe he goes thru... a rut🙂?? lmfaoGDHAKXKPQPRR okay that's enough, that's enough🥴✋🏽-.

- you know how some smut has certain labels/themes/tags that are gonna be, yk,,, in said smut?? well, cuz I'm out of any specific ideas for smut, I'm just gonna leave some here, m'kaaaay, and whatever y'all wanna dooooo is up to youuuu, just as long as I get to seeee😗☺️🫶🏽~...

⚠️ also don't say I didn't warn y'all, I mean, there's literally a whole ass trigger warning at the top, so do not start fckn trippin' because you disagree with me or saw sumn you don't fw, cuz tbh, I don't care and you can honestly block me if it's that serious♡.

dom-sub, daddy/praise/breeding/spanking kink, knife/gun/blood play (and/or just mutant/power ability play in general hehehe), food/wax play, cnc (I don't suggest full blown non-con seeing as none of them seem the type to do such, no matter the circumstances, plus it's just not my thing personally but hey, I'm not currently writing for pool, wolvie, or gambit rn, so that's up to whoever is🤷🏽‍♀️), hunter-prey (y'all might see this and immediately think wolvie, which is understandable fr, but I beg y'all to get creative and let remy and/or wade hunt reader down, it can be done and done right, I promise, plz, I need it, 😫PLEASE!!-), friends with benefits,,, OHHH ENEMIES with benefits🫢🫢!!, overstim, jealousy/possessive/yandere, unprotected/creampie/oral ... that's all that comes to mind lmao wow what a crazy note to end this on, anyways-

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

yeah, so, do with all of this what you will (and plz spread this around, I genuinely do wanna see these get written and myself tagged like I am PINING for these fic ideas to be turned into reality😭🙏🏽), I just had to get my thoughts out before I forgot (at least in the fanfic department), because if someone were to ask me my thoughts on the movie itself !!!!! OMG I could run my mouth forever, but I don't wanna do that (lazy) so lmao for now, that's all lol byeeee~ /ᐠ-˕-マ!!

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vampsywrites · 1 year ago

Text

II — i remember her hands, and the way the mountains looked.

Synopsis: In which the Sullys approach the mountain clan for sanctuary. The Olo'eykte agrees but proposes one condition: Toruk Makto's eldest son must be promised to her daughter. Surprisingly, instead of the solemn response one would expect, Neteyam agrees almost instantaneously.

Tags: Female! Mountain Na'vi! Reader, Arranged Marriage, Sun&Moon couple, Strangers to Lovers, Neteyam is whipped, Mentions of Jealousy&Possessiveness, Romantic tension, Neteyam wanting to impress his girl, Lo'ak having the time of his life teasing the shit out of Neteyam, Reader has that Tsahik rizz

Word Count: 2.8k | AO3 LINK

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

With the village of the Iuva'ri clan now their new home, the Sullys followed you past open fields, their eyes wandering in amazement at the sights.

Everywhere they looked, the hustle and bustle of daily life surrounded them. Hunters could be seen hauling large beasts into the village, farmers had their hands deep in the earth as they worked to ensure a bountiful harvest, and weavers, with their deft hands, skillfully crafted intricate patterns into fabric.

Though the environment was not too different from what they were used to in the forest, it was still a significant change from the wild, cluttered jungle they had known all their life.

While his family was busy taking all of the clan in, Neteyam was fully focused on you. He watched in fascination as the village parted when you walked past, people practically throwing themselves aside to clear your path. From elders to children, they bowed in reverence and greeted you with warmth and admiration, recognizing you as their Tsahìk.

Through the walk, Neteyam also couldn't help but notice how your presence captured the attention of the young men and women around. Warriors, weavers, hunters – they all seemed to be drawn to you, stopping in their tracks with blushing cheeks as they exchanged hushed words. Their lingering gazes and subtle glances, their eyes which seemed to follow you like a predator stalking its prey, didn't escape Neteyam's watchful eyes.

As he observed this intense attention you garnered, a pang of possessiveness surged through his gut, and his tail lashed out in irritation.

Neteyam felt torn, battling with the internal struggle of feeling irrationally possessive. Deep down, he knew he had no right to be jealous. After all, he had no claim over you, and he had yet to truly earn your trust and affection.

The announcement of your courtship clearly took the clan by surprise. While some genuinely celebrated your happiness, others found it difficult to hide their envy. Evident by the glares sent his way from those who might have hoped to be in his place.

This scrutiny only served to intensify his emotions.

"This will be your home now," you called out, your voice calm and welcoming, pulling him away from his thoughts. Neteyam watched as you guided them to a beautifully crafted hut elevated on bamboo wooden stilts. It stood gracefully above the ground, a testament to the skilled craftsmanship of your people. The roof was steeply pitched and thatched with nipa palm leaves, while the walls were intricately woven from bamboo slats.

Tuktirey gasped in amazement, her eyes wide with childish wonder as she marveled at the hut's elevated design. "It's so tall!" she exclaimed, clearly impressed by the unique structure.

You hummed, understanding their awe and sensing the underlying hesitation in some of them.

"You will grow to like it," you reassured with a small smile. "It may be different from what you're used to, but it will keep you safe and warm. Our people have lived in harmony with Eywa and these lands for generations."

Tuktirey beamed up at you. "I can't wait to explore and learn more about your ways," she cheers, enthusiasm evident.

“I am sure you will learn well, little one,” you hum, running a hand through her braided hair.

With ease, you then moved towards the stairs, climbing up with a sense of familiarity as you began to haul their belongings to their new home. The family followed behind you, still feeling a tad bit out of place.

After ensuring they were comfortable, you began to excuse yourself, knowing you needed to give them some privacy. As you walked past Neteyam, catching his gaze, you gently rest your hand upon his chest. After murmuring a quick goodbye, you withdrew your hand and swiftly left the hut. Neteyam’s mind ran haywire, the spot where your hand had been burned with a sudden fire, leaving a lingering sensation on his skin that he couldn't shake off.

Eywa. It had only been a day and already you had an effect on him.

With your departure, the family gathered together, finding a spot to discuss the events that had transpired earlier. Neytiri paced back and forth in the open hut, footsteps loud against the wooden flooring, her mind racing with a myriad of thoughts and emotions.

"Alright," Jake sighed, running a rugged hand down his face, breaking through the tension. "We have to unpack what just happened earlier."

Neytiri nodded, her brow furrowed as she tried to make sense of the situation. Her eyes turned to Neteyam, concern evident in her voice as she asked, "Ma'itan, are you sure of this?"

"Oh, he sure is," Lo'ak answered for his brother, sending a grin his way. "I mean—Did you hear him back there?"

"I will accept this proposal. Only if she will have me," he mocked, mimicking Neteyam's accent in a deep, gravely tone. Kiri couldn't help but hide her face with her hand, trying to stifle her laughter.

"Skxawng," Neteyam snarled playfully and gave Lo'ak a light smack in response, which only made his younger siblings laugh even more.

"Enough, you two," Neytiri's voice rang out, cutting through the air. She shook her head in exasperation, her beaded locks swaying and rattling with her movements. Turning her attention back to her eldest, her tone dropped a timbre as she murmured, "Neteyam, this is a big decision. Are you truly sure about this? You wish to mate with that woman?"

Neteyam's gaze shifted from his brother to his mother, lips drawing into a contemplative frown as the weight of it all settled heavily on his shoulders. The significance of such a union wasn't lost on him. The mating bond was not merely a union of bodies; it was the fusion of two souls, a sacred connection dictated by Eywa. He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to express his feelings.

"I am sure," he replied, his voice steady, despite the turmoil inside him. Neytiri studied his face for a moment, catching the hesitation laced in his expression.

"You do not have to do something your heart is against," his mother whispered, reaching forward, both of her hands finding his tense shoulders, rubbing deep circles into his muscle. Neteyam felt the warmth and reassurance in his mother's touch, and for a moment, he leaned into it, finding comfort in her presence.

"That’s the thing. My heart isn’t against it. I just… I felt something when I saw her." He then hesitated, struggling to unknot his mind and put his feelings into words. "Like-Like a heartbeat."

Kiri's eyes sparkled with wonder, a look of recognition flashing behind her eyes. Her tail swished with delight as she leaned forward eagerly, the shawl slipping off her shoulder in the haste of her movement. "You must have felt Eywa's connection with her. Was it like a calling? Could you feel a mighty heartbeat?"

Neteyam froze, his gaze turning to his younger sister.

"Yes. Exactly that, Kiri," he replied, his voice filled with a hint of disbelief. "It was like… she was calling out to me in some way, as if our souls were somehow intertwined."

Kiri's excitement grew, and she couldn't contain her joy. “Eywa has blessed you with a gift, brother. Rarely do mates feel such a deep soul connection on the first time they meet."

"Soul connection? That’s love at first sight, huh?" Jake interjected, his eyes glinting as he glanced at Neytiri with a knowing smile. "Sound familiar?"

Neytiri's stern façade softened as she smiled back, unable to hide her amusement. "Yes, it does," she admitted with a fondness in her voice. Her eyes sparkled with a mixture of understanding and warmth as she looked at her eldest son. "Neteyam, ma’itan, if you truly feel this connection, then it may be a sign from Eywa herself. The steps you take next will be entirely up to you."

"It's just like those stories we've heard, bro. Soulmates and destined love,” Lo’ak chimed in. “You and her, together, guided by Eywa's hand," he smirked, clasping his hands together and making kissy faces. Neteyam huffed, shaking his head.

"Yeah. It might be like that," he admitted with a touch of bashfulness.

"But let's not get carried away with the dramatics,” Neteyam sighs, snapping himself back to reality. “I still want to get to know her first. I want to take it slow.”

“Slow, huh? Is that what you call asking her to mate with you on the spot?" Lo’ak laughed.

“Lo’ak!” Neytiri hissed, glaring at him disapprovingly.

"I did not ask her to mate with me on the spot!" Neteyam snaps through gritted teeth, his voice rising slightly in embarrassment.

Lo'ak's laughter boomed through the air, thoroughly relishing the sight of his older brother's flustered expression. It was a rare occasion for Neteyam to be caught off guard by his teasing, always having a smartass rebut at the tip of his tongue.

"Yeah? Well, it sure looked like it to me," he snickered, his tail swishing back and forth in interest. Neytiri intervened, smacking him upside on the head. Lo’ak winced in response, and nursed the spot where his mother had hit him.

"Ow, ow, I get it," he groaned, lying flat on the floor. "I'll stop."

"Alright. ‘Nough of that. Come on," Jake said, with a chuckle, huddling everyone close. Once they had formed a circle, he began to address them, his tone taking on a more serious note, "Listen, I really need you kids to be on your best behavior. And I mean it."

Jake shifts his gaze to his eldest son, “Neteyam becoming a candidate for future Olo'eyktan already stirred things up enough. And I don’t even need to tell you just how messy that’s going to be.”

Neteyam heaved out a tense sigh, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. “Sorry, sir.”

“We’re gonna get through this,” Jake continued, dismissing Neteyam’s apology, his voice carrying a tone of reassurance. “Together.”

Neytiri moved closer to her husband, gently placing her head over Jake's shoulder. “What does your father always say?” Neytiri murmured, her voice soft and soothing.

“Sullys stick together…”

“Little more feeling this time!"

“Sullys stick together!”

As the night falls and the stars twinkle in the dark sky, they finally retire to their new sleeping arrangements. Neteyam lays on his makeshift bed, a woven mat made out of palm and leaves, his mind abuzz with thoughts. He gazes out of the hut's opening, where he can catch a glimpse of you in the moonlight, going about your duties as Tsahìk, checking up on a few of the sick and injured in their huts.

Your silhouette against the moonlit backdrop mesmerizes him, and he finds himself drawn to your presence like a moth to a flame. As you notice his gaze, you offer him a reassuring nod before continuing your duties. His heart swells with warmth at the acknowledgment.

With the comfort of your presence lingering in his mind, Neteyam turns onto his back, feeling a sense of peace settle over him. The gentle rustle of palm leaves outside and the distant sounds of the forest lull him into a state of relaxation. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to fall into a deep and restful sleep.

The next morning, the village awakens early. The sky is painted in hues of pink and orange as the sun begins to rise over the mountains. Knocking gently at the side of their hut, you had called for them before the sun could even fully emerge, offering to show them more of the village and its surrounding wonders.

You lead them through the mountains, showing Kiri, Lo'ak, Tuk, and Neteyam the ways of life in this breathtaking terrain. The trees stand tall and proud, similar to those in the forest they once called home, but here they bear a different kind of energy, surrounded by majestic mountains which hold ancient tales of the ancestors before them. The group walks amidst the trees, their senses heightened by the subtle sounds of wildlife and the fresh scent of earth.

As you lead them further, you come across vast rice fields, a breathtaking sight of lush green beauty stretching as far as the eye can see. The fields seem to come alive with the morning sunlight. The stalks of rice sway gently in the breeze, creating a mesmerizing dance, captivating the forest Na’vi.

Amidst the exploration, Neteyam's keen eyes spot a group of mountain climbers in the distance, scaling a rocky hill.

"What are they doing?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

"They're practicing for the coming-of-age ceremony," you say, your gaze following the climbers. Neteyam's curiosity turns into intrigue, and he listens intently as you begin to explain.

"It's an ascent to the clouded peak," you share, pointing to a towering mountain in the distance, its summit shrouded in mist. "At dawn, the candidates gather at the base. It is the tallest mountain in the region and they must set out on a journey to reach the summit."

Lo’ak whistles, grimacing while he sizes up the daunting landscape before him. "We have to climb that?" he asks incredulously.

“Only if you want to. Your Omatikayan ikinimaya should be enough for you to be recognized in the clan,” you assure him with a pat on his back.

Neteyam stays silent for the next few minutes, his faraway gaze directed towards the rocky mountain. Suddenly, he startles everyone by speaking up, the words slipping from his mouth causing your eyes to rip wide open.

"I want to partake in it," he says, his voice steady and resolute. The sudden declaration shakes everyone, and his siblings turn their attention fully to him, waiting to hear his reasoning.

You too gaze up at him in disbelief. "Are you certain?" you ask, wanting to ensure that he fully comprehends the challenges that lie ahead. “This is no simple feat—”

"I am strong," Neteyam interrupts, sounding a little harsher than he had intended, but it was important to him that you knew of his abilities. "I will be able to train for it well."

Your milky eyes drop to his battle-hardened body, sweeping over his broad shoulders and the ridges of his defined muscles, glistening softly in the sun’s glow. The scars etched on his skin tell tales of past battles and trials, a testament to his experience. Neteyam holds his ground, finding himself flexing subconsciously under your gaze.

"I know you are strong," you retort.

"Yes—"

"But the warriors of the forest are different from those of the mountains," you cut him off with a pointed stare. "It is not just about physical strength; you will have to learn how they train, their techniques, and their ways of life," you begin to move towards him, a challenging look in your eyes. "It is difficult to fill a cup that is already full."

Neteyam's jaw clenches, his gaze unwavering. "Then I will empty my cup. I will adapt," he asserts with passion. "I will prove myself not just to your people but to myself as well. If I am to be chief, I have to embrace your ways."

"Pretty sure you just want to impress her, bro," Lo’ak quips. Neteyam scowls at his remark and, in a swift motion, drives his elbow straight into his younger brother's side. At the impact, Lo’ak immediately folds, nursing his side as his face contorts in pain. “Fuck!”

Ignoring Lo’ak, Neteyam turns back to you, his expression steadfast and unwavering. In that moment, he feels an overwhelming longing to prove himself to you, to earn your admiration and love based on his own merits, not just because of any preconceived notions or expectations.

His determination shines like a beacon, and his sincerity tugs at your heartstrings. It's as if he's baring his soul before you, showing you the depths of his desire to be someone you can truly respect and admire.

With a hum, you settle back, your tail flickering behind you in intrigue. If the rumors carried by the wind from clan to clan about him were to be believed, then you should have known he would want to partake in the ceremony.

Such a bold spirit, evident in those golden eyes of his every time he spoke. The mountains around you seemed to echo with approval, as if Eywa herself was acknowledging his resolve.

"If you are that eager, then I will teach you," you say, the decision firm in your heart. It feels as if a weight is lifted off his shoulders at your acceptance of his offer. Neteyam hums, trying to maintain a stoic expression but the telltale flicks of his ears and tail betray his anticipation and eagerness.

"Do not be mistaken, though. I will not baby you," you add with a daring lilt in your voice. You begin to walk away, the swing of your hips matching the sway of your tail. "Let us hope you can keep up, mighty warrior."

That seemed to only fuel the fire within him further.

Neteyam’s chest rumbles in a deep laugh, a fanged grin stretching across his cheeks. "Yes, ma’am.”

< PREV | SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT >

see you in the next episode where the reader works her future husband's ass to the ground xoxo

TAGLIST: @rainbowsocks @milktealvrr @strawberri-blonde

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bitchiswild · 9 months ago

Text

Possessive Desires

G!P Wonyoung x F! Reader

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: creampie,mean girl wony, smut, giving head, idkkkk 🤷‍♀️

A/n: IM BACKKKK…I THINKKK🥳🥳🤷‍♀️

Wonyoung was well aware of your interest in her friend, but he seemed oblivious to it all. Whenever you were around, being charming and friendly with him, he remained clueless, like an airhead who couldn't see beyond your niceties. This only fueled Wonyoung's jealousy, as she couldn't fathom how you could flirt with her friend right in front of her. After all, she knew she was attractive—every girl wanted her attention. But it seemed like you only had eyes for her friend.

The repeated occurrences of seeing you shower her friend with attention only intensified Wonyoung's envy. It irked her to see her friend effortlessly capture your gaze, as if she didn't deserve any attention herself. With her looks, intelligence, and wealth, Wonyoung couldn't understand why you weren't drawn to her instead.

Gradually, Wonyoung came to realize that her jealousy wasn't really about you—it was about her friend getting the attention she craved. The attention that she wished was directed towards her. Deep down, Wonyoung harbored feelings for you, but her pride and ego prevented her from confessing. Yet, amidst her internal struggle, she couldn't ignore the occasional glances you threw her way.

Feeling frustrated and determined, Wonyoung realized she needed to take action. She concocted a plan—a scheme designed to make you desire her attention, to prove that she was more than just a jealous bystander. Her goal was clear: she wanted to see you beg for her affection, to demonstrate that she had the power to captivate you, even if it meant embracing her reputation as a "mean girl."

There you were, looking stunning as ever, but who was it all for? That dim-witted friend of her. Wonyoung longed for you to dress up for her instead, to be her doll, a doll she could lavish with all her wealth. With determination burning inside her, Wonyoung rose from her seat and confidently made her way over to you.

As she approached, she took charge, moving your chair to face her, a smirk playing on her lips as she caught you off guard.

"Y/n," she purred, your name rolling off her tongue like honey.

"Wonyoung, hi, can I help you?" you asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Wonyoung clicked her tongue disapprovingly. "What are your intentions with Eli, hmm?" Her gaze locked with yours, causing a flutter in your stomach.

As you tried to gather your thoughts, Wonyoung leaned in closer, her gaze intense. "I've noticed how you've been cozying up to Eli lately," she continued, her voice low and compelling. "But let me make something clear, Y/n. Eli may be my friend, but I won't stand by and watch someone take advantage of him."

You could feel the tension in the air, Wonyoung's words hanging between you like a challenge. But instead of backing down, you met her gaze squarely. "I assure you, Wonyoung, my intentions with Eli are purely friendly," you replied, your tone steady despite the swirling emotions inside you.

Wonyoung's expression softened slightly, but the fire in her eyes remained. "Good," she said, straightening up. "Because if I ever find out otherwise, you'll have me to deal with." With that, she turned on her heel and walked away. She paused for a moment, then unexpectedly, she stopped and turned back towards you. "Oh, and you look cute today," she said with a faint smile, before turning on her heel and walking away, leaving you to ponder her words and the unexpected flutter in your heart.

You were in the midst of a conversation with Eli, the atmosphere light and easy between you two. His laughter was infectious, and you found yourself getting lost in the warmth of his company. However, the tranquility was shattered when Wonyoung approached, her steps deliberate and her gaze fixated on you with an unsettling intensity.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" she drawled, her tone laced with thinly veiled disdain.

Eli's expression shifted to one of confusion as he glanced between you and Wonyoung. "Hey, Wonyoung," he greeted cautiously. "What's up?"

Ignoring his greeting, Wonyoung narrowed her eyes at you, her voice cutting through the air like ice. "Y/n, you seem to be spending an awful lot of time with Eli lately," she remarked, her words tinged with accusation.

Your stomach tightened as you braced yourself for what was to come. "We're just friends, Wonyoung," you replied, trying to maintain your composure in the face of her scrutiny.

A smirk played at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her words dripping with venom. "Friends, huh? Funny, because it looks like you're trying a little too hard to get his attention," she whispered, her gaze boring into yours with an intensity that sent a chill down your spine.

Eli's brow furrowed in confusion as he sensed the tension between you two. "Wonyoung, what's going on?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Wonyoung straightened up, her facade of superiority firmly in place. "Oh, nothing, Eli," she replied sweetly, her eyes never leaving yours. "Just thought I'd remind Y/n here to stay in their lane."

With that final jab, she turned on her heel and walked away, leaving you and Eli to exchange bewildered glances, the tension thickening in the air as you both grappled with the implications of Wonyoung's words.

As the days passed, Wonyoung's constant interference in your interactions with Eli became increasingly bothersome. Her persistent questioning and snide remarks left you wondering if there was more to her behavior than met the eye. Could it be that Wonyoung harbored feelings for you herself, explaining her relentless interruptions and scrutiny?

After class ended one day, you decided to retreat to an empty classroom to study, hoping for some peace and quiet away from Wonyoung's prying eyes. As you made your way down the deserted hallway, lost in your thoughts, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Wonyoung.

"Y/n, fancy meeting you here," she greeted, her tone laced with a hint of sarcasm.

You couldn't help but feel a twinge of apprehension at the unexpected encounter. "Wonyoung, hi," you replied cautiously, unsure of what to expect.

Wonyoung's eyes glittered with a mischievous glint as she stepped closer, her gaze locking onto yours. "So, still spending all your time with Eli, I see," she remarked, her voice dripping with insinuation.

You bristled at her remark, a mixture of frustration and curiosity bubbling within you. "What's it to you, Wonyoung?" you shot back, unable to mask the edge in your voice.

A knowing smirk tugged at the corners of Wonyoung's lips as she leaned in closer, her breath ghosting over your ear. "Oh, nothing, Y/n," she whispered, her voice sending a shiver down your spine. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want."

With that cryptic remark, she pulled away and sauntered off down the hallway, leaving you standing there, bewildered and more confused than ever about Wonyoung's true intentions.

As you settled into the quiet confines of the empty classroom, books and notes scattered across the desk before you, Wonyoung's cryptic remark echoed in your mind. "Just making sure you're not forgetting who you really want." What did she mean by that? The question gnawed at you, distracting you from your studies as your thoughts drifted back to Wonyoung and the complexities of your interactions.

Despite your best efforts to focus, your mind kept wandering, replaying moments spent with Wonyoung and Eli, trying to decipher the true nature of your feelings. Did you truly want Eli's company, or was there something more drawing you to Wonyoung? The realization sent a jolt of uncertainty coursing through you, leaving you grappling with newfound emotions and the daunting task of untangling your desires. As the hours passed, you found yourself lost in a tumult of conflicting emotions, unsure of where your heart truly lay.

As you prepared to leave the room, the door swung open, and there stood Wonyoung, a smirk playing on her lips. "Wonyoung," you greeted, trying to mask the unease in your voice.

She stepped into the room, her gaze unwavering as she sauntered closer, the smirk never leaving her face. "Well, well, well, look who's here," she teased, her tone dripping with amusement.

Your heart raced as you felt the weight of her gaze upon you. "What do you want, Wonyoung?" you asked, attempting to maintain a semblance of composure.

Wonyoung's smirk widened into a knowing grin as she closed the distance between you, her movements deliberate and confident. "I'll be honest, Y/n. I've been eyeing you for a while, but you had to pick my friend. While I stood there waiting for you to give me the same amount of attention," she husked, her voice low and seductive. "But to sum it up, I want you."

Her words hung in the air, and before you could respond, she reached out and caressed your face, sending a shiver down your spine. You were left speechless, the intensity of her gaze leaving you powerless to resist her allure.

"I... I didn't realize," you stammered, your mind racing to process her confession. Your heart pounded in your chest, the air thick with anticipation and an undeniable undercurrent of sexual tension between you.

Wonyoung's eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. "Well, now you know," she whispered huskily, her lips brushing against your skin in a tantalizing caress.

A shiver ran down your spine at the intimate gesture, your senses overwhelmed by the electrifying chemistry crackling between you. Despite the uncertainty swirling in your mind, there was no denying the magnetic pull drawing you closer to Wonyoung, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both.

Your eyes locked with Wonyoung's, the intensity of her gaze sending a jolt of anticipation coursing through you. In that charged moment, her eyes flickered down to your lips, a silent invitation hanging between you.

Without hesitation, she gripped your jaw with a firm yet gentle touch, pulling you into a kiss that ignited a blazing inferno of desire within you. Her lips were soft against yours, her kiss possessive and electrifying. As the heat between you intensified, her hands began to caress your sides, trailing down to your hips with an intoxicating urgency.

Breaking the kiss, she pressed feather-light kisses down your jawline, her lips trailing a path of fire along your skin. Your breath hitched as she pushed you against the nearby desk, the cool surface contrasting with the searing heat of your desire.

Lost in the heat of the moment, you surrendered to the intoxicating whirlwind of sensation, Wonyoung's touch igniting a passionate inferno that consumed you both in its fervor.

At the height of passion, Wonyoung suddenly pulled away, her movements swift and purposeful. With a seductive grace, she lowered her skirt, revealing the hard cock, which slapped against her stomach. The sight left you breathless, your senses overwhelmed by desire.

As you watched, captivated by the tantalizing display before you, Wonyoung seized control, pulling you down to your knees with a commanding grip. Your heart raced with anticipation as she looked down at you, her eyes dark with desire.

"Suck," she commanded, her voice husky and commanding, sending a shiver of excitement down your spine. With a hunger that bordered on desperation, you eagerly complied, unable to resist the irresistible pull of Wonyoung's dominance.

As you obediently took Wonyoung's cock into your mouth, a wave of primal desire surged through you. The taste of her on your tongue, the feeling of her hardness against your lips, sent a thrill coursing through your veins. With each eager movement, you elicited soft moans and whimpers from Wonyoung, her pleasure echoing in the air, driving you to new heights of arousal.

Her moans were like music to your ears, spurring you on as you lavished attention on her, relishing every gasp and whimper that escaped her lips.”Thats it baby.” Lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your actions, you surrendered yourself completely to the heady sensation of pleasuring Wonyoung, each moan she uttered pushing you closer to the edge of ecstasy.

As Wonyoung's moans grew more urgent, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you. With each flick of your tongue and gentle suction, you sought to drive her pleasure to new heights. Her hands tangled in your hair, urging you closer, her breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Unable to resist the overwhelming urge to taste her fully, you took her deeper into your mouth, eliciting a guttural groan of satisfaction from Wonyoung. Her hips bucked against you, the rhythm of her movements matching the frantic beat of your heart.

With a swift movement, Wonyoung pulled you off her, drawing you close against her as desire blazed in her eyes. Before you could react, she guided you over to the desk, her touch firm yet gentle as she positioned you just the way she desired. Your heart pounded with anticipation as she pulled your skirt and underwear down, baring you to her hungry gaze.

Pressing her body against yours, she trailed kisses along your neck, sending shivers down your spine. With a low growl of need, she rubbed her hard cock against your ass, the friction igniting a fierce hunger within you both. The air crackled with electricity as you surrendered to the intoxicating heat of the moment, the boundaries between you blurring in a haze of raw desire.

With a husky whisper against your ear, Wonyoung's voice dripped with desire as she spoke, "I'll make sure you forget about Eli after this, and only I'm on your mind." Her words sent a jolt of arousal coursing through you, the promise of forbidden pleasure igniting a fire within.

As she continued to tease and torment you with her words, her hands roamed your body with a possessive fervor, stoking the flames of passion to new heights.

Wonyoung wasted no time in fulfilling her promise. Gripping your hips with a firm yet commanding hold, she positioned herself behind you, her hardened length pressing against your entrance with undeniable urgency.

With a guttural groan, she thrust into you with unbridled force, filling you completely with her throbbing cock. The sensation was overwhelming, a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you as Wonyoung plunged into you again and again, each thrust sending shockwaves of ecstasy coursing through your body.

Lost in the frenzy of passion, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung's relentless rhythm, the sound of your combined moans filling the air as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, you felt yourself pushed to the brink of oblivion, the intensity of your connection transcending all boundaries as you were consumed by the raw, primal heat of desire.

As Wonyoung relentlessly pounded into you, her voice filled with primal desire as she unleashed a torrent of dirty talk. "You like that, don't you?" she growled, her words dripping with lust. "You're mine now, Y/n. Mine to fuck however I want."

Her hands tightened on your hips, her grip possessive as she drove into you with unrelenting force. "I bet you've never been fucked like this before," she taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "But you're going to remember me every time you close your eyes."

With each punishing thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of ecstasy, her words fueling the flames of desire that consumed you both. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the raw, unbridled passion that bound you together in a frenzy of pleasure and abandon.

Her words became a symphony of domination and desire. "You're mine to spoil, mine to fuck whenever and wherever," she groaned, her voice thick with lust. "You belong to me, Y/n, and I'm going to claim every inch of you."

With each powerful thrust, she drove the point home, her grip on your hips tightening as she took you with an intensity that bordered on primal. "No one else can satisfy you like I can," she declared, her voice a husky whisper against your skin. "You're mine, Y/n, and I'm going to make you scream my name."

Lost in the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure and dominance, you surrendered yourself completely to Wonyoung, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony as you were consumed by the fiery passion that bound you together. In that moment, there was no doubt—you belonged to her, completely and utterly, and she intended to make sure you knew it.

As the intensity of your connection reached its peak, the air was filled with a chorus of moans and gasps, mingling with the rhythmic sounds of flesh meeting flesh. With each impassioned cry that escaped your lips, you found yourself calling out Wonyoung's name in a fervent plea for more.

"God, Wonyoung," you moaned, the sound choked with desire as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own voice joined yours in a symphony of ecstasy, each moan and groan echoing the raw intensity of your shared passion. "Yes, Y/n," she groaned, her voice thick with need. "Scream my name, let me hear how much you want me."

With a swift yet commanding movement, Wonyoung flipped you onto your back, her eyes smoldering with unbridled desire as she hovered over you. The sudden change in position sent a thrill of anticipation coursing through you, your heart racing in anticipation of what was to come.

As she thrust into you with renewed vigor, each movement driving you deeper into the throes of ecstasy, you couldn't help but cry out her name in a symphony of pleasure and need. "Wonyoung!" you screamed, the sound echoing through the room as pleasure surged through every fiber of your being.

Her own moans mingled with yours, the air thick with the heady scent of desire as she claimed you as her own. With each powerful thrust, she pushed you closer to the edge of oblivion, her dominance igniting a fire within you that burned hotter with each passing moment.

As the sounds of slapping flesh echoed through the classroom, punctuated by gasps of breath and cries of pleasure, the intensity of the moment reached its peak. "F-Fuck, Wonyoung, I'm gonna cum!" you cried out, your voice trembling with ecstasy.

"Yes, that's it, baby," Wonyoung groaned, her thrusts never faltering as she drove you relentlessly towards the edge. "Cum all over my cock."

With a desperate cry, you felt yourself teetering on the brink of release, every nerve ending tingling with pleasure as Wonyoung's skilled touch pushed you closer to the edge. Her fingers found your clit, rubbing and pushing you to the brink, until finally, you couldn't hold back any longer.

You came hard on her cock, your body convulsing with the force of your release as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. The vice-like grip you had on her cock only served to drive her further over the edge, and with a guttural groan, Wonyoung emptied herself inside you, painting your insides white with her release.

As Wonyoung collapsed on top of you, her body still trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you wrapped your arms around her, holding her close as you both gasped for air. The intimacy of the moment was palpable, the heat of your passion still lingering in the air as you lay together in the aftermath.

When Wonyoung lifted her head to look at you, her gaze was intense, filled with a possessiveness that sent a thrill coursing through you. "I don't want you to talk to Eli anymore. You're mine," she husked, her voice laced with determination.

Your stomach fluttered at her possessiveness, a mixture of excitement and apprehension swirling within you. But as you looked into Wonyoung's eyes, you knew that you wanted nothing more than to belong to her completely.

With a soft smile, you nodded in agreement, your heart feeling lighter at the thought of relinquishing your ties to Eli. "I'm yours, Wonyoung," you whispered, your voice filled with conviction. "Only yours."

In that moment, you knew that your connection with Wonyoung was something special, something worth holding onto with everything you had. And as you held her in your arms, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you, knowing that you had found your place by her side.

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