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osarina · 3 days ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: that sinking feeling that's been looming over you both has finally come to fruition. truths are revealed, questions are answered, but one big one remains: is love enough for you and dazai's relationship to survive this?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: happy fridayyyyy, i can't believe we only have one chapter left of civzai, it's actually makin me emotional </3 this chapter was quite a doozy to write, and i hope it's equally a doozy to read HAHAH no no jkjk , i hope you enjoy. also do u guys want to add an arcane au to the dazaiverse .. ive been thinking heavily about it. comments & reblogs appreciated

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

CHAPTER SPECIFIC WARNINGS: hardly edited. angsty chapter. explicit depiction of suicide (past recollection of dazai), implications of past self-harm (dazai), very toxic thought processes at certain parts (dazai), past (and a bit of current) suicide ideation (dazai), manic behavior (reader).

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

“I’ve been eager to meet you for quite a while. In all of the years I’ve known her, my little hime has never let something as trivial as a boy come between her and our work… I knew you must be special, but I never could’ve imagined just how special. I’m so pleasantly surprised.”

Dazai’s head throbs as he comes to his surroundings. He’s laying in an uncomfortable bed—a hospital bed, he thinks, he can smell the unfortunately familiar scent of antiseptic, but the walls aren’t the typical white he’s used to. He winces as he sits up, unable to recall where he is or what happened to him. Everything is too fuzzy, he remembers being with Fitzgerald, the car ride to the tea house, and-

And he remembers you.

He remembers you.

He lets out a shaky breath as he recalls the way you’d pulled him into your arms, cradling him close as soon as you got him back from Fitzgerald. God, he only got to be with you for what felt like a second. It wasn’t enough time. It wasn’t nearly enough time. You sent him off, he remembers—you sent him with two of your subordinates, the weretiger and that freaky little girl, and then…

“Shhh… Don’t speak. I want to get this done and over with.”

The gun to his back, Atsushi and Kyouka’s cries of shock, the baton to his head.

“No can do, weretiger. On orders from the boss.”

His mind tracks back to the words that had been spoken as he was teetering on the edge of consciousness, mouth going dry and eyes widening as he becomes acutely aware of the other person in the room with him. His gaze flicks up to where a vaguely familiar man sits at a desk watching him—straight chin-length black hair, inquisitive purple eyes, a long black coat, Dazai isn’t sure where he recalls this man from but he knows that they’ve met before.

“Who…” Dazai asks, voice wavering as pain shoots through his head with every little movement. “Who are you? Have we… met before?”

His wrist hurts. His mother’s nails dig into his skin so deep that it draws blood, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. He’d just been sleeping—is he still sleeping? He isn’t sure. He’s stumbling over his own feet trying to keep up with her, he keeps asking her what’s going on but she doesn’t answer him.

They turn a hall and his mother stops so suddenly that he slams right into her, nearly tripping over onto the ground. He doesn’t even regain his footing before his mother is pulling him back the way he came, he looks over his shoulder trying to figure out what caused his mother to panic so badly and he looks at—a man?

Who is that?

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

“Shuji! Shuji, don’t look back! Keep moving!”

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

“I think you know the answer to that already.” Dazai is startled out of the memory—was that a memory?—by the man’s voice. He sounds amused, and from the way that his eyes are glittering, Dazai can tell he’s finding great entertainment out of this situation. It pisses Dazai off. “Don’t you?”

“Tane-chan, you know you won’t be able to hide him forever. You’re just making this harder on yourself.”

Dazai’s breath catches. He shifts backward on the bed to press his back against the wall. Everything is wrong—the air is too cold, his bandages are itching, his head hurts, and he doesn’t know what’s going on. Who is Shuji? Why is he thinking of his mother after all of these years? And what… what was he remembering?

Memories of his youth have always been sparse and fleeting—he can vaguely recall the faces of his siblings, the anxiety he felt around his grandfather, the loneliness—but something like this… The panic on his mothers face, the pain in his wrist, the way she was dragging him around, the fear in her voice when she screamed at Dazai—was he Shuji? But then why—to not look back, to keep moving. He would remember something like that. That would be… crazy to forget, right?

What is going on?

“You’re Mori,” Dazai breathes out, clearing his throat. He hopes he doesn’t look as disconcerted as he feels, but he thinks he must. “You’re…”

The leader of the Port Mafia.

The closest thing you have to a father.

So, how does Dazai remember him from years ago? It doesn’t make sense. He couldn’t have been older than thirteen, maybe fourteen in that memory. What did he forget? When did he meet him? What’s going on? Dazai wants to scream, his mind is still slow from just waking up—he doesn’t even know how long he was unconscious, it couldn’t have been that long.

Mori’s smile widens as if Dazai just walked right into whatever trap that had been laid out for him, violet eyes flashing with a type of cruel amusement that makes Dazai sick to his stomach. Dazai has to circle back to remember what he just said, he needs to snap out of the daze he’s in. He needs to think. He made a mistake—Dazai made a mistake. He shouldn’t have admitted that he knew Mori. That was a mistake.

How does he fix it?

Can he fix it?

“You do know,” Mori says, like he didn’t actually expect Dazai to admit that he knew him. Like he’s pleasantly surprised. Again. Like Dazai just made things much easier for him. Shit. “Interesting.”

He’s going to use it against Dazai. Dazai knows it. He’s going to use it against him to hurt you. He remembers everything he’s learned about your relationship with Mori—how he pit you against that other girl, Yosano, to get results from you. And he already said it. He already said that Dazai is getting between you and your work, he’ll do the same thing here. He’ll pit you against him.

He’s going to tell you that Dazai knew who Mori was, and that Dazai is someone that he’s not—who is Shuji? Why doesn’t he remember his own name? Is that really his name? How does Mori know all of this? Who is Dazai?—and Dazai needs to be able to say something. He needs to be able to explain. How does he explain this when he doesn’t even know what’s going on? Dazai needs to remember; he needs to remember now, he needed to remember yesterday, because if he’s not the one to tell you this… If he can’t explain this…

This cannot be happening—it can’t. Right when he thought everything would be okay, when he would be with you. His throat starts to clog as anxiety clouds his head and weighs on his chest, a panic attack that he can’t afford right now. He needs to think, he needs to figure out what’s going on—Mori knows something about Dazai that he doesn’t know himself, and he’s going to use it against him to drive a wedge between the two of you. He’s going to tell you, and-

Dazai’s world feels woozy. Why can’t he remember? How does he know Mori? What was happening that night with his mother? He needs to snap out of this, needs to think, but he can’t even breathe. Fear—the mind killer.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Dazai rasps, his voice is hoarse, and he feels sick, and he hates admitting that he doesn’t know what’s happening, but he needs Mori to believe it so that he doesn’t tell you something that’s not true. “I don’t know how I know you. I don’t-”

“You might believe that,” Mori says amused, “but will she?”

Dazai stares at Mori, his stomach churns violently and his vision swims as the answer becomes abundantly clear to him.

He doesn’t know.

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

You hid it in the inside of your blazer to get up to the conference room. No weapons are allowed up past the thirty-fifth floor unless you’re one of the Boss’s hand-picked personal guards—even executives are forced to disarm themselves before going up, but security is much more lax for the upper echelon. Because you’re you—the hime, second-in-command, the Boss’s daughter—the guards outside of the elevator that goes directly to the top floor wave you past the metal detectors to go on up.

A mistake.

(Who is Tsushima Shuji? It can’t be Dazai. You know Dazai. Mori must be wrong.)

The smile on your face is bland and doesn’t meet your eyes as you walk down the hall to the conference room attached to Mori’s office. You greet the guards, and they don’t notice how off your demeanor is, too starstruck over the fact that they’re being acknowledged for once. They also don’t notice the way your hand is curled around the grip of your gun in your blazer.

A mistake.

(Mori is never wrong. Do you really know Dazai?)

When you reach the end of the hallway, you toss them one last brilliant smile. This one is a bit more genuine because you’ve realized that you’ve gotten through the top notch security of the upper levels of the Port Mafia headquarters without a hitch. That you’re one step closer to finishing this. They’re so blinded by the beauty of your smile that they don’t realize your teeth have sharpened into knives and the floral perfume you wear masks a putrid bloodlust.

A mistake.

(It’s always been odd, hasn’t it? The way he approached you. The way he was so insistent on pushing himself into your life. You always questioned it. There was a sinking feeling that something wasn’t as it seemed. Why didn’t you question it more?)

You keep your back turned as you slip into the room. You can feel four presences behind you—Kouyou, Piano Man, Chuuya, Ace. No Mori. No Dazai. That’s fine—you have something to take care of before they show up anyway. The conference room is soundproof; Mori designed it that way because he didn’t want the guards outside to overhear any discussion of sensitive topics. Even if he handpicked them for their loyalty, he understands that money can make the most devout man’s faith waver. Still, it’s not them rushing in that you’re worried about—it’s the people in the room with you rushing out, so you very carefully twist the nub of the lock and then reach up to fix the deadbolt. It won’t stop them, but it will slow them. You can feel their eyes on you as you make sure the door is locked, but none of them call you out for it or try to stop you.

A mistake.

(Mori always told you that the Tsushimas were like cockroaches. If they all weren’t killed, one would eventually return to reclaim their grandfather’s empire. There’d be a power struggle between the factions loyal to the new regime and the ones that still hid in the shadows believing that the Tsushima blood belonged at the head of the organization. Everything the two of you had built would crumble to ashes.)

You turn to make your way over to the conference table where the four of them are sitting. You haven’t decided how you want to go about this yet. You don’t know who all was aware of what Mori did, and because of that, you don’t know who needs to die. Treachery has always faced a death penalty—you don’t care if Mori ordered it, you don’t care that the Boss’s word is absolute, you have bled and breathed for the Port Mafia. You’ve sacrificed everything you’ve ever owned and wanted for the Port Mafia. You have made the Port Mafia into what it is today with your efforts abroad and at home—foreign governments, foreign criminal organizations, the Japanese government and other domestic mafias, all of them are just puppets that you pull the strings of to ensure the Port Mafia stays on top. Treachery against you will face the same penalty one would receive if they betrayed the Port Mafia, because you are the Port Mafia—Mori has made sure of that.

Chuuya and Piano Man share a look with one another as you approach the table. Neither of them say anything—is it confusion? Is it guilt? Did they know? Were you the only one unaware of the schemes going on around you? Were you the only one loyal? The only one you could trust?

Did they know?

(No one could ever love you without your ability at work influencing them. You’ve known that since the very beginning, but you were so quick to forget that when you discovered Dazai’s ability. You should have had more questions, you should have been more suspicious. Mori had been right from the very beginning. You were emotionally compromised. You were weak.)

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake.

“It was nice meeting your-”

Ace’s head hits the conference table with a hard thunk, his eyes wide and glassy, his mouth open around the words you didn’t let him finish speaking. Blood seeps from the bullet hole in his temple and pools around his head and the ground beneath his chair, staining the glass table and the white floors.

Instead of lowering your arm, you shift it so that the gun is pressed against Piano Man’s temple next. Chuuya says your name—it’s awful, something caught between a gasp of shock and confusion, he’s never said your name like that before. Like he doesn’t know what you’re doing. Like he doesn’t understand you. Like you’re something unfamiliar. Unrecognizable. You ignore him anyway, and the pangs that come along with it, and instead, you keep your gaze trained on Piano Man’s face.

He’s not as panicked as Chuuya, but you can tell that he’s just as caught off guard from the way his lips are twisted. He watches you carefully, waiting for you to say whatever you’re going to say—if you were going to pull the trigger, you would’ve done so immediately, he knows that. He’s always been good at reading you, better than even Chuuya sometimes.

“Did you know?”

Your voice is steadier than you expect it to be. Cold almost. Distant. You don’t recognize it yourself, you suppose it’s no wonder that Chuuya’s staring at you with such a foreign expression. You watch him just as carefully as he does you. He has a tell when he lies: he squints. Not an obvious squint, just the barest hint of his eyes squeezing shut like he’s calculating exactly what he wants to say, in what tone and with what fluctuation he wants to say it.

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

“No.”

He stares at you steadily as he says it. There’s no squint—he’s telling the truth. You don’t let out a breath of relief, but you certainly feel the weight off of your shoulders. You lower the gun, satisfied with his response, and then you walk over to where Chuuya is sitting.

You don’t raise the gun to his temple immediately. He looks up at you, you look down at him, a whole conversation is had in the silence between you, and eventually he lowers his lashes in resignation, telling you to do what needs to be done for you to feel more at ease.

He’s always put others before himself.

You lift the gun at the same time he lifts his gaze to meet yours. He could activate the Tainted Sorrow and end this before it starts, but he doesn’t—you know in your gut that if you pulled the trigger right now, he would accept the fate you delivered. Probably would take it as a better one than he deserved—it being at your hands rather than Arahabaki.

“Did you know?” you ask. The words taste bitter, rancid—they don’t belong there, Chuuya would never betray you, but you had to hear it from him.

Chuuya doesn’t have many tells when he lies—he’s a good actor, much better than people give him credit for. If he wanted to lie to you, he might be able to get away with it. But he won’t lie to you, not when he’s looking you in the eye.

“No,” he says, voice soft and raspy like he can’t believe he has to say it.

You let the gun drop to your side. It weighs heavier now—heavier than it did in the elevator, heavier than it did in the hallway leading to the room, heavier than it did when it was pressed against Piano Man’s head. You can hardly bear to keep holding it, but you’re not done yet.

Slowly, your gaze turns to Kouyou. Her expression is cold and unreadable, gaze pinned on you in the same way a lion stalks its prey through the tall grass… No, that’s not right. She stares at you with the same look in her eyes that a snake does when it’s curled in a corner, rattle shaking and hissing to try to scare off the predator that has it trapped.

“You knew,” you breathe out softly in disbelief. Your voice hardens and tightens as you repeat, “You knew!”

Before you can raise your gun—before you can pull the trigger four, five, six times, before you can riddle her body with holes because how dare she know, how dare she know and not tell you after what the previous boss did to her—the door that separates the conference room from Mori’s office opens, and your attention is drawn to the one person who caused all of this.

“Oh my,” Mori says airly, looking between you, Ace’s body, and Kouyou with an expression that is frustratingly amused. “I see you’ve been busy.”

You don’t even know what to say to that. You almost want to laugh. You think you do laugh, actually—someone does, and you think it’s you, because you feel yourself walking away, you lift your hands to your head to tug at your ears in frustration. Your vision is blurry—are you crying?

“You betrayed me,” you finally say, voice quieter than you intend, so you raise it as you repeat yourself. “You betrayed me. You. Of all people I never thought you would be the one to-”

You can’t even finish the sentence, your voice cracks over the words. It makes you feel sick, it makes you angry, it makes you want to crawl out of your skin, because how could he? To you? You don’t know why you’re so angry, why you’re so betrayed. Mori has always made it clear that his priority is the Port Mafia, but still, to do this to you. To do this to his-

To his what?

You’re not his daughter. You hate when people imply that you are, you hate being called hime, you hate being called ‘Miss Mori’, you hate when people give you respect because of your perceived relationship to him.

He’s the only father you’ve ever known. Almost every decision you’ve made has been with the motive of making him proud of you. When he seeks out your opinion specifically during meetings, your chest becomes warm with pride.

You don’t love him. How could you? Look at what you’ve become because of him.

Then why do you feel so betrayed? Why did you think he would be the last person to do something like this to you when you know the type of person he is? Why does your chest feel like it’s caving in? Like your heart’s been ripped right out of it? Why does this hurt as much—why does this hurt more than Dazai’s potential betrayal?

And he certainly doesn’t love you. He never would have done this if he did.

He’s killed people for disrespecting you—he hardly ever gets his own hands dirty, but he does when it’s you and your dignity on the line. He spends hours meticulously picking out birthday presents that he knows you’ll like. He gets sad when he invites you for lunch and you don’t join him, reminiscing about the days where you clung to the back of his coat.

He touches your shoulder, and your finger twitches on the trigger of the gun. You want to lift it, press it to his temple and pull the trigger just like you did to Ace, but you can’t. Your arm feels like lead, and when his hand slides down to your bicep to force you to turn around and face him so that your back is to the rest of the executives, you dutifully follow along.

His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you, violet eyes swimming with an emotion you’ve never seen in them before. He lifts his hand to wipe away one of the tears that had spilled over your cheeks with his knuckle, and then taps your cheek twice, chiding you silently.

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

“You have always been so dramatic,” Mori hums just loud enough for you to hear, but the words are fond, and the corners of his lip curl up as he looks down at you. “I would not betray you. Not ever, dear.”

You look at Ace pointedly in response and then back to Mori, the man sighs dramatically and gives you a disappointed look. The nerve, you think bitterly, narrowing your eyes on him as you wait for his explanation.

“I told you,” Mori says. “I did this to protect you. I wanted to get ahold of the boy-”

“Because you have some mistaken belief that he’s a Tsushima,” you interrupt coolly. “How did you even manage to come up with that ridiculous theory?”

Mori’s eyes flicker with something akin to interest, but shifts quickly into pity—you can’t tell if it’s genuine or mocking, and you don’t know which would be worse. He must be mistaken, he has to be. You don’t think you can handle the implications of if he isn’t, of what it might mean for you. For Dazai. Your whole relationship with him. How much was manufactured for him to get information about the Port Mafia? So he could get a foothold in the organization? Get in contact with the remaining loyalists to his family?

“Sit,” he tells you, guiding you over to the seat at the right of the head of the table. “I’ll explain everything, but first… Shuji-kun, why don’t you come out and join us?”

Your breath catches at Mori’s words, gaze twisting to the side over to the door that he’d come out of. You watch as the door creaks open, and the achingly familiar sight of his face finally comes into view. You’ve missed him—you’ve missed him, and you hate this. You should be back at your apartment with him, you should have him curled up in your arms, you should be listening to him complain about how long he was stuck with the Guild.

This shouldn’t be happening. You shouldn’t be sitting at the executive roundtable with Ace’s dead body a few feet away, and Dazai entering the room, questions of his identity, of whether or not he’s been using you for information and opportunity to take back his grandfather’s legacy.

You hoped that Dazai would enter the room angry, irritated by the kidnapping and the accusations, but you don’t think you’ve ever seen Dazai look like this before. He looks a mess, fidgeting, brown hair matted to his forehead, dark eyes wide and swirling with emotion. When he seeks you out, they’re pleading, imploring, like he already knows that whatever is about to be said is going to be bad for him.

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused.

He looks guilty, and you know that Mori is telling the truth.

How much of this was a lie? All of it?

Your throat feels uncomfortably tight, gaze sliding from Dazai back to Mori.

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

Despite his body being wracked with a strange sense of guilt, Dazai pushes open the door to enter the room where he assumes you’ll be waiting. You’re not the only one there sitting at the table—there’s five… no, four others—but Dazai can’t help the way he immediately seeks you out. He recognizes his mistake instantly. That highly unwelcome, and highly misplaced, guilt amplifies the moment his gaze meets yours and he sees how crushed you are by all of this. His face twists into something that he knows condemns himself more. and from the way you instantly look away from him, directing your full attention to Mori, he knows he has.

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

Dazai sits stiffly across from you to the left of Mori. Nakahara Chuuya is on his opposite side, glaring holes into the side of Dazai’s head, but he can’t drag his gaze from you. He’s never seen you like this before—even back at the beach house when you’d been so close to breaking down under the weight of everything on your shoulders, you’d held yourself together as best you could.

You’re unraveling now; he can tell you’re still trying to hold yourself together, but it’s as good as trying to pick up water with your fists, your emotions spill out through the cracks carved into the walls you used to hide yourself behind. Mori hasn’t even begun talking, yet your breath is unsteady and your eyes are swimming with emotion; your fingers are still wrapped tight around the grip of your gun, and Dazai is very acutely aware of Ace’s dead body slouched over the table not even a few feet away.

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

Maybe it’s a good thing, he realizes, because Dazai isn’t sure what you might see if you do. You clearly didn’t like what you saw the first time. He just feels so guilty, and he doesn’t even know why he feels guilty because he’s not-he didn’t do any of what Mori implied. He didn’t use you, he didn’t know who you were before meeting you, it wasn’t all some scheme to try to take over the mafia. That’s ludicrous—he’s a literature student at YNU, not some gang lord. He just-

He loved you. Loves you. No ulterior motives. No strings attached.

“I said tell me,” you snap when Mori doesn’t immediately begin talking. “You love talking, so why are you holding back now? Tell me, or I’m leaving.”

Dazai feels a bit sick to his stomach when you say ‘I’ with no implication of taking him with you. He tries to get you to look at him again, silently pleading with you to just spare one glance in his direction, but you’re irritated now. He can see it in the way your fingers flex around the gun, knuckles whitening and finger twitching on the trigger—it’s pointed at the woman sitting next to you, who is very acutely aware of the fact from how stiff she is.

“Do you remember the night we took over the Port Mafia, dear?” Mori asks her, voice a low hum.

“What kind of question is that?” you answer tightly. Your lip curls up in irritation, Dazai can see you become more and more antsy and angry—he’s never seen you so out of control before. “Of course, I do.”

“And you, Shuji-kun?” Mori turns his attention to Dazai and he wants to spit in his face—his name is Dazai—but his voice fails him when he sees the way your face twists at the sound of the unfamiliar name. He stares at Mori instead, hating how amused the man becomes at his silence. “I’ll take that as a no, allow me to refresh you.”

“Eight years ago, a coup was staged against your grandfather’s regime,” Mori says, and Dazai feels like he’s being studied under a microscope. All eyes are on him now—even yours, but now, he can’t bring himself to look at you. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, and he’s scared it’s going to be something he doesn’t like. “Your grandfather was mad, killing civilians and mafiosos indiscriminately, something had to be done, and nobody was willing to do it, so we did.”

“We had to wipe out the whole family, and any loyalists. I was fourteen when I killed someone for the first time. She was a girl my age—the previous boss’s grandaughter…”

Dazai’s gaze drags over to you. You’re staring ahead now, gaze listless and expression eerily blank like you’re slowly starting to realize what this means. Dazai hasn’t come to terms with it yet, because if even a little of what Mori is saying is true then…

“We wiped out the whole bloodline and as many loyalists as we could,” Mori continues, “or we thought we did, at least. My dear hime was who I sent to kill the heirs, I trusted in her to make it quick and painless. We didn’t realize one of the grandchildren were missing until it was too late—he wasn’t in his bedroom, apparently liked to wander around at night because he couldn’t sleep. His mother was able to swoop in and get him out of the estate before our men took over the building… Tsushima Shuji, the youngest of the previous boss’s grandsons. Does this sound familiar yet, Shuji-kun?”

He has the best view of the night sky from an alcove on the fourth floor of the estate—his grandfather’s floor. It’s where he likes to go when he can’t sleep at night, and ever since his cousins and siblings started fighting over their grandfather’s legacy, that’s been just about every night: half because of fear now that things have started escalating to violence, half because he’s not even sure why he’s still here.

His knees are tucked tight to his chest, arms wrapped around them and head resting against the cool glass as he looks up at the stars. He hears a commotion happening somewhere downstairs, but there’s always a commotion happening at the estate, so he thinks nothing of it. He submerges himself in the darkness instead, letting his mind float away as he stares up at the sky—it’s the only time he’s able to relax, escape from the shadows of his own mind.

He’s not sure how long he sits there admiring the night, time passes immeasurably when he’s lost in the stars—he’s only snapped out of it when he hears feet slamming against the ground in his direction. He stiffens, eyes wide, wondering if another one of his cousins has finally turned to bloodshed as the way to inherit their grandfather’s legacy, but instead his mother turns the corner, her smooth face contorted in a type of panic he’s never seen on her before.

“Mothe…” he starts to say, confused, but he doesn’t even get a chance to finish the word, gasping as his mother grabs his wrist and yanks him off the cushioned seat in the alcove.

“Shuji, we have to go,” she gasps, “we need to get out of here. It’s not safe.”

He stumbles after his mother, struggling to keep up with her quick pace and longer legs. Her grip was painful, nails digging into the bandages around his wrists, right into the fresh wounds they covered. He grimaces in pain, breathing heavy as he follows his mother down the hall, assumingly toward the steps near his grandfather’s room.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What about Bunji? Akane? T-”

His mother chokes over what sounds like a sob and his eyes widen—he’s never heard his mother cry before.

“There’s no time,” she chokes out, “we have to leave without them. We-”

They turn a hall, she skids to a stop and-

“It seems that it does… Allow me to continue then,” Mori hums, drawing Dazai out of the memory. He sounds unbearably amused, and Dazai would be angry if he wasn’t so shaken. He pulls his hands off of the table to rest them in his lap to hide the way his fingers are trembling. “Your mother was able to hide you from us for half a year, I warned her that she wouldn’t be able to for long and since she didn’t share your grandfather’s blood, promised to spare her life if she gave you up to us, but she refused. She tried to take you out of the Kanagawa Prefecture, but our men were catching up to her, and she took… drastic measures to ensure we couldn’t track you down. That I’m sure you remember.”

“Mother,” he whispered, staring up at the rope, her limp body, gaze trailing down to the kicked over chair. “Mother, I don’t… why did you…”

He takes a step closer. A step back. Another step closer. He reaches out, fingers brushing the white nightgown she’d worn the night before while getting him settled in bed, but he snatches them back instantly like he’d been burned, clutching his hand to his chest.

He’s not breathing, he realizes when his lungs start to burn. His eyes sting painfully, unable to draw his eyes away—unable to even blink—is it a nightmare? Is he hallucinating? She sways—sways like when she used to distract him when he was settling into a depressive episode by putting on music and forcing him to spin with her in the kitchen, sways like the wind chimes she keeps outside because the house doesn’t feel homely enough without him, sways-

“Shuji! Shuji, get away from there!” The voice that calls to him is familiar—Aunt Kiye? Why is she here? “God, I tried to get here earlier. Nee-san, forgive me.”

Aunt Kiye grabs his wrist, yanking him away from his mother, dragging him out of her bedroom and down the hall. His voice is hoarse as he screams, he doesn’t know what he’s screaming, if he’s even screaming anything intelligible. He doesn’t stop until he’s out of the house and she’s kneeling in front of him, shaking him out of his panic.

“Enough, Shuji! We have to go, we can’t stay here, they’ll be here soon,” Aunt Kiye shouts at him, expression twisted and eyes pooling with tears that she doesn’t let spill over. “We need to go, and we-we need to change your name, change everything. I promised I would hide you, I-”

“We can’t leave her there,” he argues, voice shrill. “I don’t understand, why did she do that? What did I do? It was my fault, It was my fault, wasn’t it? It-”

Aunt Kiye doesn’t answer his question. She looks bitter, angry, hateful. “We have no time. We have to leave,” she whispers, dragging him to the car despite his protests. She continues talking, more to herself than to him, but the words make his chest cave in. “I told her not to get involved with that family. Their blood is black, cursed. Everyone knows nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

His fault, he realizes, breath becoming thin and shallow. It’s his fault, his blood, his fault that his mother-

“Yes, quite the unfortunate scene we walked into,” Mori says dismissively. “She was smart for it though, she never would’ve survived a night with our sweet hime interrogating her. You should see what she did to that despicable journalist. Of course, she wasn’t as fine-tuned with her ability back then, but that would’ve been at your mother’s expense—her first few attempts at conditioning were quite… unfortunate for her test sub-”

“Enough,” you spit out, interrupting him. Dazai wants to believe that it’s because you can see how uncomfortable he’s getting, but he’s not even sure that you care. He’s not even sure you remember he’s in the room. “Get to the point. You think he’s the Tsushima kid we missed—that doesn’t prove shit. It doesn’t mean-”

You don’t finish what you’re going to say, but you do look at him, and Dazai’s breath catches when his gaze finally meets yours again. He can’t tell what you’re thinking—the expression on your face is entirely indecipherable, something caught between being accusatory and guilty. Dazai doesn’t know if he’s going to make it out of this room alive. Even if by some miracle, you decide to believe him, there’s a good chance that Mori will order his death anyway, and he’s not sure if you’ll pick him over the Port Mafia.

That being said, Dazai doesn’t even know if he wants to make it out of here alive. His brain is fogged with memories that he locked so deep within him that they never should’ve resurfaced—every time Mori speaks, Dazai’s recalling something new, something awful, something that proves that he’s every bit the freak people have always claimed him to be. Every bit as bad. Every bit as wrong. Not like other people. A monster whose mother killed herself because of him, a monster who's been cursed since the day he was born.

“... blood is black, cursed… nothing good comes from associating with those people.”

More than that, he doesn’t see how the two of you are going to be able to come back from this, and that scares him more than anything. You’re the only good thing left in his life, and he doesn’t think he’ll make it without you, but he doesn’t think that after all of this things are just going to work out. You killed his siblings. His cousins. And yeah, Dazai was never close to them—they thought he was too quiet, too strange, all of the things that the other students at school whispered, his family was the first to—but… they were still his family, and if Dazai had been in his room that night, he would’ve been just as dead at your hands as the rest of them.

You killed his family. You would have killed him. The Port Mafia is the reason his mother killed herself, the reason why he walked into her bedroom and saw her hanging from a fan. The Port Mafia is the reason his aunt hated him so much that she couldn’t even bear looking at him, the reason why he was left to die in Suribachi City.

Would you ever be able to get over the guilt of that? Would Dazai be able to accept it? You had a heavy hand in ruining his life, is it enough that you saved him years later? He doesn’t know, he’s hardly even processed it, he just knows that he has to cling to what little he has left, dig his nails in and not let go even if it makes you choke on guilt, even if it makes him sick with shame. He won’t let go.

“So impatient,” Mori sighs. “Your aunt hid you for almost another half a year, but she wasn’t able to move out of the Yokohama area. She did well though, I’ll give her that. We had our best trying to find you, but she was very careful. It was partially our own fault that we didn’t get our hands on you back then—some loyalists to your grandfather snuck under our radar, told her when we were closing in on the two of you. She got rid of you before we got to her… but we did get to her. Kouyou-kun was the one who handled her, if I recall it got quite… messy. I can’t imagine how it must feel knowing that your mother and aunt sacrificed themselves to protect you only for you to throw it all away in an arrogant attempt to reclaim your grandfather’s legacy.”

Dazai doesn’t even zero in on the last bit of what Mori says because he’s too busy trying to wrap his head around the rest of it. Aunt Kiye didn’t… die for him. Aunt Kiye hated him. He remembers that clear enough—he remembers how she could hardly stand to look at him, he remembers the way she was always so cold and rough with him, he remembers-

“You have to go, Osamu.” Aunt Kiye is shouting at him, and he’s sitting in the passenger seat of her car. He doesn’t move, he thinks maybe if he sits still enough, she won’t see him there and won’t make him leave. “Osamu, get out of the car and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

The name is still unfamiliar—he’s not used to it, and he doesn’t know if he likes it, but Aunt Kiye insists that Tsushima Shuji is dead and that name can never be uttered again. She gets mad when he doesn’t immediately answer to it, tells him not to let his mother’s death be in vain, and that’s usually enough to get him to stop being stubborn over it.

“Osamu, go!” She grabs his bicep hard to try to get his attention, but he flinches and squirms out of her grip, still not responding to her. He can’t remember the last time he’s spoken—he thinks maybe since they left the cabin that morning. “You-”

Aunt Kiye sounds angry now, but he can’t bring himself to look at her. It’s only when he hears her unbuckle and feels her start reaching over him that he starts to panic. He reaches up to grab her bicep, trying to stop her from grabbing the handle of the door to open it, but she’s stronger than him. He’s hardly been eating lately, and he’s never been particularly strong—he was always the smallest among his siblings.

It takes no effort for her to bat his hands away, pushing open the door and unbuckling his seatbelt. He struggles against her as she tries to push him out of the car, and she’s still speaking—shouting at him, begging him, he thinks she might be crying too, but he can’t even tell. His mind is fogged with panic and fear—he doesn’t want to be alone in Suribachi City, he doesn’t want to be alone at all. He wants to stay with Aunt Kiye even if she hates him because he doesn’t want to be alone.

Eventually, Aunt Kiye wins the fight—even with him fighting tooth and nail, she manages to push him out of the car. He hits the ground hard, gasping when he lands poorly on his elbow. He’s stunned for a moment by the shock and pain, and Aunt Kiye takes the chance to toss out a backpack from the back seat and close the door behind him, locking it quickly.

“No!” His voice is raspy from lack of use over the past few months. He scrambles to his feet and tries to pry the door open but can’t. Aunt Kiye won’t even look at him, she stares ahead as she switches the car into gear and he slams his hands against the window. “Aunt Kiye! Aunt Kiye, don’t leave me here! Don’t leave me here, please, I’ll be better, I’ll do better, just don’t-”

He stumbles back as she pulls the car away, falling when he trips over the backpack onto the asphalt, scraping up his hands and forearms. He’s not sure how long he sits there staring after where the car disappeared waiting for her to come back for him.

She doesn’t.

She didn’t die for him, Dazai thinks again, nails digging crescents into his palm. She didn’t die for him, she couldn’t have. Dazai won’t believe it. Aunt Kiye hated him, she abandoned him in Suribachi—none of this can be true. It can’t. His mother killed herself to be free of him, not to protect him; and Aunt Kiye abandoned him because she hated him, not to save him.

That’s the truth. It has to be. They couldn’t have died for him—for him. It doesn’t make any sense. He doesn’t want to remember all of this—he was better off thinking that they hated him, that they wanted to be free of him.

He can feel you looking at him now, but Dazai is back to being unable to look at you. He’s staring down at the glass table looking at his reflection, his eyes are wide and dark and far too black—he looks warped, inhuman almost. His expression is blank, none of the turmoil within him is reflected on it, and he doesn’t even understand why. He thinks it’s probably just making him seem more guilty.

“We figured she left you somewhere in Suribachi City, but we weren’t able to track you down,” Mori says flippantly. Dazai wants him to stop talking, but he has a sick feeling things are only going to get worse from here. “Not until you ended up with Oda Sakunosuke, at least, we…”

Dazai’s ears ring at his old friend’s name. Mori is still talking, but his words become a distant buzz. Everything starts coming back to him at once—his time alone in Suribachi City, the weeks he spent rationing the little food he had, getting the shit kicked out of him by some low rung gang who stole his mother’s ring from him. He remembers giving up, questioning the point of his own existence with a detached logic that left him with only one answer—there was no point to his existence, so he was as good dead as he was alive.

He remembers seeing on a sign that it was the eve of his fifteenth birthday, and he remembers dropping himself in the bay during a storm, hoping that the tide dragged him so far beneath the surface that he’d never see the light of day again.

He remembers waking up the next morning to an unfamiliar face at his bedside, brows knit in disapproval and lips turned down, and he distinctly remembers feeling put out by a stranger looking at him that way.

“What’s your name, kid?”

Dazai couldn’t remember anything but the name Aunt Kiye had drilled into him over and over again the past few months.

“Dazai Osamu.”

“Hm. Oda Sakunosuke. You got a family, Dazai?

Odasaku brought him in.

Odasaku saved him.

The doctors said he’d been dead for almost three minutes when Odasaku found him washed up on the beach—said his memory might return over time, but it might not—but Dazai didn’t even care, because Odasaku brought him in. He gave him a roof over his head, food to eat, and a reason to live. He sent him to school so he could feel like a normal kid his age. He played board games with him and didn’t even care when Dazai was a sore loser and quit mid-game when he realized he wouldn’t win. He humored Dazai when he faked being sick because he didn’t want to go to school. When Dazai was going through bad depressive episodes, Odasaku would sit with him silently and write his book so Dazai never felt alone. Odasaku introduced him to Ango and they were-

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

They were all he had, and they were all he needed.

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

Dazai’s gaze drags up from the table to focus on Mori. The man’s lips are curved into a cruel smile, his eyes are sharp, and Dazai is moving before he can stop himself. He lunges across the table, but Mori doesn’t even flinch because Nakahara Chuuya grabs the back of his shirt and yanks him back down into his seat.

“You-” Dazai spits, voice raspy and angry.

“Don’t look at me like that, we were trying to get to you,” Mori says casually as if the words don’t shatter Dazai’s entire world. “We would’ve loved to have Oda Sakunosuke amongst our ranks. His death was unfortunate. Collateral damage. He was an assassin for a long time—one of the best in the world. He was pretty much unkillable, his ability allowed him to see six seconds into the future. I never understood how our sniper managed to get him that day, but now I do. He saw you getting shot with his foresight and tried to pull you out of the way, but your ability is nullification, so when he touched you to save you, he damned himself. In those split seconds when he was pulling you to safety, he couldn’t see the future, and couldn’t see the bullets aimed for you that lodged into his chest instead.”

Dazai can’t do this anymore. He tries to push himself up to his feet but his legs are numb and uncooperative, and he can’t move his hands or arms. Mori’s lips part to continue speaking but Dazai can’t do this, he can’t hear anymore of this. He’d always known in his heart that Odasaku’s death was his fault even if he couldn’t remember much about his mother and Aunt Kiye and their desperate attempts to hide him from the Port Mafia. He’d known, but hearing it-hearing the confirmation, it’s too much for him.

Before Mori can say anything, Dazai is startled from his spiraling thoughts when you stand up so abruptly that your chair goes flying back. Your expression is haunted and you’re not looking at him again, but Dazai is glad for it, because he thinks he’s about to throw up.

“I… I need a minute. I just need a minute,” you say shakily before fleeing the room into Mori’s office so quickly that you almost trip over the chair you knocked over.

The room is silent in your wake, and after a few impossibly long moments, Mori stands to follow you into the other room. The three Port Mafia executives left in the room don’t say anything for a moment, and Dazai is just trying to breathe. He’s trying to breathe and process what Mori just said, but he’s failing miserably at it.

It’s the woman, Kouyou, who speaks first.

“She’s going to kill me for knowing about this,” she says simply, sparing a glance down at the dead body on her opposite side. “I’ve never seen her like this before. Even when Chuuya-kun went missing for a few days, this…”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have conspired against her,” Piano Man sings, looking entirely unperturbed. “I mean honestly, after what the previous boss did to you, I would’ve thought you’d be more sympathetic. Silly me to think you aren’t a cold-hearted bitch.”

Dazai tries to pay attention to what they’re saying, he tries to ground himself with the conversation happening so he can forget the feeling of Odasaku’s blood all over his hands, staining his clothes, smeared on his face. He tries to replace Mori’s echoing words with what they’re saying but he can’t.

“We were trying to get to you.”

“It has nothing to do with sympathy,” Kouyou snaps, but she does look ashamed. “It’s a security threat, it’s bigger than love. This boy could spell the end of everything we’ve built.”

“She won’t kill you, Ane-san,” Chuuya finally speaks up, his knuckles are tight around the armrest of the chair he’s sitting in. “I’ll talk to her, I just-”

“When he touched you to save you, he damned himself.”

“Chuuya-kun, she almost killed you,” Kouyou says so dryly that the words almost don’t even register to Dazai, but when they do, they’re the only thing that effectively draws him from his spiraling thoughts. He looks at Chuuya sharply to see if what Kouyou said was true, and his eyes widen when he only grimaces and looks down. “You and Piano Man. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling the trigger on Ace. She’s unstable right now, there’s no talking to her.”

“But she didn’t,” Chuuya says tightly. “I’ll talk to her, but first…”

Chuuya looks at Dazai so suddenly that he almost wants to snap his head away and ignore him, but he can’t. The ginger studies Dazai so intensely that it makes him want to crawl out of his own skin.

“Did you know?” Chuuya asks, voice low. He’s angry, Dazai can tell from the way a dark red color starts to flicker around his hands, but he’s trying to keep it together. “Tell me. Did you know who she was and use her to get closer to the Mafia for revenge? I’ll spare her the pain of having to put a bullet through your fucking head and kill you myself right now. Did you know who she was and purposely-”

“No,” Dazai interrupts, voice hoarse. “No. I didn’t-I didn’t know.”

Chuuya stares at him for a few seconds, studying him like he doesn’t know if he actually believes him, but after what feels like an eternity, he finally shakes his head and looks away, rubbing his face with his hands.

“Fuck, this is such a mess,” Chuuya breathes out, voice strained. “Fuck. She-”

Chuuya doesn’t finish his sentence because the door to Mori’s office reopens and you step back into the room, Mori at your heels. Your eyes are red, but your expression is withdrawn now, void of the tumultuous emotions that had been raging across it just a few minutes before. You settle back in your seat. Your eyes flit over Dazai like he’s not even there before focusing on Mori.

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

“I’m not quite sure how you escaped us after that,” Mori continues where he left off, and Dazai is so sick of the man’s voice that he almost wants to rip his own ears off. “Probably Sakaguchi-san from the SDUP, I recall him and Oda-san being close… but that brings us to the present, doesn’t it? Four years later, you stumble into our lovely hime… Come, dear, let me tell you my running theory, and you tell me how accurate I am, yeah?”

Mori is looking at you now, eyes glittering as he waits for your response. Dazai has his own serious issues with the man, but he thinks it’s sick the way he’s enjoying your clear discomfort and increasing distress. Your jaw tightens a bit, but you nod, signaling for Mori to speak. Dazai’s nails dig into his pants as he waits for Mori to continue. Neither of you look at him, and Dazai’s lips part to speak so he can preemptively deny whatever Mori is about to accuse him of, but he can’t push a single word out.

“Your first meeting with him wasn’t by chance. A cafe, maybe… a bar?” Mori offers, watching your face carefully for a reason. You look away at the second option, and the man’s lips curve up. “A bar, then. One you frequent, I bet. The one in Hodogaya-ku, perhaps? Your first meeting, but not Shuji-kun’s first time seeing you. Ui Koutarou—his journalism professor at YNU—wrote his first article implicating the Mori Corporation’s connection with the Port Mafia in February of this year, around a month before rising fourth year students register for classes. Shuji-kun, naturally, has been following anything related to the Port Mafia closely, so when he sees a class being offered in the fall by the same man who has been openly targeting the Port Mafia, he sees an opportunity and signs up for the class.”

No, Dazai tries to say. His lips form the word, but the sound doesn’t come from his lips. No. No, no, no, no. You look haunted suddenly, and Dazai remembers the argument he had with you during the government event in Tokyo. How cold and withdrawn you’d become. How when he confronted you next, you accused him of working with Ui Koutarou and blackmailing you for money. Mori is reigniting all of the initial fears you once had.

“Ui-san has had his sights set on you for quite a while, dear. You don’t need me to tell you that, you’re very well aware of the man’s hatred of you… When Shuji-kun started classes in the fall, Ui-san roped him into his plans, and you became his project. That wretched man had many documents on you. I had the Black Lizards raid his apartment after we captured him—most were harmless, detailing places you frequented and people seen around you, but when Shuji-kun became involved, he started using that information to manufacture meetings between you. I imagine that after you met him that first time, he started appearing around you rather regularly. Bump-ins at that cafe you like in Minami-ku, on the streets—he even started renting an apartment on property that we own after he realized the opportunity he had with Ui… he’s only been living there since the summer, you know?”

His last apartment wasn’t close enough to the school, Dazai wants to argue desperately. He’d been lucky that a cheap apartment opened up in Hodogaya-ku before the semester started—he’s been trying to get one since his first year. It has nothing to do with-

Dazai suddenly feels nauseous again, everything is spinning around him—he still hears Aunt Kiye screaming at him, he still hears the creaking of the rope his mother hung himself on, he still hears Mori’s confirming that Odasaku’s death was his fault. And now this, and you’re not looking at him again, and he’s not saying anything, why isn’t he saying anything? Why isn’t he denying this?

“He attached himself to you quickly, didn’t he?” Mori asks rhetorically. “Too quickly, I’m sure you had doubts—not even your ability makes people reliant on you as swift as he became. How long did it take for him to start prying for information? Trying to make you slip up and implicate yourself with the Mafia? Confess yourself as an ability user?”

The night of the earthquake when you showed up at his apartment, he remembers dizzily. He started pressing you on your political opinion because he remembered Ui saying that all of the criminal syndicates in Japan are going to do whatever it takes to prevent the military bill from passing. But he wasn’t… doing it to prove anything? He just wanted to know more about you, he was curious, he was finally putting the mystery that you are together. It wasn’t malicious—he just wanted to know you. That’s all it ever was, he’s only ever wanted to know you.

“When did you tell him about your ability? More about our organization? Around when the Guild started making their move in Yokohama, I’m sure. He never told you about his ability until his hand was forced. In fact, I’m willing to bet he lied and said he didn’t know he had one, but tell me, do you really think an assassin of the caliber of Oda Sakunosuke would not realize his ward had an ability that negated his own? That he wouldn’t be trained in how to use it… Most importantly, if all of this wasn’t a scheme of revenge—if he really did love you—then why did he never get rid of the flash drive that contained the proof that his journalism house published? The proof that got you thrown in prison?”

You’re crying.

Dazai’s throat swells when he sees the tears silently tracking over your cheeks. At once, he realizes that he’s never seen you cry before; he itches to reach over to you, to grab your hand or wipe away the tears. He doesn’t—partially because he doesn’t think he could move if he tried, but mostly because he knows that he’s the reason you’re crying.

He wants to assure you that none of this is true. He had nothing to do with the Guild—they kidnapped him for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know about his ability, he didn’t even know Odasaku was an assassin. And he was just… careless with the flash drive, and he shouldn’t have been, but there was always so much going on, and he was so new to having someone in his life that really loved him that he was quick to bask in it and forget everything else.

He doesn’t assure you of anything, instead he watches as Mori reaches out to do what Dazai wants to do. He brushes away your tears and turns your face to look at him, a disgustingly sympathetic look on his face.

“I know you were eager to believe that someone could love you without your ability at work influencing them, dear,” Mori murmurs, “but people like us will never find a love that pure. There will always be other factors at work sullying it—wealth, revenge, threats. You understand now what this was, don’t you?”

No, Dazai wants to scream at you. He does love you, this wasn’t some ridiculous revenge plot for family he hardly remembered until this meeting, that-

“I do.”

Dazai finally is able to make a noise when those two words leave your lips. It’s weak—something caught between a wheeze and a whimper that sounds too loud in the silent room. He feels eyes on him—Chuuya and Kouyou’s in particular. Not yours. You stare down at the table.

“Ogai-dono,” Kouyou clears her throat. “If I may… perhaps we could… send the boy away. Abroad. Ensure he never comes back to Japan so we don’t have to risk him coming back and disrupting things.”

“We could give him a seat at the table,” Chuuya interrupts, ignoring the wide-eyed look both Kouyou and Piano Man give him because of the radical idea. “We’re down an executive anyway. We tell people who he is, that he supports the new regime. It’s what you wanted to begin with, right, boss? You wanted one of the grandchildren to legitimize the passing of power. We could make it work.”

“It’s too risky.” Mori isn’t the one to speak, Piano Man is, but he doesn’t look happy to do it. “Maybe back then it could’ve worked, but the Port Mafia killed his friends and family, and hunted him down. Too much has happened, he’s an unpredictable variable that we can’t risk. We can’t trust that he’ll just accept it all, that he won’t work behind the scenes to take us down. Giving him any leverage in the organization is the last thing we should do, but what Kouyou-”

“Leave him alive and we risk everything we’ve built falling apart—a civil war igniting, Yokohama being caught in the crossfires and all of our foreign enemies crawling into the city to reap the benefits of our fall. It’s one life or hundreds—thousands, even,” Mori interrupts, voice cool. He turns his gaze onto you. “I trust you know what has to be done, dear.”

Your expression is resolved, a heavy emotion in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even speak. “Yeah, I know.”

You stand up, and Dazai knows that it’s over. When you look down at him, it’s with a type of apathy that makes his stomach twist—he’d rather hate than nothing. His lips part to speak but he pauses when you shake your head slightly, so subtly that he almost doesn’t even notice it.

“Get up,” you say flatly, and then glance at Chuuya. “Chuuya, will you…?”

“Yeah,” Chuuya replies without you even needing to finish the question. His voice is hoarse, he looks more than a little disturbed. “Yeah. Of course.”

Chuuya rises to his feet and then grabs Dazai’s bicep to pull him up to his feet too. Dazai doesn’t even have the heart to give him a dirty look in response, following along as he leads him out of the conference room and into the hallway.

For a split second, Dazai really believes that maybe you’re just trying to fool Mori, you made him think you were taking Dazai to have him killed so that you can get him out of here safely, but even once you’re out of the conference room without Mori’s eyes carefully watching you, you don’t look at him.

“Get one of the clean up crews up here,” you tell one of the guards waiting in the hall instead as you frown at your phone, typing out a quick text to someone. You pointedly ignore how alarmed they are by the offhand comment to click on the button to the elevator.

When you look back at the two of them, it’s not to look at Dazai—it’s to look at Chuuya. The two of you are having a conversation, Dazai can tell that much, and he thinks that maybe he should be putting in the effort to figure out what’s going on, what you have planned, but he’s just… tired. He’s not even sure if he cares what happens to him anymore, and he figures the worst case scenario is that he dies at your hands, and of all of the ways he could go, he thinks that would be the most preferable, because at least you would be the last thing he saw.

He doesn’t try to speak again until the three of you are in the elevator and the doors have closed.

“I-”

“Stop.”

Dazai is startled by the sharpness in your voice. He looks at you, but you’re still not looking at him, your lips are curved down as you stare at your phone, typing furiously. He glances up into the left corner of the elevator, noticing the cameras—maybe that’s why, he thinks a bit unsurely, deciding to stay quiet until out of the building.

When the elevator doors open, it’s Chuuya that urges him to keep walking by nudging his shoulder. You don’t touch him, don’t look at him. There’s nobody in the main entrance of the building, which Dazai thinks is a bit odd, but he bites back any comments he might have when he sees a black car waiting outside the building.

The doors to the building open at your approach, and Dazai inhales the crisp, fresh air greedily, not even having realized how stifled he’d felt in that room with Mori, you, and the other Port Mafia executives. He thinks maybe that you’ll sit in the backseat with him and he’ll finally be able to talk to you, but you don’t. You open the door to the passenger seat and sit there without even sparing him a glance.

Dazai’s throat starts to swell again, stopping in his tracks as he stares at where you disappeared behind the car door. Chuuya pushes him forward, not letting him linger for long—he opens the door to the backseat and pretty much manhandles Dazai into the car before taking a seat next to him.

He recognizes the person at the wheel—Albatross, your friend. He’s driven you and Dazai around before, every time Dazai gets in the car with him, he makes a sharp comment aimed to embarrass you in some manner. This time, he doesn’t even look at Dazai through the rearview mirror. He just puts the car in gear and starts driving.

A pit starts to form in Dazai’s stomach. Dazai tries to initiate conversation with you again now that you’re outside of the Port Mafia headquarters within closed quarters, nails scraping against his pants as he decides what he wants to say.

“I d-”

“Stop.”

When you cut him off now, Dazai’s stomach flips. He stares at the side of your face, trying to understand why you won’t even listen to him. You can’t actually believe what Mori was saying, you can’t. You were faking him out, tricking him into thinking you fell for it—you had to be, you have to be. You can’t possibly believe him.

“You won’t… even hear me out?” Dazai asks you quietly.

“There’s nothing left to say.”

Oh, Dazai thinks to himself, withdrawing. He stares at you for a moment before turning away stiffly, expression tight and strained as he stares out the window, watching the buildings pass by as they get closer and closer to the ports.

You believe it, he realizes dully. You believe that it was all just a scheme. You believe that everything was manufactured, that he used you for some fantastical revenge plan, that he never loved you. You believe it.

But it doesn’t make sense, he thinks desperately. He doesn’t understand how you’re not seeing through it, and if you are, why aren’t you at least giving him some hint? He should try to say something again—he knows that, but he finds himself unable to. He’s a smooth-talker, quick on his feet, but never when it comes to you—since the day he met you, he’s been fumbling over words awkwardly, but now it’s costing him everything. He finds ash in his mouth preventing him from salvaging anything he might’ve had with you.

Dig your nails in and cling, he reminds himself, but his nails have become rounded out and blunted from how long he was scratching at his pants and skin while remembering all those memories he locked away. He tries to dig his nails in and cling, but his voice fails him and his nails can’t even find purchase on your skin, you slip out of his hands as easily as an eel.

He’s going to lose you. He might’ve lost you already.

Dazai thinks that’s worse than the realization that he really might be about to die.

The car comes to a stop much quicker than Dazai had hoped, and he stiffens when you waste no time before getting out of the car. He makes no move to join you outside, and Chuuya sighs next to him.

“Get out,” Chuuya says flatly. When Dazai doesn’t budge again, Chuuya snaps, “Get out of the car-”

“-and go, we don’t have time! They’ve found us.”

Dazai draws his knees to his chest, breath becoming a bit labored as his aunt’s voice echoes in his ears. He doesn’t even realize that Chuuya has gotten out of the car until Dazai’s car door is pried open. For a split second, he confuses the executive with his aunt as he’s yanked out of the car—he’s fourteen again and being abandoned by the only person he has left, and he can just barely bite back the “don’t leave me here!” that almost spills from his lips as his knees hit the ground hard.

Dazai is instantly hit with a thick scent that makes him gag. It’s noxious, almost entirely unbearable, clogs his throat to the point he almost struggles to breathe—a blend of rot, acrid chemicals, and something he doesn’t recognize, but it’s sickeningly sweet. As he pushes himself to his feet, he notices you pass your gun over to Chuuya, but in that moment, Dazai is more concerned with figuring out where he is, and when he does, his stomach drops.

The dumping grounds by ports stretch endlessly under the heavy, overcast sky. Mounds of trash rose like grotesque hills patched with scraps of torn plastic and suspicious lumps that Dazai doesn’t have to get close to know what they are. The ground is uneven and treacherous—a mix of sticky mud and sharp shards of discarded glass and plastic, and pools of murky water shimmering with oil slicks.

It’s disgusting, and Dazai has a feeling it might be his final resting place.

He trails over to the side of the road and his gaze tracks down to the ground directly below him. It’s not a far drop, hardly a foot or two, and certainly less gross than some of the other parts of the area, but that’s a low bar to meet. He tears his eyes away from the scenery around him to look back at you, lips parted to speak but he doesn’t say anything.

You’re leaning against the front of the car, watching him with an expression that Dazai can’t describe. Sad, maybe, resigned. Chuuya is back in the car, from what Dazai can tell, he's still fiddling with your gun—he wonders if this is his way of letting the two of you say goodbye in private.

“I do love you,” Dazai says. His voice cracks over the words. “No ulterior motives. No schemes. I just loved you. Love you.”

You don’t say anything for a moment, eyes drawing from him somewhere over to the side like you’re looking for something, but after a moment, you look back at him, your face a little softer than it was before.

“I know,” you tell him quietly. “I know, Osamu.”

Dazai’s lips part to say something back—he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, because confusion fogs his mind. If you know, then why-

Why are you doing this?

He doesn’t get the chance to ask. The car door opens and Chuuya steps back out, he passes your gun back to you and Dazai sees you subtly slide something into his hand too, but he can’t tell what it is. You sigh as you look down at the gun before looking back up at him again, he holds his breath as you make your way closer to him.

His lashes flutter shut, expecting to feel the cool barrel of the gun against his forehead, but his breath hitches when he instead feels the familiar warmth of your hand cradling his cheek. Your fingertips are flaked with Ace’s dried blood, but Dazai still leans into your touch, eyes sliding back open to look at you.

Up close, your expression is twisted with regret and… is that fear? Dazai can’t tell, he doesn’t care, he’s more preoccupied with memorizing the image of you before he runs out of time to.

“Forgive me,” you whisper so faintly that Dazai almost doesn’t hear you.

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

Your face crumbles as you look away. You take a step away from him, and your hand drops down from his face. Dazai instantly mourns the loss. You let out a heavy, shaky breath, sparing one last look down at the gun in your hand, one to Chuuya who stands half a step behind you, and then you look at Dazai again.

“Forgive me,” you say again, this time as you lift the gun—your voice is raspy, breath uneven.

Your fingers tremble so violently that the whole gun is unsteady, but Dazai doesn’t even care to look at it, gaze focused on your face instead.

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger.

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

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poppy-metal · 6 months ago

Note

MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."

#ask #poppy fic #i guess?#see its complex right because reader definitely isn't crazy art DID feel some kind of way abt tashi #and still does #but hes in love w us. he is.#its just different. like.#its complicated but its like. art cant allow himself to feel passion because he thinks its too much #and you WANT passion like patrick and tashi have. you want it mixed in with the comfort and stability w art.#but arts self worth is low so hes like. why fight passionately for anything if im not enough im not enough ig #and thats sm he needs to overcome #because its making you feel unwanted #also theres definitely some feelings for patrick and tashi on your side as well #tashi definitely misses you and wishes you would talk to her #so many more thoughts on this #anyway #art donaldson x reader #reader and art just need to FUCK real rawdog real sloppy #art donaldson #challengers x reader #art x reader #failmarriage au

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kithtaehyung · 4 months ago

Text

bet wrong (3tan717) | myg

drabble: bet wrong pairing: 3tan!yoongi x reader(f) series: masterlist | three tangerines | 3tan717 | one rating/genre: pg (18+) ; angst , fluff ; brother’s best friend au, implied age gap au summary: after seeing how comfortable yoongi is in his place with your brother and their friends, it’s hard for you to leave… but it’s also hard for you to stay. note: apologies for all the late postings! but kim yeji’s aura was so strong it made me write about her so here we are hahaha. it's not really edited cus i just wrote this up and posted so apologies for any mistakes! note 2: this is in a pocket universe in the three tangerines series, so if you haven’t read the series yet, these characters would make more sense if you did hehe. even though this is very heavily influenced by the olympics, i’m keeping it as easy to read as i can. you can imagine them watching any of the events happening lol warnings: 3tan yoongi as always, angst, olympics talk, yoongi fights back??, the Yearning is Strong, reader is a tease, shiv is back!, brother and jimin are dorks, but so is everyone else, yoongi on the phone, he's so down bad y'all i wanna cry :(( drop date: august 1st, 2024, 7:17pm est word count: 2.3k (just like the first drabble omg?)

—

“Hey, you made it!”

“Oh, shit, look who’s here!”

After a quick greeting to everyone in Yoongi’s living room, you slip off your shoes with a distracted, “I can’t stay long but, I’m here!”

Even though the handsome devil next to you shoots a look, it’s your brother that speaks up, “Wait, why?”

“I’m meeting my friends in a bit.” You hand a still-quiet Yoongi some snacks you brought for everyone, asking a question with a very obvious answer, “Where should I put these?”

He blinks before forcing out, “Over here.”

“K.”

Sounds of conversation and sports games spring about. Jimin’s clearly in some sort of squabble with your brother and Shiv is fanning the flames. There’s a couple guys you recognize but don’t really know talking on the opposite side of the coffee table, but they’re all watching the Olympics and giving their own comments.

Hopefully it’s noisy enough to shroud your dizzying thoughts. Because Yoongi looks damn good in his casual fit and his hair speaks volumes.

What you would give to run your fingers through those waves. Following him through his bustling apartment is already giving you the shivers, so what would a sudden touch feel like? A burst of fire?

“I’ll take those,” he instructs, taking the bags from you and pulling everything out with crinkles. When he sees a certain bag, his blinks make you giggle.

It’s a specific chip he likes, recently divulged during a long night of learning things about one another—like favorite foods, and how fast or slow he likes you riding.

So of course you threw it in your basket before heading over.

Commentators make conversation on the television as you shrug, “Don’t ask me, I dunno how those got in there.”

God, that smile always makes you melt. And he proceeds to turn you into mush as he shows gratitude under his breath,

“Thanks, doll.”

“Seriously, I think they just handed me those,” you joke, trying your best to not do any of the million and three things you want to. “Said I was cute or something.”

His laugh is immediate. But it’s shoved away by cheers and yells, and both of you pop out of the kitchen to see what happened on the tv.

Something big must have went down because even Yoongi reacts, scaring you with a delayed reaction,

“Holy shit, what happened? Sorry,” he immediately apologizes at your flinch, putting a daring but comforting hand on your lower back before making his way to the group.

Did he really just…

He is lucky your brother didn’t see from the other side of the couch.

That was the boldest Yoongi’s ever been and he’s quite literally kissed you in your kitchen.

“Yeji got silver.”

“What? Wait, run it back!”

“I thought she'd take it!"

Chill out. Relax, relax, relax. Everyone else is clearly entranced by whatever happened and no one is even looking at you. Relax.

But damn, that touch meant a lot more than an apology.

Seems like the one vocally surprised at the replay wants to do a million and three things, too.

On your emotional decrescendo, you scuttle back to grab a plastic cup. No use in trying to join them anyway. All you can do for now is get a drink in a kitchen you’re not supposed to know your way around.

Being in his place while your brother is too is quite the experience.

However.

This is absolutely the ideal situation you should be in. You would be the one showing up at Yoongi’s at the invitation of your brother, and it would be a small party where you blend right into the background with minimal interaction.

But of course, the feelings of distance and guilt creep onto your feet, rooting you in place and forcing you to watch from afar.

They’re all checking their phones and pointing at each other—accusingly? Excitedly?—before switching between different games on the tv and yelling at each other.

And while you adore them for being such lovable geeks about this, your eyes cannot stop pinning Yoongi with longing. He’s so radiant doing the most normal things, and his eyes have that sparkle they get when he’s comfortable and at home.

He’s perfect.

Your heart’s warm.

And the cup in your hand never touches your mouth.

—

After you take a seat at his dining table—yet another thing you should not know anything about—you cycle between watching them interact and scrolling on your apps.

At first, you thought you were safe. Staying in the back and letting them have their own time together is good enough for you, especially since you were invited by your brother to stop by.

Really, you were just a courier for food they wanted.

But it was on the way. And it’s a chance to see someone you’ve been missing.

So of course you faked reluctance to come.

The plan was to do exactly this. Hang back until you had to leave, maybe have a bite or two, and try hard not to yearn for Yoongi too long.

Failed step three.

But also now step one, because Shiv decides to twist around to yell, “Hey! Come join us!”

“I’m good over here,” you reply, smiling when he gives you a look.

“Suit yourself!”

One of the guys you recognize but don’t really know gets off the couch to head into the kitchen, asking a question as he opens the fridge.

Wait, he’s asking you something? You?

You leave your chair so you can hear him better, and when he repeats his question you respond.

“Want a drink?”

“Oh, uhh. Sure.”

“Pick your poison. Yoongi doesn’t have much but it’s all strong.”

He’s pretty cute. But then again, all your brother’s friends seem to end up this way. “Water’s fine,” you say with a light smile. “I have to be somewhere else in a minute.”

“Leaving so soon?” He grabs a cup to fill with your choice before handing it over. Leaning against the same counter Yoongi has smushed you against many times, the man takes a sip of his beer. “You just got here.”

“I was told to bring food.”

“Ah, come on. You can stay a bit.”

Uh huh.

Bold choice to be flirting with the company present today.

But you know what to do. Swerve. “What even happened back there? You guys scared the shit outta me.”

From the creases of his eyes, your plan works. “Oh, Yeji? She was supposed to win gold.”

“Feel like she won anyway.”

You both snap your heads over to the kitchen threshold, and your stomach could win a floor routine with the amount of flips it completes. “How come?” You decide to ask, throwing both guys for a loop.

It’s Yoongi that responds first, “She’s trending from a video back in May.”

“Oh, shit, really?”

“Fucking boss. But yeah, none of us got that one right,” his friend responds, which leaves you intrigued.

“Got it right?”

“Mmhmm. We picked her for gold.” Glancing over at Yoongi now crossing between to get to his fridge, he claps his back. “Even this guy bet wrong and he’s usually right.”

“Bet with my heart,” your secret drones as he cracks open a bottle.

“We all did, bro.”

Fucking hell, that move was hotter than it should’ve been.

But now you’re kinda invested in what they’re all doing, so you ask how the whole thing works.

Which leads you to sitting in the living room with everyone three whole minutes later.

“So all of these are events, and I pick what I think happens?”

“Yup!”

“Good luck.”

“Choose quick, the next games start soon.”

Everyone’s eyes are on your paper as you look at the options, with some laughs and comments as you circle your choices.

“Mm, I dunno about that one.”

“Hey, hey, no help.”

You glance at your brother and Yoongi before laughing, “I have no idea what I’m doing but this is fun.”

Their amusement is noticeable.

“If you get any of those right, I’ll be surprised,” your sibling teases, earning a laugh from Yoongi and a counterpoint from Jimin,

“Dark horse?”

“Nah, no chance.”

Park’s shoulders raise as he smirks. “It's all luck, you never know..”

Huffing, you pretend to have confidence for days, just happy that you get to be involved and not hang back like the initial plan. “Yeah, I have masterclass intuition, don’t you know?”

Reactions pop and fizz around you.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Master class, huh..”

“We have a hustler here!”

Your eyes drift to Yoongi’s at Shiv's comment, and you both share a quick, mirth-filled, intimate stare.

This really is a lot more fun already.

Your phone buzzing is the one thing that interrupts, and you immediately feel relieved and saddened by the fact that you have to go.

Finishing up, you hand your brother your picks before standing, heading to the door and saying that you have to leave.

“Wait, already?”

“Tell them you’re busy!”

“I kinda want to,” you admit, feeling a little shy at all the eyes on you. “But we’re watching a movie and tickets are stupid expensive now.”

Yoongi’s already next to you as he waits to let you out. “You okay to drive?”

“Me? Oh, yeah, I just had water.”

“K.”

Why does he have to be so considerate right now? Now you just wanna stay here instead of sit through whatever movie your friends picked!

“Be careful,” your brother comments from the living room, and you wave goodbye.

“I will. Y’all have fun!”

“Okay!”

Facing Yoongi, you wanna do so many things. Hug him, hold him, kiss the shit out of him for his exuding presence in the kitchen earlier.

“Thanks for the food.”

But you obviously can’t.

So you settle for giving him a smile. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you decide to say. “Have fun tonight.”

You get a small lift of his lips in return. “You, too.”

“Yeah.. I’ll try.”

Hearing sounds from outside as you walk to your car, you feel the loneliest imaginable.

But alas.

It’s still not your place to stay.

—

Much, much later, you check your phone after the movie ends and you’re all walking out. While the girls are busy discussing the movie and Taehyung's checking his phone, you're greeted with two very surprising keystrokes.

Yoongi [9:30pm]: :(

He texted that so long ago. Did something happen?

You [10:34pm]: you ok?

All of you talk for just a little longer. When you finally get into your car, you wave goodbye at everyone before looking at your device again, wondering what the heck warranted this rogue of a text.

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Yeah

Yoongi [10:40pm]: Just miss you

Well, fuck.

Heart clenching, your fingers skirt across the screen.

You [10:45pm]: i miss you too.. i didn’t wanna leave😭

Yoongi [10:45pm]: You did though😔

There are plenty of people in the lot. Many people walking past as you wait in your car.

And all you can do is stare at your screen.

Is… Is he drunk?

Yoongi [10:46pm]: So now you have to make it up to me :)

That catches you so off-guard you scoff at your screen through a smile.

You [10:46pm]: don’t be a loser!!

Yoongi [10:46pm]: I’m your loser

Cheeks hurting from your shy as hell grin, you bite your lip to keep your screams from alerting people in the nearby theatre.

How dare this man be this bold when your brother is over there!

If he’s gonna keep this shocking behavior up, who are you to not play into it? You fucking miss him and imagining being there and being yourselves—your true selves—makes your chest clench.

You [10:46pm]: not today you weren’t :\

And now you have to make the drive to a house that no one's occupying.

This is so hard. So, so hard.

But you have to keep going until that one day comes. If it ever does. The day you can do whatever you want with the man you’d fight the universe for? No one will know how to react, and frankly you don’t give a shit about that.

And then you wonder.

Does Yoongi feel the same?

Yoongi [10:48pm]: They're still here

Yoongi [10:48pm]: You down to come back?

Oh.

You are.

Yes, yes, yes you are.

Grateful eyes shut, forehead hitting your steering wheel and heart hurting but still burning lovingly.

There’s no fighting how desperately you want to see him. Especially after seeing him so happy earlier today. Of course you’re going to go. You’d cross mountains even if that meant you’d only get to see him from afar.

Because—and this you know for sure—he would do the same.

...But that doesn't mean you won't prank him just a little bit.

You [10:49pm]: don't bet on it w ur heart again💕

Buzzing with excitement, you start your car and pull out of the lot, calling your brother and letting him know you’re coming back.

“K! You gonna bring food again?”

Normally, you would say fuck no and hang up. But you’re so elated you get to go back, and imagining Yoongi's shock makes you laugh. “Yeah, yeah, what do y’all want?”

“Wait, really? Hey! What do we want for dinner—”

“Wait!” You interject, something pinging into your mind and igniting your curiosity. “How are my picks doing?”

There’s a scuffle on the line, and you can hear your brother complain, Jimin laugh, and a very, very familiar voice answer from your brother’s phone.

Because Yoongi’s voice drones so beautifully through the speaker, and you can’t stop your cackling when he responds,

“Turns out Jimin was right.”

“Damn, I'm the best,” you boast, earning a loud laugh from him and welcoming the way your cheeks hurt with open arms. “Show me that video you were talking about when I get there?”

This is safe to say. It's all you really can say.

There's a little bit of silence before he answers how he can, too.

“Yeah, I will.”

Mm. Maybe Yoongi does feel the same.

“Nice," you whisper. Lips curved up in hope, you keep your voice neutral, “See you soon!”

Again, he responds how he's supposed to. And right after, you both hang up exactly as expected.

For now.

“See you soon.”

—

fin. :)

how did the second 717 drabble go! | join the discord hehe | three tangerines

a/n: love you love you love you. that's really all i can say. but also, here's the video of kim yeji being an absolute badass in may and i cannot stop thinking about her GAHHHHHH and now the guy from turkey?? hello?? this year is so fun and interesting istg!!

#well hello LMAO #bts fic #bts fanfic #yoongi fic #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #three tangerines #3tan7172 #*ryenfictalk #yoongi fluff #*latest #ryenwrites #3tanextras #yoongi angst

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flowerfreya · 5 months ago

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The Office AU

This is part 3

Part 1 / Part 2

Just getting some more backstory for the reader and the boys as well. I’m trying to make it interesting but if it feels like to much filler let me know pleaseee

Poly!141 x reader

Content: reader backstory , and they have a girlfriend???!!!

He sees you before you see him and that is because you're taking a nap at your desk, your head down with sunglasses on, at least that's what he thinks. All the lights are off because they are motion sensored and when Simon comes in because of course he is the first one here the lights turn on. You shoot straight up sunglasses askew.

“Morning”

“Good morning Simon” You smile nervously. “ I got here at 6 am so I just took a quick cat nap before everyone came in and I had an alarm set for 7:30 before everyone came in but it looks like we have an early worm”. You’ve changed from the sunglasses to your regularly prescribed glasses, standing up with your makeup bag.

“Why did you get here at 6 am?”

“Oh, my boyfriend gets here at 6am and you know only one car”, you shrug like it's a normal occurrence. He just lets out a hum and just sits at his desk and you walk to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

By the time everyone comes in, you're ready for the day. You greet everyone with a smile and wave.

Simon stands up, which you don’t normally see, “Need to talk to you”, as he walk to John. Simon shuts the door after entering and you're a bit nervous that he's going to tell you about sleeping and you're trying not to stare but you can’t help it, you really need this job. Soap comes up to your desk and peaks over, “Did you get anything from TJ Maxx, Hen?”.

“You know about that?”

“Aye”

“Ha, well I never got a chance to go, but maybe this weekend”, you don’t say because when you got home you had to do all the chores that didn’t happen when you were at work and then you were so tired, you did your skincare and knocked out. He questions why you didn’t go and respond with a basic one liner, you know life. You look up at him and smile , he opens his mouth and looks like he’s about to say something and John’s door opens back up , only Simon leaving and John's voice carrying out in the office building calling your name, “Let me see you in here” . You move quickly half thinking your going to get fired and take a seat and instead of word vomiting like you did before you just sit there and wait.

John sighs and shakes his head like he can’t believe what he’s about to ask,“Love, why are here so early” .

Your so embarrassed about your car situation and how it’s already affecting your new job, “Me and boyfriend, only have one car so I have to ride with him and his shift starts at 6am so that’s why”

“One of the guys are me can pick you up on the way to work, if you want”

“Oh no , I don’t mind getting up early unless you mind me being here early…..” you trail off , hoping that this won’t be such a big deal.

“It’s fine, bird. Just don’t want you to go sleep on us waking up that early and working is hard”

“Oh no, I’m good. I just take a nap before everyone gets here, if that's okay, I don’t charge it on my time card”.

“That's not what I'm worried about”. You look away , not sure what to say and your eyes fall to his desk. He has around 20 challenge coins that look like from his time in the military. You see pictures with all the boys , some in uniform , some in just civvies, but they all look happy and so close it makes your heart hurt. You decide to change the subject.

“How long have you known the boys?”, you ask, gesturing toward the pictures.

He cocked his head to the side and smiled,”I feel like I’ve known them forever”. He sounds so fond of them and you can see the connection between them from the few days you’ve worked there. You're about to ask another follow up question but then you are interrupted by a knock and then the door opening.

“John”, a woman exclaims loudly and hops around the desk and gives him a kiss. It's a giant kiss. Somehow also…wet. Unprofessional. You know your mouth is open and you are staring but like what else are you supposed to do.

“Kelly, the door was shut, that means I was in a meeting. You know that.” ,he says in a low voice.

“Honey, I didn’t see her the-” , you cut her off ,” Oh,no I was just leaving“. You stand up and attempt to push in the chair but it doesn’t fit under the desk, so now everyone is looking at you attempt to push in a chair that you actually can’t. “Okay, I’m just going to go, do you want it open or shut?”, you ask.

They both say the opposite answers at the same time. You look between the both of them. “Uhhh”, you don’t even know who this woman is and what she is to tell and how much pull she has in the office.

“Open.”, John states matter of factly.

You’ve been sitting at your desk for around 20 minutes. You haven’t done that much work because the door is shut , the blinds are closed and you wonder what they are doing in there and its distracting you. You message Soap.

>>come here.

Soap looks up at you with eyebrows raised. You motion your head in a come here motion. He leans against your desk, “Aye, hen” , you try to make sure your tone doesn’t sound like a crazy lady, “who is Kelly”, and maybe you shouldn’t have ask because he stiffens up and avoids eye contact with you and hmmms.

“Oh, nevermind you don’t have to answer”, you add a chuckle to end as to not be awkward and look down at your keyboard.

Speak of the devil and she will appear , Kelly steps out of the office and see’s Soap and gives him an intimate hug, she knows his body she’s done this before. “I’m going to go to the annex and say hi to Gaz”, Kelly mentions as she moves toward the back of the office.

You see it for what it is, they share. Which is fine you do not judge on relationships but you don’t know what you thought was going happen between Soap or Johnny or even Simon like you have a boyfriend for christ sake.

Your boyfriend comes in, hes in a good mood. He wants to go out for dinner , he of course picks the place. Your just happy you don’t have to cook. Your shutting down your computer, putting on your jacket and getting you lunch box. You wish them a goodnight. John comes out of his office, “Everything, okay”, you nod your head and smile. It doesn’t matter anyway. Your happy. Your so fucking happy so it doesn’t matter anyway.

They “break up” with Kelly that night. They do it at a nice restaurant and do it immediately so she won’t get any other ideas. Simon doesn’t say anything, he knows Kelly only put up for him because they are a package deal. She of course ask why and John take points and lets her down gently but firmly. Then they get up and brainstorm how to get their Hen.

#task force 141 #simon riley x reader #simon x reader #captain john price #soap x reader #gaz x reader #johh price x reader #poly!141

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bumbleboa · 1 year ago

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I am back with more sketches for @calysto1395 's AU!

Fic snippet of her writing behind the cut:

EDIT: Fic is also now available HERE

“Fine, fine! I’m going. Stop shoving me.” Law throws his hands up and steps onto the train.

“I don’t want to see you for at least 24 hours.” Bepo retorts, his paws on his hips and blocking the doorway like a bouncer. If Law wasn’t so fucking exhausted from a ten hour surgery session he would have a clever comeback right about now. As it stands, he can only repeat Bepo’s words at him in a mocking tone. He flips Bepo off as the train doors close between them for good measure before he turns to find a seat as they slowly roll out of the station.

There is as usual only one other person on the train. Hiriluk Hospital Station is usually the one where everyone gets off as the line continues out of town into the shitty outer district where Law has his dirt cheap apartment. It’s a good thing too because Law usually has no patience for anyone after work and before work he needs to save what little he has for his patients.

His usual companion is a young man, maybe around Law’s age, who has tan skin and green hair who nods at him when Law falls into one of the empty seats. He’s always there before Law gets on and doesn’t get off anywhere before Law does. Law sees him as often as he does his coworkers so he would say they are almost friends. Save for the part where Law has no idea who he is besides a passenger and incredibly attractive.

“Trouble in paradise?” The guy asks, snorting with a smirk. He’s huddled into one of the seats that run sideways along the walls of the train, jean jacket and a hoodie today, legs propped up on his huge backpack with the long case sticking out of it.

Law just rolls his eyes and lets his head fall against the headrest. It’s part of the routine at this point. Guy will make a comment or greet him and then it will be silent for the rest of the ride, just the way Law likes it. The stranger on the train might be Law’s favorite person, right after Bepo. Then again Bepo humiliated and bullied him onto the train today so maybe the stranger has taken top spot.

“You got blood on your cheek.” The guy says and Law feels the annoyance at the routine being disturbed before he processes the words. His eyes blink open and he rubs at his cheek with his sleeve, feels the crusted flakes rub off and sees them clinging to the fabric of his hoodie.

Law stares at it for a long time, feels his eyes losing focus for a minute before he blinks and shakes his head. Maybe Bepo had a point in sending him home. He sighs deeply, feeling the exhaustion deep in his bones. “Yep.” He says and rubs his cheek once more just to make sure he got it all.

Stranger just gives him a nod when he shoots a questioning glance at him before he buries his hands in his jacket pockets and closes his eyes, settling deep into his seat. Law takes it as his cue to do the same. Just to rest his eyes for a little bit. He has about twenty minutes until he’s at his station and the conductor usually doesn’t check tickets this late at night. Law tells himself it's just for a few minutes. Just until his retinas stop burning.

Then before he knows it there is a hand on his shoulder. He jerks, flailing wildly and smacking something before he gets his bearings.

The stranger is standing next to his seat, looking down at him, hand falling to his side from where it had hung outstretched between them. “That’s your stop right?” He asks.

Law blinks, confused. Head swirling to look outside the window to see the Tang Station sign out front. “Shit.” He manages to say, scrambling with his bag to hustle outside just in time before the doors close on him. He’s catching his breath on the platform, heart racing in his chest when he looks back at the train and sees the guy standing there still. He leans down a little to wave through the window as it sets back into motion and Law’s sleep deprived brain doesn’t manage to respond in any way before they are out of view.

#one piece #roronoa zoro #trafalgar law #zolaw #op train AU #I love this AU a lot if you couldn't already tell #my art

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lalunanymph · 1 year ago

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𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃 — g. satoru

one drunken night changes everything between you and satoru

cw. alcohol, virginity loss, reverse corruption, switch!gojo, modern au, unprotected sex, gojo is inexperienced, mild slut shaming but satoru gets his payback, gojo does not believe in toxic masculinity amen

Getting Gojo drunk is never a good idea.

You, for one, as his friend should know.

Satoru’s ruddy cheeks, boisterous laughter and slurring words gave away his intoxication, and Geto was about to call a taxi for him when he stopped the outside party with a reveal no one had anticipated.

“Why’re you ruining my fun—hic—Suguru… I wanted to lose my virginity t'night.”

Record screech. Ieiri glanced up from the cig she was smoking, and the whites of your wide eyes reflected the neon club sign.

“Satoru,” Geto gasped, his phone left open on the Uber screen, mouth agape. “What did you say?”

In answer to this sudden truth bomb, the white-haired man shrugged, kicking his feet up a curb and leaning back against the cool marble. The bench he was sprawled on was way too small to accommodate his 6’3 frame, and his legs, each about almost a mile long, were perched on either side of the seat.

“I said what I said. Why—find it hard to believe, Sugu?”

He looked good for someone already in an alarming state of intoxication, and you didn’t miss how Ieiri smirked at your flushing cheeks. Shooting her a glare, you quickly glanced at Suguru, relieved to find him still processing what Satoru said.

“I thought… What about that girl back in third year?”

Satoru waved off his question with a prissy flap of his hand. “Eh, that was old news. We never did anything vile.”

“Imagine that,” Shoko snickered, stubbing out her cigarette with the tip of her boot. “The great Gojo Satoru—bitchless.”

Geto couldn’t help the guffaw that burst from his chest, and you had to turn your face to the side to hide the hysterical giggles waiting to destroy your pouting friend’s ego.

“Ieiri,” you chastised her, struggling to hold back your laughter, though with your lips twitching, it wasn’t hard to deduce that you were trying not to lose it. “Don’t make fun of him like that. Satoru’s just a late bloomer.”

“Yeah!” Gojo chimed in, shooting you a lopsided grin. “It’s not my fault girls only want me for my money.”

You winced and Suguru rolled his eyes.

“If I recall, some of them did find you attractive, but you have ridiculous standards, Satoru.”

The white-haired fiend turned to you with a cheeky grin. “I do. That’s why Y/N-chan should take a leaf out of my book.”

“Oi—!”

“The car is on the way,” Suguru chimed in, hastily coming in between you and Satoru to interrupt before things got out of hand.

Your indignation was amusing to Gojo who chuckled heartily. “Ah, come on, Y/N. You’ve made some ridiculous choices in the past, but we still love you. I’m only just teasing.”

Before you could open your mouth to speak, the Uber pulled up, and with it, Satoru’s escape. “Oops. I gotta go, guys—”

“I’ll follow you.” Your sudden offer for help rubbed Gojo the wrong way, and he made a face, ego bruised with your assumption that he was too drunk to get himself safely back.

“I can go home without your help. I’m fin—” He stood up… and almost fell onto his face.

Geto was quick to catch him, and your yell of surprise induced Ieiri to lurch forward with her own arms outstretched in case both of you lost your grip on the taller man.

It took three people to bundle Satoru in the backseat, and you shook off Geto’s worrying chimes when he asked if you needed his help.

“He’ll sober up before we reach the penthouse. Don’t worry.”

You slammed the car door closed on Geto and Shoko, both of them standing with shifting eyes and uncertainty in their hesitant gaits.

“Could you please put the AC higher?”

The cab driver nodded, and you sat Gojo closer to the middle, where he was getting a nice faceful of cold air.

Thankfully, he didn’t grumble much on the way home, but the white-haired menace did threaten, once or twice, to puke in the car. The driver couldn’t have driven fast enough, and he even refused Gojo’s 5-star rating, a sign of his mild annoyance.

Next, you had to haul a 6’3 baby into the elevator of his own penthouse. Satoru wasn’t an easy drunk—he whined, pouted and moaned about the lights being too bright or the room spinning or his feet aching. Honestly, you were glad to get him through the front door without anyone committing homicide.

He was sobering up on the couch when you approached him with some hot tea, his misery drawn out and getting on your nerves when he nodded pitifully, taking the piping mug from you.

Gojo’s penthouse suite was as much his as your home. Every weekend, you and Shoko would haunt either Satoru or Suguru’s homes, and you knew where every mug belonged and how he liked his plates to be arranged.

Sitting down next to him, it was almost peaceful and quiet. Satoru had a certain assurance about him which put anyone at ease, and you were not exempted.

You liked his strong and reliable presence. Sure, he was an overgrown toddler in a young man’s body, but when push came to shove, Gojo would always show up for the people he loves.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier.”

You blinked, turning to find a pair of sincere azure eyes boring into yours.

“What?”

“About your mistakes. I know it was a dark time for you after your breakup with Sukuna. I didn’t mean to come off as ignorant and cruel.”

Your lips twitched at the sound of your ex-boyfriend’s name. “It’s fine. You’re a pretty shitty person when you’re drunk anyway.”

Gojo scoffed and set his mug down on the expensive marble coffee table.

“Excuse me? I’m trying to be nice here.”

“Hmm.” You tucked a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “Did you mean what you said—that you’re actually a virgin?”

Curiosity got the best of you, and it didn’t help that three of Gojo’s buttons were loosened, exposing a pale strip of his neck to your wandering eyes.

“Yeah.” He said it with such nonchalance and straightforwardness, you thought he was pulling your leg again.

“Please,” you forced a scoff, trying hard to ignore your heartbeat in between your legs. “Like anyone would believe that.”

“I’m serious,” he cried out, and to prove how genuine he was, Gojo siddled closer to you. “Cross my heart and I swear on my grandma’s dead body. I’ve never touched a girl before.”

Well, Satoru did love his grandmother. You pouted, and before you could stop yourself, your primal, tipsy thoughts spilled out without any hesitation.

“I could show you.”

The silence after your question felt like an empty stretch of Tundra sea.

Your stomach turned and you slapped a hand to your mouth.

“Shit, Satoru, I’m sor—”

“I think I would like that.”

Gojo’s eyes were fixated on you in the half-light. The air suddenly became too thick, and you couldn’t breathe without inhaling the minty freshness of his breath. He was sitting too close to you. It was all too much, like a timebomb was about to go off at any moment.

Before you could change your mind and leave him alone to his raging thoughts, Gojo caught you by the waist, tugging you onto his lap.

Am I dreaming?

You had envisioned kissing Gojo Satoru many, many times, but the reality was far sweeter.

His lips were plush and soft, tasting of the liquor he drank earlier and something impossibly sweet.

“A-are you wearing lip balm?” your stuttered question made him pause. He laughed, a full bodied chuckle that shook his great shoulders.

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise.” You mumbled, and in the closing darkness, your lips brushed on his with no caution. Satoru removed the space between you and him, closing on your mouth with another searing kiss that left you lightheaded and shaking.

The world went flat for a split second, and you opened your eyes to find him hovering over you.

He picked your hand from your side, and pushed it towards the juncture of your thighs, where your core ached pathetically for him.

“Show me,” his husky murmur sent a dark thrill straight to your clenching belly. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Gojo’s touch on your wrist was light, reminding you he was here and ready. Waiting for you to make the first move.

“Huh?” your confusion was palpable, like the sheen of sweat beading on your brow. “H-hey—aren’t you supposed to be the virgin here?”

His smile was part sardonic, part angelic. “Sweetheart, that’s why I’m asking you to show me. I promise I’ll impress you if you do.”

You flashed him a look of annoyance, but ultimately, you lost to his charms. Satoru always had a way to soften you up and make you susceptible to his every whim. Licking your lips, you slowly pushed the hem of your skirt to the side, exposing the lacy black thong you wore for tonight.

Those ocean deep blue eyes were enraptured on your two fingers pushing aside your thong, and swiping them through your glossy seam.

“You’re so wet,” he murmured, getting comfortable and resting his head on the plush sofa cushion to watch you touch yourself. “Keep going. Don’t stop until I tell you, too.”

You were going to murder him for speaking to you like this—as if you were an errant pet waiting on his reprimand.

“Satoru—”

“Oh, hush,” he whispered with a pale, long finger pressed to your lips. “I’m enjoying the show. Stop ruining my first time, Y/N.”

Your chagrined glare was replaced by a look of hesitation when Satoru used his large palm to cup your left breast.

“I’ll just pull and twist it?” he asked, referring to your nipple hardening under his touch.

“Y-yeah,” you swallowed hard. “Give it a little tug and roll it around your fingers.”

For the first time since you met him, Satoru actually listened to you. He obediently twisted your turgid bud through the slinky fabric of your party top, watching intently as your body reacted under his touch.

Since he was being good, you decided to treat him.

Angling your hips closer to him, you rubbed shaky circles onto your clit in tandem with his slow tugs and pinches to your sensitive nipple. Gojo moved onto the other neglected one, repeating his motions until your hips were twitching from every deliberate roll.

“You’re really sensitive, huh?”

His whisper ignited the fire in your loins, and not even your touches could put it out.

“Satoru, I think you can undress me.”

Your command was met with barely any resistance when he nodded, pushing the straps of your top down to expose your naked breasts to his wandering eyes.

“Fuck.”

His reflexive groan caught you off guard. It had been awhile since any man was enthralled by the sight of your bare body.

Most of those assholes couldn’t wait to jump to the main event without prepping you first. Their selfish insistence made you weary of who you let into your bed.

But, Satoru was the exception.

His gentleness when he cupped your breasts, and the reverence you felt on your skin when he peppered kisses on your collarbone and shoulders was a far cry from those bums who only wanted to get their dicks wet.

A part of you was duly impressed by Satoru’s consideration—you never expected someone like Gojo to have it in him.

Proving he worth once more, he planted open-mouth kisses down your neck, right to the swell of your heaving breasts.

The sensation of his warm mouth wrapping around your nipples caused shivers to run down right into your very core. Satoru was worshipping the soft skin of your cleavage and sensitive buds like they were an altar he had to cleanse with every broad stroke of his tongue.

Your mind spun in dizzying circles, the ones you drew on your clit growing more erratic by the second.

“Fuck,” you spat out, and couldn’t stop your hand from shooting out to sink in his soft, silvery white hair. “Satoru—”

“Stop.”

His silky command pierced through the thick fog of your mind, catching you off guard.

“Huh?” He wrenched your hand away from the apex of your thighs, much to your chagrin. “What the fuck—”

His cheeky grin dominated your blurry vision, and you swore smoke was pouring out of your ears.

“I was about to cum, asshole!”

“I know,” he sang. “But, you can’t cum just yet! You have to do it around my cock.”

You swore, if you weren’t so turned on, you might’ve murdered Gojo. As it was, the idea of feeling him stretch your pussy out was far too enticing, and you were forced to swallow down your pride to admit your needs.

“Are you gonna do it?” you hissed, feeling your cheeks heating up. “Or, are you going to make me wait?”

This time, Gojo did not tease you. Judging from the bulge in the front of his jeans, his patience was wearing thin, too.

Satoru tugged his cashmere crew neck off, and his Corduroy pants went next. If you weren’t so intoxicated with lust, you would’ve snickered at his outfit choice.

However, there were no thoughts in your head beyond the anticipation of feeling Satoru’s cock slowly easing into you. The vivid yearning was driving you quietly insane, and your hips bucked upwards with such visceral desperation when he got in between your thighs that you were sure he was going to make fun of your neediness.

He didn’t.

Satoru’s glassy eyes and his parted mouth filled you with the understanding of his own inner turmoil—the shakiness of his exhale and his next question revealing his hesitation.

“W-what do I do now?”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“How do I fuck you right?”

For all his bravado and pomp, Satoru was a nervous wreck on top. Your eyes softened, and you urged him up, turning the tides on him and settling him onto his back.

Those wide, baby blue eyes never peeled off your figure, drinking in the sight of you removing your top and skirt completely with unabashed yearning. His cheeks were turning the prettiest shade of pink, the heat from them emanating down his pale chest like a slowly creeping infection he couldn’t exactly hide.

Satoru swallowed hard again when you were left in nothing but your lacy thong. Moonlight speckled over the enticing curves of your bare body. He memorised every dip in the terrain of your silhouette until he was positive he could trace it onto a blank piece of paper based on memory alone.

Your palms were folded onto his chest, using him as leverage when you slowly rolled your thong off your shapely thighs.

He was glued onto the sight of your honeyed folds, trying hard not to drool when a little bit of your juices dribbled onto his thigh.

The wide sofa was enough to accommodate both your bodies, and you held onto the velvet arm with one hand, the other reaching to circle his stiff cock. Gojo groaned, lustfully and without shame when you started to stroke him.

Sure, he had used his own hand and sometimes a sock to get himself off, but nothing could compare to the sensation of a pretty thing who knew what she was doing.

You glanced at him through half-mast eyes, the sinful sight sending a bolt of lightning right down his spine. Satoru’s tongue tied of its own accord when you let go of his length, though what you did next made every thought he had fly out the window of his whited out mind.

He watched, hungry and blown away, when you sank your hips down on his length, taking him with a small gasp and your head thrown back.

You felt the burn in your thighs when you set a pace that had the huge couch rocking. Satoru clasped his hands onto your hips, an involuntary low moan leaving his swollen, peachy lips. You were a vision above him—hair falling in your face, and lower lip caught between your teeth. There was a look in your eyes that he was starting to know all too well, like you wanted to devour him piece by piece till only a shred of his sanity remained.

The sight of him bucking his hips to rut up into you was burned into your retinas.

Satoru was a heavenly visual below you. His white hair was in a disarray, those beautiful blue eyes drowsy with lust. His mouth was parted in an ‘O’, the apples of his cheeks dusted with pink.

“‘Toru,” you whispered. “C-can feel you so deep.”

Those salacious words and your sweet nickname broke something in Gojo.

One second you were sensually undulating your hips above him, and the next, you were on your hands and knees, stretched to your full capacity around his throbbing cock.

“So beautiful.”

Before he could give you a moment to steel yourself, Satoru had set a brutal pace that had you biting down on a cushion to muffle your scream.

Holy shit. He’s good.

Your slurry mind could barely keep up with this new development. The lanky, annoying man you had called your friend for years was fucking up into you like he was about to break you back.

The fact that your breathing was growing heavier and you could barely see through your blurry vision kept you locked in a cycle of perpetual surprise and intense pleasure. Satoru was rocking your entire world like he was meant to ruin it, and you were the helpless victim to his infuriating expertise.

Everything Satoru did, he did to excel. And fucking you was no exception.

He swivelled his hips, smacked your ass, and bent over to leave wet open mouthed kisses on your shoulders and the back of your neck. He tugged and twisted your nipples, played with your clit till you choked back on a scream. Satoru did it over and over again until you couldn’t hold back the ball of tension from exploding.

It rained over you with the effects of a full disaster, shattering your entire world when you finally came for Gojo Satoru.

His palm was firmly slapped onto your mouth to quieten your sniffles and whines. Gojo let you pulse around his cock pathetically, before his grating chuckle bulldozed past your foggy mind.

“That’s one. I haven’t come yet.”

He flipped you onto your back, perching one thigh on the back of the sofa so he could lean forward and have full access to your flushed pussy.

Satoru then spent a full fifteen minutes eating you out; sucking on your clit, fucking your quivering hole with his tongue, and running the flat of that infuriating pink muscle back and forth from back to hole until your toes curled in his periphery.

“Ngh—ah! ‘Toru!”

Clutching his hair in your death grip, Satoru gave you full permission to ride his face with the patience of a saint.

But, even saints were humans and they could be tainted with darker, baser thoughts.

Satoru would never call himself a good man, not when he had you bent against the sofa arm as he languidly fucked you. You hated to admit how much he knew your body—better than you gave him credit for—when he played with your clit again, determined to bring you to your third ruin.

Your hips were beginning to stutter, and your sweet pussy was clenching down on him like a loving embrace. Satoru buried his face into your hair, expelling a guttural groan.

“Fuck, angel. So good. So good, sweetheart.”

The endearment in his voice and those terms poised you right at the edge, and you were so close to throwing yourself over with barely a beat of hesitation.

“Say it,” Gojo grunted, voice thick and deep with arousal. “Tell the world who’s fucking you so good.”

If someone had told you a year ago that you would be creaming around Gojo’s cock for the third time in a night, you would’ve told them to shove it and to stop feeding your delusions.

But, this was happening—Gojo was really using you like a fleshlight he was fond of. When he leaned forward to press a kiss to your cheek, you couldn’t help the gritted sniffle that slipped past your clenched teeth.

“You,” your broken admission put a smile of satisfaction on his face.

The inexperienced has now become the master.

“Yeah? Doesn’t sound convincing, sweetheart.”

His lips on the shell of your ear and puffs of hot breath hitting that sensitive strip of skin was enough to make you clench down on him.

“Satoru…”

“Yeah, that’s my name, baby. Now, shout it for everyone to hear.”

“Satoru,” you were sobbing now, full bodied shakes which echoed the pleasure tearing your world apart. “Satoru!”

“Louder, baby.”

Stars exploded behind your scrunched lids when he gripped your throat, using it to pull you back towards his chest, cock digging deeper into your soft insides to expose your secrets for the world to see.

“Satoru! Oh, god—Satoru! Satoru! Sa—”

You choked off when the world suddenly went white.

As if a bomb had detonated, your insides shook, the world going still for a single second. Lights, sounds, smell and touch were suspended in motion, like you were looking at a scene from outside your body.

Then, the movie resumed, fast forwarding and slamming into you with the force of a singular, staggering punch.

Everything was too bright, too loud, and your heartbeat was erratically going off in your chest, the blood singing in your ears.

Satoru caught you as you slumped into his arms, and he used what little remained of his self-control to fuck up into you, hard enough for his balls to tighten and his own inner world to shatter into fragments.

His teeth sank into your shoulder, the bite of pain enough to draw out your bittersweet climax.

“Satoru!”

The tension was too much, and it hurt to even cum. Your core was cramping up, and your pussy was throbbing like it was about to fall off.

But, you didn’t care. All you wanted was Satoru and his entirety.

You would always allow him to destroy your world without a second thought; knowing he was going to stay behind to fix the pieces.

Gojo did not disappoint you when he held you close to his chest, the last spurt of warmth dripping onto your bare thighs.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

You both sank into the plush surface, stained with sweat, cum and disbelief.

Neither of you could break the silence, and you were reluctant to be the first. If you did, there was no telling if Satoru would up and leave.

Eventually, he made the first move.

Gojo nuzzled your hair, exhaling what sounded like a gust of relief.

“Well, that sure exceeded my expectations.”

The angst of what you both had done aside, Satoru and you were still good friends and you couldn’t throw a friendship away because he had rocked your entire world.

In fact, you wondered if he would be interested in taking it up a notch.

You weren’t above admitting that Satoru was the best fuck of your life and a part of you would do anything to make sure he would be your last.

“Satoru—”

“We’ll talk about everything tomorrow,” he promised, pressing a reassuring kiss to your jaw. “You’ve drained my balls and emotions for one night, baby. Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

You nodded, believing him without a shade of doubt.

Satoru would give it his word of honour like how did when he said he would impress you.

Closing your eyes, you drifted off to sleep, but not before you felt the ghost of his laugh stir the loose strands of hair around your neck.

"Not bad, Gojo," he muttered under his breath, quietly commending himself with a self-assured grin, seemingly unaware that you could hear him. "Not bad at all."

a/n: he's so stinky i would ride him till he passes out just to get him to shut up.

©️ all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

#gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #jjk satoru #gojou satoru x you #gojou satoru x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jjk smut #🦢 writes

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kaneaken · 8 months ago

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Is this... Delusion?

author's note; just a few short scenarios that I've been through which really make me question everything. I have so many of these, but I think there was only one guy that was actually serious (⁠´⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.̫⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠`⁠)

content notes; gn!reader (pronouns not used/mentioned), modern au because some of these scenarios don't make sense in the original universe

♡ You think you've seen Blade for the fiftieth time this week. You understand the campus you both go to isn't very large, but you have definitely seen him more than any other student. He doesn't pause to speak to you, he just gives you a small glance, which feels more like a glare if anything. You bring it up to Fu Xuan in passing to which she responds:

"I find it strange.. his department is farther than yours. There would be no reason to pass through if he wanted to take the most efficient route."

♡ You notice there is always an empty space next to Alhaitham, no matter where he is. At first, you felt bad that no one sat next to him, so you decided to take the seat next to him. You introduce yourself to which he does the same. Although, he isn't much of a talker, he doesn't seem to mind your constant ramblings. One day, you walk up to him and find Kaveh sitting next to him. Once he notices your approach, he sends Kaveh a subtle look as if to say move it. Kaveh shoots him a glare before getting up with a grumble.

♡ You weren't poor, but you weren't exactly rich either. Aventurine, however, was. He wasn't one to particularly flaunt his wealth, but somehow you had a constant reminder of it.

"My rings? Do you like them? I could buy one for you. It's not an issue. Think of it as a gift for helping me with my homework last week."

"It's your birthday, right? I got you something. It's not much, but-- it's expensive? Oh, no, no, I only spent a little more this year. How much more...? Let's just celebrate, alright?"

"Are you hungry? You don't have enough for a snack? That's alright. What do you want and don't just pick the cheapest thing, okay?"

Seems the more you deny him, the more persistent he gets.

♡ You always spot Kaveh with a pen in his hand. He tends to spin it around, balance it on a finger, and throw it at Alhaitham (the usual). You even find him doodling on his hand at times. You always compliment him on the little doodles and he always chuckles in response. At times, he ends up filling his hand with doodles and running out of blank space, so he turns to you with a smile. You don't deny his silent request (you had been meaning to ask him if he would draw you a little doodle). You extend your hand to him and let him work his magic. Depending on his mood, he could draw whatever. Sometimes it's a horrible sketch of Alhaitham while he grumbles about how Alhaitham finished the coffee that morning. Other times it's a beautiful flower which you wish you didn't have to clean off your hand. One time he drew a cluster of hearts which matched the ones on his hands.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin x y/n #genshin x you #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x y/n #hsr x you #hsr x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #alhaitham x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #kaveh x reader #nene.writes

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minarinnn · 1 year ago

Note

so in love with your best friend yuji hcs, may i request a continuation of that? and also maybe a writing of their first time ahhh and what you think he’d be like when he’s jealous. i know this is a lot but just choose what you feel like writing!! looking forward to your future stuff <3

hiii, tysm!! i tried to write everything, sorry if i missed smth. i lowk wanted to write more ab this too but you gave me a great excuse to do it + some ideas so, thank youuu<3

content/trigger warning: college au, characters are aged up!!, f!reader, p in v, creampie, jealousy, virgin sex, fingering (f! receiving), slighttt size kink

word count: 2.7k

“FIRST DATE”

nobara is sick and tired of hearing yuuji talk about you and not act on his feelings. especially when she knows that you actually have feelings for the pink haired male. but she promised she wouldn't tell yuuji about your feelings and she also promised yuuji that she wouldn't tell you about his

it didn't bother her much until yuuji started talking about how this guy in your physics class has been awfully chummy with you

"he even asked if she wanted to grab a bite to eat with him, can you believe that?" yuuji grumbled. he had been talking about this for at least 15 minutes now. nobara rolled her eyes for 7th time that day. "itadori, she's a beautiful girl, she's gonna have people asking her out, especially if she doesn't have a boyfriend" she pointed out, making yuuji pout and grumble under his breath

nobara sighed, leaning her cheek against her palm "you could just confess and the whole problem would be over". yuuji's eyes widened, a slight hue of pink adorning his face. "i can't do that... she's.. she'll just reject me" he sighed

nobara's patience was starting to run thin. she'd been there for yuuji through countless conversations about his feelings for you, always playing devil's advocate and trying to nudge him in the right direction. but after months of hearing him complain and fret over the situation, she couldn't take it anymore

"itadori, i know you're scared, but believe me, it's better to just rip off the band-aid and confess your feelings" she said firmly, tired of being in the middle of the both of you "and if she doesn't reciprocate your feelings, then at least you'll have closure and you can move on"

yuuji looked at her warily. deep down he knew she was right, but the thought of confessing his feelings and being rejected was still nerve-wracking for him. he took a deep breath and nodded. "you're right, kugisaki. i need to do this" he said, determination written all across his face as he stood up, walking away from the table

yuuji stopped in his tracks, turning around with a nervous chuckle "i mean, i don't have to tell her right no-" "go itadori!" nobara yelled, making the boy flinch and continue walking

yuuji walked down the hallway, his mind racing with thoughts of how he was going to confess his feelings to you. he felt a mix of excitement and nervousness, but he pushed those feelings aside and focused on his task at hand

he saw you walking around the hallway, shooting you a quick nervous smile and walking towards you. you smiled, continuing to walk to him and meeting him halfway.

"hey yuu" you smiled. oh how he loved that smile and that nickname you called him that always made his heart flutter. "heyy... can we..." he paused, searching for the right words "can we go out sometime... as more than just friends?"

you furrow your brows and tilt your head, your adorable smile still plastered on your face "more than just friends?" you question. yuuji took a deep breath and took a step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. he couldn't believe he was about to do this, but he knew he had to.

his eyes were locked on yours as he summoned all his courage. his nerves were still getting the better of him, but he forced himself to keep going.

"there's something i've been meaning to tell you for a long time now," yuuji began, his voice hoarse. "i... i.." the words got caught in his throat, and he found himself struggling to continue. he took a deep breath and tried to steady his nerves

"i'm in love with you" he said finally, his eyes never leaving yours "i think about you all the time, and every time i see you, it feels like my heart is about to explode. i know this might come as a shock to you, but i had to tell you how i feel. i just couldn't keep it to myself anymore"

as yuuji spoke, he felt as though a weight was lifting off his shoulders. he had said what he needed to say, and now it was up to you to decide how to respond. yuuji held his breath, waiting for your reaction

you smiled at yuuji, feeling a warm tingle in your chest. "then it's a date" you said, your voice filled with excitement. yuuji was dumbfounded for a second. blinking a few times to process it. that was not the words he was expecting

you put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze "you can text me the details later, yeah?". yuuji nodded, not being able to formulate words just yet. "i'll see you around" you say, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. yuuji could feel his brain short circuit and as you walked away all he could think about is how he was gonna tell kugisaki all bout what just happened

your date with yuuji was going great. you and yuuji had spent the afternoon exploring a beautiful art museum together. yuuji spent a lovely time admiring you. he claims you were the real art

after a few hours of admiring the artwork, yuuji suggested grabbing a bite to eat to prolong the date a little longer. you were more than happy to oblige, especially since the thought of spending more time with him made your heart flutter

as you and yuuji walked, he couldn't help but smile. he was having such a great time with you, it felt like nothing in the world could bring him down

as the two of you walked to the nearby restaurant, yuuji reached out to open the door for you, earning a warm smile in return. the restaurant was bustling with activity, but the noise faded into the background as you and yuuji sat down at your table

as you sat across from yuuji, he couldn't help but stare at you. the soft, warm light of the candles illuminated your face, making your eyes sparkle and your lips shine. yuuji felt like he was in a dream, and he couldn't believe that he finally had the chance to spend some time alone with you romantically

absolutely nothing could ruin this moment

but he spoke to soon. standing at your table was the guy that had been chummy with her in her physics class. why the hell was he the waiter??. yuuji's smile instantly dropped and he couldn't help but let out a sigh

"oh- what a wonderful surprise!" he spoke to you, completely ignoring yuuji "you look absolutely stunning". you chuckle nervously at his comment, immediately picking up on the tension that surrounded the table

the tension in the air was palpable as yuuji watched that guy continue to flirt with you. yuuji felt a pang of jealousy and couldn't help but scowl at the thought of that guy trying to steal you away from him (even though you weren't his). he tried to keep his cool, but it was clear that the waiter's presence was bothering him greatly

"would you like todays special?" the guy asked you. you hum, turning to look at yuuji before speaking "what're you gonna order, yuu?". his head perked up at the use of his nickname, making his heart flutter a bit. "uhh.. yeah i do" he spoke, glancing at the waiter who had finally acknowledged his presence "i just didn't want to interrupt his futile attempt at flirting"

you couldn't help but choke out a chuckle as the waiter visibly glared at yuuji. "u-um.. that's our orders then" you tried not to laugh. the guy left with an eye roll and yuuji followed his movements with a glare

after he's farther away you let out a low laugh and yuuji looks at you a bit confused. "were you jealous just now, yuu?" you say, your laughter dying out but a smile still lingering on your face. yuuji's face flushed in embarrassment. "w-what?? no" he lied, averting his gaze from you

"it's okay, yuu. i'm not surprised that you were jealous" you said with a chuckle "i mean, who wouldn't be? that guy was definitely flirting with me"

yuuji felt a sense of relief wash over him. he didn't want to come across as possessive or insecure, but it was hard not to feel a tinge of jealousy in that moment. "how humble" yuuji scoffed, rolling his eyes playfully at you

the rest of the day went amazing and the guy had actually switched tables after yuuji humiliated him in front you. you were both scared of ruining the friendship but this date proved that you could both have something more and that it could actually last

yuuji walked you to your dorm. the walk filled with laughs and conversations about your times in high school were yuuji did stupid stuff all the time and you were there to scold him

standing at your front door, you looked for your keys in your purse. the keys jingled in your hand as you pulled them out. "i had a great time tonight" yuuji spoke from behind you, a warm and tender smile adorning his face. you turn to him a shy smile gracing your lips. "yuu... do you wanna... y'know.. spend the night?" you muttered, batting your eyelashes at him

his eyes widened and his brain ran wild with lewd thought. "s-sure" he spoke out, almost immediately. you chuckle lightly before opening the door and heading inside

you're straddled on top of yuuji, sloppily making out. his hands on your hips, rolling them forward, making you grind on his aching cock

you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. you knew yuuji was big but you didn't know how big. he was massive, and he was definitely going to break you

yuuji broke the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both as you pant heavily. "you sure you wanna do this?" he asked, his breath heavy and his eyes clouded with lust. you nod eagerly, beginning to take your shirt off and revealing your lacy bra

yuuji can't help but ogle your breast. "shit" he muttered, feeling his dick throb at the sight of you. your hands go to your back as you un-clip your bra, revealing your magnificent tits. his hands hesitantly travel up your body, cupping a boob in his hand and squeezing it

he let out a shaky breath as you tugged on his shirt, immediately taking it off and your hands landing on his ripped chest. he couldn't help but whine at your touch. boy, was he sensitive. you stood up, pulling your bottoms down as he did the same

you couldn’t help but stare at his hard, veiny dick, it was so pretty but you just knew that you were gonna be wrecked after this. your hands subconsciously wrap around your stomach, trying to cover your exposed body in embarrassment. "do you umm... do you have any idea how to do this?" you asked, embarrassment noticiable in your tone

yuuji tried his hardest not to drool at the sight of your naked body, keeping his eyes respectfully on yours. "i've seen a few videos" he shrugged nervously. you sat on the bed next to him, feeling his gaze on your chest. "can i.. take the lead?" he asked hesitantly, his eyes desperately roaming yours for approval

you gave a small nod and he wasted no time getting on top of you, using one hand to hold himself up and the other to spread your legs apart. his calloused hands roamed your soft skin and every touch sent a shiver through your spine. “if you want me to stop just say the word and i will. no questions asked, kay?”

you nod again, not being able to formulate words in your current moment. he pushed a single finger in, your wetness smearing down to his knuckles. you squirm a bit. yuuji’s fingers were definitely way more longer and thicker than your own

yuuji pushed his finger in and out of you slowly, your walls gripping on his thick finger as he stared in awe. all he wanted to do was slam his dick into you and have you tighten around him

“think you can take another one?” he whispered, a second finger grazing your entrance. “mhm” you hummed, your hands on his broad shoulders, your nails digging small crescent moons on them

yuuji pushed a second finger in and you can feel your pussy being stretched, a stingy feeling soon turning into pleasure. his pace fastened and moans began to escape your plump lips. “f-fuck ahh” your moans were just heavenly for yuuji and he couldn’t get enough of them. his fingers began to do scissor motions inside your walls, stretching them even more

part of him enjoyed watching you squirm like that because of his fingers. it just made him imagine how you’d be when he sunk his cock into you. he pulled his finger out, aligning himself at your entrance. he hissed at the contact. his virgin cock ached to be sunked into your pretty virgin hole that he so desperately wanted to destroy (with love)

he took your hand in his, slowly sinking himself into your gummy walls. your arousal fresh around his dick, he couldn’t help but moan at the feeling. he was so gonna brag to megumi about this later

you can feel yourself getting full, taking a quick glance where you and him were connected to see that his dick was only half way in. “shitt” you groan, your back arching slightly. “w-what’s wrong?” yuuji asks frantically, worry and concern very visible on his tone and face. “you’re just- aghh.. really big yuu” you explained

yuuji felt his ego soar into the sky at your words. he let out a breathy laugh, suddenly feeling bold, his nervousness seeming to slip away. “you can take it tho, right pretty?” he cooed. you clenched down on him, earning a whine as he continued to sink himself in deeper

“you’re- fuck, s’tight” he groaned, his thumb rubbing circles on your hips. he waited a few minutes for you to adjust, the pain turning into pleasure as you gave him the green light to move

he rocked his hips slowly. he was soft and gentle with his movements at first, being careful not to accidentally break you. that lasted about 40 seconds. your pussy began to tighten around him, making him want to hit deeper and harder into you

part of him wanted to fuck you silly while the other part of him wanted to go slow and kiss all over your body. so he combined them. he thrusted fast and deep into you, his heavy balls slapping against your ass. his lips worked their way through your body, kissing you all over

one hand intertwined with yours and the other holding your hips in place. you could feel yourself seeing stars. yuuji was filling you up so good. stretching and molding your pretty little hole to the shape of his big, veiny cock

his tip hitting your sweet spot every time without fail. your tits bouncing up and down to the rhythm of his thrust. you could feel a knot forming in your stomach as yuuji’s thrust became sloppier

“‘m s’close” you moan out. you can feel him groan against your neck that was probably littered with hickeys. “me too” he panted, his thrust faltering “can i cum inside?”. you clenched harder around him, nodding eagerly “yes- fuckk, yesss”

you felt the knot in your stomach break, your back arching as you scratched yuujis shoulder. with a few more thrust, yuuji dumped his seed into your velvety walls, successfully painting them white. he pulled out, watching your mixed cum trail out of your abused hole

it was such a lewd sight but oh boy did he enjoy it. this was surely a first date the two of you would remember for the rest of your lives

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churipu · 10 months ago

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𝐛𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐨! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 ๋࣭ ⭑ֶֶָָ֢֢☆

featuring. gojo satoru x reader

warnings. cheating (but it's not u or him dw, it's someone else lol), cursing, non-sorcerer au.

note. i was reading a webtoon, and the male lead was a ballet dancer, then i saw gojo in him. i feel like gojo will do and enjoy doing ballet, you feel me? and just saying guys, my requests are not open :(( so if you sent in one, it might take a bit of time to get it done

ballerino! gojo who had to share an apartment with you because you're both broke fresh graduates — what more of a blessing for a fresh graduate if it's not a place half the price, with your own room? even if it meant living with a complete stranger who could actually be a serial killer.

"you must be y/n? i'm gojo satoru." he introduces himself, shoving a hand out for you to shake.

and you did, with your hand blotched with various colors of dry paint from your job— freelance artist — mumbling out apologies for being so dirty.

ballerino! gojo who was supposed to be in the same house with his long-term girlfriend since college, but she bailed out last minute. and when she found out about his new house mate — she wasn't happy the slightest bit.

"so you're the new house-mate?" she asks, eyeing you up and down menacingly as if you had tried to hit on the male.

gojo had to bring her away from the house. apologizing to you about it after he comes back home.

ballerino! gojo who usually does his warm up in the living room while watching netflix on the television, casually doing a split, hunching to the front, eyes on the television intently.

"you do ballet?"

gojo was startled to hear you, but he got over himself and nodded vigorously, "mhm."

"that's really cool."

ballerino! gojo who seemed miserable every time his girlfriend cancels out on their date through a phone call. like a one-sided relationship, except it's the part where he's actually starting to give up on her. but you said nothing about it, since it wasn't really your business in the first place. only focusing on your current client's job — jotting down shades of blue on the canvas.

"hey, you're good . . . is this what you do daily?" he sighs out, sitting on the couch you were leaning on after he ended the call with his girlfriend.

you nodded, "yeah, i draw for people."

"'ts amazing."

ballerino! gojo who went out one night to go on a date with his girlfriend, and is apparently trying to surprise her. but he came back an hour later with his tear stricken face — throwing down the bouquet of flowers he had gotten for his girlfriend earlier during the day.

the smile no longer on his face as he walks to his room, slamming the door shut before you could say anything to the male.

ballerino! gojo who acted like last night didn't happen and was casually doing a split in front of the television. shooting you a small smile when you emerged from your own room.

"are you . . . alright, gojo?" you question him, walking towards the kitchen to grab yourself a cup of cold water.

"sorry about last night." he mumbled out, head hanging low, pushing himself up — brushing his pink colored shirt and grey shorts.

"no worries. all of us have bad days." you brushed him off with a small tired smile, a few streaks of paint marking your cheeks, "how're you feeling?"

"good for someone who found out he has been getting cheated," he chuckled — scratching the back of his head, "you got a lil' something there," he points to your cheeks.

using your arm, you grazed your cheeks, "oh, i was up all night and fell asleep doing work."

ballerino! gojo who later in the day got so busy throwing everything that reminded him of his ex-girlfriend and whatever she had ever given him. doing it like he gets paid. hell, he even threw away a pair of ballet shoes that he still uses out of spite.

"what'cha doing?" you questioned, eyes focused on the canvas sitting on your lap.

"taking out the trash," he grunted tossing what seemed to be a pair of ballet shoes into a box.

"ballet shoes too? are y'quitting ballet?" the male chuckled and shook his head — and the moment you see a frame with a picture of him and his ex, you got an idea of it and said nothing else.

ballerino! gojo who for the next eight months, spends a lot of time with you in the house, doing all sorts of things. making breakfast for each other (taking turns depending on who wakes up earlier), cooking nights, baking nights, learning ballet — even learning how to draw. he forgot his ex pretty quickly.

"my toes hurt, how'd you even do this?" you seethed out in pain, curling your sore toes.

"practice."

"ha ha. very funny, gojo."

ballerino! gojo who got to know you better, and vice versa during those months. learning how you had a passion for drawing and how you've always wanted to be an artist — or how the last time you've been in a relationship was during the early days of college and broke up because your partner then said that they weren't ready for a relationship (shitty excuse).

"so they just broke it off like that? why start a relationship when they're not ready? that's just a stupid excuse," gojo muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"that's what i ask myself. but 't doesn't matter anymore." you laugh, sipping on a cup of hot chocolate, chewing on a mini marshmallow you threw in just before.

ballerino! gojo who that night asked you out for lunch the next day, and you accepted. it was only lunch after all.

"uh . . . if you're not busy tomorrow, i'd like to take you out for lunch . . ." he nervously chuckled, scratching his nape. his doe blue eyes looking everywhere but at you.

"sure!"

ballerino! gojo who actually did take you out to lunch, even paying for it. but everything went wrong when his ex was there at the same time, the male actually thought of burying himself six feet under when the girl approached you both.

"i knew there was something fishy between the two of you," she muttered out.

gojo was pissed. as hell. he didn't even bat an eyelash at the person he once adored, a deep frown on his face and he scorned, "get over yourself, we broke up a long time ago because you fucking cheated."

his ex-girlfriend was mortified, because she never remembered gojo being this hateful towards her — all the time they have been together, gojo was always nice and understanding. too nice and understanding, perhaps.

"maybe you cheated on me with them before i even did." she accuses and you immediately jumped in, since she was dragging you into her mess.

"woah, gojo and i never had anything going on. we only started getting to know each other?" you defended, eyebrows perched up at the audacity of this girl, "and mind you, gojo was miserable every time you decided to cancel on a date a few hours before, and through a call? that's low of you."

gojo shot you a smile, "hear that?"

oh, the girl was embarrassed to the roots. muttering out curses under her breath before stomping out of the place, fuming.

ballerino! gojo who apologized to you thoroughly during the whole lunch, in between chews, and even on the way home — for how his ex-girlfriend caused a scene with you.

even if you did tell him it was fine, he said it wasn't. and he wanted to make it up to you, by prepping a movie night. the notebook. one of your favorite movies, you were absolutely down.

supposedly focusing on your client's work, but the moment he puts on the movie — you'd find yourself on the couch beside him.

ballerino! gojo when it comes to the movie's "not supposed to dance in the streets" scene, stands up and shoves a hand to you, "do you want to dance with me?" he invited you as the male lead in the movie asked the female lead the same question.

you chuckled, "you know, i don't dance. gojo."

he raised a brow, "everyone does. and i thought we're close enough to be on first name basis y/n." the male teasingly said, grabbing your hand to tug you up.

"do you know how to slow dance? because i don't."

he smiled down at you, "i do ballet, sweetheart. slow dance is nothing to me — plus, i've learnt how to do slow dancing since . . . years ago. i've always dreamt of doing this with the person i like," it was the perfect setting. as the movie plays out a soft tune, the male pressed his hand on the hollow of your back, guiding you along.

you inhaled his cologne, "so is this like a confession, satoru?"

his chest vibrated as he mustered out a soft laugh, "maybe. if you don't want it to be a confession — think of it like i'm quoting a movie."

you did pend his confession in your mind that night, thinking of it like he's quoting the movie as you both danced the night away.

ballerino! gojo who acted like he didn't just confess his feelings to you last night, greeting you in the morning, and even went all out to make you breakfast after he did his usual ballet warm up.

"hi, sleepy. i made pancakes, but 'ts a little burnt . . ." he laughs, sipping what seemed to be tomato juice.

"thanks, 'toru. love you."

ballerino! gojo who immediately froze when you said that, and stares at you. but there you were, eyes shut and your mouth full of his pancakes, gojo was sure you didn't even realize what you were saying. but still, it made him happy.

"did you know what you just said?" he chortled.

fluttering your eyes open, you shake your head, "what did i say . . ?"

gojo brushed it off, but really — he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day.

ballerino! gojo who returned home from a day out with a couple of friends to be greeted with a plate of food for him. you made it. with a small pink colored post-it note beside the plate.

hi 'toru, made this before i went out to meet my client. hope you like it, ps. i dropped a lot of pepper in it because the lid fell off :( pls throw it out if it's not edible, i'd feel terrible if you got sick cause of my mistake, i love you <33

gojo ate the plate clean, even if he felt the tingling spice in his throat. he didn't care at all — you made it for him, and he won't waste it. and plus, he didn't end up getting sick, so that's a positive.

when you came home that night, he was still awake waiting for you to thank you for the meal (and to ask you about the 'i love you' on the note).

"i know, i didn't answer your confession at all that night when we were dancing, yet. so?" you cheekily tell him, indirectly saying how you like him too.

ballerino! gojo who was ecstatic about it and kissed you right there. the male was so happy he could feel his whole body thumping in excitement.

"d'you know how long i wanted to do that? to kiss you?" he has a wide smile on his face, his large hands cupping both sides of your cheeks, squishing them lightly making your lips part.

ballerino! gojo who finally feels the love he deserves with you that he thought he'd never feel again. from the smallest things like you texting him whenever you were going to be busy so if you replied late you were sorry, or giving him a call (and leaving a voice note when he's not able to answer) to tell him and ask about his day whenever you both aren't together.

he feels like he's wanted and loved, "hi 'toru, i tried to call you but you might be in a dance routine right now so i'm just leaving this voice note for you. i'm not gonna be able to reply fast in the next couple of hours because i'm meeting a client right now, but i'll get to you once i'm done. make sure to take care of yourself and don't hurt yourself, i love you."

and you feel the same, getting the same feedback with the same excitement, "hi baby, sorry for not answering your call, i was in fact in a dance routine. i have a show coming up, i'm excited! i hope the meeting goes well for you, tell me all about it once we get home, please please? i can't wait to see you, i love you more!"

ballerino! gojo who shows you his ballet moves for his show, inviting you to watch him dance. and you, of course, agreed.

when the day comes, you are more excited than the male is. gojo didn't expect you to come, especially since he knew that you had a big client that needed their painting in a short amount of time. the male was used to his ex-girlfriend promising and ended up not coming, so he was a bit crestfallen at the thought of you not coming to see him.

but there you were, sat on the front row with a big smile on your face. waving at him when he walked in.

seeing him on stage, you felt so proud — unknowing to him, while watching him, your hand was tracing his every move. the tip of your pencil elegantly dancing along with him on top of your sketchbook.

ballerino! gojo who was surprised when you showed him a sketch of him doing his move. he felt so emotional at this new form of love. oh, to be loved by an artist.

"'m so proud of you 'toru. you were amazing up there," you tell him, holding his hand.

gojo wasted no time pulling you into his chest, hugging you, "thank you for coming," you didn't know why he was emotional — but honestly, you don't mind it so you ended up hugging the male back, patting his chest.

ballerino! gojo who now felt the love he has always wanted to feel. because he knew that this time he's not wasting his love on someone who doesn't appreciate him.

"'toru, look! my client gave me a tip, let's go get that pizza we were talking about!" you cheered, throwing yourself onto him, holding a few bills of cash.

the male chuckled, pressing a warm kiss onto the crown of your head, "my baby did so good, 'm so proud of you," he nuzzled his nose to yours, scrunching his face up.

he promised that he'd work hard for the both of you. hell, he was already thinking about marrying you a few months into your relationship, so don't be shocked when he actually does.

714 notes · View notes

beom-pyu · 1 year ago

Text

i can't swim, idiot ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ choi beomgyu

choi beomgyu x fem!reader , tags: best friends to lovers au , beomgyu is annoying(ly cute) , fake dating? nah... fake married? bingo! , reader is so fed up with beomgyu how is he still alive , fluff , black cat x golden retriever dynamic ??? , hinted bisexual!beomgyu happy pride month , hinted pining , nsfw , some cliche moments bc who doesn't love a good cliche

warnings: reader uses she/her pronouns and is referred to as a wife and "mrs" , cursing , playfully (?) threatening each other's lives , soft dom!beomgyu , sub!reader , pool sex , unprotected sex , marking , praise , creampie , cum eating , morning sex <3 , cunninglus (fem receiving) , overstimulation , dry humping , big dick gyu community please gather

a/n: another summer fic for you lovelies!! <3 i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i had fun writing it! (not edited yet!)

song recs: island - youha, spotless mind - jhene aiko, nature feels - frank ocean

wc: 10.7k+

[I THINK WE JUST GOT SCAMMED.]

“wait, wait, wait. you did what?”

you slowly lower your lukewarm cup onto the cafe table before taking out your airpods—no music is playing, but you want to be 100% sure you heard him right. your best friend shoots you a lopsided grin from across the table, stirring his drink with the chewed straw in between his fingers.

“i entered us into an exclusive giveaway for married couples to win a trip to greece for a week?”

one by one, you can feel your brain cells begin to die off at his words, your eye twitching while beomgyu smiles innocently at you.

“beomgyu, i’m going to ask you a simple question and i want a simple answer.” pinching the bridge of your nose, you inhale for a second before meeting his eyes with the most exasperated gaze you've ever worn in your life. “why?”

the brown-haired boy is all too quick with a reply.

“why not?” beomgyu shrugs, his tiny grin morphing into something menacing on his lips—as if this is the funniest thing that has ever happened to him in all of his 22 years of life.

you have the sudden passing thought to throw your coffee at his face, but that’s a precious $6 you’d never get back, so you refrain from doing so. instead, you take a slow, deep breath and momentarily close your eyes. “god, if you’re out there, please, please give me patience.”

“i’m pretty sure the phrase is ‘god give me strength’,” beomgyu retorts from his seat across from you, sipping annoyingly on his nearly empty caramel frappe.

you blink at him once, twice. “if god gave me strength, you’d be in a casket right now.”

beomgyu simply cackles at your response, feigning a scared face with his hands up like he’s being held at gunpoint before he continues to laugh at his own mockery. you kick him under the table, successfully wiping that wide smile off of his dumb face.

“what was that for?” beomgyu whines with a pout, reaching down to rub his shin. a few heads turn to see what the ruckus is about and you shoot them a polite, apologetic smile and bow before turning back to mr. drama queen. the kick wasn’t even that hard.

“did you even think about what would happen if we actually won? we don’t have the time nor the money for a resort in greece.”

“oh, calm down, y/n. you know no one ever actually wins those things, right? they’re all scams.” beomgyu waves you off with his hand before bringing the green straw back up to his lips, your ears bleeding at the sound of his obnoxious slurping. you can’t stand his face.

“and how are you so sure of that?”

“because i entered that nickelodeon giveaway thing when i was 11 and never heard back from them.”

you blink at him again, thrice this time—just in case you’ve been transported into a different dimension and a stupidity demon has possessed your best friend’s body. nonetheless, beomgyu is still grinning idiotically as he chews on his straw, tilting his head at you like a maltese.

“please be so serious right now.”

“i am! plus, even if we do win—which we won’t—and it’s not a scam… shit, that’s a free trip to greece!”

the joy on his face boils your blood to no end. he’s truly dense; you can’t believe you’re insane enough to call him your other half. everything on earth must be balanced out, you suppose—the yin to your yang.

“have you considered the fact that we aren’t married?” you cock your head at him, hands folded on top of the table, speaking slowly as if you’re talking to a child… hold on, wait—you literally are.

“shoot—could’ve fooled me!” beomgyu lets out a puff of laughter. “we might as well be.”

you blink at him again.

“please don’t ever say that again. i think i just threw up in my mouth.”

beomgyu rolls his eyes before snatching his phone out of his pocket with the speed of light to show you the flier he had screenshotted. he shoves the phone in your face, tapping incessantly at the bottom text of the photo.

“look. it says all expenses paid.”

you stare at him with a silent ‘so what?’ and beomgyu sighs dramatically as he lowers his phone. he has the nerve to be exasperated with you? you’ll never understand where men get the pure audacity.

“so you’re going to look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t pretend to be my wife for a few days so we can get a free trip to greece?”

you look him straight in the eye. “beomgyu, i’d rather be burned on a stake.”

“yea, 'cause you’re a fucking witch,” he mumbles under his breath, trying to hold in his laughter. you don’t know how much more patience you have with him, so you simply exhale, checking the clock on your phone.

“i don’t have time for this—i gotta get to my lecture,” you huff out, standing as you grab your bag that sits by your feet. beomgyu pitifully whines, looking up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes known to man.

“would you seriously not do it?”

it’s now your turn to laugh, picking up your coffee to take a big sip. you’re gonna need the caffeine.

“those things are scams, gyu—you said it yourself! see you later.”

☆

nights are oh, so serene, you think, as your head hits your fluffy pillow later that night. you’re freshly showered and tucked under your covers, snug as a bug in a rug as you doze off to the lovely scent of your hibiscus air freshener and the quiet waves of your sleep sounds machine. there’s no need to count sheep—you’re completely drained from all of the walking you had to do today. all of your classes just so happen to be on opposite sides of the campus, and you’re sure your step counter is on the verge of exploding by now.

your mattress feels even comfier today, a slight breeze coming through your cracked window, balancing out the heat from your thick duvet. it takes no time at all for you to be tugged under by the lust of sleep, drifting off to a perfect dreamland full of bright colors and open fields and your blaring ringtone.

wait.

your ringtone?

you don’t even bother to open your eyes, patting around your bed for your phone before you feel the cool screen against your fingertips. it takes a few failed swipes to actually answer, mumbling out a half-asleep “hello?” as you lazily press the device to your ear.

“hi, my wonderful bff. my world, my girl, my bro, my home-shizzle! hypothetically, on a scale of one to ten, how mad would you be if i told you that the greece trip thing wasn’t a scam? and that we won? and that we leave in 2 days? hypothetically.”

the silence is incredibly loud.

…

“eleven.”

[NEWLYWEDS.]

three months ago, if you were to tell yourself that you would be adorning a fake amazon wedding ring with your best friend’s arm wrapped around your waist as you stand inside some modern insurance firm being interviewed as a newlywed couple—well, you probably would’ve admitted yourself into the nearest asylum.

you don’t know what choices from your past led you to this moment, forcing a smile as a middle-aged woman with the cleanest-cut bob you’ve ever seen enthusiastically shakes your hand before moving on to beomgyu’s. he seems completely unfazed and the thought alone irks your soul to no end.

truthfully, this is all your fault. if you would’ve just told beomgyu that you are not going to pretend to be his wife for a week, you would’ve never ended up in this situation in the first place. but can anyone blame you when he offered to pay for your coffee every single day for the next 6 months, and wash your car, and take out your trash for as long as you ask him to?

right! any sane person would’ve said yes, too!

so here you are as mrs. choi (gag), laughing along as the lady cracks a few jokes, complimenting beomgyu’s silky hair and your bright smile before sighing dreamily.

“my goodness, aren’t you two just the cutest newlyweds i’ve ever seen! how many months has it been?”

beomgyu looks down at you with a soft smile; anyone who is meeting him for the first time would’ve taken the gaze as something filled with pure adoration and undiluted love… but you know him. you see the way his eyes sparkle with mischief, the annoying quirk of his playful grin, and the pure amusement that washes over his features at your subtle glare.

he’s having way too much fun with this.

you pinch his side hard, a small bout of victory washing over you as he flinches.

deserved.

“we’re coming up on three months now?” beomgyu speaks through slightly gritted teeth before looking back up at the short woman, sending a charming smile her way. she squeals, bouncing on her heels and you bite back a grimace at the sheer volume.

“we decided to travel a bit before settling down and buying a home here in seoul,” you speak robotically, following the exact script you both came up with in your notes app on facetime last night. beomgyu hums in affirmation, tapping your side in a silent “good job”.

“awe! how sweet is that? what a wonderful idea to travel together while you're still young and nimble, unlike this old lady right here.” the lady honks out a laugh as she points to herself with her thumbs. you glance over at beomgyu who seems to be having the time of his life and—the regret of saying yes quickly settles deep in your bones. “you pair are such a lovely and beautiful couple!”

her high-pitched and overly enthusiastic voice pierces your ears and you can already feel the headache coming on.

“well, what can i say? it was love at first sight. i knew i had to make her mine and see the world with her as soon as possible,” beomgyu smoothly recites, gazing back down at you with the same look as before. you feel the bile rise in your throat. the words are so foreign to your ears, it’s almost jarring. the lady doesn’t even notice your discomfort and continues on and on about how cute you both are, how you remind her of her niece, and how beomgyu should totally be a model.

you force the fakest smile ever as beomgyu pinches your side, a cue for you to speak up. resisting the urge to punch him for pinching you (even though you had done it first), you simply nod along with an artificial laugh, your hand coming up to rest on his chest in faux infatuation.

ew.

“marrying beomgyu was the best decision i’ve ever made. i’ve never been happier.”

you swear you feel your eye twitch as the lady coos—she claps her hands excitedly, her short bob bouncing with the movement.

“how heartwarming! i’m sure this trip will bring you even closer, shedding a new light on the glitter of your love for decades to come!”

you and beomgyu are silent for a beat—because what the fuck is she even saying?—before awkwardly laughing, nodding along in hopes that she’ll wrap this up quickly. the lady’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as a stiffness fills the air, clapping her hands again as he ushers you two towards the lyft.

“better get a move on so you don’t miss your flight! i hope you have a wonderful time, lovebirds! and congratulations once again!”

the car is absolutely silent as you both settle in after all of your luggage is loaded up. beomgyu has this annoying, close-lipped smile on his face, his lips pursed like a duck—he’s so obviously trying to hold in his laughter as you grumble under your breath, snatching that stupid plastic ring off of your finger.

you glance at him before rolling your eyes. “go ahead.”

in the blink of an eye, his boisterous laughter fills the car, high and squeaky, and you silently empathize with the lyft driver who subtly turns the radio up to combat the intrusive noise. beomgyu’s doubled over, patting his leg as he gasps for air, eyes squeezed shut; and as much as you hate to admit it, your own lips quirk up into a small smile at the sound. curse your best friend and his contagious laughter.

“i can’t believe we just did that,” beomgyu heaves out before another round of giggles leaves his lips. he reaches up to push his hair out of his face before wiping at his eyes dramatically.

“i didn’t think i had it in me,” you agree, giving in to the grin that slowly spreads across your face. you make the horrible decision of meeting beomgyu’s eyes, and it takes less than a millisecond for you both to aggressively burst out laughing, bodies falling against each other's as your limbs grow weak.

“no, that was the funniest shit ever, i swear. we sold it.”

“for a second, i actually thought you were really in love with me.” your laughter slowly dies down as beomgyu lifts himself off of you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he attempts to catch his breath. you’re sure you don’t look any better—you definitely have abs after all of that.

“i just had to pretend that you were i.u,” beomgyu admits with an overexaggerated dreamy look off into the distance. you’re quick to fall into another fit of laughter but for a different reason this time.

“i.u doesn’t date freaks.”

beomgyu’s lips dramatically pout as he crosses his arms over his chest like a little kid, scoffing at your comment. “why do you always have to crush my dreams?”

“i don’t always crush your dreams. only when they’re stupid.”

“so… always?”

“no—yes.”

beomgyu’s quiet for a moment, turning his head to look out the window. his eyebrows are slightly furrowed, but the expression quickly smooths out as he turns towards you, uncrossing his arms to play with the fake ring on his finger.

“i’m not taking the couch.”

“what?”

“it’s a couple’s suite. i’m taking the bed since i’m the one who entered us in the first place.”

you resist the urge to roll your eyes again—your mother had told you that one day your eyeballs would get stuck in the back of your head, and right now, that idea didn’t seem so bad. beomgyu’s teasing smile is anger-inducing, and you think you might rip it off if you have to look at it any longer.

“what happened to chivalry? i’m your wife now, so as the man, you have to give me the bed.”

“fuck chivalry! you’re mean to me. i owe you nothing,” beomgyu huffs, squinting his eyes at you.

“i’m not mean to you,” you immediately defend, hitting his arm for even making such heinous accusations. beomgyu gasps, reaching up to hold his arm where you made impact.

“see? mean!” once again, the dramatics are almost admirable—there’s no way that hurt. he’s been hitting the gym with his roommate taehyun lately, and you’ve seen the way he’s bulked up from the scrawny shrimp boy he used to be in high school. if anything, the hit hurt you!

“let’s play rock paper scissors, then. two out of three gets the bed.”

beomgyu huffs, but obediently holds up his fist. “fine.”

three games pass by in a blur.

“you cheated!” he whines, pointing his finger at you with wide eyes, his eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“how did i cheat? just admit you suck ass, mr. couch.” your triumphant smile results in another whine from the loser next to you, putting his fist back up for a rematch. “no, i already won!”

“you’re lucky i love you.” beomgyu’s quick to give up, a tiny smile appearing on his face at the way you pretend to gag at his words.

those butterflies in your stomach are only because you skipped breakfast that morning—totally not because of the soft gaze he sends your way, mindlessly playing with the plastic ring on his finger as you two fall into a comfortable silence. totally.

☆

this sucks.

today is the first time you’ve ever ridden in first class, and you can’t even enjoy it because of the exhaustion running rampant through your veins. there’s a reason why you picked all afternoon and late night lectures; why you avoid any invitations to go out for breakfast with your friends; and why you have blackout curtains on all of your windows. you are not a morning person, whatsoever, and with that 8 a.m interview and your flight at 10 on the dot, you’re absolutely beat.

for starters, pretending to actually be in love with your best friend in front of a lady who cannot speak at a normal, human volume is more taxing than swimming from portugal to australia with no breaks. you swear. second, beomgyu has apparently never ridden an airplane before and therefore has no idea what airport etiquette is.

(“you have to put all of your electronics in the bins, okay?”

“when i go through the x-ray thing, will they see my underwear? oh my god, no, will they see my dick?”

“no, they won’t see your dick, beomgyu.”

“but how do you know they won’t see my dick? sick fucks.”

“they’re literally doing their job, beomgyu.”

“they can do their job without looking at my dick!”

“they aren’t going to see your dick!”

the lady in front of you covers her kid's ears as she shoots you two the nastiest glare you’ve ever seen. you both bow in apology before you flick beomgyu on the back of his neck.)

you can barely keep your eyes open as you watch some marvel movie on the little screen in front of you, fighting to at least stay awake long enough to order dinner. it’s futile, though, because you’re already blacking out every few minutes, head lulling side to side like a bobblehead.

you finally give up the battle, reminding yourself that there will be endless food at the resort, so you settle yourself into your plush seat, resting your cheek against your neck pillow. from this angle, you have a perfect view of beomgyu who’s in the secluded seat next to you, and—oh.

he looks… he looks softer than usual, only illuminated by the natural light emerging through the circular windows. his hair is slightly mussed from his fingers, his long fringe hanging over his eyes in such a way that he has to keep shaking it out of his vision. he has his earbuds in, watching the sky through the tiny window next to him with his bottom lip in between his teeth—a habit he’s had since he was young. you know he’s thinking, lost in his mind abyss by the way his fingers fidget with the end of his shirt, his leg shaking incessantly.

“hey, gyu,” you call out quietly so as to not disturb anyone else around you. his music must’ve been turned down low, seeing as his eyes find yours at the call of his name, taking an earbud out to hear you better. “you okay?”

if there’s one thing you know about your best friend, it’s when he’s nervous. it shows with the way his leg doesn’t stop moving, even as he nods out a yes in reply to your question, seeing his jaw move as he grinds his teeth together.

“the plane keeps shaking,” he whispers, eyes wide and worried as a little bit of turbulence rocks the cabin right after he finishes speaking. even in your tired state, you can’t help but laugh softly at his animated expression, shaking your head.

“are you scared?” the teasing tone in your voice is apparent—beomgyu rapidly shakes his head in disagreement, but you see right through him as his hand grips the armrest, eyebrows knitted together. everything in your nature tells you to tease him, rile him up a bit, poke fun at him—but he genuinely looks concerned, and you’re too tired to come up with anything witty to say. instead…

“it’s just turbulence. you’re okay, gyu.”

you watch the way beomgyu relaxes ever so slightly, nodding his head as his grip loosens. you send him a little smile, not bothering to wait for him to smile back before turning your head the other way, finally letting sleep pull you under.

[FREE MARGARITAS.]

you don’t get a single moment to look around the resort because as soon as you both lug all of your things into your suite, you’re told a romantic, candle-lit dinner on the beach just down the hill has been reserved for you two as a welcome gift by the company. you’re not complaining of course, but you still would’ve liked to at least get acquainted with the area before indulging in everything.

it takes you an hour and a half to get ready; partially because beomgyu’s showers take forever. he’s in there singing along to some random 70s hits playlist, having the time of his life, while you take the time to look around the suite.

it’s huge, to say the least. a single pod building that sits on a hill full of others alike with pristine white walls and elegant decoration—it’s almost 3 times bigger than your own apartment and you can only imagine how much all of this would’ve cost. wide, open windows line the walls with marbled tile underneath your feet, the furniture ranging from white to beige to a palette of blues, mimicking the colors of the beach in the distance.

outside is a wide patio with a glistening pool and comfy lounge area, complete with a loveseat and a swing. it has the perfect view of the coast, the sun already lowering behind the horizon. it’s absolutely breathtaking, and you make sure to take plenty of pictures, even posting a few on your instagram story (without tagging beomgyu, because you’re pissed at how long he’s taking in the bathroom.)

by the time he comes out, his hair is blow-dried and pushed out of his face with a headband. he looks like casper the friendly ghost with the white facemask he adorns and you stifle a laugh at the thought.

you force yourself to dismiss the way he only has a towel wrapped around his waist, chest completely bare as he strides over to his suitcase—he doesn’t even bother to acknowledge your presence as he pulls out the most formal thing he can find, dropping it onto the bed.

“you gonna shower or what?” he asks over his annoyingly broad shoulder, hands reaching down to undo the towel around his waist. a yelp leaves your lips at the sudden movement, covering your eyes as you rush towards the bathroom.

“you’re disgusting!” you yell before slamming the door shut, locking it for good measure. his cackles ring throughout the suite and you flick him off from behind the wall—he can’t see it, but you want to at least get it out of your system.

halfway through your shower, you realize you forgot to bring your clothes into the bathroom to change. you blame this all on beomgyu—half because somehow every inconvenience in your life is all his fault and half because you just want a reason to ignore the way you keep thinking about how toned he’s gotten recently. you mentally make it your mission to shut down every single gym in his vicinity.

you wrap your towel tight around your body before cracking the door open, the cool air from the a/c attacking your skin like icicles. poking your head out, you scan the room for any sign of your counterpart, but the room seems to be completely empty. you wait a few seconds, just in case he decides to make any unannounced appearances before deeming the room safe enough to enter. the coast is clear.

you rush over to your suite case, unzipping it to find an appropriate dress, deciding on a white one to match the white button-up beomgyu had pulled out. you grab your makeup bag, as well as your perfume and it isn’t until you stand back up to find refuge in the bathroom that you notice the figure in the doorway. you jump in surprise, a small scream escaping your lips as you wrap your arms around yourself defensively.

“you fucking stalker,” you huff as he doubles over in laughter.

“oh my god, you should’ve seen your face,” he gasps, holding his hand to his stomach as his entire body vibrates with cackles. despite the venomous glare you send his way, your eyes can’t help but catch onto the fact that beomgyu cleans up nicely.

you’ve gotten so used to beomgyu’s endless collection of sweatpants and hoodies that the thought of him looking like an a-list celebrity never once crossed your mind. the top few buttons of his shirt are undone, exposing the smooth expanse of his chest, appropriately decorated with a few layered necklaces. it seems like he decided to trade out his usual dangly earrings and ear piercings for simple studs that shine when the chandelier above you hits them.

those black dress pants hug his legs in a way that makes you swallow, feeling your body grow warm at the way he tucks his hands into his pockets. he cocks his head at you curiously, a jesting smile on his lips—he looks infuriatingly good, to the point where you have to physically rip your eyes away from him.

“like what you see?” he badgers while he strolls into the room, as if he can see right through your little facade. you scoff, holding your stuff tight to your chest as you flee towards the bathroom again.

“what happened to privacy?” you make sure to completely ignore his previous question—he can tell all too easily when you’re lying, and you really don’t feel like being teased relentlessly tonight.

“what’s the issue? you’re my wife now, aren’t you?” his voice is provoking, playful as you burn through him with another intense glare.

“beomgyu, i promise you, i will drown you in that pool if you say another word.” and then you happily slam the door shut in his face.

“no, you won’t! you love me too much,” he singsongs from behind the door. all you can do is roll your eyes because—yes. yes, you do.

☆

you don’t think you’ve ever seen beomgyu act so… gentlemanly ever since he tried to get his 6th grade crush to like him back—but this time, without the weird phrases he stole from western movies and the electric blue braces that lined his teeth.

he’s committed to this husband act; pulling your chair out for you and pushing you in after you take a seat, kissing the back of your hand (you kicked him under the table at that), and even telling you that you look, and you quote, “absolutely stunning, baby.”

you hope your discontentment isn’t showing too obviously through your forced smiles and giggles, that plastic wedding band around your ring finger uncomfortably sticking to your skin.

you can’t deny the fact that the dinner is really nice, though. never in your life would you have thought you’d be drinking expensive wines and eating 5-star cuisine on a beach with your childhood best friend—you’re pretty sure 14-year-old y/n would’ve complained about how it should’ve been choi soobin from 4th period instead of beomgyu, but you’ll take what you can get.

in all honesty, it simply feels like a normal dinner out with your best friend. you both still laugh and joke as usual, reminiscing on the time when beomgyu forgot to take out his retainer before his band performed at the school festival in 10th grade, resulting in a slurred rendition of sk8er boi by avril lavigne and a crowd full of giggling onlookers. (if you had to threaten a few people to leave beomgyu alone about it afterward, then so be it.)

the thing is, it’s not hard to let go around beomgyu. you’ve known each other since you were in diapers; defending beomgyu from bullies in elementary, attending all of his self-made band’s concerts, and hanging out on your rooftop eating popsicles and gummy worms. you could complain all you’d like about his teasing, his constant, exuberated nature, and his inane questions, but there’s no one else that you’d put your life on the line for, other than the puppy-like man in front of you.

his eyes sparkle with the reflection of the candlelight as he rambles on about how he genuinely thought planes did a loopty-loop before taking off and your heart aches with a sort of warmth you’ve been trying to dismiss for so long.

the dinner ends all too quickly, and by the time you down your last glass, you realize you’re slightly tipsy. you’ve always been a lightweight, but you really didn’t think you drank that much—you must’ve been too distracted by beomgyu’s crazy stories to acknowledge the waiter constantly filling your glass after every few sips. at least it was free.

you slightly wobble on your heels as you take a stand in the sand, a little noise of surprise leaving your lips as a warm hand meets your hip, swiftly steadying you. you look down and automatically recognize the amazon ring, your head turning to meet beomgyu’s gentle eyes.

“don’t tell me i have to carry you all the way back.” and even though it’s a joke, there’s a layer of genuineness in his tone as you stumble again.

“‘m not that drunk,” you reply with the slightest of slurs, quietly giggling at the simple image of beomgyu carrying you bridal style to the bed. now that would truly sell the act, for sure. beomgyu shakes his head with a small smile, but his hand doesn’t leave your waist as he guides you back towards the suite, his touch firm and sturdy.

you’re almost across the beach when you stumble again, but this time, your heel actually gives out as you trip, a tiny yelp leaving your lips right before you hit the ground. you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact—but it never comes.

“yep. i’m carrying you.”

you crack an eye open to see beomgyu with an amused smile on his face, both of his hands holding onto your hips. turns out you weren’t even close to hitting the ground at all… okay, maybe you are drunk.

“piggy back ride?” you ask with a little giggle. you’re reminded of that time beomgyu had to give you a piggyback ride all the way back home from the park after you sprained your ankle trying to do a backflip off of the swing in elementary school. what a time.

beomgyu rolls his eyes fondly, but gives you a little nod, letting go of your waist to kneel down by your feet. “give me your foot.”

you give him a quizzical look, cocking your head at him in pure confusion before he pats his thigh, motioning towards your leg. still a bit out of it, you hold onto his shoulder as you lift your foot, feeling a weird sensation rush up your spine at the way he gently holds onto your calf to slip your heel off of your foot. he does the same to the other without a word, completely unfazed by the way your mouth remains slightly ajar in shock. his fingers are gentle and soothing against your skin, despite being mildly calloused from his guitar back home.

it’s enough to throw you off, swallowing as his eyes meet yours again. his eyes are incredibly soft as he smiles up at you—he motions towards his back with a quiet “hop on”.

you obey, only faltering slightly as your arms sling around his shoulders. with the new proximity, you can smell his cologne, something sweet and woodsy. his hands grab onto your thighs—one decorated with high heels hanging off two of his fingers—before hiking you up a bit. he begins walking, saying something about how he thinks there’s 10 tons of sand in his shoes by now—and if he notices you’re too distracted by his hands on your legs to process what he’s saying, he doesn’t mention it.

☆

the view is absolutely breathtaking through the glass tall windows of your suite, the rays bouncing off of the pool as you watch beomgyu wade in the water, his eyes shut. it’s weird seeing him like this—fully relaxed, calm, and still.

it seems like ever since you met beomgyu, all chubby-cheeked and busy-bodied, he’s always been on the move. whether it be to sprint down the road to meet you at the corner so you can walk to school together, or high in the air as he jumps on your trampoline… and even when his body is physically still, his mouth still runs a mile a minute, talking about anything and everything in the entire universe, letting his thoughts run wild around you.

as much as you truly do adore his silly side, him being the main reason why you were able to break out of your shell in the first place, you can’t help but be slightly fascinated with this alternate side of him.

it’s morning now; the yellowish-white hue of the blinding sun bounces off of his skin as he soaks up the moment, his brown hair getting so long it falls down the back of his neck in soft layers. you feel like a creep, watching him like this, but something about the entire atmosphere makes your eyes unable to look away as you slowly sip on the complimentary margaritas.

your best friend has always been attractive—that’s one thing you cannot deny. he’s had his fair share of flings, and partners (and even a throuple once) throughout the years while you’ve only endured a few situationships here and there. he’s been called handsome his entire childhood and well into his adult years, taking the compliment in stride. he never let it get to his head or fuel his ego, though; for some reason, that fact makes him even more appealing.

he’s always just been your best friend, and you both are incredibly okay with that label—you know each other best, and that’s all that really matters. never mind the way his eyelashes flutter like monarch butterflies, or the way his cheeks flush when it’s too cold outside, or the way his leg bounces when he’s excited or nervous, alike. you try to ignore the way his laughter always manages to make the sun come out, and the way he always orders for you at restaurants because he knows you aren’t a fan of talking to strangers, and the way he seems always to know what you need, right when you need it.

he’s truly the yin to your yang. but there’s something else bubbling under the surface that you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to acknowledge yet.

a loud call of your name grabs your attention, your vision focusing on a grinning beomgyu waving you down from the edge of the pool. you don’t even have it in you to huff at the prospect of moving from your comfortable lounge chair, standing up to make your way to the large patio. sliding the door open, you poke your head out, immediately feeling the muggy air of midday wrap around you like a heated blanket.

“get in with me! the water is super warm,” he calls, motioning you towards him with his arm, the action flicking water everywhere. you frown a bit, looking at the pool behind him before meeting his eager eyes again.

“you know i can’t swim, idiot.”

beomgyu’s smile doesn’t falter for a second as he shrugs, holding his hand out.

“then i’ll do the swimming for you.”

the offer is so light-hearted and casual—it shouldn’t make your heart lunge in your chest, your gut twisting with anticipation at the simple implications of his words.

you’re already in your bathing suit from the mirror selfies you took for simply the aesthetic—a simple blue bikini tied tightly around your frame. you really don’t want to waste your time here; when else will you get the chance to stay in greece for free with your best friend?

so you let your feet carry you to the stairs of the pool, your fingers wrapping around the metal railing as you slowly step in, foot by foot. by the time you’ve made it waist deep, you begin to feel the fear creep into your bones.

“i won’t let you drown, y/n,” beomgyu laughs as you suspiciously eye the deep end of the pool, unable to even see the bottom of it. your hand tightly grips the rail as beomgyu wades his way toward you, holding his hand out for you to take. “i promise. just hold on to me.”

you nibble on your lip as your eyes flicker down to his hand, feeling the water move gently around you. drowning has always been one of your biggest fears, and because of that, you’ve always stayed far away from any body of water capable of swallowing you up whole.

but beomgyu’s eyes are warmer than the water, the most delicate of smiles resting on his soft features. there’s no room to be scared—not with the way his hand is so grounding as you take hold of it, squealing a bit as he tugs you closer.

“do you trust me?” and when he speaks, his voice is just barely above a whisper, his face so close to yours that you can individually count his eyelashes. his margarita-tinted breath fans over your lips and you find yourself unable to cringe away, nodding cautiously in response.

your hands tightly grasp his shoulders as he wraps a strong arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he uses his other arm to swim deeper into the pool. his doesn’t let up, even slightly, his grip sturdy around your figure as he utilizes one arm to keep you both afloat.

“here, wrap your legs around me,” he speaks, tapping your thigh under the water. you’re sure your eyebrows shoot up into your hairline, your mouth bobbing open and shut like a fish out of water.

“wha… huh?” you question oh, so eloquently, the rumble of beomgyu’s laughter transferring against your skin. his nose crinkles up in the way it always does when he finds something to be a bit too entertaining, his eyes forming those pretty crescent moons as his eyelashes tickle his cheeks.

“it’ll make this easier. i’m not trying to carry a dead weight,” beomgyu speaks as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. you’re still dumbfounded, blinking at him blankly—so he decides to take matters into his own hands, reaching down to situate you against him by himself. “there, that’s better.”

a persistent heat surges through your stomach as your brain slowly registers the position. beomgyu’s arm tightens around your waist as you adjust your hips in a way that makes your clothed core brush against his bulge. you almost see the way his eyes darken, his tongue peeking out to swipe over his bottom lip. it’s quiet, still as the distant sound of the beach’s waves and the gentle trickle of water fills in the silence.

your arms slowly come up to wrap around his neck—you don’t know what possesses you; some weird entity that makes beomgyu’s lips look all too kissable, and his eyes sickeningly alluring. his adam’s apple bobs as his eyes flicker across your face. you don’t register the way he slowly wades you both toward the wall of the pool, effectively caging you in as your back gently presses against the tile.

you have the chance to run, to push him off of you, and go back inside—to pretend your core doesn’t pulse with want as he presses his entire body against you. his chest is warm and his eyes are blown out, and you can say no.

but you don’t want to.

his eyes search yours for something before they trail down to your lips, his hips meeting yours in a way that renders you slightly dizzy with the proximity.

“tell me you don’t want this and i’ll stop, right now,” he whispers, his fingers leaving a ticklish feeling against your exposed skin under the water. you swallow.

“i want this, please.” and his lips are on yours before you can take another breath.

it’s nothing gentle; as if he’s been starved for your taste for all of eternity. the kiss is bruising as he nibbles on your bottom lip, his tongue meeting yours as you gasp into his mouth. he takes control easily, his hips moving against yours as the water moves around you, the sound mixing in with your quiet moans and beomgyu’s sparse grunts.

he swallows all of your sounds, holding you down against him as he bucks up into your core, his dick hard and heavy in between your legs. you squeeze your legs tighter around his waist as you match his movement to the best of your ability. you’re nearly unable to think straight as he kisses the oxygen out of you, your mind growing hazy as pleasure shoots up your spine when he rubs against your clit just right.

beomgyu breaks the kiss to dive into your neck, sucking and biting small marks onto your unblemished skin before kissing over the soon-to-be marks. he can’t keep his mouth off of you as he trails his lips under your jaw, over your clavicle, nipping at your cleavage. your own voice sounds foreign in your ears as every lick and bite shoots straight to your core, feeling that knot in your gut tightens with every thrust.

“think you can cum just like this, hm? just from humping my cock?” beomgyu pants against your skin as his lips brush over your cheek, his breath fanning your ears. the head of beomgyu’s clothed dick catches onto your slit for the slightest of seconds, and you have to clench all of the muscles in your body to not cum on the spot.

“ye—yes, please don’t stop,” you whine, tilting your head back to invite his lips back to your neck. you’re sure you’re leaving marks on beomgyu’s shoulder blades from how hard your nails dig into his skin, but he doesn’t seem to mind—if anything, it makes his hips work faster against yours, pressing you full-on against the pool walls.

“so good for me, fuck.”

beomgyu kisses up your neck, a low groan leaving his lips at the way you’re bouncing on his cock like a bitch in heat, clawing at his skin as your pussy clenches around nothing.

“gyu, ‘m—can i cum? please, please, please.” you can’t hold on anymore—not with the way beomgyu laughs against your skin, his free hand reaching up to grab your chin, forcing your lips against his again. he licks into your mouth with fervor, your teeth clashing together. your spit-slicked lips slide against each other, wet and messy, and he finally decides to take pity on you.

“go ahead, cum for me, baby.”

your brain goes blank as you finally come undone, blindly sinking into beomgyu’s lips and his faltering thrusts. your entire body tenses up as you moan against his lips, feeling like a ragdoll in the way he leaves soft kisses against your lax mouth. a low, rumbling groan emits from his chest as his hips still, twitching against yours subtly. he exhales once he finally pulls away from your swollen lips, his hand coming up to cup your cheek.

it takes a second for you both to catch your breaths and when you finally blink your eyes open, beomgyu’s puppy-like eyes are already on yours.

“you okay?” his voice oozes with a type of concern; care that feels all too intimate. his pupils are blown wide, alluring and deep as they scan your face. you nod with a small sigh, leaning forward to drop your head onto his shoulder. you feel his torso shake with a chuckle at the action, feeling an unnamed emotion run through your chest.

you don’t pay any mind to it, though. not while you're ruminating in a cum-contaminated body of water.

“we should probably call someone to clean the pool.” and the laughter that bubbles out of beomgyu’s mouth is enough to distract you, just for a moment.

[I DO.]

it’s a weird, strange domestic feeling waking up to a fluffy head of brown hair resting on your shoulder, caged in by gentle arms around your waist. beomgyu’s always been a cuddler, and a week ago, you would’ve cringed at the simple thought of indulging him.

but now, a warm feeling blooms in your chest like a hydrangea as your fingers slip into his mussed hair to play with the strands. you’ve been cowed by your emotions, unable to fight off the fond smile that climbs onto your lips at the sight of the teddy bear-esque man clinging to you in his sleep.

you don’t know what to do with all of these butterflies swarming in your chest, flapping against each other, kicking up a sandstorm of admiration that runs wild through your veins. he’s your best friend—and at this point in time, you know he’s more than that.

it’s crazy to think that romantic feelings can accumulate overnight, and you’re starting to suspect that maybe these feelings have existed all along. he’s the only one capable of rendering you speechless, whether it be from the crazy things he says or the way his eyes sparkle with a sense of youthfulness that tethers you two together. he’s the only one who can make you feel so carefree and in the moment—you don’t worry about the future or what’s to come with beomgyu. you simply enjoy the now, soaking up his blinding smiles and outlandish stories.

he’s waking up, you realize, as he mumbles under his breath, nuzzling closer to you. his lips brush your neck, his hair tickling your cheek in a way that makes your nose scrunch up with a small giggle. you feel drunk despite the fact that all of the alcohol has long dispersed in your body overnight—you blame it all on the fact that the sun sits high in the sky, shining kindly through the wide, open windows. it lights beomgyu up in a way that squeezes your heart painfully, the white sheets strewn across his waist making him look so soft and gentle.

“good morning,” you mumble with a tiny smile as beomgyu begins littering faint kisses against the expanse of your neck, brushing over the previous marks he’d left there yesterday. he simply hums in response, his arms loosening from around your waist to trail up the side of your body—his touch is so delicate, you let yourself get lost in the feeling, your eyes fluttering shut as he softly nips at your skin.

he situates himself so that he’s hovering over you and you open your eyes again, feeling the sudden urge to shy away from his gaze. you’ve never seen such a look in his eyes—something so heavy and raw. as if he’s prying you apart and putting you back together again. it makes a shiver run up your spine.

“good morning, beautiful,” he finally replies and you can’t help but giggle again—you feel like a teenager, the way your stomach flutters at his morning voice, all deep and raspy and sultry. his brown eyes are half-lidded from sleep, his skin warm as his fingers brush your cheek.

the tension in the air isn’t incredibly prominent—it still lingers but with a less demanding presence. it’s natural and easy in the way it always is with beomgyu. existing with beomgyu is just so uncomplicated.

you feel yourself melt into the sheets as he presses closer, molding himself into you perfectly—as if he was destined to be right here all along. his nose brushes yours as he leans in, and when his lips touch yours, any thoughts clouding your mind immediately disperse, making room for the sun itself. your arms come up to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer to you, feeling his heartbeat against yours. you feel safe, lax, content; all things good in the world.

his lips are unrushed as they move against yours, silently speaking a thousand words as he cups the side of your face, his hips subtly moving against yours. you sigh into his mouth, tilting your head to deepen the kiss—you don’t care about morning breath or the fact that you probably look a mess with your ridden-up shirt and tired eyes. and beomgyu doesn’t care either, licking into your mouth as if you’re a rare delicacy, grinding down against your thin panties.

he’s half-hard in his pants, desperately rubbing against you to chase whatever pleasure he can get. it’s endearing almost, the way he moans into your mouth as you reach down to slip your fingers past his waistband to trail a light touch over his dick. his voice is deeper than normal, stirring something inside of you that makes your legs clamp around his hips.

“i want you, gyu,” you breathe out once his lips finally leave yours, pumping him slowly. his lips catch in between his teeth as your fingers run over the head of his dick, feeling your fingers coat with sticky precum.

“hm? gotta be more specific than that, gorgeous,” beomgyu teases despite the way he’s slowly thrusting into your hand, smiling down at you in a way that usually would’ve pissed you off—but right now, it only makes your pussy drip with want.

“i want you inside of me. want you to fill me up,” you whine out as his fingers rub your clit over your panties, moving lower to press against your damp entrance. his resolve crumbles all too quickly as you peer up at him with your doe eyes, lips parted as you whine softly, moving your hips against his fingers.

“fuck, okay baby.”

you let him move away to strip himself of his sparse clothing as you pull your shirt over your head. the butterflies return quickly as you realize this is the first time you’re seeing each other completely unclothed and—oh god. he’s huge. your half-asleep state didn’t realize the sheer amount of dick between your fingers, but now that you’re seeing it in the morning light, you aren’t even sure if it’ll fit.

beomgyu makes his way back over to you, his fingers hooking onto the band of your panties to drag them down your legs. his eyes are almost predatory as he takes in your glistening folds, unable to stop himself from running his fingers over your cunt, collecting your juices.

“you’re dripping,” he awes, his eyes flickering up to yours with a small smile. a heat rushes up your neck, shyly covering your face with both of your hands. beomgyu’s small laugh resonates throughout the room, feeling his clean hand come up to gently move your arms away.

when you meet his eyes again, they’re filled with a sort of fondness that makes your head spin, makes your heart stutter—it’s horrible and you can’t help the small whine that leaves your lips as his fingers return to your cunt, slightly dipping into your hole, soaking them even more.

“i want you to look at me. can you do that?” beomgyu gently requests and you’re nodding before you can fully register his words. he flashes you a proud smile before he brings his wet fingers up to his mouth, licking them clean of your juices. an airy, surprised moan leaves your body against your will at the sight, and his smile broadens. “you taste amazing, baby.”

his middle finger enters your entrance with no resistance, and you feel yourself clench down as he curls it upwards to gently explore your walls. it’s all too much and not enough all at once. he’s going incredibly slow, as if you two have all the time in the world, but you can’t wait. you need him now.

“please, just fuck me. ‘m ready,” you demand through a whine, pleading with your eyes, an action that effectively softens beomgyu's gaze. he doesn’t remove his finger, but instead adds another alongside it, his thumb coming to brush against your clit. you buck against his hand with a small moan as he moves up your body, trailing kisses from your hipbone, to your breasts, and finally your lips.

it’s a chaste peck, but it’s enough to leave you wanting more, chasing after his lips once he pulls back. you whine at the loss, already feeling your brain turn to mush with the way his fingers slowly drag against the walls of your cunt, his thumb just barely applying pressure to your swollen nub.

“are you sure?”

“yes, yes, ‘m sure. want your cock, gyu. just—” you’re nearly hysterical as your hips grind down on his fingers. you can already feel the frustrated tears brimming your eyelashes, reaching up to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, your lips brushing against his. “please, please…”

“shh. it’s okay, baby,” beomgyu coos, pressing a few soft kisses to your lips. you quietly gasp as he removes his fingers from your hole. he kisses your cheeks all too delicately, his forearm resting by your head to steady himself. “i’ll take care of you. just relax.”

you almost cry happy tears with the way you feel the head of his cock tease your hole, dipping in but not fully entering. his lips find yours again as he drags his dick in between your sopping folds, swallowing his low moan at the feeling. “my perfect girl. so pretty, so wet for me.”

when he pushes in, your arms tighten around his neck, your enter body locking up at the intrusion. you feel like a virgin again, his girth stretching you open almost uncomfortably. his thumb rubs your hips to soothe you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss to distract you from the feeling. he stops for a second, letting you get used to his dick as he peppers kisses across your face.

“fuck, it feels like you’re splitting me in half,” you blurt out and beomgyu can’t help but laugh softly, his forehead resting against yours. “i think i can feel you in my throat.”

“can you stop making me laugh so i can fuck you stupid, please?”

his words are lighthearted, but the thought of being fucked to the point where you can’t even speak has you shutting up in no time. you whine quietly as beomgyu continues pushing into you until he’s fully situated inside of your cunt—you’re fluttering around him like crazy, feeling the faint pain slowly dispersing into pleasure as he kisses your jaw.

“you can move now,” you mumble, and beomgyu wastes no time pulling out, almost all the way, just to snap his cock back into you with a force that rocks the bed slightly. you can’t cover up the choked-out gasp that leaves your lips, eventually turning into a stream of moans and whines as he quickly sets a brutal pace.

his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust, your mind clouding over as pleasure fills your bloodstream, your pussy clenching around his thick cock. he places one last kiss on your lips before sitting up, both of his hands moving wrapping around your thighs. you’re so wet that his dick easily glides in and out of you, wet, squelching sounds filling the room as you drip around him.

“you’re so tight, god. letting me fuck you raw like the needy slut you are,” he chastizes, groaning as he pulls your body in to meet his hips. his strokes are so deep, you already feel yourself nearing your high.

“yes, yes, yes. need you,” you cry out, hands gripping the sheets. “so big, gyu. ‘s too much, i can’t—”

“you were the one crying for my cock, so you better take it.” his sudden demeanor change sends a tingly rush up your spine, leaving your brain a muddled mess. his bangs have fallen into his eyes, his cheekbones flushed with a slight pink from the physical exertion and the warmth of the sun beaming through the windows. his stomach contracts with every thrust into your wet heat, low moans and sharp gasps leaving his lips as his eyes fall shut, his head lolling back at the feeling.

your core throbs, gut tightening with every passing moment—at some point, he brings his fingers down to circle your clit, whimpers leaving your mouth at the overwhelming feeling of it all. you clench down around him, hand stretching out for something, anything; and it only takes a few seconds for beomgyu to notice. his fingers interlace with yours, giving your hand a grounding squeeze.

“gonna fill you up—gonna make a mess of this pretty pussy,” beomgyu pants out, a low moan leaving his lips as his hips slightly stutter.

“‘m gonna cum, gyu, ‘m cumming,” you babble out, your head rolling to the side as your eyes shut, the immense pleasure coursing through your body becoming all too much. somewhere through your muffled ears, you hear beomgyu praising you for taking him so well, but by that point, you’re already gone.

the moan that leaves your lips is nearly pornagraphic, your fingers clawing at the sheets as your orgasm washes over you. all the air is punched out of your lungs and beomgyu thrusts deep into you before settling there, a low groan leaving his lips as his dick twitches inside of you.

“fuck, baby, i love you. i love you so much,” he breathes out as he cums—you feel the hot streaks of his cum painting your insides, shooting places you weren’t even sure existed inside of you. it leaves your mind hazy, unable to even process the way he pulls out, his cum dripping out of you and onto the white sheets.

the feeling of a hot, wet tongue against your entrance makes your hips buck up—you let out a surprised gasp that’s quickly overtaken by a whimper, your hand reaching to entangle itself in his hair.

“wait, gyu—fuck, i’m sensitive,” you whine, feeling your eyes brim with tears at the overstimulation. his tongue flicks against your abused cunt as he cleans up his own cum, fucking it back into you with his tongue.

“you can take it, baby. i know you can,” he pants against your pussy before his lips encircle your clit, sucking and nibbling ever so slightly. you can’t control the noise leaving your lips, whining and moaning as your legs clamp around his head. beomgyu simply chuckles against you before two of his fingers enter your pussy, teasing and prodding at your sentive walls.

“gyu, i can’t, i can’t…” you sob, tears running down your cheeks as the overstimulation sends painful shocks up your spine. you’re gushing around his tongue, the sheets beneath you completely soaked through. your brain fights against itself, your body unsure of whether to press closer or pull away. you can’t think about anything other than beomgyu’s fingers and mouth, eyes squeezed shut as your body racks with sobs.

“yes, you can. cum on my tongue, pretty girl.”

and you do, your back arching as you moan loudly, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your hips frot against his face, waves of pleasure washing over you, drowning you. your entire body trembles with shocks as your mind goes blank, flopping back onto the bed as you attempt to catch your breath. tears are still running down your cheeks—your entire body feels like it’s floating. you’re completely wrung out. that was probably the hardest you’ve ever come in your life.

you don’t even register beomgyu’s soft hands on your cheeks as he wipes your tears away, his lips pressing against your forehead, your nose; anywhere his lips can reach. it’s grounding as you slowly come back down to earth.

“you did so well for me, baby. so, so perfect. so beautiful. you took it all, i’m so proud of you.”

you blink your eyes open at his words, feeling those butterflies flock with the way he’s watching you so attentively, his eyes flitting across your face quickly.

“i didn’t go too far, did i?” beomgyu’s voice is almost nervous, low and quiet in your ear as he strokes the side of your face. you crack a small smile at how cute he looks, reaching up to brush some of the hair out of his eyes.

“no, not at all. i liked it,” you reassure, your fingers trailing down his neck, playing with the hair on the back of his neck. he visibly melts into your touch at the words, shoulders slumping in relief.

“thank god,” he breathes out, slumping on top of you—you half-heartedly protest, but the weight is nice, loving the way it feels to have his chest rise and fall against yours, his head resting in the crook your neck. you wrap your arms around him with a little giggle, pressing a kiss to his hair.

“you big baby,” you tease. he’s completely unbothered, though, pressing a quick kiss to your shoulder before settling against you again.

“only around you.”

the quiet is relaxing, hearing the calm waves of the beach down the hill and the slight buzz of the air conditioner. as much as your brain wants to believe that you imagined it, his words from a few moments ago ring like a mantra in your head. words that make your chest tight, and your mind spin, and your stomach flutter. having him in your arms like this makes you sure that what you heard wasn’t made up in your mind.

“you said you love me.”

a beat of silence.

“hm?” he hums inquisitively as if he didn’t hear you correctly the first time.

“when you, um—when you… came…” you whisper the last part, feeling the vibrations of beomgyu’s laugh fill your own chest.

“you’re still shy after all of that?” beomgyu asks incredulously as he lifts his head to look at you. a tiny, playful smile sits on his lips and you pout, nudging him softly.

“stop changing the topic!” beomgyu laughs again as he relaxes back into your hold.

“okay, i did say i love you. because i do. i love you.”

the words hit you deeper this time, now that your mind is clear—he sounds so sure of himself, and the confidence seeps into you, confirming your own feelings that have been threatening to spill over these last few days.

“i love you too.” you pause for a second. “ like, love love you.”

beomgyu chuckles against your skin, his arms tightening around your frame as he nuzzles in closer to you, despite already being skin to skin. he’s cute, you think.

“i’d hope ‘love love’ is what we’re talking about right now,” he speaks almost sarcastically and you lightly tug his hair for being a smartass—you get the opposite reaction you were searching for though because beomgyu dramatically moans at the action just to rile you up even more.

“oh my god, you’re insufferable,” you huff, but the smile on your face is telling enough as he lifts his head once again to meet your eyes—his hair is all messy and strewn about, lips bitten red and raw, cheeks flushed; and that fact that you’re in love with your best friend full sinks in. he’s everything to you.

“but you love me.”

you sigh.

“yea. i do.”

a blinding smile breaks out on beomgyu’s lips as he leans in to peck yours a few times, your body melting as he kisses you with so many emotions, it makes your heart get caught in your throat, your skin buzzing with contentment.

he pulls away, sitting up to climb off the bed, searching for his sweatpants.

“come on. time for me to do my husband duties and run you a bath.”

“you’re still comitting to this, huh?” you giggle as you sit up too, watching his figure retreat towards the bathroom. beomgyu turns slightly, the smile on his lips absolutely menacing.

“so? i gotta practice for the future.”

your future, you brain tells you.

and that idea isn't so bad, you think.

reblogs and feedback are highly cherished!

tags! @grayscorner @banggyu0308 @huckleberrykai @agustdiv1ne @yunhorights @nes-caf @1921choi

masterlist

©️BEOM-PYU

#txt #txt imagines #txt fluff #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagine #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x y/n #txt x reader #txt x y/n #beomgyu imagines #beom-pyu #beomgyu smut #txt smut #beomgyu hard hours

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recreationalfanfics · 3 months ago

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Twisted Wonderland x Lab Rats Crossover HCs

The world's first bionic superhumans.

They're stronger than us. Faster. Smarter.

The next generation of the human race is-

STUCK IN TWISTED WONDERLAND?!

Because I'm hyperfixtaited and love making crossovers, I've decided to make a crossover where YOU can choose which Davenport sibling you want to be and what dorm you'd be sorted in and what your life would be like as a bionic human in Twisted Wonderland. The reader will be using gender neutral pronouns but if I overlooked some please let me know!

Feel free to send in asks or questions about this AU!

Before We Get Started:

- Ace and Deuce are still your very first besties and are the ones who meet you first.

- Grim is your precious kitty and still calls you his bionic henchuman and definetly uses you to get out of situations he got himself stuck in.

- I'm sorry but Crowley is so Donald Davenport coded so you're not as surprised or annoyed by his narcissistic tendencies.

- You've been here at NRC for a while, as a result, Ignihyde managed to build you a bionic recharge chamber in Ramshackle.

- I haven't finished book 7 yet so pls keep that in mind.

- I'm rewatching the show currently but I'm not following any specific timeline.

Adam Davenport! Reader:

- The thembo of your siblings and now, of NRC.

- Okay, but imagine that you see your little brother, Leo, in Ace and Deuce. Ace obviously reminding you of Leo's more mischievous and clever side and Deuce reminding you of his more well-natured and clumsy side. As for Grim, HE'S LIKE THE PET YOU NEVER GOT TO HAVE.

- The fact that you're living at a school is your worst nightmare though. Trien and Crewel have you absolutely stressed😭 During studying sessions, Ace and Deuce get somewhat annoyed with you but they do know it doesn't come easy so they help you study by explaining it to you the same way they would to a five year old.

- But, thanks to your awesome durability that you keep hidden from teachers, if you guys ever feel unprepared for a test then you just casually fall down the stairs and Ace and Deuce act all worried for your safety and BRAVELY volunteer to skip class. However, you kept using it as an excuse a bit too often much to Ace and Deuce's dismay so they eventually caught on.

- You are the BANE of Riddle's existence, you have no regard for the rules AND you aren't able to be collared. Much like how it is with Floyd, Riddle openly despises you but unlike Floyd, YOU DON'T CATCH ON THAT HE DISLIKES YOU. Which makes him feel guilty and puts him at an impasse.

- Since Riddle's collars only work on people with magic, imagine that you can just rip it off with your bionic strength. When Riddle first used his unique magic on you, Ace and Deuce were in ramshackle when you walked in with one of the collars on.

Ace: "OH NO, RIDDLE PUT A COLLAR ON Y/N!"

You: "Haha, guys, check out this dope friendship necklace Riddle gave me! I'm gonna take it off and put it somewhere safe! AW, MAN, I BROKE IT....I'm gonna ask me to make another one!" and then they have to stop you.

- LOWKEY, SAVANNACLAW IS THE PERFECT PLACE FOR YOU. The other guys love having you there but also, they will be nicer to other students because you are still a hero after all. When you see them messing with other people, you lift them up and put them in air jail.

- You're like Leona's little court jester ngl. While you're not a complete idiot, you're pretty foolish and it can get entertaining for a while but when you get a bit too destructive, he will have Ruggie escort you out. He likes to take naps on you, though, especially because if someone disturbs him then you shoot a warning shot with your laser vision and are all: "SHHH! The kitty is sleeping!" But if Grim chooses to kick Leona out of your lap, you 100% obey your favorite kitty.

- Jack is your one-sided rival. He wants to be just as strong as you and demands to train with you. He even tries to copy your work out regimen and kinda stalks you to try and learn how you're so strong but then he sees you casually lifting up the sports shack for Vargas.

- BRO, AZUL WOULD 100% TRY TO PUT YOU IN A CONTRACT. A strong bionic superhuman with laser vision AND the ability to breathe underwater whose incredibly stupid and naive? It's like you were sent to him by the Seven themselves. So Ace, Deuce, and Grim and your other friends have to steer you away from him.

- Azul: "Y/N?~ Would you be interested in a deal!"

- You: "Yeah, sure! Just let me finish my applesauce."

- Ace: "Y/N, NO! You're not allowed to make deals with Azul, he's a shady businessman, remember?"

- You: "Ooooh, okay. Sorry then, but I can't."

- Floyd: "Silly Tiger Shrimp, it's opposite day!~"

- You: "Okay! Sorry guys, I have to make a deal with Azul- Wait, I mean NOT make a deal with Azul! Hehe~"

- KALIM IS IN AWE OF YOUR STRENGTH, Jamil thinks that you're a clumsy and reckless fool and he doesn't trust you around Kalim. Like, Kalim was talking about how Jamil is so awesome at basketball and in awe of how high he jumps so you're all: "Haha, wanna see what it's like?" and Jamil walked in on you THROWING THE HEIR OF THE AL-ASIM FAMILY AT A HOOP.

- Jamil: "KALIM, ARE YOU ALRIGHT!?"

- Kalim, on the ground: "THAT WAS AWESOME!"

- You're not allowed in Scarabia without supervision, nevermind that you have to be a certain distance away from Kalim because JAMIL REFUSES TO LET THAT HAPPEN AGAIN.

- YOU ARE EPEL'S HERO, HE TOTALLY LOVES HEARING YOUR STORIES ABOUT SAVING YOUR WORLD AND THINKS YOU'RE AMAZING. Like, Vil is forcing you to sit down for a makeover and you're all: "Oh, this is like the time I had to sit still to get ready for my interview after stopping an asteroid from hitting the planet." and Epel is all: "AWESOME!" and Rook is next to you and is all: "Tell us more about this enchanting tale, mon cœur brave!~" and Vil is trying to stop you from eating make up.

- I'm sorry but Epel would so try to convince you to throw Plasma Grenades at Vil when he's overblotted😭 and he's all: "What!? I'm sure it won't hurt him that bad!"

- During book 6, YOU ACTUALLY DON'T THINK IDIA'S FAMILY HQ IS THAT CREEPY and you feel so nostalgic. Like, they go through the sanitation station and you're all: "Aw, this reminds me of my capsule back at my dad's lab in his basement...I miss my dad...and Bree and Leo and Tasha...and beating up Chase...AND CHASE!"

- But when you're fighting the other overblot monsters, that's when you show how much of a competent hero you are. You're protecting everyone and keeping them safe, as well as doing your best to keep the monsters away as your fellow classmates try to recharge the thunder spears.

- Idia would totally want to uncover your bionic biology to see if he could improve upon Ortho and you're just there like: "WOAH. At least take a bionic person out to dinner first before you ask to dissect them, man-" and Idia just being all flustered.

- YOU AND ORTHO being technogically advanced buddies, obviously there's huge differences between you guys but YOU AND HIM JUST HAVING SLEEPOVERS AND IT'S JUST YOUR CHARGING PODS BEING IN THE SAME ROOM. Anyways, he totally brings out the older sibling instincts with you and Idia kinda tolerates you and your thembo ways.

- MALLEUS THINKS YOU'RE SO FUNNY and he just laughs when you say something foolish but Sebek is all: "STAY AWAY FROM LORD MALLEUS, your ignorance is an insult to his majesty!" and you just kinda wanna bully him a little bit because he reminds you of Chase but in a bad way. When Silver falls asleep, you just carrying him around and stuff because he's your friend! Lillia also finds you amusing as well ngl, you're such a spirit young individual.

Chase Davenport! Reader:

- OKAY, BUT YOU LOWKEY PANICKED AT THE REALIZATION OF NOT BEING IN YOUR WORLD. Not only because you're in a strange and totally unfamiliar world but BECAUSE YOU'RE NO LONGER THE SMARTEST PERSON.

- Ace and Deuce during the detention thing were just staring at you weirdly as you read and try to get as much information on the world of Twisted Wonderland as much as possible. Grim literally having to sit on all of your books or swat them out of your hands.

- Even though you respect and like rules, you think that the ones in Heartslabyul are kind of excessive but YOU STUDY THEM REGARDLESS because you will not be caught lacking. So when Ace and Deuce come to you and they're collared, you're all: "Ha, let me guess, you forgot to take your shoes and wear them around your neck today, huh? Amateurs." and they just glare at you or roll your eyes.

- Despite that, as an experienced team leader, you can somewhat influence the Adeuce doubt and Grim to listen to you and they do respect you to some degree when you're not being a know it all. GRIM WILL BRAG ABOUT HOW SMART YOU ARE and try to convince you to let him copy your work and you're all: "Grim, when you cheat, you're only cheating yourself." and he just hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

- Tbh, I love the idea that when Riddle went through his Overblot, you were using your bionic supervision to analyze the threat but then Ace punched Riddle and you're all: "Oh, okay, that works too, I guess."

- While Adam! (Y/n) would fight the Overblots, your concern would lie in protecting your fellow students so you tell Adeuce and Grim and any other students to come close to you and you activate your force field to protect you and them.

- During the whole Savannaclaw thing, you were the first to figure out about Leona's whole plan but you were quickly humbled when he Overblotted. When he's done, you and him bond about being younger brothers with older brothers. TO BE FAIR, Leona admits that you have it worse because Falena doesn't constantly throw him around.

- Also, if you have a sensory overload because of your enhanced senses; I can totally see Savannaclaw kind of having a room to calm down because, like, they're Beatmen. You don't necessarily like Savannaclaw but they do think your martial arts skills are cool.

- DURING THE EVENTS OF BOOK 3 IS WHEN YOU ACTIVATE YOUR COMMANDO MODE and everyone meets your alter ego, Spike. Like, Floyd is threatening you and your commando app takes over and you and him duke it out. When you finally take control, Floyd is all: "WE HAVE TO DO THAT AGAIN, DWARF SHRIMPY! THAT WAS SO FUN!" and you're confused while Jade is all: "Huh, who knew Bionic Humans can be so interesting and complex!"

- But yeah, while Azul took you as a fool, you do a very good job at finding loopholes and mistakes in his contracts to help people out of them. Which he would find respectable but sadly, that's bad for business. So much like he does with Jamil, HE WOULD SO WANT YOU TO JOIN OCTAVINELLE, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE. IMAGINE THE PROFITS.

- During Schemer of the Scalding Sands, you totally agree with Jamil and sympathize with the fact that he never got to have a normal childhood. HOWEVER, he is still doing bad things and as a hero, you can't excuse that behavior. I can see you guys being good friends and bonding with each other.

- ALSO, Chase was always awkward girls so imagine that you're awkward around pretty people in general. Like, you meet Vil and your brain short circuits and you're all: "H-Hi!" or you'll be explaining things and Vil is all: "Davenport, I need you to help me with something!" and you just turn around to face him and you're all: "...Y-Yeah, sure! Okay! Wow, your eyes are so pretty-" You also totally agree with his perfectionism and not just because he's the most jaw dropping person you've ever seen but also because you're a perfectionist yourself.

- YOU'D BE IN THE SCIENCE CLUB WITH ROOK AND TREY. Mostly to learn about the amazing science of this new world but also, you show off a bit of science of your own. Trey is super impressed by your knowledge of chemistry and Rook is their like: "Oh, how does one become as smart and charming as you?" and then you just giggle and blush and you're all: "Haha. You don't mean that~...Do you?"

- LIKE THE REGULAR CHASE, YOU'RE ALSO A HUGE CUTIE. You would totally love to watch cartoons and play pranks on people except they're completely harmless pranks. Jade will do something to annoy you and you'll be all:

Y/n: "Jade might think he got the best of me but little does he know, I'll get the last laugh!"

Ace: "I've never seen this side of you before, Y/n. What'd you do?"

Y/n: "I switched his No. 2 pencil with a number 1 pencil. LET'S SEE HOW YOU LIKE SMUDGED NOTES, LEECH. CAN I GET A HIGH FIVE!?"

- And all of the first years just look at you and leave you hanging and you frown and you're all: "See, its perfect because No.1 pencils are higher in graphite and much softer, so they're more prone to smudging-" and they're all: "No, (Y/n), we get it. It's still stupid."

- I can see you hanging out in the Ignihyde dorm, mostly because they have all the resources needed to try and figure out how to get back home but also, I can imagine that after a few months of coaxing and bonding with Idia, you guys would become friends due to your love for your siblings and your awkward ways.

- I CAN TOTALLY IMAGINE YOU AND HIM GAMING WITH LILIA, aka, Muscle Red. I can also see that Ortho would adore seeing you and his brother getting along, until you both sneak out of gym together to go and play your video games.

- I love the idea that you would love to listen to Malleus talk about gargoyles and you'd look up things with your supercomputer brain. You also would love your guys' walks because he can talk to you and inform you more about the magic in your world and you can talk to him about the science in yours. Your mind is still getting used to the idea of magic but Malleus would totally love to see your views on everything.

- SEBEK THINKS YOU'RE AN INSOLENT HUMAN, how dare you think your stupid human brain can match to that of the Great Malleus!? But he does admire your dedication to knowledge. SILVER SOMETIMES DOZES OFF WHEN YOU TALK but you're used to it and sigh but Silver tries to assure you it wasn't because he was bored.

Bree Davenport! Reader:

- Much like the ICON that is Bree Davenport, you will 100% sass back Crowley. He has to ask advice from Mozus on how to approach you since he's handled sassy teenagers before but that knowledge is sadly limited when it comes to BIONIC sassy teenagers.

- Not to mention that you're very maliciously compliant with him. When he asks you to run an errand and tries to imply he'll turn off Ramshackle's electricity if you don't, you just roll your eyes and go do it. But NOT BEFORE YOU TRASH HIS OFFICE WITH YOUR SPEED.

- When it comes to Grim, you totally decorate him with cute little bows and pamper him but you guys also exchange witty comebacks and retorts once in a while.

- ACE WOULD LOVE TO PIGGY BACK RIDE YOU SO HE'S NOT LATE TO CLASSES. At first, you did it out of the kindness of your heart but when he kept trying to trick you or guilt trip you, you ended up just dropping him off on the opposite side of campus from his classes. He was made but Deuce defended you.

- You're a little bit of a romantic as well, sometimes bordering on delulu but to be fair; you were raised in a basement and occasionally allowed to watch high school musical dramas. And being sent to a magical all-boys college is a dream come true!

- Until you have to deal with overblots and the very real possibility of innocent people dying, then you're just reminded that this world isn't SUPER different from your other world but being a hero is a never-ending job.

- You don't really get along with Riddle but you and Cater would be such good friends, you carry him to take him to places he said would be so "magicamable" and you turn invisible and listen in on all of the juicy gossip so you can report back to him and you two can giggle about it.

- You would 100% be able to tame the rowdy Savnnaclaw students because size doesn't scare you. You would be a little bit of a simp for Leona because he fits your type and he gets kind of annoyed by it but when you go back to your usual sassy and fiery self, he does kind of think twice.

- As for Jack, he admires your speed and likes joining you on runs. You happily let him know whether he's getting faster than you or not, even if he knows it's not achievable to be as fast as you, you do a good job of helping him monitor his progress. He reminds you of a smarter more competent version of Adam!

- You and Ruggie would team up to sometimes do small jobs, only if he handles the gross stuff just because you personally can't, but delivery jobs are up your alley because of your speed and you guys split the profits.

- Speaking of profits, AZUL WOULD LOVE TO TRAP YOU IN A CONTRACT TO WORK AT THE MONSTRO LOUNGE. When you briefly took Ace and Deuce's place to work, you were a one person serving machine. Getting impatient when dishes weren't done fast enough, you ran in the kitchen and took care of everything yourself.

- However, he now tries to make it not so obvious because the last time he did, you created an tornado with your super speed and shot him and his creepy twins from it. Floyd thought it was the coolest thing ever and begs you to do it again, while Jade pretended to sniffle as he mourned about how, "rude bionic humans are to poor eels like them."

- As for Scarabia, after Jamil sends you guys into the dessert and they have to make an oasis, you're just there like, "So...I'm going to just speed my way back to the dorm. Meet you guys there!" and then you're off.

- I DO THINK YOU'D BE IN THE POP MUSIC CLUB WITH KALIM, CATER, AND LILLIA. So after the events of book 4, you do kinda make sure Kalim doesn't put so much on Jamil. Such as throwing a party and you help him with the decorations instead so Jamil can have a break or, at the very least, you handle the clean up yourself.

- Also, you're not as surprised as everyone else is when Kalim decides to forgive him, purely because your uncle/father was forgiven from killing you and your family multiple times.

- OKAY BUT YOU WOULD SO BE IN POMEFIORE, after all, you've longed to be an ideal sophisticated and classy version of yourself. However, it simply isn't possibly when you're around your brothers who love to mess with you and tease you. So Vil is your go-to when it comes to makeovers and bonding. I'M SORRY BUT BOTH OF YOU BONDING OVER BEING NEPO BABIES *but well deserving nepo-babies* and it's nice to finally have make up without someone EATING IT OR DOING SOME WEIRD SCIENCE THING WITH IT.

- Rook, per usual, will be a freak as always and try to hunt and stalk you like he does with Leona and the other non humans. According to him, you are "the most elegant of prey. With the eyes of a soulful bird and the speed of a gazelle." and you'll use your speed to run away from him but he would totally have a list of places that you would run too and meet you there.

- Like Bree, you always wanted to have a friend that was a girl so you totally mistook Epel as one and that did not bode well for the both of you. Still, you make it up to him and tell him about how being strong and manly isn't really all it's cracked up to be.

- When it comes to Idia, he gets so nervous and flustered around you because you're so...peppy. Whenever you speed into his lab, he gets all nervous and flustered. Sometimes you tease him about being a nerd but you mean it in a loving way. YOU ADORE ORTHO THOUGH. He's such a cute little guy♡

- When fighting overblots, I can imagine you use your super speed to evacuate everyone and use your invisibility to jump out and surprise them at the last second.

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dreamwritesimagines · 7 months ago

Text

The Eye of the Hurricane [19] - Couples Therapy

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: A therapy session can be enlightening.

Word Count: 2300

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

It wasn’t like you thought taking Bucky to couple’s therapy for your technically fake marriage was going to be easy, but you didn’t think it would be this difficult.

Bucky bounced his leg beside you on the sofa while you both sat in the waiting room, his eyes darting around the room as if he expected someone to attack him at any moment.

“What happens if she asks me questions?” he asked you gruffly and you pulled your brows together.

“You’ll be fine.”

Bucky huffed out and turned to you.

“How about instead of doing this, I just pay you money to walk out of here?”

“Not gonna happen, Bucky.”

“I’ll put the weekend house under your name, you like it there.”

“The weekend house will be mine once we get a divorce anyway,” you reminded him. “It’s on the prenup.”

Bucky licked his lips. “Do you want another house?”

“Stop trying to bribe me,” you told him as he eyed the door to the therapist’s office before fixing the gun in his waistband and you gasped.

“Why did you bring a gun to the therapy?!” you hissed and he narrowed his eyes.

“We don’t know what expects us in there!” he whispered back, making your jaw drop.

“Do you seriously think—Bucky, look me in the eye and tell me you think our therapist is going to try to shoot us in couple’s therapy—”

“Mr. and Mrs. Barnes?” the therapist’s voice reached you as the door opened and you both turned to her before you smiled at her sweetly.

“Hi!”

“You can come in,” she said, stepping aside and you let out a breath, then stood up, holding Bucky by the arm to signal him to stand as well. Bucky heaved a sigh as if he was being tortured but followed you into the room dutifully and you both sat down on the couch, the therapist taking her seat soon after.

“Dr. Raynor,” you said and she smiled back at you.

“Mrs. Barnes.”

“Y/N is fine,” you said and motioned at Bucky. “And this is Bucky.”

Bucky gave her a curt nod quietly and you cleared your throat, shifting your weight.

“My therapist Dr. Cooper recommended you,” you told her. “She speaks very highly of you.”

“Dr. Cooper is a very respected colleague of mine,” she told you. “The feeling is mutual. So what brings you here?”

“Well, we’ve just got married,” you said. “And I’ve been in therapy since I was a child, basically. Bucky on the other hand has a more distant stance towards it so I figured it could help us both if we did it together.”

Dr. Raynor nodded and turned to Bucky.

“And what about you Bucky?” she asked. “What brings you here?”

Bucky raised his brows before pointing at you with his thumb. “She did.”

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the couch and Dr. Raynor hummed.

“You don’t think you should be here?”

“Honestly doc, I have no idea why I’m here,” he said. “I’m fine, our marriage is fine, so...”

“It hasn’t been a month since we got married,” you added. “Just putting it out there. But I think it’ll help Bucky if we build this—habit.”

She turned to Bucky. “And how about you?” she asked. “How do you feel about therapy, Bucky?”

“My dad would always say whatever your problems are, they should stay between your two ears instead of anyone else’s,” Bucky replied, bouncing his leg again. “Hate to agree with the guy, but he has a point.”

“George isn’t exactly the epitome of good mental health, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. “Either way.”

“Fathers may have different viewpoints especially when it comes to mental health,” Dr. Raynor said. “Given their generation.”

Bucky clicked his tongue. “Well, he and my mother have never been to therapy and they’re fine.”

“Your father had like one thousand mistresses,” you pointed out, making Dr. Raynor raise her brows and Bucky made a face.

“Allegedly.”

“It’s not allegedly, Becca literally told me she once—”

“Bucky, how would you describe your parents’ marriage?” she asked and Bucky heaved a sigh.

“They’re fine.”

“Would you say you look up to their marriage?” she asked. “Or that you want to have a similar one?”

You scoffed. “Good luck with that.”

“You wouldn’t want to have that?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Bucky can’t disrespect me like that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

You pulled your brows together, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Both,” you said without looking at him. “We have a deal, so I believe he will hold up his end of the deal.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the proud smile curling Bucky’s lips and Dr. Raynor nodded.

“Anything else you feel like you took after your father, besides your opinion on therapy?”

“Why are we talking about my father?” Bucky asked back while you tried to hold back the retort. “I thought this was couples therapy.”

“We can talk about anything you feel like we need to talk about,” Dr. Raynor said. “But most of the time, our parents’ relationship is the blueprint of our own relationships even if we don’t realize it.”

“That’s not what’s happening here,” Bucky said, motioning at you. “It’s different.”

“How?”

“What she said,” Bucky said curtly, nodding in your direction and you heaved a sigh. “He’s good with my mom, and he’s great with my sister, no need to talk about him.”

“But not with you?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky dragged his tongue over his teeth.

“He’s fine.”

“Bucky,” said and he shot you a look.

“What?”

“He’s fine with you? Really?”

“Y/N, not everyone needs a father, okay?” he insisted. “Some of us need a boss while growing up in this business.”

“I don’t think you needed a boss instead of a father when you were a kid, actually,” you insisted, making Dr. Raynor tilt her head.

“Would you mind explaining that?” she asked. “That boss comment?”

Bucky drummed his fingertips on his knee.

“It’s a part of…” he stopped himself and cleared his throat. “My father knew what I was capable of, so he pushed me until I saw it. Until I proved myself. That’s not a terrible thing, it worked out after all.”

You licked your lips.

“Really?” you asked. “So you’d be totally okay with following his footsteps?”

That made him stop for a moment and he scoffed.

“Fine, I wouldn’t do the cage fight because that shit’s medieval but it was because he knew I could handle it,” he defended him. “He’s great with Becca, and I don’t need him to be good with me. We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

Your stomach did a painful flip. “I forgot about that.”

“Cage fight?” Dr. Raynor asked and you both turned to her, Bucky crossing his arms over his chest. You nibbled on your lip.

“Um,” you said. “Our fathers are... CEOs and we both have family companies. There’s this tradition that—the family company has a boss and an heir and when you’re the heir, you need to show that you can handle the job.”

She frowned slightly.

“And the job can get pretty physical,” you said as Bucky let out a bitter chuckle beside you. “And one of the requirements is…when an heir is picked after years of training and everything, once the boss decides it’s time for them to prove themselves, they put you in a cage with other um—” you thought for a moment. “Some professional fighters that happen to be in the business as well, working under the family. Bodyguards, if you will.”

Not bodyguards.

They would put the heir in a cage with the best fighters working for the boss.

“But usually the bosses ask the heir to prove themselves right before they pass the crown, so to speak,” you said and stole a look at him. “Not George though.”

“I was ready to prove myself.”

“At sixteen?” you asked him. “No one fucking asks that of the heir at sixteen, Buck. My father didn’t even put Ian through that yet.”

“I was already his heir, he wanted to make sure,” Bucky said. “I beat everyone up in that cage, didn’t I?”

“Your nose was broken,” you counted with your fingers. “Three of your ribs, you could barely see through one eye for like two weeks because of how swollen it was—”

“But I proved myself,” he pointed out, making you clench your jaw and Dr. Raynor sat up straighter, trying to shake off the shock. “I’m glad I did it, I’d do it again.”

“You see?” you asked. “And then he asks me why we need therapy.”

“I don’t need therapy,” Bucky shot back. “I don’t even know why I’m here, I'm perfectly fine.”

Dr. Raynor licked her lips, then grabbed the notebook by her side while Bucky pursed his lips, slipping a little on the couch.

“Great,” he said. “She has a notebook and everything. Charm, how soon can we leave?”

Well, no one had gotten shot during your first couples therapy session, so as far as you were concerned, it was a success. Bucky had to drop by his office for half an hour to check on something, and after that you figured you could go to lunch together to discuss the next step in your plan so you tagged along.

Becca was already there in his office when you two walked in and Bucky tilted his head.

“What are you doing here?”

“Mom sent me,” she told him before coming to kiss your cheek. “Hey!”

“Hi there,” you said, kissing her cheek back. “We’re going to grab lunch after this, do you want to come?”

“Sure, I could eat,” she said, flinging herself on the couch. “Steve is here too, by the way.”

Bucky frowned. “Did you two come together?”

“Nope, I ran into him by the entrance,” she said while you took your spot next to her and Bucky walked to his laptop to switch it on.

“Mom sent you?” Bucky asked and rolled his eyes. “Let me guess, dad asked her to?”

Becca raised her hands while you gritted your teeth at the mention of George.

“You can’t shoot the messenger, there’s truce now.”

“Then why does it feel like I’m going to get shot by the messenger?” Bucky asked back, making her grin.

“You know how mom is,” she reminded him. “She wants all of us to get along. I take it you’re not willing to have another dinner anytime soon?”

“Fuck no—”

“Hey,” Steve said, knocking on the door and waved at you before turning to Bucky. “You’re busy?”

“Not at all,” Bucky said. “Did we have a meeting today? Did I forget?”

“Nah, I was just around,” Steve said. “Figured I could give you the news myself. Clint is flying to Chicago.”

Bucky pulled his brows together. “What?”

Steve shot him a grin. “My reaction exactly,” he said and came to sit on the other sofa. “How was therapy?”

“Ask Y/N,” Bucky said, clicking on something on his laptop. “She was the one who dragged me there.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “He brought a gun to therapy.”

Becca’s eyes widened. “Did you shoot the therapist, Bucky?!”

“No!” Bucky exclaimed. “Jesus, you two have zero trust in me.”

“How was it, really?” Steve asked you and you shrugged your shoulders.

“He’ll find it easier in the following weeks.”

Bucky frowned at you.

“Following weeks?” he asked. “We’re going there again?”

“Bucky, therapy is not like getting vaccinated,” Becca pointed out. “You can’t just have one session and expect it to fix your shit.”

“I don’t have the time—”

“I already talked to your assistant for the next month, try me,” you said sweetly and Bucky let out a groan, then turned to Steve.

“What is it about Clint and Chicago?”

“Well, he seems to believe that he can convince Rhett.”

Becca’s head whipped up and she blinked a couple of times while you tried to keep a straight face, and subtly pressed your index finger on your lips, giving her a slight grin. She let out a breath, then turned to Steve while Bucky scoffed.

“Yeah, that’s impossible.”

“What’s that about Chicago?” Becca asked and Steve heaved a sigh.

“Chicago’s prince became the new king recently,” he explained. “I thought it was hard to talk to his father, I spoke way too soon.”

“Yeah, he’s a dickhead,” Bucky pointed out while you bit inside your cheek to keep your laughter in. Becca sat up straighter.

“Why?”

“He doesn’t trust anyone who’s not from Chicago,” Steve said. “Refuses to do business with anyone else.”

“But doesn’t he kind of have to do it?” Becca asked. “Even we do business with other cities.”

“Chicago is different, Bec,” Bucky said. “They have their own rules, and as of now, they don’t actually need other cities.”

“Word on the street they might have to do it soon though,” Steve said. “Every boss in New York is trying to convince him, but as Bucky said, he’s a dickhead so…”

“That’s pointless, I’m telling you,” Bucky said as he typed at his laptop, then slammed the lid shut. “Okay, I’m done. Lunch?”

“I have a meeting with Sam,” Steve said as he stood up from the couch and he and Bucky walked to the door while Becca clicked her tongue, turning to look at you with a huge grin on her face.

“So,” she said and you hummed.

“Yes?”

“I take it he doesn’t know?”

“Nope.”

“None of them do?”

You shook your head, still smiling and Becca let out a laugh, then threw her arm over your shoulder.

“Nice plan,” she said and you giggled.

“Thank you,” you said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let’s go, you know how hungry therapy makes me.”

Chapter 20

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