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kitasuno · 5 months ago

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we fly together | kageyama tobio x reader

in which kageyama tobio is born for several things: the court, his team, and you. and he really, really wants to marry you.

wc: 766 | gn reader | little glimpses of your relationship with tobio over the years

There are several givens in Kageyama Tobio’s life.

There’s volleyball. It’s in his blood. Volleyball is shoes squeaking on floors, the shrill of a whistle, Nikuman after practice, and that sweet, sweet feeling of connection– fingers brushing yellow and blue leather and palms aching after a serve. Kageyama Tobio was born for the court and born to fly.

His team is one of them. There’s Sugawara, who still treats him to yakitori and an Asahi Dry (or three) whenever he’s back in Miyagi. Daichi sends him assorted nuts from Sendai every once in a while and Nishinoya mass e-mails him slightly blurry pictures of his life abroad on New Years. Ushijima buys electrolytes for him and Kourai. Shouyou is, well, Shouyou, and Kageyama counts him as two givens.

There’s the small things too: he takes a little too long to read Kanji, he buys a new face wash every month, he will always avoid rush hour.

And then, he thinks, there’s you.

It hits him in full force in the middle of the street on a Tuesday evening as he holds a plastic bag of groceries. It also, consequently, renders him immobile for ten minutes, because Tobio had never been one to dwell on the givens. But as he stands on the pavement and his bag carries the burden of hashi for two, yogurt for two, two packs of sandwiches and four bags of gummies,

( because you really like those gummies: and Tobio had thought, if you like the grape flavor, then you should also try the strawberry. And if you wanted to try something new, you might crave the fizzy Cola ones. And if you liked the Cola ones, then he had to buy the Ramune flavored ones, too )

Tobio gets the urge to buy a ring. And an urge, no, a craving to marry you.

Tobio remembers study sessions in high school and desperate makeouts in Karasuno’s dusty storage closet. He remembers the firsts: first conversation, first fight, first kiss, first date. Sprinting on beaches before the sun kissed the horizon and laying underneath the stars. He remembers graduation under cherry blossoms and pressing his second button into your palm with red cheeks and shaking hands.

There were tears, too. Anger as he realized he couldn’t, for once, be selfish and have both you and professional volleyball. Anger as you had cried and cried and cried in his arms because you were getting your degree in Miyagi and he was moving to Tokyo. Anger as you had suggested breaking things off because you knew that Kageyama was born for the court. To fly.

And you had said, between tears, that Tokyo was his potential. Because you knew him, and you knew that he didn’t like texting and that he wasn’t good at communicating, but you somehow underestimated how much you meant to him. Then: you had stopped crying because Kageyama was crying. And you had never seen Kageyama cry.

You were there when Kageyama started on the National Team, standing in the bleachers with the biggest smile he had ever seen, jumping as you turned to show him the Kageyama embroidered on the back of your jersey. You were there when he accepted his position on the Adlers, and watched their broadcasted games behind textbooks and journals and pencils from your dorm in Sendai.

Kageyama was there when you called him sobbing because the pipes in your dorm leaked. He was there when you got fired from your part time job for slapping a customer. Begrudgingly, he was there when you asked him to have Oikawa Tooru sign twelve jerseys for your friends at university. And then, he was there when you graduated college, diploma in hand and a blush on your cheeks as you pressed your button into his palm even though you really weren’t supposed to do that.

Now you’re in Tokyo, having accepted his slightly bashful request for you to move in with him– in a nice apartment on the fourteenth floor overlooking the city; because even though he didn’t really like heights, he knew you loved city lights and people-watching. And if he had to cover his face when he saw the nameplate next to your shared apartment that read Kageyama, well. You didn’t have to know that.

He’s still on the street, and he’s still holding his grocery bag, but his eyes are firm because he really wants to make your last name Kageyama.

So he makes a phone call.

“Tanaka-san,” He says before his former upperclassman can react. “Where did you buy Shimizu’s ring?”

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #kageyama #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama fluff #kageyama fic

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think-ill-watch-it-burn · 16 days ago

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hi! your content is so good ah man - I just reread your Beni/Konro sickfic on your old account, that was so soft and nice to read ?? would you ever consider writing another sickfic but with Konro instead? totally don't feel like you have to though lol

Why thank you darling!! I sure would! <3

A slightly long ficlet under the cut!

Konro was sensitive to temperature changes even on a good day, but when Beni caught him in the kitchen with a blanket wrapped tight around him shivering around a boiling pot of water he knew today wasn’t one of the good ones.

“Oi, you all right?” he questioned from the doorway, hands tucked in his sleeves in front of him, watching. Konro didn’t look up or even move to acknowledge him, a quiet grunt his only response. Beni sighed, rolling his eyes as he moved to stand next to his trembling friend. “You’re not sick, are you?” Konro’s glassy eyes slid lazily from the water to Beni’s face and back, expression utter misery, the energy to interact meaningfully long gone.

Beni heaved another theatrical sigh when he looked at the nearly empty pot, the water all but gone. He pulled it from the heat and turned to Konro, still staring limply at the burner where the pot had been. “Come on, big guy, lets get you to bed.”

“But my tea…” Konro rasped quietly, the will to fight waning as he allowed himself to be ushered from the kitchen down the hall to his quarters. Beni scoffed.

“I’ll make you some tea, but honestly I’m a little afraid you’ll fall asleep in the boiling water if I leave you to it…”

The pair went through the motions of undressing and redressing Konro for bed, piling layer upon layer of linens and blankets atop his shaking body, Konro halfheartedly attempting to fight off Beni’s nurturing the entire time. “I can make my own tea Waka, this is unnecessary,” he mumbled as he slid under the covers and settled his head against his pillows, words as empty as that poor pot.

“Yeah yeah, just lay down. Can I get you anything other than tea?”

Shivering despite gripping the blankets as close to his chest as he could, Konro looked pathetically up at his young counterpart. “Actually… I’m kind of cold.”

“Well, shit... I think that’s every spare blanket we have. Hang on, I'll check.”

A minute later - or maybe an hour, Konro could no longer sense time - Beni came back empty-handed. With a grunt and a gruff sigh Beni wordlessly lifted Konro’s covers and slid beneath them, tucked close against Konro’s back as he let off gentle waves of his pyrokinetic heat.

As the heat diffused beneath the blankets Konro turned to face his friend, refusing to make eye contact as he tucked himself beneath Beni’s arms and wrapped himself around his heated, slender body, swallowing the smaller man's lower half against him, selfishly absorbing as much warmth as he could.

#fire force #sagamiya konro #konro sagamiya #konro #shinmon benimaru #benimaru shinmon #burnie answers #burnie writes #requests #sft #sfw #from the depths of draft world

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enviedear · 2 months ago

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LOVING ALONE IS WHAT YOU MAKE IT

₊ ⊹ JASON TODD

🧸ྀི REQUEST | jason having (what he thinks is) an unrequited crush

CW | lovesick!jason with issues accepting love, just-a-buncha fluff. 1.6k words. 🎧ྀི

your eyes flicker to your window for the hundredth time in ten minutes. there's an attempt at forcing your gaze back to your book, but your concentration on it has long since shattered. it's impossible to concentrate on anything other than him, perched on your fire escape right outside your window—JASON TODD.

he thinks he’s so subtle, as if you'll never notice when he parks himself on your fire escape like some sort of gargoyle. you smile slightly at the thought, heart pounding a little faster than it should. a condition that makes itself apparent far too much when your mind drifts to him.

he's silently taken on a sort of sworn protector role, separate from his nightly redhood rendezvous. you count yourself lucky to have his presence around your domicile so often. you truly never got over the culture shock that was gotham, but jason helps. even if he decides to go to great lengths to try and hide it.

outside, in the frigid and everpresent putrid gotham air, jason todd sits in complete rumination. he has goosebumps marring his arms beneath his leather jacket, but he pays them no mind. no, he's far too busy listing all the reasons he should just leave, why sitting outside under the guise of guard is utterly stupid, but still, he sits.

he runs a gloved hand through his hair, tugging slightly. he feels pathetic. how can he meet death, the criminally insane, survive things that would kill most—and somehow, he's shocked still with nerves at the very idea of knocking on your window.

in his head he has it all pictured, if it went perfectly. you'd come to the window, a confused look on your face until you spot him. he'd pull some stupid line, something he heard dick use once, and it'd make you laugh. he loves hearing that, more than anything. then he'd crawl in—spend the rest of his night with you, doing anything. and in his head, that's perfect.

but the underbelly of that dream keeps him rooted to your fire escape. to him, there's no way you could ever share his sentiments. you refer to him as a friend and no matter how much he wishes for something else, he can't change reality. can't force himself to make something more out of what you give him.

between the blood on his hands and the rage he can never seem to fully rid himself of, he's come to the aimless conclusion that you deserve someone better. someone more delicate, someone who doesn’t live with one foot in the grave. but every time you laugh or shoot him an easy smile, it gets easier to admit that he’s too far gone.

you deign the separation foolish, but still, you give yourself one more attempt at reading before you put your book to the side. really—you just wish he’d just say something. you’ve thought about saying something yourself, more times than you care to admit, but the timing never feels right. besides, there’s a part of you that wonders if jason even realizes you’ve been waiting out for him.

every time you joke or tease, you can see some struggle behind his eyes. as if he wants to let go and laugh with you, but something—himself—holds him back. your very own sisyphus—his very own boulder to carry up a labyrinthine mountain.

maybe it’s his past and the walls he’s built around himself, but you’re over him expecting you to be afraid of him. you wonder how much more evident you need to be. if anything, you wish he could see himself the way you do—intense, yes, but also loyal and good, even if he doesn’t believe it.

he proves it every night when he stands watch outside your shitty apartment.

with a sigh, you stand up from the couch, moving toward the window. he’s always so close, and yet there’s a distance he keeps in place—you’ve had enough of that.

you slide the window open, leaning out just enough to catch him mid-step as he’s about to leave—flee moreso. “going somewhere?”

he turns on his heels, red helmet in his hands, "figured you'd be asleep."

you hum, eyes narrowing, "already? it's six pm on a saturday."

“just didn’t want to bother you.” he admits, voice low, almost timid. he doesn’t meet your eyes, and it’s frustrating how hard he tries to hide, even from you.

“you’re not bothering me, jason.” you say softly, leaning on the window frame. “you never do.”

jason looks at you then, something uncertain flickering in his gaze. his lips dart out to quell his chapped lips—you hold his stare, hoping he can see what you’re trying to tell him, wordlessly.

that you want him here, that you’ve been wanting him all along.

“i can stop by for a few.” he finally says, adding a shrug to the end of his sentence.

you smile, opening the window fully as invitation. jason crawls in, a rather innocuous task but given his stature, always surprises you.

“i have pizza and brownies. saturday special.” you tell him, a persuasion. you want him to eat.

“sounds good.” he’s in the middle of slipping out of his redhood garb, clad in a skintight athletic tee and his cargos—mask sitting on your coffee table. “i’m gonna change in the bathroom, i’ll be right back.”

before his fingers can grab his duffle you start, “why don’t you shower here? i know you don’t have any of your usual stuff but—”

he cuts you off, “i couldn’t. i’m already eating your food…and using your fire escape as a landing spot.”

“jason, seriously. shower here. i’ll heat up the food and put on some tv. it’s a saturday.” you’re not one to beg, but this is treading the line.

his shoulders sag, but there’s a small smile on his face, “thanks, sweetheart. you’re too nice to me.”

his tone is sarcastic, self-deprecating, and that annoys you slightly. you want him to know that he’s welcome here, wanted. needed.

“i like it when you’re here, you know.” you feel like sparking a match, timid flames sparkling. “i miss you when you’re gone and everything.”

he quirks a brow, "what are you tryin' tell me?"

you feel silly at his question, the air around you seemingly buzzing. jason peers down at you with a raised brow, as if he's genuinely confused by the sentiment. as if he's baffled by the notion he could be someone to miss.

your breath hitches as you debate your next move. you're walking a thin line between saying too much and not enough. you could play it safe, keep your cards close to your chest—or you could be honest. near painfully so.

when you find your voice, it comes out soft, "i'm trying to say that i like it better when you come inside instead of sitting on my fire escape. i don't want to be a landing spot for you, i want... more."

he clears his throat, shifting on his feet, "you don't want that." he seems to take a step back, not physically, but mentally. his face goes still, chest breathing even, mind anywhere but the present.

you groan, annoyance evident, "i do though. you have to see that in some way by now." you step towards him, "sometimes i think you feel the same way."

jason’s gaze flickers toward the floor, and for a moment you wonder if you’ve crossed the line, if he’ll pull away entirely. but then he looks up, eyes darker, severely sincere. “you have no idea what you’re asking for.” he cautions, but his voice is lower, almost a whisper.

you smile softly, finally letting your hand touch his arm, feeling the solid warmth beneath. “maybe i do. maybe i’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

“don’t say that unless you mean it,” he murmurs, his voice rough.

“i mean it.” you reply, sincere in your admission. “i’m not afraid of you, jason. i’m afraid of what happens if you keep shutting me out.”

he grumbles at that, a half-willed attempt to argue against your point. you stay quiet, urging him to continue where you left off. you watch his face contort through a realm of emotions—confusion, fear, and then, thinly masked and wistful poignancy.

“i’m not shutting you out. if anything, i’m protecting you.” he finally decides, arms crossing over his chest, eyes scanning the wall behind you. nervous.

you shake your head, fingers reaching for his twisted expression, finding home on his pink-tinted cheeks. “i don’t need you protecting me from you. i need you to want me as bad as i want you.”

your words are bold, maybe overconfident, but you mean them to the fullest extent. you’re so beyond exhausted of attempting to disregard or conceal your feelings. even if jason’s not, you think he deserves to know.

jason todd looks you over. his eyes raking you up and down like you’re some high valued product—and he’s unsure wether to take the bid or let it pass by. in the time you’ve known him, even in the thralls of his vigilante persona, he’s studied things. eyes pointedly and silently assessing his situation, no matter how far removed he is from his upbringing—his “father” lingers in his antics.

finally, he chuckles, low and more timid than usual, “you don’t know how badly i want you, sweetheart. but…” he stops himself, and you’re grateful because you would have done it yourself if he had continued on with some rebuttal. “fuck. you’re all i want.”

it comes out like a beg, pleading that rarely works it’s way onto his features. you smile, and pull him closer. his arms uncross, opting to gingerly hold your shoulders. still timid, unsure.

“you should know how much you mean to me. you do such a good job of showing me…keeping watch and never letting me eat alone. it’s sweet, you’re sweet. i want you to know it.” you keep his gaze when you speak, hopefully drilling each sentiment permanently into his consciousness.

he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut, “i believe you. swear. i just… this is new. i never thought…” he falters off, equal parts unsure and dumbstruck. “i like you a lot. i didn’t know you felt the same, sweetheart.”

you grin, inching your face closer to his, “well i do. deal with it.” your tone is teasing, playful. pulling him back into the safety of reassurance—what you want him to anticipate from you.

it seems to put jason back in his element, “oh? you have demands? usually that’s my thing.”

you laugh, “could always be our thing. the demanding couple��sounds inspired, don’t you think?”

“something like that…” his smile is soft, “but for now, i think i’m fine with just being yours.” he says it so earnestly, no thought to it. just the truth, and it feels damn good. it envelops you just the same as his arms, wraps you up in utter victory. love hard fought—and it feels so sweet.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #—askolivia !#jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd thoughts #jason todd imagine #redhood x reader

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ellecdc · 1 month ago

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Hey I have a request:

Could you do poly marauders but Sirius and reader prank James and Remus by saying she is pregnant and then she finds out she is actually pregnant and they don't believe her straight away.

You don't have to if you don't want to.

Thank you ❤️

hi sweets! so I ended up changing this a litttllllee bit simply because I wasn't comfortable writing about joking re: pregnancy [just cuz it's a sensitive topic for many]. but I hope I did the rest of the request justice! <3

poly!marauders x fem!reader who is not pranking them right now [1.7k words]

CW: pregnancy tests, reader is pregnant, everyone is surprised but generally happy about the pregnancy

You supposed you shouldn’t be entirely surprised that this is how the boys would react; it probably did seem suspicious that this would come up now.

Now being that the four of you were in the middle of a sort of prank war.

No, not sort of, it was a full out prank war, no holds barred.

It had started when James and Remus convinced you and Sirius that the two of you had locked you all out of your flat, forcing Sirius (with James’ help) to have to shove you up the fire escape and crawl through the window, hauling Sirius up behind you only to find Remus sitting casually in his chair and James bursting through the front door laughing.

“That doesn’t even make sense, you guys.” Sirius grumbled as he used the bottom of his shirt to wipe sweat from his eyes and you swept cobwebs out of your hair. “James had to work just as hard as we did to get in.”

“No,” James countered, “I got to touch Y/N’s bum as we hoisted her up, and then got to watch your arms flex as you climbed up after her.”

Then, as retribution, you and Sirius took their phones and changed the name of every single one of their contacts to Dennis Quaid.

In retaliation, Remus and James taped fake spiders behind the lampshades, and one evening you’d been walking into the living room with a bowl of popcorn when Remus asked Sirius to turn the lamp on, resulting in an ear splitting screech from Sirius and a sea of popcorn littering the floor.

Cling wrap was added to the tops of shampoo bottles before the tops were recapped, causing more than a few shower meltdowns. The sugar for tea was replaced with salt. Blow up dolls were hidden behind doors. Furniture was moved several inches to the left. Picture frames throughout your home were replaced with images of Steve Buscemi.

It was fun, it was harmless, it was good natured. Did it result in Sirius shouting profanities after coming face to face with an inflatable clown? Sure. Did Remus spit his tea out and curse and mutter under his breath in Welsh when he had to go and make himself another cup? Yeah. Did James demand his mother prove to him that she wasn’t really Dennis Quaid by facetiming him? Absolutely, and the mischievous glint in Euphemia’s eyes was a prize in and of itself.

So while you didn’t necessarily blame them for being suspicious of you, you were a little insulted that they thought you would take it this far.

You’d been feeling extremely lethargic lately, and when that lethargy was followed by full body aches, you had chalked it up to an oncoming period. Except that period never came.

It never came.

But the two pink lines did.

“Oh my god…” You whispered, plastic in one hand as you covered your mouth in a silent gasp with the other. “Oh my god.” You repeated, slightly louder as you all but stumbled out of the ensuite into your bedroom.

“I know it was you, Sirius!” You heard Remus shout from down the hall.

“I swear to God, I didn’t touch the remote.” Sirius laughed.

“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” James' voice retorted, rising in volume as he made his way down the hall towards your shared room. “Angel, do you know where Sirius hid the remote?”

You were frozen in the middle of the room with your hand still covering your mouth as you stared down at the positive pregnancy test in your hand.

“Angel?” James asked quietly as he moved towards you. “Are you alright?”

A breath left your lips but you found that you couldn’t bring yourself to form an intelligent response.

Your view of the test quickly included James’ socked feet in front of yours and a gentle hand on your wrist so he could see what you were holding. “Wha-” he began, though fell silent when the fact that you were holding a pregnancy test was undeniable.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good one.” He let out with a breath, laughing as he backed away from you. “Fuckin’ hell, you almost had me there for a moment.”

“Nice try, Sirius!” He called as he exited your room, leaving you standing there with your mouth open and your heart in your stomach.

“Nice try, what?” You heard Sirius call back as you mindlessly followed James out of the room and towards the living room; limbs working on autopilot as your brain was reduced to a steady chant of oh my god oh my god ohmygod ohmygodohmygodohmy-

“What? Was the whole remote thing just a bit?” James chuckled as he reclaimed his spot on the love seat and Sirius’ brows furrowed where they were pointed down at the phone in his hand.

“A bit for what? And for the last time, I didn’t hide the remote.”

“So we still don’t know where the sodding remote is?” Remus grumbled as he stood from his chair and started moving all of the cushions again.

“Come on, spill; the jig is up.” James continued. “It didn’t work.”

“James.” You tried, but your throat was so tight that his name only came out as a silent whimper.

“What didn’t work?” Sirius asked again, finally looking up at James from his phone.

“The pregnancy test.” James replied, causing Remus to pause in his cushion wrangling to look at him in bemusement.

“Wh- what? What pregnancy test? What is he talking about?” Sirius rapid fired as he turned his gaze to you, standing from his seat but not making any moves to approach you.

Another helpless sound fell from your lips as you shrugged at Sirius helplessly; one hand still holding the test, the other hand still covering your mouth.

“Wait, what is going on?” Remus asked as he returned to his full height, James shaking his head in admonishment as he moved to stand beside him.

“These two think they’re so clever, pranking us with a pregnancy test.”

Remus let out a snort, but James’ explanation seemed to restart Sirius’ brain as he rushed over to you in two large strides before pulling your hand closer to him so he could read the test.

“Pregn- babe?” He barely managed to spit out, moving his gaze from the test to your face when you didn’t answer.

You shrugged helplessly at him again which seemed to tell him all he needed to know as he loosened his grip on your wrist, though he didn’t let go, before tracing soothing circles over your pulse point with his thumb.

“Did you splurge on acting lessons, Sirius? You look like you’re about to pass out.” Remus chuckled, though his face fell dramatically when you finally looked over at him with tears pooling in your eyes.

“Whoa, whoa whoa, hey, dovey. What’s going on?” He started as he moved across the room, James not far behind him.

“I-” You tried, but the next sound that left your lips was a sob.

“Oh, oh. Oh my god….oh my god, it’s not a prank at all, is it?” James whispered mostly to himself, though you shook your head at him anyways causing a few tears to finally fall from your lash line.

“Oh my god, angel, I’m so sorry, I- I can’t believe I laughed at you. Fuck, oh my god, I-”

The next thing you knew, the test was being plucked from your hand rather gently before it was passed to James to look at again, and Remus pulled both of your hands away from your body and wrapped them around himself.

“Sirius.” James whispered and when you turned to look, Sirius was leaning against James to get a better look at the test cradled in his hands. “Sirius, Sirius…”

Sirius let out an emotional laugh as he shoved his face into James’ shoulder, tears of his own falling down his cheeks as James wrapped one of his arms around his boyfriend and pulled him closer.

“Dovey.” Remus hissed as he took your face in his hands. “Is…is this real? Is- are you really pregnant?”

You nodded as you swallowed before finally finding your voice. “I…I think so. It looks like it.”

James let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob as he rubbed Sirius’ back roughly.

Remus laughed wetly and pressed more than a few kisses to your face.

“Oh my god.” Sirius laughed as he wiped tears away from his face. “I’m sorry they didn’t believe you, babe. That- oh my god.” He said as he pulled you from Remus’ grasp and into his. “You’re fucking phenomenal.”

“I haven’t even done anything yet.” You laughed into his shoulder as you watched Remus and James share a kiss behind him.

“Are you kidding? Fuck, oh my god… I can’t believe this.” He whispered as he pulled away from you, only far enough that he could place his hands on your waist and look at your not at all rounded belly.

“We almost missed hearing the best news of our lives over a remote.” James laughed from where he was tucked into Remus’ side.

“It’s on top of the refrigerator.” You sniffled.

“You bastards.” Remus groaned before he and James yanked you and Sirius over to join their hug.

“Wait.” James paused as he lifted his head to level you and Sirius with a look. “The remote was the prank, right? Not this?”

“Not this, Jamie.” You agreed quickly. “Not this.”

He let out a relieved sigh and looked close to tears again. “You just wait until we get you back.”

“No, you can’t prank me anymore; I’m pregnant and sensitive.” You whined, causing Sirius to bark a laugh, James to huff, and Remus to snort.

“Alright…” Remus offered as he narrowed his eyes at you playfully. “You’ve won this round.”

“I think we might have to call it a tie, Moons.” James whispered as you felt a loving hand settle on your stomach.

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amazinglyashy · 22 days ago

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Hi! I was wondering if I could request a prompt where the reader is out at night with the LIs, wearing a pretty outfit, a man just approaches her and rudely asks “how much for a bj?” How would they react/protect her from such a creep?

(Sorry, for my English, I hope it made sense haha🤞🏼)

Very Minor N/SFW Warning!! This one really made me laugh because this has happened to me before, and the situation mostly pans out with my own partner having to yank me away to avoid having to post bail on me later in the evening. Remember to leash your dogs kids! Thank you for the request!! <3

LaDS men when you get catcalled/propositioned on the street

Xavier -

He's apologizing profusely to you because the ensuing bloodspray from how hard he punched the guy in the nose got on your dress and he genuinely feels awful about it.

There is not much to it, besides he acted embarrassingly quickly, to the point you wonder to yourself if he's just been silently waiting for this moment to come.

He's used to going out with you for drinks or evening dates- it's one of the more common ways for the two of you to hang out aside from spending the evening in one of your apartments with the other. Juggling work and clocking out with social activities would also mean walking late at night, to go to a movie or even on a snack run.

So needless to say, he has in fact, been mentally preparing himself for something like this to happen.

He can't help it.

He doesn't ever want to see you disrespected- he doesn't care the context. Work, family, friends-

And now, what, a stranger asking you for sexual favors?

You wait calmly with him while he speaks to the officers about what happened, trying to contain your giggles at how sheepishly he looks at the ground, his face still painted with the most adorable anger.

Zayne -

Quickly, he's pushed you behind himself and holding eye contact with the guy. It doesn't matter if he's drunk, or perfectly sober, Zayne won't excuse someone saying such a ridiculous thing to you.

He has his usual air of politeness and manners, but the bite in his voice is more than apparent, even to someone who doesn't know him. Dressed as nicely as he is with the air he carries around him, it's a weird experience for those who don't know how protective Zayne can get.

He will tell the man to give you an apology and back off, or there will be consequences.

You know what those consequences are, and despite feeling smug about how protective Zayne is, you're trying to grab his arm and stop him, to no avail.

If the creep tries to reach for you, Zayne will back up into you to force you back gently, and the man will quickly realize that he can't reach forward anymore-

Even as Zayne walks away with you, the ice is still creeping up the man's body. Slow enough, but still moving.

Hopefully an OTTO calls for help in time. Hypothermia at night would suck.

Rafayel -

He's immediately between you and the guy, hand long since dropped your own as he crosses his arms and stares the guy down.

If you hadn't known him so long, you would expect him to fire off a tirade of insults and comments at the guy- but you know Rafayel. You know him well.

He tells the guy to back off, in the most simple of terms as he glare is enough to set the man alight- and Rafayel's evol does just that when the guy doesn't seem to back down- lighting up the shoulders of his clothing and causing him to flay around screaming, as Rafayel pulls you to keep walking.

The amount of tasteful compliments on your attire rise, and you know he's doing it to keep you from internalizing the earlier interaction and stop dressing how you want.

He doesn't need some random freak to keep you from expressing yourself how you want to. Of course, he'll always find you attractive, and the little outfit you're wearing is doing numbers to him, but that's not his focus here at all.

He wants you to feel comfortable, confident-

And he'll do everything in his power to make sure you always do.

Sylus -

I am not entirely sure the man who's asking you has finished his sentence before he's slammed once against a nearby building and then released.

Sylus makes no motion to indicate that it was his doing, continuing to walk along with you to wherever the two of you had been going in the first place-

But you knew.

You had seen his stupid red mist envelope him.

For a second, you'd been scared that he was going to kill the guy- and while you knew someone who was comfortable saying such a thing to someone needed to be put in their place, 'murder' was not at all the same as 'putting someone in their place'.

No, he was just slightly- sort of- broken.

Just a bit.

Sylus won't react much, he may give a passing comment about the man, but otherwise, he's back to complimenting you or conversing with you about whatever subject you two had been discussing prior to the creep showing up.

"Sorry, sweetie. I know you don't like bugs. I tried to handle it as... efficiently, as possible."

#love and deepspace #.writey #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #xavier x reader

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luvyeni · 1 month ago

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( reaction ) unintentionally riding them ! ୨୧ 一 엔시티드림 ՞

⸃ ⸰ ⌁ unintentionally riding nct dream on a rideヾ

boyfriend!엔시티드림・ fem!reader ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ g ・ smut ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ cw ・ ‎ nudes , allusions to sex wc ・ ‎n/a ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎| ‎ click to library

request. hear me out…… what about nct dream going with yn to that ride disco pang pang and you end up on top of them (idk if you’ve seen a video that’s been going around where a girl is literally riding other girl😭)

「 ୨୧ authors note 」 those rides are scary as hell i couldn't imagine falling into a strangers lap like the video.

﹙ 𐙚 : mark﹚ .ᐟ

he knows you mean no harm; the ride was quite literally tossing you both around , and you just happened to land on him — but it didn't stop his cock from growing inside is jeans. he's stressed , he knows you feel it. “fu-fuck im so sorry.” he said , your face is hot , cheeks are rosy as you feel him beneath you , he's embarrassed , but so turned on , he was gonna cum . “but fuck you feel good , im sorry , im so sorry .” he's just wishing the damn ride would end.

“fuck im sorry but im about to cum.”

﹙ 𐙚 : renjun﹚ .ᐟ

he's embarrassed as hell; but his ass is not about to let you know that. “re-renjun are you hard?” he scoffed , rolling his eyes. “you're straddling me , and this ride is bouncing you on my dick , of course I'm hard , wouldn't you be hard if you were in my position? i know you're probably turned on right now , don't make it seem like it's only me.” he stressed , he's about to cum in his pants and he wasn't about to give you leverage to further tease him. “oh fuck will this ride ever fucking end.”

“we're leaving this fucking amusement park arter this.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jeno﹚ .ᐟ

his hands immediately come to your waist to hold you from falling when the ride tossed you into his lap. “hi.” he tries to smile it off — even though the ride is practically bouncing you on his dick. you're actually the one profusely apologizing , but he pretends that it doesn't even bother him , even though he's hard a fucking rock and you're riding him unintentionally in front of all these people and he has to force himself not to moan. “i don't think i can get up after this.” he said. “it's already embarrassing with you on top of me.”

“i don't want these people to see my dick hard.”

﹙ 𐙚 : haechan﹚ .ᐟ

shameless motherfucker; you would've thought he was already hard before the ride tossed you into the boys lap. “haechan are you serious?” he smirking holding you close by your waist. “you're grinding on top of me and you're confused as to why im hard.” he scoffed , your eyes widened at his sudden brazen attitude , you knew he was a wild card but even this was too much for you. you only come back when he groans , he doesn't even care.

“fuck if this ride doesn't stop soon i’m gonna cum.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jaemin﹚ .ᐟ

with the smirk on his face , you would've thought he orgistrated the entire thing himself , his hands on your waist , meanwhile you're the one who's embarrassed as hell. “why are you so embarrassed?” he knew you could feel his hard on , he could feel you as well. “im-im glad you're having a good time.” you on the other hand , your body was on fire. “I am baby i am.” the ride still tossing you around but he made sure to hold you still.

“but i'm more excited about the time we're about to have when we get off this ride.”

﹙ 𐙚 : chenle﹚ .ᐟ

completely turns it on you; yeah he's the one thats hard , but you're the one on top of him and you're the one who caused it in his eyes , not the ride. “if you wanted to ride me you should've just asked , not force me on this nauseating ride so you can do it shamelessly.” you wanted to slap him so bad , but you were too busy grabbing the bar to keep yourself from flying off. “sh-shut up.” your face hot from embarrassment as you straddled him. “im not gonna cum in my pants like a teenager.”

“but all bets are off when we get off this ride.”

﹙ 𐙚 : jisung﹚ .ᐟ

he wants to kill himself to moment he feels you on top of him; his face is red , he wanted to die — but it felt good and that's what made him feel like a pervert , because it wasn't sexual , but his stupid cock didn't seem to get the message. he swore the person who managed the ride had something against him because the ride was never ending and no matter how many times you tried to get up , the ride was plopping you back into his lap. “ji-jisung.” your hands holding his shoulders , he stops you before you can finish.

“please don't say anything , im sorry , so fucking sorry.”

©LUVYENI

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arlertwhore · 6 months ago

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pairing: paige bueckers x fem! reader

synopsis: you’re jealous and paige blows your back out to remind you she loves you.

warning (s): literally the nastiest thing I’ve wrote — smut, strap, pussy eating, finger sucking, choking, squirting, cervix play, dacryphilia, public stuff a little, nipple sucking, degrading, spitting, humping, drunk sex, Paige literally destroys you.

word count: 3k.

author note: been havin some terrible writers block so might be last post for a lil while — unedited, this sex is just so raw nd nasty I’m sorry bro I cannot pls read at own risk

You found yourself at the draft afterparty, separated from Paige, your girlfriend, but you hardly noticed as you knocked back drinks one after another. Time slipped away as you chatted with your two closest friends, Mrs. Griffin and Mrs. Arnold, jokingly referring to yourselves as future NBA wives, with you as Mrs. Bueckers in jest.

As the drinks flowed, tensions rose. You were on your fourth shot in fifteen minutes when Aubrey's girlfriend remarked, "You know, I understand why you're so possessive, girl. If I were dating Paige, I'd be on edge too. She's quite the ladies-man." In your interpretation, her comment suggested that if she were in your shoes dating Paige, she wouldn't let Paige out of her sight. You had full trust in your girlfriend, without a doubt, but it was other girls you didn't trust. Knowing Paige's attractiveness and the constant flirtation she encountered throughout her life, you understood she might not always notice when a bitch wanted to fuck, leaving an opportunity for other girls to take advantage of the situation. Spurred on by the alcohol, you staggered to your feet and clumsily balanced on the chair you had just vacated. "Where is she?" you slurred.

"Over there," Aubrey's girlfriend pointed.

You spun back around, irritation evident on your face. "Oh, hell no," you spat, contemplating. "Should I go? Imma go!"

"Don't do it, girl!" your friends called out, but it was too late. Determined, you marched over to Paige, who was seated on the couch beside another girl, chatting and laughing, the girl's hand casually resting on her shoulder as she spoke.

There was absolutely no reason for her hand to be on your girlfriend. You were gonna crash-out.

"Paigeyyy!" you exclaimed, drawing most eyes in the party to you. "What... are you... doingg, babe?"

Paige smiled at you and exchanged words with the girl beside her, pointing in your direction. However, as you approached, her smile faltered, turning forced. You hovered over your girlfriend's form, pouting down at her. "Fix your face," she murmured softly as her hands found yours, holding them tightly. Your eyes darted towards the company Paige was keeping, silently hoping that after her subtle request to fix your expression went unheeded, she'd catch the hint as you focused on the source of your discomfort. "O-uhh, babe, this is Holly. She's my high school coach's daughter," Paige explained.

You smirked, subtly digging at her. "You're breaking a cardinal rule, Paige. Didn't they say the coach's daughter was off-limits?"

Holly's response hit a nerve, even more so if you were sober. "Well, that was back in the day," she said, still grinning politely.

You smiled, amplifying yours to mimic hers as you sat down. Not in-between them, however. You swiftly settled into Paige's lap, feeling her hands involuntarily wrapping around your waist, since she was still holding your hands before you sat. "So it's changed now, Holly? You're one for bending the rules?" you pressed. "When a boundary isn't visible, breaking it becomes effortless," she smoothly retorted, a subtle dig that undoubtedly rankled you, adding fuel to the fire of your annoyance. "Well, Holly, I'm right fucking here," you asserted firmly, the intensity of your words conveying both defiance and a challenge to her audacious remark. "Safe you made it in time. It was like I had a ticking time bomb, just waiting to explode," Holly remarked, subtly implying that any further delay might have jeopardized your relationship.

Before you could speak, Paige intervened, diffusing the tension as she spoke up, "So, guys. Who can forget that buzzer-beater from last year's championship?" As Holly began to yap, you couldn't help but stir in Paige's lap. Your girlfriend always looked majestic, but especially now, under the spell of alcohol. You rocked your hips forward, feeling the stirrings of arousal. You were now horny. And while tipsy and horny, if there was one thing you didn't care to respect was the conversation. So, while Paige was mid-sentence, you turned and began to make out with her, your desire overriding any concern for the topic at hand. Paige kissed back at first, but with your chest pressed against her, she couldn't resist allowing a hand to brush against it, stroking your hardened nipples in the process. When she noticed your arousal, she pulled away slightly and whispered sensually, "We'll continue this later," before unashamedly turning back to Holly, seamlessly returning to the conversation.

Later? You were a wreck. If somebody who wasn't already in the loop with all the others had been at the party, they'd surely be filming this, and you'd be looking insane. Your drunken antics drew a bemused smile from Paige as you pressed your lips to her jaw while she tried to speak, your warm breath giving her chills. She gently tried to steer your body away, to steady your hips, but you had other plans.

It was as if you had forgotten you weren't in the privacy of your own home as your hand moved to your own chest, intending to let your tits spill from your top before Paige stopped you, concealing your intent with a quick, "Wardrobe malfunction?"

At her words, you remembered she had lips, and kissed them before whispering, "Want them off," into her ear, "Want your mouth on them." Her mouth watered as her fingers helped you fix said wardrobe malfunction, giving her an excuse to marvel at your hardened nipples through your dress, begging to be sucked. With a playful glint in her eye, Paige allowed herself to be swept away by the moment, ghosting her hands over them and eliciting a hushed whine from your lips. Reveling in the sensation of your bodies pressing together, the allure of the party gradually faded. Soon, she found herself leading you home, your fingers intertwined as you stumbled through the door, eager to continue the intimacy in the privacy of your own space. Once inside, the air crackled with electricity as Paige pulled you close, her lips finding yours in a heated kiss. Your hands roamed eagerly over each other's bodies, seeking out every inch of exposed skin with fervent desire. "You know, I'm starting to hate Holly," you muttered against Paige's lips, jealousy prominent in your tone.

Paige leaned in, pleased, as she whispered, "Well, jealousy looks sexy on you, babe." Clothes were discarded in a frenzy of lust, and Paige found herself above you on the bed with her lips trailing a path of wet kisses down your neck and chest. With tender care, she teased your hardened nipples, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from your lips.

Her hand trailed lower, down the curve of your stomach, before finally finding its destination between your thighs. With gentle strokes, she teased your clit, reveling in the slick wetness that greeted her touch. She brought her fingers to her lips, sucking them clean with a sinful groan before plunging them back into your eager cunt.

Deftly, Paige slipped a finger inside you, marveling at the way you clenched around her in response. But she wasn't content to simply watch from the sidelines. Leaning down, she captured your lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with yours as she devoured you whole.

With hunger in her actions, touch, and eyes, she descended lower, trailing kisses along your thighs before finally finding her destination. With a flick of her tongue, she tasted your essence, savoring the sweet nectar that flowed from your core. With each stroke of her tongue, she brought you closer to the edge, her fingers working in perfect harmony to push you over. "More?" she asked, her voice breathy and gravelly, and you nodded eagerly from above her. "Please," you whispered, breaths catching in your throat. She smirked up at you. "Fuck, you're a slut." she moaned, pupils dilated as she arched her back, pressing her mouth flush against your pussy, closer, for a more precise to-the-clit angle. When you nod, "I am, mommy," you watch hazily as she indulges in you, her tongue tracing a slow, tantalizing path from your clit down to your folds repetitively. Up and down, up and down, up and down. Your body trembling with pleasure, Paige knew that she had finally proven herself to you. She was the only one who could satisfy your deepest desires. She wanted to be the only one. For her to eat you like this, so unapologetically, it'd stole all those seeds of doubt from your mind that Holly had planted. "Wanna eat this pussy every day," she speaks tightly against your pussy, so deep in your folds, and your eyebrows furrow at the slight pinch of her teeth against your clit. But she swiftly distracts you by recycling the saliva and wetness on her lips, spitting onto you, further soaking your already dripping cunt. The feeling of being soaked, then getting lapped up like a dog drinking water, was making your head spin. You grabbed your tits, squeezing them like your own personal stress balls, and the sight caused Paige to moan. "Play with them like that, ma, fuck." she groaned, her fingers pumping into you ridiculously nice, the perfect tempo to match her tongue work.

Your toes curled. "M' gonna—"

She nodded like, "I know," and watched as your body writhed, surrendering to the pleasure.

"Fuck, Paige, please don't stop. You're amazing, oh shit," you moaned.

She didn't. Not for a second did she quit eating you like her life depended on it, and you cried out in pleasure until the moment you released all over her face and fingers, painting her in your cum. Your stomach contracted as she kept fucking her fingers inside you, pushing it all out. Not even a second later, she had turned you over on your stomach and whispered in your ear, "Looks like I need to show you your place again, don't I?" It might have been the alcohol in your system, but you swore you had never been this horny for anything or anybody before. There you were, sprawled out on Paige's bed, your legs spread apart with her in between them, to your utter dismay, the blonde doing absolutely nothing. You felt like you were about to burst as you nodded your head vigorously, turning back over to give her your puppy eyes. "Want it, baby," you whispered urgently.

She pressed herself flush into your body, her tongue eagerly exploring your wet lips, probing its way into your mouth as you whimpered desperately. Allowing you to speak, her tongue trailed up your neck, to your breasts, and as she sucked your tits gently, you whined. "Wanted this all night." "Please..." you pleaded, voice thick with need, "Please, Paige, don't make me wait any longer," begging for what you knew was merely inches away from your pussy, tucked away. Her finger, previously servicing you, found its way into your mouth, and she pushed the long digit into the warmth repeatedly, teasingly fucking your throat as you eagerly sucked and moaned around it, savoring the taste of your own arousal. It was so hard not to give in when you looked this way—just so fucked out and slutty, when nothing had even really happened yet. Breaking face, she pressed her lips against yours, and your tongues danced together in a manner that made you think Paige was genuinely trying to receive and keep your taste, eat you alive. By each passing moment, your bodies found themselves closer than before, deepening the connection between you involuntarily.

It was half-intimate and half-raw, and it felt all the way good. Way too good. When you finally felt the thick, hard piece of plastic against your pussy, you sighed into the kiss, tilting your head back as Paige began to grind it against you. Her hand, previously holding your thigh and pressing you into the mattress, trailed down your body with deliberate intent, settling at your hip. You tried to squirm away from the feeling below you both, but she effortlessly held you there, a showcase of her immense strength that only turned you on even harder. She continued to rut her hips against you relentlessly, dragging the member up and down repeatedly with slow, sharp thrusts of her talented hips. She groaned, the dildo on the other end vibrating, squeezing and fucking sequencly against her wet, warm, tight walls. "Feel that?" she murmured, her voice husky with desire. "You like it when I fuck you like this, don't you?" It was all euphoria—you were too spent to reply, but you managed to murmur, "Inside," Paige held the base of it with her hand, groaning your name as she watched your pussy slowly swallow it all in with her piercing blue eyes. "Look how that just stretched you out, ma, feel it," she moaned, pumping into you so hard your entire body rocked, and causing the dildo to slide past her G-spot precisely, coaxing a throaty breath from her.

All you wanted was to please her. It meant good for you in the end. She was in awe watching your incredibly tight cunt be stretched that wide, so you complied, reaching your hand down and feeling it with shaky hands. "Fuck," you gasped, "So big, baby, god." She smirked down at you. "Play with your clit, baby, let me watch you." and like a puppet, your hand falls to between your legs, rubbing yourself hastily. You're still sensitive from your last orgasm, but you keep going, the deepness of Paige's cock feeling like a punch and stab to your guts each time she plows down. But the pressure inside you and the one you delicately place upon your clit feel so, so good that despite the overcapacity, you find your other hand coming to her back, then to her ass, squeezing it as you plead, "Don't stop!" You're crying now, tears staining your cheeks, and all it takes is for Paige to really look at your face, seeing how hard you're working for her right now before the tension begins to mount. She tries to hold out, but everywhere she tries to look makes it worse. Her head dips low to avoid your face, and you're sluttily playing with your clit. At your mid-section, your tits are bouncing in her face. And she knows if she looks at you one more time, it's over. Her body falters, and she lays on you as she fucks into you so carefree of anything in the world. You cry out whinily as you feel her deeper, the tip placing kisses to your cervix, and her weight on your lower stomach pressing the bulge the strap makes DEEP.

"So good," you whimpered, clenching around her with each drag of her stroke against the depths of your body. "Take me, Paige, take all of me."

She loses it at that, growling out, "Open your mouth, sexy," and you stick your tongue out to meet a hot, thick glob of spit into it.

Without needing to be told, you swallow, knowing it's what she wants. Her impending orgasm is evident as she speaks, her voice filled with urgency. "Fuck, bae, I'm gonna cum. You gonna—" she waivers with a grunt, then continues, "you gonna let me cum in you?"

Your arousal allows her to penetrate you insanely deep, even though she shouldn't be able to on a regular, non-drunk sex having day. "Yeah," you moan, your body ablaze with desire, "fill me up."

The room falls silent, save for the embarrassing squelching sounds of your cunt. The sounds your pussy makes are just embarrassing. Like pure water being swished, and you grip her dick so tightly it burns momentarily when her stroke falters back, but it meets your guts again within no time, and all feels way too good again. Your pussy's grip on her tightens, your body craving every thrust she delivers. Paige's hand tightens around your neck, restricting your airflow as she fucks the life out of you. She is genuinely killing you. Stabs inside your cunt, hand around your neck, toned body weighing down on you — petite below her. She's relentless, her motions driving the familiar knot in your stomach to form, but this time, with a little something different about it that you just can't place your finger on. You want to be concerned on why your pre-orgasm phase feels this way, but with each thrust, you can't help but surrender further into the pleasure, neverminding it.

As your climax approaches, you're overwhelmed. Your eyes shut tightly, your world consumed by white light. When you feel it coming, you want to scream, but you can't. Before you know it, your body is involuntarily pushing, and pushing, and when the intensity stops, blending into an orgasm, you realize you've just squirted all over Paige.

She's realized long before you, apparently, because she's left cumming herself with moans and exclamations of, "Aw, fuck, baby, look at that."

You guys have no time to tell each other you're cumming; it's just wet, hot, and heavy, both of your releases coating the sheets and the both of you too. Paige collapses on you, and now you really can't breathe, so you have to use your remaining energy the squirt took to push her off, the strap exiting you with the most empty feeling ever. Your hand, still on your clit, feels all the cum, and you exhale sharply, shocked. Both of your bodies are drenched, covered in sweat.

And as you catch your breath, Paige rolls onto her side, looking at you with a mix of satisfaction and tenderness in her eyes. "Is that attitude gone?" she asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

You meet her gaze, a mischievous glint in your eye. "If I say no, will you fuck me like that again?" you retort, a hint of a smirk playing on your lips.

Paige chuckles, reaching out to pull you close to her. "Guess you'll just have to find out," she replies, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss.

When you guys draw back, you're panting as you confess, "I can't believe I just... squirted."

Paige raises an eyebrow, offended. "I can. You doubtin' me?"

You've essentially been fucked back into sobriety and know not to test her. "Absolutely not," you assure her, and she relaxes at that. "You're gonna be hella sore tomorrow morning," she teases, "I literally went swimming in that pussy, deadass."

You smack her gently. "Stoppp," you protest.

She grins. "Ion feel bad tho. Maybe next time you get an attitude, you'll think about how dumb I just fucked you." And Paige Bueckers is absolutely fucking right. You will. Attitude or not.

MASTERLIST

A/N: might be some errors in posting and stuff!! i'll correct it later i'm rly tired now lol.

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kentopedia · 7 months ago

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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa

summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.

contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total

notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3

𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .

there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.

your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.

the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.

the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.

chuuya kills them all — except for one.

the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.

“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.

he can feel the man swallowing.

chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.

“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.

he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.

the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.

how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.

finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.

chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.

“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.

limply, they fall to the floor.

chuuya rushes over to you.

the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.

“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.

“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”

it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”

guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.

he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…

“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”

he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”

“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.

“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”

“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”

"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.

finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”

𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .

the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.

normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.

with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.

though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.

he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.

“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.

but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.

but you… you’re different.

“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”

akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.

he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.

there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.

mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.

as regrettable as that may be.

akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.

“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.

“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.

even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.

akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.

what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.

and he can’t do that if you’re dead.

finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.

akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.

a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.

though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.

he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.

his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.

“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.

you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.

“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”

“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”

“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”

anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”

“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”

he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.

“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.

he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.

“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.

𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .

dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.

though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.

his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.

dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.

but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.

he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.

“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”

“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”

“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.

and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.

with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.

there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.

he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.

today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.

you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.

dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.

slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.

he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.

“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.

the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.

dazai hums. “you the leader?”

the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.

“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.

dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.

you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.

he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.

it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”

“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”

you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.

“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”

you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.

“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”

you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”

dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.

thank you for reading !!! ❤︎

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