#he did kill himself right after so maybe he is sticking to his word
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Big fan of Grian chastising everyone at the very beginning for having too much fun with their powers and not killing each other, only for him to turn around and whisk Scar away on a magic carpet ride
#he did kill himself right after so maybe he is sticking to his word#smooziespeaks#life series#trafficblr#life smp#wild life smp#desert duo#grian
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Hii can you pls do a nanami and gojo(separately) make out fic pls??
Okay, let's do this with a little twist...
Getting caught while making out with JJK men
Pairings: Geto x fem!reader; Gojo x fem!reader; Nanami x fem!reader
Word Count: 2,2k
Warnings: well, it's getting heated babes, not 100% proofread because I wrote this in my work break (again lol)
Geto Suguru
You know how wrong it is. This is not the right time, not the right place to stand in a lonely corner with Geto Suguru’s hands all over you and his lips hanging onto yours like you’re air and he cannot breathe.
“Fuck, we should get going”, you whimper into the lonely hallway.
In fact, getting going is the last thing you want to do right now. Not when Riko is busy saying goodbye to her former life, not when your emotions are all over the place. You hid your feelings towards Suguru for so long, tried to convince yourself over and over that you don’t hold those kinds of feelings towards him. But when he allowed Riko some privacy, when you saw the glimmer in his dark eyes shimmering down at you…
You were lost.
And you lose over and over again with his lips worshipping yours like no one did before, with him pressing you against a nearby wall. Countless nights, you pondered about the way it might feel to get hold like this, to actually feel him this close. But reality? Way too bittersweet, way better than anything you could have ever imagined.
“I don’t want to leave you ever again”, he mumbles against your parted mouth before starting a dangerous dance with both of your tongues intertwined.
That man who pierced through Satoru could be here every time, you need to fulfill this mission, need to concentrate on escorting Riko to Tengen-sama. After all, this might be the only purpose you have here at Jujutsu High: Completing missions after missions, doing as you were told.
No, fuck that.
This right here is what you live for. The sensation of Suguru hollering over you like a shadow, of him holding you like no one did before, putting together all your broken pieces.
“I love you”, you finally hush.
“I think I always did.”
“I feel the same way, (y/n). God, I adore you more than anything else.”
Just when you thought your kiss couldn’t get any deeper, couldn’t make you lose your breath even more, he grabs your chin in order to gain better access of your mouth. Now you’re all yours, whimpering under his touch like a little girl.
Out of instinct, you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, allow your fingertips to grab his soft hair for hold.
“Huh, really didn’t expect to find ya here like that. Well, having fun before dying isn’t a crime, ya know.”
Your blood freezes instantly as you pull away and get greeted by the coldest green eyes you’ve ever seen. The man who fought against, Satoru. Without any doubt.
But…You eye him up and down, blood sticking onto his tight shirt without a visible wound.
Where’s Satoru?
“Leave her alone”, Suguru instructs the man seriously while positioning himself in front of you.
“You’re better off protecting ya little girlfriend from me. She’s cute. Maybe I’ll take her on a date when I killed you.”
Fuck fuck fuck.
Your heart drops to the floor, Suguru’s widened eyes revealing the urgency of this situation all too urgently. Out of all people who could have caught both of you this vulnerable, why on earth does it have to be him? There is no way Suguru will allow you to stay here while that stranger now knows…
“She’s your weakness, isn’t she? Maybe I can teach you a lesson about how freaking dumb love is.”
“Get Riko and escort her to Tengen-sama as fast as possible, (y/n)”, Suguru speaks out firmly while your eyes make contact.
“I can’t leave you here alone, if he defeated Satoru-“
He doesn’t interrupt you with words. No, instead he pulls you close, presses his puffy lips against yours until you feel like drowning in emotions.
“Get going. I don’t want this to be the last time someone caught us together.”
Gojo Satoru
“Get away from me right now.”
Oh, how desperately you try to sound angry while the truth is, that you want Gojo Satoru as close as possible. Your eyes dart left and right, search for the unpromising opportunity that somebody catches you in this position.
This position.
You, caged between Satoru’s arms in the male dorm you aren’t even allowed in, to be exact.
“C’mon, you don’t want me to get away from you. After teasing me the whole day and giving me that looks, you want me to go? Try better next time, princess”, he teases you while throwing his sunglasses to the ground without thinking twice.
“If we get caught here by a teacher…I can’t afford bad reputation, Satoru! What would my parents think, what if I get grounded, what if-“
“I know something better than using that mouth for hysteric talking”, he purrs with his face drawing closer and closer.
“Please, you aren’t even listening to me!”
A mix of panic, excitement and desire rushes through your veins, makes your eyes widen in sheer horror.
If your parents find out you were caught with a boy while actually, you are supposed to be a good student, you’ll be screwed. Especially when they found out which boy you were making out with…
Even though Gojo Satoru is considered the strongest jujutsu sorcerer of your timeline, your parents seem to hate him to the core.
“I don’t care that he’s your classmate. If you ever get involved with him more than necessary, you will leave this school without a second chance.”
You swallow hard. No, there is absolutely no doubt in the fact that your father made his point very clear.
But Satoru does as well. When he wraps his arms around your waist, he catches you just in time before your wobbly knees give in. No boy ever touched you like that, no other boy ever swept you off your feet like that. The butterflies in your stomach become almost unbearable while you can’t help but stare at his eyes.
Those oh so gorgeous eyes.
“I don’t want to hide my feelings for you any longer. Fuck your parents, fuck their threats. As long as I’m here, no one can hurt you.”
You let out your shaky breath you didn’t know you were holding.
And then your lips collide with his. Slowly and sweet at first until your very own longing becomes too much. You grab his back, pull him closer, allow him to access your mouth. He tastes like your favorite chewing gum and strawberries, so sweet that you cannot escape. Longingly, you allow him to suck on your bottom lip until a whimper escapes your lips. This is so much better than you ever imagined, so much sweeter than you ever dreamed of. There will never be a boy apart from Satoru who sweeps you off your feet like this, who makes you feel this way.
“Out of all boys, why does it have to be him, (y/n)?”
Your heart drops so suddenly that you feel like dying right on the spot. That low voice you know so well by now, that low voice that means nothing but trouble at the moment.
“S-sir…Yaga-sama I…I”
You fail to find the right words. In fact, all you are able to do is staring at him with glossy eyes and messy hair that reveal oh too painfully what you just did.
You crossed the line you promised your father not to. You came to the boy’s dorms even though you aren’t allowed to. And you got caught by your teacher doing so.
“Why does a nice girl like you waste her time with trash like Gojo?”, he continues.
“C’mon, you don’t have to be this me-“
“Please don’t tell my father!”
You let yourself drop to the floor, your head resting on top of your hands.
“I know it’s not my place to ask for something like that. But if you do…I will have to leave Jujutsu High.”
Thick silence hangs in the air, so quiet that you’re able to hear your tears fall onto the ground. You shouldn’t see Satoru anymore, should end this relationship before it started.
But truth is…you love him. Despite all the differences and your father’s hatred towards him, you love Satoru. You don’t want to leave him and Jujutsu High, you can’t stand the sheer fact of never seeing him again.
Still, it’s Yaga-sama’s job to inform your parents about your behavior, that you were caught in the boy’s dorm. And from there on there is no way out for you, no way to escape this fate.
“What are you talking about, (y/n)?”
Your teary eyes dart towards him immediately while you have to blink a few times in order to process what he just said.
“You caught me in the boy’s dorm with Satoru. It is your responsibility to inform my parents about that”, you reply with shaky voice.
“And risking that you’ll have to leave Jujutsu High? You’re the only useful student of this year and probably the only one who is able to tame this idiot down. I didn’t see anything today.”
“I am not an idiot”, Satoru protests with a sly grin.
“You can call yourself lucky a girl like (y/n) decided to keep up with you. I hope you won’t hurt her, Satoru. Or else, I might tell her father about it.”
And with that, he turns on his heels and walks aways as noiseless as he came, leaving both Satoru and you standing there bamboozled.
“So…what’s the worst your father would do to me?”
“Oh, he’d totally kill you if he found we made out”, you reply instantly.
Nanami Kento
“I might be gone for a few days, darling.”
Gently, he caresses your back the way he knows you adore it while wearing a saddened expression on your face.
“What mission takes a few days? Why aren’t they sending Gojo like they always do?”, you question with a pout.
You weren’t really able to meet up with your boyfriend Kento for what feels like ages. During work here at Jujutsu High, you aim to be professional, to not show each other affection. After all, this is your job and both of you take that very seriously. But now that you haven’t really seen each other after works for weeks, you can’t escape the urge to simply hug him, to feel his warmth and take in his masculine scent.
Kento breathes out audibly while stroking your hair. Truth is, he misses you like crazy. Despite his desperate attempts to stay away from you at Jujutsu High, he finds himself wrapping his arms around you as well.
“This is something serious. I can’t let the students go out on their own”, he mumbles against your forehead before placing a gentle kiss onto it.
Your stomach drops in excitement immediately. After weeks without affection, just a tiny kiss on your forehead seems to be enough to drive you wild.
“I get that. It just frustrates me a little”, you reply.
When your eyes find his, they are clouded by a feeling you know all too well. Time stands still when his grip around you tightens and his gaze drifts towards your lips. Your oh so longing lips that cannot wait to get kissed.
Without hesitation, you close the tiny gap between both of you. Even though you’re standing in the middle of a classroom at Jujutsu High, even though you both agreed on keeping your relationship out of work life.
You simply can’t right now. A swift motion is enough for him to lift you off the ground with ease while pressing your back against the cool wall. A whimper escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it, all senses directed towards him with your eyes closed by the sheer sensation.
“I missed you so much”, he breathes against your lips before continuing his sweet torture.
“Missed you as well…so…much…”
You allow your hungry hands to re-discover the valleys of his muscular back, his broad shoulders, his oh so perfect face. How are you supposed to stay away from a man like him longer than a few hours? Him with his character of gold, body of steel and brain?
“Nanami-sensei, I-…Oh.”
Your eyes dart open immediately and find a utterly surprised Yuji Itadori staring at you with his mouth open.
“Yuji, what are you doing here?”, you mumble while picking on your messy clothes in the most awkward way.
“Why didn’t I know that you two are a thing?”, the pink-haired boy continues, ignoring your lousy attempt to distract.
“Because this is our private life. Why are you here, Itadori-kun?”, Nanami replies in all seriousness.
“But…That’s awesome! You two go so well together! And I always thought that (y/n)-san is totally into you!”
“Watch your words, Itadori.”
“Yuji, can you please just…leave?”, you literally beg.
“Oh yeah, of course.”
“Wait, Itadori”, Nanami instructs the boy just when he’s about to leave the room.
“Don’t you dare to tell Kugisaki about anything you saw today.”
Yuji blinks a few times before nodding and leaving the room with a smile.
“He will totally tell her everything. You know that, right?”, you comment, still trying to catch your breath.
“Unfortunately, yes.”
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The Wrong Robin Au (part four)
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Danny slowed his car down, staring at the black iron gate coming into view; Bats and ivy welded on in an elegant pattern, obviously more thought-out than The Drake's ducks had been. He had to give it to Tim, the kid had been right about how stupid the ducks looked.
Glancing around, Danny found he was completely alone on the dirt road. The gray sky slowly brightened as the sun climbed higher in the distance, trees swaying in the gentle breeze, and birds chirped.
If it hadn't been for his experiences at Vlad's place, he would have found the scenery comforting, maybe even inviting. But the knowledge that this was the home of a billionaire, one that went out at night to fight crime like a furry on crack nonetheless, ruined it.
Maybe he should just head back to the motel...
...
Fuck it, when had Phantom ever backed down? That's right! Never! Danny was going to stick to his metaphorical guns and follow through with his admittedly stupid plan.
Taking his foot off the brake; Danny activated his intangibility, shared it with the car, and drove through the gate. (look, what were his powers for if not to make his life convenient? He deserved it after literally dying for them. AND the gate was probably locked. There was no way he could convince someone to let him in at this time in the morning, so...)
Danny kept an eye on his surroundings as he drove, he doubted Bruce Wayne would have ghost vultures working for him, but that doesn't mean Danny wouldn't be prepared if he did.
Eventually, a large building came into view. Its gothic architecture and obvious timely design set it apart from Vlad's modern monstrosity of a castle. Danny could just tell this was a home for a family with old money; the weathered roof and aged water fountain told stories of the people who used to live there. This was a home, not just a house.
Pulling his car over and parking, Danny quickly sent a mental prayer to the home's ancestors. He hoped they could forgive him for what he was about to do.
Grabbing his backup phone and his keys, Danny tossed the car door open and stepped out. Immediately his senses were clouded with grief and anger. It was so strong he almost lost his footing. The house was just drenched in the emotions, tendrils reaching out and wrapping around anything and everything.
Closing his eyes, Danny held his breath so he could focus on blocking the emotions out. (flashes of someone else's memories rushed past his mind; a glimpse of a young boy sitting in a library reading a book. An older man sitting next to him silently. In another flash, the two were now in a dark cave, the light of a computer the only thing illuminating them as the older man draped a blanket across the boy's back. whispered words of sincere promises echoed in his head.)
He had believed Tim, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. Ancients, this was worse than when he had to deal with Spectra.
Batman definitely needed therapy.
...
Maybe Jazz should be Robin instead, she'd know how to handle this properly. but Jazz wasn't here right now, she was in Sweden learning all about mental health. Which meant Danny would have to do this himself.
yay.
He had two options; One, he sits down with the man and they have a sincere and very emotional conversation. Or two, he beats it into the guy's head that he needs to stop going out and trying to get himself killed. Based on everything he knows about Batman? It was going to be number two that was going to get results... Well, at least Danny had experience punching things until he got what he wanted. (even if it didn't always work.)
Shaking himself out of his mind, Danny started making his way to the front door. It was past five in the morning, Bruce should be home now. Whether he was sleeping like Danny would assume he usually did, was a different question altogether.
Glancing around the door, Danny found there was a large rope hanging to the left. Vlad had the same thing at his place, it was an old-fashioned doorbell.
shrugging, Danny pulled on the rope and waited.
and waited.
and waited.
After a minute or two, Danny pulled the rope again. Suddenly the door swung open to reveal an older man dressed in a nice waistcoat and trousers.
"Can I help you?" the man asked, a British accent completing the look.
Danny blinked for a second before quickly focusing back on his task. "My name's Danny. Bruce is being a dumbass who needs to take a chill pill and take a step back from hospitalizing criminals. Can I come in?"
It was the old man's turn to stare and blink at him. After a minute, the man stepped back and opened the door, his eyebrow raised. "I would like to see how you plan to tell this to Master Bruce. His office is this way, young man."
"May I ask what exactly you're doing here?" the man asked, closing the door behind Danny.
Danny shrugged, "I'm here to beat some sense into him. He's going to get himself killed and no one wants to see what happens when he does."
The butler, because the rich fruitloop would obviously have one, hummed as he nodded his head in agreement. "I see. Maybe this is what he needs then. he won't listen to me, no matter how much I nag him."
Nothing else was said as he guided Danny through the manor, eventually stopping at a fancy dark wooden door. "Master Bruce, you appear to have a visitor." Then He opened the door and gestured for Danny to enter.
He only had a moment to ponder how he should do this before he entered the room. He should keep his powers hidden, for now at least.
He was greeted with the sight of an exhausted man in a bathrobe sitting at his desk and staring out the window. He was clutching a very worn and loved book in his hands, his brows slightly furrowed. (Danny noted that it was the same book the kid had been reading, The Hero and the Crown... or something like that, Danny hadn't really gotten a good look at the title.)
The butler stepped back, closing the door, and stood next to it to maybe await his new orders. Ones he probably wouldn't get any time soon, if the way Bruce hadn't moved or responded meant anything.
Well, if the old man wanted to see this then who was Danny to stop him?
Stepping forward, Danny leaned over the desk and slapped the back of Bruce's head. The man swiftly turned and stared at him, raising one of his hands to touch his head in shock. Danny heard the butler choke in surprise but ignored him. He could only pray to Clockwork that Bruce didn't kill him for this.
"You are being absolutely idiotic, dude." Danny declared. "Do you think Jason would have wanted you to act like this?" Bruce stood up, his chair slamming into the wall, his eyes burning in anger. "No? Then get your shit together and be the man he would be proud of."
Bruce lunged over the desk, his fist pulled back to hit Danny. It was just like Danny expected, just like Tim had told him, the man was letting his emotions control his actions. Dodging to the side, Danny continued talking, "This going out every night, fighting more and more dangerous and outlandish people all by yourself? It's going to get you killed."
Bruce gave up on trying to punch him, instead, he threw himself forward and body-slammed Danny to the floor. Danny coughed, quickly blocking his face as Bruce took a swing at him. Using the man's blind anger to his advantage, Danny kicked Bruce in the chest and sent him flying into his desk. "Jason's dead. It sucks. and it hurts. It's probably the worst pain you've ever experienced, but there's nothing you can do about it."
Danny glared at the man as he scrambled into a crouch, waiting to see what Bruce did next. "Shut up," the man growled, shoving himself up and away from his desk. He picked up his stapler; he was probably either going to use it as a blunt weapon or throw it at Danny. Widening his stance, Danny got ready to dodge or lunge.
He remembered reading about him, online when he first became Phantom. He remembered reading about Robin and Batman and how they worked together to protect Gotham. How they tirelessly worked day and night to put their rogues away every time they got out again.
He remembered seeing pictures of Batman standing next to little Robin, a proud smile on his face as the police took the criminals away. Pictures of the man helping and protecting Robin whenever the boy couldn't handle whatever mess he had gotten into. There was even a memorable one of Batman scolding an obviously sheepish Robin, a knocked-out Riddler slumped behind him.
He had wished so badly for someone to help him back them, for someone to be his Batman when times got hard. He remembered how devastated he was when it turned out the only person like him was Vlad. Vlad, who had wanted to murder his father and marry his mother. Vlad, who had overshadowed people to gain more wealth and power. Vlad, who hadn't seen how wrong it was to try and clone him.
He remembered the comments and videos from the citizens of Gotham, cheering for their heroes when they succeeded in capturing the rogues. How they still supported them when they failed. It was nothing like Amity's reaction to him.
He remembered how Gothom reacted when Robin was pronounced dead. How the city had cried and raged. He felt it all the way over in Amity, the grief and anger. The whole city had come together to mourn the boy who protected them. Even two years later, Danny could still feel the echoes.
"Jason's dead. He's dead and gone and you're letting yourself get consumed with your grief. but you made a promise Bruce."
Danny knew he had, it was the same promise Danny had made just four years ago.
Bruce's eyes widened and the anger that was surging in his eyes froze for just a moment. His hand loosened around the stapler but didn't let it go. The butler looked concerned, unsure if he should interfere or not.
"You made a promise all those years ago when you first dawned that stupid bat suit. You promised to do everything in your power to help your city. To protect it. Robin made the same promise. When he took up his suit. They both did."
Bruce's jaw tensed, his eyes narrowing. Danny lowered his body, still ready to dodge at a moment's notice.
"You made a promise to your son, Bruce. Even if he didn't know it. One that you couldn't keep."
Bruce threw the stapler, making Danny jump to the side to dodge it. His mistake was not keeping an eye on what Bruce did after throwing it. The man quickly rushed up to him, eyes blazing in anger. "You don't know anything!" he cried, his fist slamming into Danny's jaw. Danny staggered back but ducked under the next punch.
"I lost my son! I wasn't there!" Bruce shouted, kicking Danny's legs out from under him. Danny's back hit the floor, knocking the breath out of him. Bruce followed him down, breaking his nose with another punch to the face. "I promised I would protect him and I wasn't there!"
Danny growled, catching Bruce's fist in his hand and sending a punch at the side of Bruce's head. Bruce tried to lean back, Danny's fist clipping his forehead. Bruce grunted, reaching up to grab Danny's fist to keep him from punching him again.
"You couldn't protect him! I get it, it sucks!" Danny shouted back, flashes of Dani's melting form grasping at his shirt in panic pulled to the front of his mind. "It leaves a black hole in the center of your chest! It sucks all the warmth out of you, leaving only the cold bitter knowledge that you couldn't save him!" (that he couldn't save her)
Bruce pulled his fist out of Danny's hand, slamming his elbow down into Danny's chest and twisting Danny's right arm sharply in an attempt to break it. Danny kept talking though, ignoring the pain as he pulled his arm out of Bruce's grasp, "But Jason made a promise! and you're doing nothing to keep it!"
Danny grabbed onto Bruce's bathrobe and flipped them so Bruce was the one on the floor now. Quickly reaching up, Danny grabbed both of Bruce's hands and held them as still as he could. Bruce was strong, but Danny had years of fighting Skulker and the other super-strong ghosts under his belt. "He made that promise knowing that you had made the same one!"
Bruce growled, throwing his head up in an attempt to hit Danny with it. Danny leaned back, accidentally loosening his grip just enough for Bruce to break out of it. Bruce shoved him off of him, making Danny slide back and hit a chair.
Grunting, Danny stood up and lunged at Bruce. Bruce dodged to the side, dropping down to pick the stapler back up. "I can't claim to know what Jason would have wanted," Danny spat, backing up to give himself more space as Bruce stepped toward him. "but I know as someone who made the same promise, I wouldn't have wanted you to change into what you are now!"
Bruce narrowed his eyes at Danny, "Yeah, and what's that?" he growled.
"A careless, suicidal, moron," Danny growled back.
Bruce froze, stopping in place as he stared at Danny.
Danny took his chance to drive his point home; standing up straight, he raised his hands up in surrender. "He was your son. He looked up to you for protection. For guidance. And sure, maybe you weren't the best dad, and maybe you made mistakes. But you were his dad."
Danny stepped forward, watching as the butler stepped forward to reach out to the man. "and what kind of son would want his dad to kill himself?"
Bruce dropped his stapler, his eyes falling to the ground and catching onto the book he had dropped earlier. It was opened to the front page, written words in messy writing covering it.
"You need to stop, Bruce," Danny said, slowly crouching down and reaching out for the book. Bruce watched him as he stood up, the book still open to the front page in his hands. Jason's writing visible to all of them.
"you couldn't keep your promise to protect him. It sucks and it hurts. but you can keep his promise. The same promise you made all those years ago."
Bruce looked up at him, his blue eyes filling with tears, the butler's hand resting on his shoulder. Danny stepped forward again, holding the book out for Bruce to take.
"You can't protect Gotham if you're dead."
Jason's handwritten note stared up at them, the ink messy and smudged.
'to the best dad in the world and the many adventures we'll go on!'
and Bruce? Bruce crumbled to the floor with a sob, leaving Danny to stand in front of him. Blood running down his face, staining his hoodie and pink Hello Kitty pants, the book still held out with steady hands.
Next
#Danny pretends to be Robin#Post Jason's death#The Wrong Robin Au#danny's only had tim for two hours#but if anything happened to him#he'd kill everyone in the room and then himself#danny fenton#dp x dc#dc x dp crossover#dc x dp#tim drake#Wrong Robin Au#bruce wayne#batman#danny phantom#dpxdc#dick grayson#alfred pennyworth#clockwork#maybe a little out of character#but this is when burce is greiving jason#so him fighting Danny would be more likely to happen then one would think#he's not thinking clearly#danny's a stranger who just walked into his house and slapped him#and then called him out by using his dead son#he's a little angry at that#Danny knew exactly what he was doing by saying all that
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The Easy Way vs The Hard Way
˚ʚBang Chan x fem!Readerɞ˚
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: I was thinking about brat taming the other day and I came to the conclusion that Chris has 2 different ways to tame a brat. So I procrastinated on my fics + assignments and wrote this :)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~1k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem!reader, largely based around Daddy kink, creampie (try to pee after sex pls <3), breeding mentions, Chris calls himself Daddy, 'good girl' used #2: kinda hard dom!chris, man handling, spanking
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: sorry not sorry that 'hard' is longer than 'easy' (are u surprised? have you SEEN my content?) and take this off of schedule because I hate letting things sit in my drafts for more than a day 😭 ALSO Sharing is Caring part 2 coming out later this week :3 (along with a Jisung request I got hehe <3)
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
I think he has 2 ways of taming brats depending on what his mood is. So here's a little scenario to picture so that I can explain what I mean!
After a long day for the both of you, you guys indulge each other in a nice hour or 2 of foreplay before he finally fucks you. After you both finish, Chris pulls away to watch his cum drip out of you and you wiggle your hips to tease him. He slaps your ass playfully in response and teases you back by saying something along the lines of “Unless you’re trying to get bred tonight, I suggest you stop shaking your ass at me like that baby.” “As if you would complain about that. For somebody who calls himself ‘Daddy’ and says he ‘DoEsN’t MeAn It LiKe ThAt’, you sure as hell are trying to become one.” He originally laughs, but once he processes that you mocked him he rolls his eyes at you, “Just have to be a little brat? Maybe I didn’t fuck you thoroughly enough.” You scoff, crossing your arms and turning to look at him, “You think you do that anyways?”
So. How does theee Bang Christopher Chan deal with this?
‘Easy’ Way; aka “kill them with kindness”
“You think you do that anyways?”
He simply narrows his eyes at you, placing his hands on his hips, “Yeah?”
You proudly respond with an “Mhm." and stick your chin up.
He chuckles, stepping towards you and raising his hand to rest against your cheek, softly caressing the skin there. “But baby, you were just the one begging me to fuck you. Surely if I ‘never’ fucked you thoroughly enough, you wouldn’t be on your knees begging for my dick to be in you?”
You frown and he laughs in response, not giving you a chance to speak up before he continues. His free hand trails down your stomach and stops at your cunt, where he ghosts his fingers along your folds. You whimper and chew on your bottom lip, looking away from him shyly.
"And... Where did my good girl go? Hm? My pretty baby who listens soo well.” His fingers tease your hole before you’re filled with two of them. “My sweet doll who would never let her Daddy down like this.” His fingers double their efforts and the hand on your cheek slides a thumb into your puffy lips. "The good girl who doesn’t disrespect her Daddy like this… Where is she at?” Your breath suddenly becomes hectic and he can tell you’re getting close.
Between the bittersweet words and the eager movements against your pussy, you slip into another mindset all too easily. He smiles when you finally look at him with glossy eyes and respond in a small voice, "'M right here..." He tilts his head at you expectantly and you squirm in his hold before repeating yourself louder. "I'm right here Daddy.."
"Oh, hi baby. Is my good girl back now?" You nod desperately in response, tightening your hands into fists against his chest as you grip around his fingers. "And is she ready to behave?"
"Yes, Daddy. 'M sorry.."
"Shhh, it’s okay baby. Now be good and cum on my fingers, kay?"
Hard’ Way; aka “fuck around and find out”
“You think you do that anyways?”
His eyebrows furrow and his tongue drags against the inside of his cheek. “Yeah? You’re really gonna do this right now? Right after I was nice enough to let you cum?” You gulp but stand your ground, making a scene to roll your eyes and lean back against the headboard.
He sits there silently, trying to give you another chance to come to your senses to realize that you’re butt ass naked in front of him and at his mercy. When you instead cock your head sideways with a bunch of attitude, he sighs loudly. His hands suddenly grips your ankles and drags you towards him. Then you’re flipped into your stomach and he renters you with no warning.
Your jaw drops and you moan loudly in surprise. His hands take turns slamming down against your ass cheeks over and over, seemingly getting harder with each slap. He sighs contently at the way you cling tightly around him with each smack, and he only stops once your cheeks are beet red and you’re trembling below him.
He hums to himself and taps the flesh, making it burn more and watching as you shake. "Such a pretty thing with such pretty reactions.. If only you were a good plaything and shut that pretty mouth for once."
He watches as your head snaps back towards him for a moment, the angry face and tears running down your face only make him smile at you. You feel his hips drag away from you, painfully slowly, until only the first centimeter or two of his tip are in you. You're taking a deep breath trying to regain your composure when a hand grabs a tight grip of your hair and pulls you backwards, his hips slamming forward at the same time.
A choke leaves you at the suddenness but he wastes no time, using the leverage in your hair to hold you in place as he fucks into you roughly. The aftermath of your previous orgasm sneaks up on you and you feel another one building up in no time. You melt into the sheets at the feeling, shaking as you almost tip over from one of the faster orgasms you've experienced, but Chris proves himself to be faster.
In an instant he's pulling out completely and holding you down preemptively for when you start thrash and whine. He waits until you stop kicking your feet at him, a tell tale sign that the tightness in your stomach finally faded, then he all of the sudden plunges back into you. The slide against your walls is rough, but you can’t deny how well it’s breaking down your resolution.
He uses the hand in your hair to tilt your head up at him when he leans forward to tower over you. It's very uncomfortable but it gives him the advantage as his narrowed eyes bore directly into you. He eventually changes positions, not wanting to actually hurt you like that, and he uses the new one to bring you to another orgasm. One that he, of course, ruins immediately with no hesitation.
This happens multiple times across the next 2 hours, to the point where you lost count of how many orgasms slipped away. It's not until you're sobbing beneath him and no longer kicking at him with each ruined orgasm, that he's flipping you onto your back and leaning down to kiss your tears away.
"Are you done now, love? You ready to be my good girl again?"
Your arms wrap around his neck and your lower lip trembles as you nod. He smiles, petting your hair and cooing at you before returning to his previous pace fucking you.
"There we go..."
Taglist:
@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina
#sian’s writing#skz smut#stray kids smut#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#bang chan smut#bang chan x reader#bang chan x reader smut#bang chan imagines#chan smut#chan x reader#chan x reader smut#chan imagines#skz x reader#skz x reader smut#chris hard thoughts <3
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ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE
FEATURING: dazai osamu
SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.
{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}
AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!
“I’m so sick and tired of him.”
You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.
“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?”
“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”
“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”
You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.
“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”
Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.
“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”
Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.
“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”
“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”
Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”
You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.
“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”
“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”
You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.
“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”
You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”
“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.
Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.
“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.
You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”
“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time.
But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.
You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.
“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”
Chuuya was right.
You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.
Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.
Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit.
You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms.
Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.
You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.
“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.
You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”
The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.
Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment.
He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted.
You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.
You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.
“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.
This is Dazai’s fault somehow.
“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”
“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”
The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.
Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.
Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.
Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.
You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.
It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.
“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.”
“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic.
He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like.
“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”
Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.
“I got food,” he says blankly.
Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.
You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”
Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.
“What?” you demand, offended.
Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.
Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.
Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.
“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”
“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”
“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”
“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”
Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.
“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”
Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.
“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”
“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”
“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”
Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”
You let go of him.
Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.
But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.
“Okay.”
Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.
“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”
He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.
“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”
You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him.
“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”
Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”
“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”
That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.
“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”
He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.
“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”
“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”
You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.
“No way,” you say immediately.
You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you.
Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.
You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later.
“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”
Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.
“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”
“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”
God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.
“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”
“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.
“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out.
You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours.
He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable.
Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?
You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.
You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.
Strange.
You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.
You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.
And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-
Oh.
Oh, you’re so stupid.
“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”
“No-”
“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”
“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”
“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”
“But-”
You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”
“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”
“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.
A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it.
You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.
“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek.
A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.
“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”
You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.
Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.
“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”
He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.
“You didn’t what?” you ask him.
Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.
Your brows furrow.
“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”
Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.
“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”
That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.
“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”
It’s only mildly reassuring.
“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”
“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.
You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth.
Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.
“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”
Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.
“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”
“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”
His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.
“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”
You pause.
You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.
It’s never felt like this before.
Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.
You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.
Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.
But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before.
“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?”
“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”
That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.
“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”
You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.
“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.”
“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”
Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.
Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense.
Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma.
If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.
So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment?
That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?
Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.
Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.
Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain.
You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.
“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.
Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.
You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”
Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.
“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”
“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip.
He does, but only barely.
“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.
“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?”
Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”
You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.
You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”
Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”
“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones.
“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.
“Not tonight,” you agree again.
You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.
You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss.
Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years.
He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.
Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.
“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.
Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.
His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”
You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.
“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”
“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.
Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them.
You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.
You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment.
You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.
You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.
You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.
“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”
Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again.
Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”
You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.
“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”
“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”
The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”
“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.
You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again.
Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…
Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.
“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.
“Shut up,” you tell him.
You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds.
Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.
You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.
You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.
“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?
You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.
“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”
“Yeah?” you press, breathless.
You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.
“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”
“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.
“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”
You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips.
The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.
Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?
You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”
You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.
You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder.
You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.
As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.
Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.
“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.
Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-
And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.
Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.
More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.
Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.
“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”
“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.
Home.
“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek.
A bit longingly, you think, I do.
Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again.
“You wish.”
#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai smut#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu smut#dazai osamu x reader#bsd x reader#bsd smut#bsd x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs smut#bungo stray dogs x you
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hibernation/ brumation
– tales of the voracity pathstrider
✎𓂃 winter dormancy.
in his five years of being your boss, aventurine hasn’t ever seen you send in a request for leave. but here he is, staring at your application for a month-long vacation.
a month? isn’t that a little too long?
you didn’t even stick a little comment about where you’re going or what’s happening, dammit! he wants to know so bad, but he feels like he’ll either overstep his boundaries or come off as clingy if he asks.
he’ll approve it, of course!
he wants you to not hate your job, and part of being a good boss is letting his subordinates take the leaves they’re entitled to
and you deserve a nice, long break, anyway
but the curiosity is killing him inside. what will you be doing? will you still hang around the IPC?
he really, really wants to barge into your office and wrench an explanation out of you
and also, how dare you try to take leave right into the holidays! rude
he wanted to take you out to dinner! to fancy places! he was prepared to have a schedule full of you!
totally not dates or his attempts to spoil you
he totally isn’t thinking of doing it so that you’ll spoil him in return
he’s found out that you respond to him if he rants at you
and that you get very soft and careful with him if he presses the right buttons
he digs that so much it’s unreal
there’s something about having you, of all people, treat him tenderly
perhaps because he’s seen firsthand what kind of monster hides in your scarf
or… what kind of monster hides beneath your silent, icy exterior
it just hits different when someone like you treat him so gently
and he knows for a fact that you’ll never abuse that power you have
he absolutely loves that. 100%.
“guess who’s here!” aventurine announces as he enters your office without so much as a knock, “hard at work, my favorite secretary?”
“out, please.” you hiss, sparing him barely a glance from your computer, “i’m concentrating.”
since when did your complaints stop him
he saunters over and sits himself on your armrest anyway
your scarf lift him up and set him down on the couch opposite to you
he finds his way back to your chair
you put him on the couch again
he comes back to your armrest
is he a cat obsessed with a particular box (namely, your chair) or something
you give up
“what is it?” you relent, scooting over so he can fit onto your seat, too, albeit barely
this man does not hesitate to invade your personal space
“where are you going for a month, hmm?” he asks with a playful smile, “can’t even tell me?”
oh, so that’s what this is about
but why is he resting his face in his hand and looking at you like he’s trying to flirt?
“hibernation.” you keep typing without giving aventurine much of a reaction, “not exactly, but close. brumation.”
wait. wait, what?
it doesn’t take a genius to know that aventurine is currently flabbergasted. “you… hibernate? like sleep hibernate?”
“no, i hibernate awake.” you mumble sarcastically, but he catches it even if your words are muffled
“c’mon, i’m just checking!” he throws his hands in the air as if protesting your attitude
“yes, i sleep, for the most part.” you scoot over a little more and lift him up, setting him down in your lap. “but i’ll be awake here and there.”
you rest your head on top of his and continues to work, effectively caging him in
he realizes you’re much more like a snake than he thought
not in an alarming way
you’re coiling around him, but, like, in a friendly danger noodle way
“will you?” he chuckles; maybe his plans aren’t entirely foiled, after all, “for how long?”
you look at him. “a few minutes up to an hour?”
you’re only getting up for water and/or changing sleeping positions
never mind, his plans to try to spoil you is, in fact, foiled
he pouts. he had the entire thing planned out already! all five days that you’ll be off!
he looks like a kid who’s about to buy the last donut but you beat him to it and buy the donut right in front of his eyes.
“you can visit.” you say, and you see him light up almost immediately.
though, you don't think there’s much worth visiting, but whatever makes him happy
when aventurine visits you during your well-deserved vacation, he’s pleasantly surprised. you’re sleeping so peacefully, despite the fact that you usually rarely sleep at all.
you’re curled up into half a ball under your blankets and your scarf
and letting out little snores
is this what you look like when you’re asleep?
so adorable. if only you’d let him see it often…
but he doesn’t know the frequency of your brumation period
as far as he knows, it’s once in five years, but he has no idea if it’s more than five years
you’re not covering your face, either
aeons, he loves seeing your unobscured face
you’re so beautiful under your scarf
especially the patches of scales along your neck, they glitter in white gold under the light
he wishes you wouldn't try to cover them up
during your entire month, he’s going to be in your room whenever he’s free
he will totally try to sleep next to you at night
what? it’s not like you haven’t shared a bed before!
it’s just that you’ve never been asleep by each other's side!
you will cuddle into him if he tries to hold you
and you will get fussy if he tries to get out of the hug
if only you were as honest when you’re awake
aventurine has been trying to catch you in your small conscious windows, but he’s having not much luck with that. though, this isn’t exactly a gamble, so “luck” might not be the right word here.
he’s so busy; he’s drowning in work
your temporary replacement isn’t very good at their job
or maybe he’s just used to the way you do things and now everything feels wrong
he wants you back already
because nowadays he barely has an hour to spend with you apart from bedtime
he hates it
what do you mean by he can’t sit next to your sleeping form while he signs papers?
horrible, very horrible
but eventually he does catch you when you’re awake
you’re drowsy and you’re dragging your blankets and your scarf with you around your room
the cutest thing he’s ever seen in a long while
he watches as you clumsily pour yourself some water, spilling some on the table because you can’t line up the jug and the glass properly
and he watches as you sluggishly flop onto your couch after you’ve downed the water
“had enough of the bed?” he asks, sitting down next to you and brushing a few strands of hair away from your face
“hnnnnnngh,” you grumble and turn to face away from him, you just want to go back to sleep
then you remember this is your boss’s voice
and you reluctantly mumble, “it’s too warm…”
do you even know what you’re saying? you’re melting his heart
“oh, that so? it’s too hot over there?” aventurine snickers softly, his hand caressing your face, the cool fabric of his glove making you sigh in delight. “you’re so lovely.”
he recognizes the amount of trust you have in him to let him visit you when you’re sleeping, and it’s doing things to his stomach. you’re so lazy, so barely aware of your surroundings, but you trust him to be around you while you are in this state.
there is an urge, and he acts on it. he nuzzles against your cheek, rubbing your noses together and planting a small kiss on your forehead. he’s been dreaming of holding you like you’re his greatest treasure, but he’s never mustered up the courage to do it.
maybe someday he will tell you, and then he’ll be allowed to adore you openly the way he’s always wanted to.
“my favorite snake,” he whispers to himself, feeling a shudder of affection throughout his bones, “sleep well. i’ll look forward to taking you out when you rise.”
#honkai star rail#aventurine x reader#aventurine#honkai star rail x reader#ares's voracity pathstrider tales
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Platonic Yandere Kitsune + Child Reader
Imagine the most vain, deceitful, mischievous kitsune
Infamous for killing hundreds of humans and even more unfortunate children
An actual evil menace
He has been doing this for a good two centuries
Already having earned his two tails
Unfortunately, the wisdom of older age doesn’t seem to disparage him from terrorizing the kingdom’s outer edges
Almost omniscient there's no telling where he is or if he’s in disguise or if he’s been building fake relationships with others to lure them in
It’s scary but not enough to scare off children completely
Which leads to you
A nice life in nobility means you’re sheltered or at least given a nicer tale than most kids
But your family wasn’t without humble beginnings
So the only real time you do find yourself playing in the great outdoors is then
“Hello, little one!”
He doesn’t bother to hide his fox ears or his flicking tails
He finds children are easily interested in them
Looking up from the sticks you were playing with, you offer him a smile
He smirks to himself this is going to be too easy
After introducing himself with another fake name he moves along
“Come follow me into the forest, deeper inside we can play house together there!”
“Hmm no.”
“Yay–wait. Did you say ‘no’?”
“Yeah.”
Not entirely...different but different enough
He knows some kids treat their parent’s words as law
so this will take a little more convincing
“Actually I just don’t want to play house right now.”
This is fine
Most children need a little peer pressure to do what he wants
“Fine then. Guess we won’t be able to play together, after all.”
“Okay!”
What?!
He watches as you skip further away from his direction flapping the sticks
How irritating
You didn’t do a single thing he wanted you to
He excuses himself to blow off some steam aka drowning some fellow in the river
He tells himself to shake it off
he still is the best at tricking kids
He proves this by devouring the soul of some other kid with all the same tricks that didn’t work on you
But even with a full stomach, he’s bothered
How dare you?
How could you?
He finds you again maybe not at your vacation home
This time he’s a bit more direct letting his mask slip a little
“Come with me. Please? I’m so so scared!”
“Then I’ll just get my dad. If you’re so scared.”
“NO! I mean why won’t you? You seem so brave,”
“I don’t want to go in there. I’m wearing my garden shoes. I don’t want these ones ruined too.”
He gets so frustrated
Going to his lavish shrine where lesser spirits serve him and other mischievous yokai often come to party to complain
“I can’t believe this child is making this so difficult! Sometimes I have such a hard time not just eating them out of spite!”
“Right? But it’s the whole chase that makes it fun!” an especially powerful Chochin raves
“True that and it's more delicious!” a Kappa friend of his toasts
It isn’t until he listens to a Yuki Ona who really makes him think
“Children bring a warmth like none other. Caring for one is an adventure.”
He remembers that when he starts to watch you again
Finally noticing the quirks that make you the way you are
What foods you like
How you like to be put to bed
It all starts to make sense to him but he still stays
He watches
And he waits
For what he doesn’t know
He just waits
Sometimes he’ll step away to feed on an adult he comes across or an especially bratty child
Comparing them to you as he picks his teeth
He only really notices when there's a break in your routine
Part 2: Here
#yandere x reader#yandere x you#lovelyyandereaddictionpoint#yanderexrea#yandere#yanderes#yandere platonic#yandere platonic x reader#platonic yandere#platonic yandere x reader#platonic yanderes#platonic yandere kitsune#yandere platonic oc#platonic yandere kitsune oc#yandere kitsune#yandere oc x you#yandere oc#yandere original character#yandere original characters#yandere x gn reader
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Bungou Stray Dogs headcanons!
Author's note: Late christmas gift for y'all;) My apology for making you wait, my family visited me last night sooooo... yeah, that's it...
Hope you enjoy!
Characters: Dazai, Fyodor, Chuuya, Ranpo, Poe
Dazai Osamu
The most chaotic (also the sweetest) holiday you've ever get, that's for sure
This bastard will make you join the ADA's Christmas party, but if you're not comfortable, then he'll just sneak out with you to go to whatever place you want
Confessing his feelings under the christmas tree, awwww <3
Have a feeling that he won't invite anyone to commit double suicide with him in this day
"Better not let God get angry with me. It would be a shame if He didn't let me die later just because of some bad Christmas prank, don't you agree Belladonna?"
Cuddles cuddles cuddles🥰
Go annoy Chuuya in front of you
"You see? He'll need to improve his height and his awful taste in fashion if he wants to go on a date with someone as gorgeous as yo-"
"SHUT UP MACKEREL!!"
You would likely receive something like a hand-written poem along with a little gift depends on your hobbies
"Ermmmm..... I-I hope you like it, Belladonna.."
"Mhm, of course, love"
Chill guy on the outside, fluster as hell on the inside
He'll stick around you until the next morning (obviously, because he's Dazai)
Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Okay so let's pretend that he had a lover....
Go to church with your hand in his
Rarely show his emotions, but who cares?
The type of person to internally scream when he caught a glimpse of your smile
"God she's such a fragile little thing... makes me want to keep her innocence all to myself"
Prays to God that you'll stay with him whatever it takes
Listening to Tchaikovsky at home (I love Tchaikovky's music sm😇)
He'll make sure to kick Nikolai out of his way, just to have more private time with you
You guys would play a duet with each other, in the candle-lit living room (in case you know how to play piano or whatever instruments that get along with cello)
Easily figure out what you like and gifted it to you (he's too smart to miss out your sparkling eyes when you see something you love lol)
Maybe he'll even skip work to spend time with you
"Is it okay, Fedya...?"
"Don't worry, мой дорогой. There is no harm in getting off from work for a while to give you the attention you deserves, don't you think?"
Nakahara Chuuya
Top quality five-star restaurant, not too crowded but not too secluded
Your role in this expensive date? Point out whatever you want, and you'll have it in a second.
Bonus point if his darling is also alcoholic (But he won't let you drink too much. He wouldn't want you damaging your own health, afterall)
"Your total payment was 12,365.04000 yen, sir."
"What? That's not enough. Anything else you wanna buy, darling?"
Hold the door open for you, carry all your shopping bags, wrapping his arm around your waist and held you close because he's such a gentleman oh my god🤭🤭
Turn his cautious mode on when he see a certain bandaged brunette
"Stay away from me and my precious darling, or else I'll explode your damn apartment"
Kick Dazai's ass if he dares to approach you
"Are you fine, darling? Did he do anything to you? Tell me, and I'll kill him right away-"
"No, don't worry Chuu, he didn't do anything"
For a quick sum up: A fancy date with Mr. Fancy hat
Edgar Allan Poe
Travelling in his special novel for Christmas? He would have prepared it for a long time now. Afterall, he's literally simping his lover
Celebrate Christmas in his home, cuddles and he'll whisper all the lovely words in your ear
"I love you, love"
"Aww, me too"
"Will you stay with me? For the rest of my life?"
"I will"
Nothing is better than his flustered face after hearing your response<33
I have a feeling that he would give you some kind of handmade gifts (of course, he made it himself)
He would prefer staying at home with you, but if you want, he'd gladly take you to the place to want to go
Dancing in the living room
Super clingy guy who would cling to you (may even get jelous when Karl stays in your lap for too long...)
Edogawa Ranpo
Prepare to see your wallet getting lighter and lighter in Christmas day...
Drag you to his favorite candy shop (don't worry, you may get bankrupt the next day)
"Only one more candy bag, pretty pleaseeeeeeeee?"
"Pfft, no"
Eating snacks while while watching some movies with you
Childlike behaviors
He would even share his snacks with you... suprise😉?
Shamelessly cling onto you and would whine like a child if you leave him for a second
"Am I your human pillow or what?"
"Yes you are, dummy"
Line dividers by @cafekitsune
#bungou stray dogs#bsd#bsd headcanons#ranpo edogawa#bsd ranpo#bungou stray dogs ranpo#ranpo x reader#edogawa ranpo#ranpo bsd#dazai#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#bungou stray dogs dazai#dazai x reader#chuuya nakahara#dazai x chuuya#bsd chuuya#fyodor x reader#bsd fyodor#fyodor dostoevsky#fyodor dostoyevsky bsd#bungou stray dogs fyodor#fyodor bsd#bsd fyodor dostoevsky#poe bsd#bsd edgar allan poe#bsd poe
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part five // serial killer!Kim Seungmin/afab reader
WC: 11k
RATING: mature/explicit/mdni—contains: angst, sex, murder, medication usage, hallucinations, sa mention
SYNOPSIS: Seungmin floats through life alone, haunted by his memories—keeping himself under control, and quieting his mind the only way he knows how…killing and watching the life leave his victims eyes. When you cross his path on a morning hunt, something new (something forgotten) starts to move inside of him, leading both of you on a path to confront the unspeakable past.
comments: I wasn't sure how many parts I would need to get to the end, but this isn’t it, ha—we’re not done yet! Thank you for sticking with me!
Please support and reblog if you enjoy! Reblogs help your favorite writers on Tumblr!
[ ML — DEITY MASTERLIST ]
—taglist: @kkamismom12 / @r0tt1n / @heluvschibi / @feckinbecky / @missystay / @seungluvr / @babrieeee / @curiouscocoabean / @feelikecinderella / @carpioassists / @soulsbbg
Where do you go from here?
You can’t tell yet, because Seungmin hasn’t spoken more than ten words to you in the last three days. The feeling deep down in your gut was right, but despite your heartache, your sleepless nights, and your lonely days…this still feels normal. He heard the words, panicked(?), put a new wall up, and now you’re left with this painful, awkward silence.
But it’s not fair. He started this.
He said it first, and you don’t think he would say those words lightly—it didn’t take all these weeks to figure that out. You knew the night he came looking for you and finally managed to tell you he didn’t want you to leave. It took a lot out of him. Taking you in and caring for you has taken a lot out of him, even though it does seem to be the other way around most of the time. That came naturally, though. Being responsible for the people around you is your normal; taking the blame when things go wrong, or don’t work out…that’s all yours. Damage control is your specialty, but you haven’t done a great job of it lately.
Seungmin looks at you from his spot in the living room. He’s sitting up, but hugging his pillow and resting his head on the arm of the couch. This has been his typical afternoon for the last few days after taking his medicine, and you’re worried he’s adjusting poorly…hallucinating, and just not telling you.
“Did you eat last night?”
He closes his eyes.
“I’ll take that as a no. So, nothing since yesterday morning.”
Maybe if you go over there and beg him to say something; get down on your knees and plead, you’ll get a word. You want to tell him about your nightmare last night. If you were thrashing around and talking in your sleep, he didn’t hear you—he didn’t wake you and comfort you. You woke on your own, gasping for breath and clenching the sheets, and Seungmin’s eyes were shut tight. Trying to get any sleep after that was useless, so you gathered your pillow, a blanket, and Daengmo (he was looking at you, at least) and left him there.
Daengmo is still here on the opposite end of the couch, like a strange mirrored image of his owner.
“I can try to make you something”
Nothing.
“Or I can order it. I haven’t exactly mastered Korean cooking yet.” But not for lack of trying. You’ve consumed nothing but news, dramas, and cooking shows lately to help with learning the language. And to make sure you don’t hear anything else about Seungmin’s last kill. So far it’s been quiet, but it’s only been three days.
“I’ll just go grab something.” You throw your sweatshirt on and head for the door, “you can eat it if you want…” tighten your shoelaces, grab your keys. A mumble comes from him as you reach for the doorknob, and you almost ignore it. “Did you say something?”
“I said I’ll come with you”
It takes him a few more moments to sit himself up, but once he gets that far, he seems to wake up. You wait patiently by the door as he changes, and he makes a point to duck into the bathroom and fix his hair. Another thing you did in complete silence; dyed his hair, and you noticed him staring at the trashcan where the he threw the negative test. Seungmin comes back out looking almost exactly like he did the day you met him; the black and white windbreaker, the calm, somewhat confident look in his eyes. You’re not sure where that came from. He even grabs the pack of cigarettes on the coffee table on his way to you.
“What are you in the mood for?” You tread lightly, not wanting to disrupt whatever jumped into him so suddenly. It was silly to think you got through his worst, but you hoped for just a moment that the closeness and the consistency would help…and the medicine. You still have a long way to go.
“I like your cooking”
You’re not sure where it came from, but you think you see a smile around his cigarette.
“Thank you for cooking for me. And everything else.”
Seungmin watched, or stared absently at you folding laundry this morning. It was then you wondered if it was on its way back—his itch. It has to return eventually, but you hoped you both had more time. The cocky look on his face makes you think otherwise.
“I like doing it.” For him you don’t mind it, and it’s because he doesn’t expect it of you, or demand it.
“Right here”
He opens the door, and you can feel the heat. The smell should help perk him up if his appetite has returned.
“What are we getting?”
“Galbijjim”
It’s small and crowded inside, so when Seungmin finds you an empty table to sit at, you hesitate. “You don’t wanna take it home?” You’ve already gotten a few looks, and you’re not sure if it’s just directed toward you, or the two of you together. It doesn’t bother you much, but you remember how Seungmin felt on the crowded train. “It’s pretty busy in here.”
“No, I’m fine if you are”
But you do notice his eyes wandering around, taking in each person, letting them linger for far too long.
“How are you feeling, still sleepy?”
“Hm?” He doesn’t look at you.
You try to find exactly what he’s looking at, and you do. It’s obvious. Seungmin is staring at one of the girls waiting for an order. His eyes are pitch black, all pupil, when he finally shakes himself free to look at you.
“I said,” your voice shakes, so you shut up and try to calm the wild heartbeat in your throat. “How are you feeling…with the medicine?”
Still he doesn’t answer, but he’s looking right at you.
“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back home? We’d be more comfortable on the couch…we could watch a movie, maybe.”
“I’m good, the medicine is…” he drops his gaze to his hands, and you follow. Seungmin starts to fidget; pick and scratch at the table, stop himself and wring his hands together. “The medicine is fine.”
The medicine might be doing its job, but fine isn’t the word you would use, and Seungmin is not with you right now. He’s somewhere between his own head and the girl ten feet away…the one that is now staring at him. Now you’re hoping his feeling has returned, because the only alternative would be pure attraction, which she clearly shares. He wouldn’t do that to you after everything, though. Your jealousy is just winning over logic.
“Good. You seem less tired.”
Ignoring it is difficult, but you have to. What else are you supposed to do; confront him, ask if this is his next target, and just wonder why? What is it about her that appeals to him, and in what way…murder? Sex and murder? Just sex? You need to know…that will happen again. You remember him telling you that last time. But you remember everything else, too. There is no denying or hiding your jealousy.
“You’re right, maybe we should take our food home.”
/ / /
The two of you start walking, food in hand, but it takes about ten seconds to realize why he changed his mind about staying—he’s following her. Why is he doing this while you’re with him?
“Seungmin, where are we going?”
“I need you to do me a favor.” His tone is flat, uninterested. He’s not asking you a favor, he’s giving you an order…calmly. “Take the food and go home, and then leave for a while.”
“What? Leave and go where?”
“Anywhere…coffee shop, the university library to study…shopping.”
He’s getting rid of you to seduce her. Kill her, yeah, but first he’ll have sex with her in the bed you’ve been sharing. You have to do what he says, though, because you knew what Seungmin was when you decided to return to him, and you knew he’d return to this, eventually. Getting upset about it now might make him upset, and his medicine, combined with the itch, and then you on top of it all being jealous and difficult...it won’t help. You decide you should be grateful for the last few weeks you’ve had him all to yourself.
“Okay, I’ll go”
“Let me know when you leave the apartment”
“I will, I’ll text you”
“If for some reason it falls through, I’ll pick you up wherever you are”
You doubt it’ll fall through, not with the way she was looking at him. He’ll have another kill under his belt by the time the sun goes down.
Seungmin continues straight, and you take a left on the next block, but you watch him for as long as you can before he disappears. The university library is a good idea, but you’d only sit there and wonder what Seungmin was up to the whole time. You’d go through his possible actions, step by step, thinking of the two of them initiating. Touching, kissing, undressing. Her hands on Seungmin’s hips, pulling at his sweatpants to get to what you now believe is yours. Will it just be a blowjob, like the last time? Will he lay her on the bed and eat her out? That feels too intimate for him, but that’s because he’s so intimate with you when he does it. There is no reason for him to be careful and gentle and attentive to anyone else, especially if they die at the end.
Maybe shopping will keep your mind more occupied.
You unlock the door and look around the deserted apartment. The two of you have barely left before today and since the trip to Uljin, so it makes everything feel even more strange. The bedroom is cold, and you’re glad. Hopefully it stays that way for his guest, and it moves things along quickly.
You look around for yourself in the room…your clothes—you left the shirt you wore last night on the floor, but it’s technically his and isn’t out of place. Your bedside table is mostly bare, save for the end of your phone charger and a single necklace you haven’t worn in weeks. You open the drawer and drop it inside. There isn’t much of you in here, and it took until now for you to notice.
Next, you check his drawer. Everything is neat and exactly where it should be.
Seungmin feels out of practice. He’s gone this long without plenty of times, but he at least had most of the voices pushing him forward during his lull. Everything was silent this time; the spaces in his head were filled with your voice, and filled with thoughts about you if he let it wander long enough. They were filled with sex—good sex, the kind of sex he doesn’t get from his victims, and the butterflies you give him when you look at him as he wakes up every morning. But he can’t think about that right now. He needs to focus. He can’t think about the way you make love to him when he needs it. The way you actually love him.
“Are you following me?” The girl turns and asks, but there’s obvious flirtation in her voice. One hand, the one not holding her bag of food, lands on her hip.
His focus came a few steps late. “Following you? No. What makes you think that?” Seungmin licks his lips and puts on his best charming smirk. “Just headed in the same direction.”
“Where’s the food you got? And the girl…that definitely wasn’t your sister.”
“It doesn’t matter. Are you in a hurry?”
“Well, I do have a bagful of food, but if you let me drop it off to my coworkers…I can slow down for you.”
“I’d like that”
/ / /
He was a little worried you would put up a fight about returning home without him just to leave again, but the apartment is empty when he brings his guest inside.
“This is your apartment? You’re here all alone?” She takes off her coat, and Seungmin grabs it, taking a moment to get closer. He catches her eye, and then the scent of something sickeningly sweet…too much perfume. “No girlfriend?”
“Just us”
“Good, let’s get you out of jacket so I can get a good look at you”
Seungmin obliges and pulls at the zipper, and he’s thankful when he finally feels the blood moving to his dick. As soon as it’s over his head, her hands are on him, sliding across his stomach as his tshirt is pulled up, and he has to shut his eyes as she pulls him closer.
“Where should we take this?”
The touch is overwhelming. It’s like static as her hands slide up his bare chest. It’s off of him, and they close around his neck as she leans in—tall enough to get to him without Seungmin accommodating, and she puts her mouth on his. More static, and the taste of something sour.
“No,” he pushes her back, “don’t kiss me.”
“Damn…sorry”
“Everything else is fine”
“Are you sure?”
He wipes his lips, “yes,” and runs a hand down his dick, because he can feel himself losing momentum. “Take your clothes off.”
“You’re not gonna take em off for me?” She takes a step closer and touches his chest, his stomach, and her hand slides under his waistband. “You wanted this. Don’t you wanna touch me? Oh…”
“Yeah,” Seungmin grabs her arm, but she keeps her hand closed around him.
“Nervous?”
No, he doesn’t get nervous. Whatever he’s feeling is something else. Something he hasn’t dealt with before, at least not to this extent. He’s distracted, just like the day he met you and tried to make up for it with a quick kill—when you sent him that text thanking him for his kindness. “Take your clothes off.” He closes his eyes, moans it as her hand moves up and down his length, over and over, and he feels his dick growing again.
“I will,” she pulls Seungmin closer. “I want this. You gonna give it to me?”
Eyes still closed, he lets himself enjoy the slow, firm movements of her hand. “Yeah, I’m gonna…”
“Where’s the bedroom?”
“The bedroom?”
“Take me to your bed and fuck me. Isn’t that why I’m here?”
His legs shake as she frees him, and then she’s gone…looking for the bedroom herself, maybe. The first door she tries isn’t it—she flicks the bathroom light off and on a few times before slamming the door shut. Seungmin follows as she heads for the right one.
“Wow, this is cozy”
It is, Seungmin thinks, because you made it that way. The lamp on his side of the bed is clicked on, and the one on his dresser is as well. The lights around the bookcase are casting a warm glow on everything; the books and records, the music box, the flowers. The pillows are fluffed up and arranged in a way Seungmin never did it—a little chaotic, but still neat. And the bedspread is pulled down and out of the way. It wasn’t like that before the two of you left this morning.
“Make yourself comfortable,” he says, and he’s relieved when she finally starts stripping off her clothes. But then she heads toward the far side of the bed. “Over here.”
“Other side? Picky…” her pants drop to the floor and she sits, not so patiently waiting for him to come closer.
Time to stop fucking around and get things moving. He doesn’t want to leave you waiting somewhere longer than he has to—Seungmin didn’t want to do it at all, but there was no other choice. “I am picky. Take those off.” He heads to his drawer, and from the corner of his eye he sees her move up the bed and toss her panties to the floor. Right next to your tshirt. He bends to pick it and sets in neatly on the table as he slides it open.
“Where…what the hell?” He mumbles.
“What’s wrong? Please don’t tell me you’re out of condoms.”
There’s one left, and he quickly closes the drawer after grabbing it and the lube. “No, I’m not.”
“Good, get over here and let me look at you.” By you, she means his dick, still trapped in his sweatpants.
He slides them down his hips, just enough to pull himself out and stroke to get back to one hundred percent. No matter where he lets his mind wander, he can’t keep himself hard, and it’s beginning to piss him off. If he can’t use his anger right here, right now, then what’s the point? Maybe he can’t do this right anymore, either. Instead of letting his mind wander, he tries to shut it down to nothing; darkness, black…no, the white noise of an old television set. The fuzzy hum fills his ears as he goes for her, crawls on the bed, and pulls her thighs apart.
“That’s much better,” she says in her best seductive voice.
Shut up, he screams in his head. The relief of pushing his dick in makes him lose control immediately. He slides in without a single tease, and without much effort. Her cries of surprise and pleasure wipe out the static and he hears nothing but her. He hates it. He slams in harder, getting himself close as quickly as he can manage, but he can’t seem to get anything in return.
His hand works his way up, resting on her stomach as he fucks her, then to her chest where he can feel the shake of her screams and moans. Finally, it lands on her neck and it wraps around it with no protest from her. He squeezes, but not enough to scare her, because he hasn’t decided yet how long he wants to work to reach his orgasm…but there’s nothing. He forces a moan when their eyes connect, but it’s all he can force himself to do.
Tighter. Still, she reaches out only to touch him; his stomach, his hips as they roll back and forth. His arms. One hand grips his wrist, and the other holds onto the forearm flexing as his fingers squeeze even more.
“Okay…let go,” she croaks and smacks his arm.
Seungmin doesn’t let go, but his mind goes to tv static again.
“Let go!” She pushes her nails in, and it stings, but still he continues…and then something hits hard against his hip, and it burns and almost knocks him backward. Her kick somehow lands perfectly.
Fuck, his mind turns back on. He sees her scrambling to her feet and off the bed as he drops to all fours. “Fuck…”
Just as he turns and gets to his feet, she reaches for the doorknob and the door swings open. Again, he forgot to lock it. If he didn’t lock the front door…he’s close behind, but not close enough. Her hand is on the knob, it turns freely—and then you’re there.
You stand blank-faced at the threshold, and the girl stops in her tracks when she realizes she’s trapped. But Seungmin feels his heart drop at the thought of you being in the line of fire.
“What the fuck, both of you?”
She takes a few steps back. Seungmin can’t figure out why, because you’re smaller, and probably not much of a challenge to get through. It’s then that he sees the glint of his missing knife, gripped tightly in your fist.
“Okay,” Seungmin says softly. Now what? This is not where he expected the day to go, and his mind is racing as he tries to picture where it’s going to end. The girl is frozen, terrified at which way to turn; Seungmin’s hands, or your knife; his knife, his hilt digging into your soft, innocent fingers. He steps to the right and finds your eyes, but you don’t look at him. And he can’t tell you to drop it, because if you do, she’ll run, and she might make it out if this building with a story.
“Please,” the girl begs.
Seungmin wonders if she’s thinking of taking her chances and pushing through.
“No.” Your voice is so soft, but he hears it.
“Nae salang…” do you even know what that means? Seungmin isn’t sure, but he saw your notebook full of Hangul practice; his name written over and over, pages full of 김승민, 안녕하세요, 사랑해요, your name, his name and your name together like a lovesick teenager. He didn’t know how to feel when he saw it because it seemed so private, but you weren’t hiding it from him. Thinking back to it now gives him that familiar feeling in his stomach.
You look at him for just a moment before your eyes move back to the girl, and you take a step over the threshold. She moves back, too, and Seungmin takes a cautious step to the side.
“Please don’t.” Now Seungmin begs—he begs you not to do what he sees happening in your eyes. “Close the door, and give me the knife.”
You shake your head, and Seungmin sees the tears brimming in your eyes.
“Please don’t unlock that part of you…it’s too much. It only feels good for a moment.”
“Minnie…”
“Yes, love?” He watches your knuckles stretch and your forearm flex. His heart pounds, but his stomach swirls and his cock fills with blood again no matter how hard he tries to calm himself. The sight of you standing there wielding his knife—it’s the same feeling he gets when it’s in his hands.
“It's too late for that”
His body shakes. His mind goes back and forth between the static and his clear view of you, the tears running freely down your cheeks. Have you really been here before? Is that why you came back to him?
Seungmin sees you move, and he hears the familiar sound of knife against flesh. The blade disappears into the girls chest, right between her ribs, and she falls to her knees as she gasps for air. You finally let go and take a step back to watch the aftermath of what you’ve done.
The gasps slow down and quiet as she lets herself collapse to the floor. Blood trickles onto the hardwood, but not much…you left the blade in place, and that’s slowing things down. Seungmin watches you watching the body, and he’s getting dizzy from his pulsing erection.
“Seungmin?”
He almost falls to his knees when you look at him, but he forces himself to move—one step, another step around the almost lifeless body. He slams the door shut and grabs your throat, guides your blank stare upward. Your eyes soften when they meet his.
“What have you done?” He whispers and kisses the corner of your lips. “Hm?”
“I’m sorry”
“No.” He kisses you fully, and brings you close enough to feel every aching inch. The grip on your neck tightens, he can’t help it. “Have you been here the whole time?”
“Yes”
“You heard everything?”
“Yes, but I couldn’t take hearing you in the bedroom…so I went out in the hallway…”
Seungmin is patient as you begin to sob quietly, and he frees you to hide against his chest. He has to be grateful that you didn’t leave, and that you were exactly where he needed you right outside the front door. “Why did you have my knife?” With his knife in hand, no less. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have been much of a challenge. Right? Maybe he’s underestimating you. “Were you planning something else?”
You take a deep, shakey breath and he pulls you away from him. “I’m not sure."
“You wanted to kill her…even if she hadn’t almost escaped, you still would have done it.”
“I would have tried ”
“You succeeded,” he looks at the now lifeless body at their feet, and his hand finds your neck again. “And you have a lot of explaining to do,” Seungmin kisses again, working his tongue to the back of your throat as his free hand starts undressing you, “but not right now.”
You both nearly trip on your way to the bedroom, first coming through the door, and then again on the discarded jeans of your victim. The yelp down Seungmin’s throat doesn’t deter him from his kissing, but you pull away and look at what you stepped on.
“We’ll take care of it afterward…I will.” Seungmin is not worried about the disposal right now, even as blood slowly drips onto the living room floor, and text after text pops up on the dead girls phone. “I need you, now.”
You’re flat on your back, eyes on the ceiling, and Seungmin’s hands work quickly. His mouth works slowly, and his tongue moves just how he knows you like it. He takes his time with you, slowing down even more when your hands reach for him, and your fingers comb through his hair and pull. Seungmin takes your hand and gives you what you were stupidly afraid the dead girl would get—his hunger, and his overwhelming need for you. Seungmin doesn’t let go until you come, and you wait for more, because he always wants more, but this time he works his way up until he can kiss you on the lips.
“So,” he mumbles against your cheek, leaving little kisses as he goes. It’s not something you’re used to getting from him. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, Minnie”
“You can tell me”
“Tell you…”
“Anything you think I should know.” One more kiss and he’s up, heading for the door. “You can’t just be okay after this.”
Maybe he’s right. No, he is right, but you still don’t know how to start, or where to start. What you do know is that this is now partially your responsibility—the clean up, and getting rid of the evidence. Seungmin said he would do it, but he probably wouldn’t have made this much of a mess if you had listened to him. You snatch up her clothes, the panties and the jeans, and her phone slips from the back pocket and onto the floor. The phone…how does Seungmin get rid of the phones, and does he not worry about them getting tracked? He hasn’t been caught, so he must be doing something about it.
There’s a long string of notifications on the screen, mostly text messages, and all from the same person.
“Seungmin?”
He’s busy laying out a piece of thick plastic drop cloth, but he smiles sweetly when he looks up at you. “Yeah?”
“What do you do about the phones?”
He reaches for it, and as soon as his eyes scan over the messages, his face changes for just a moment. He scrolls through, and to his surprise, there’s no passcode. A few moments later… “I need another favor, a very big favor.”
“Yeah?”
“Pack a bag, bring whatever you might need…but not much. Start one for me, too.”
At first, you just nod. His voice is so calm, and nothing about his body language suggests you should be questioning his request. “Yeah, okay…”
Seungmin didn’t say to hurry, but you do anyway. And take what you might need? It depends on where you’re headed…his medicine, clothes, obviously. Oh, the clothes. You take the girls clothes to Seungmin, because the gears are starting to turn in your brain, finally. After that massive surge of adrenaline, and then coming down from your orgasm, your mind is in a strange, untrustworthy place…but you’re getting there. Every piece of damning evidence needs to be collected and destroyed, now, and there may not be that much time. What was it he read on the phone notifications?
You start packing faster, and start another bag for him. Eventually, you stop and scan the room, knowing you’re forgetting something.
“Oh, we need you…” you head for the bookshelf and scoop up the music box, opening it and swiping a few loose petals before you wrap it and shove it in your own bag. His drawer—it can’t stay, but is he bringing it along? You don’t bother him with the question, you just find a small box to throw everything in and add it to the growing pile.
Does Seungmin have anything else in the room? As far as you know, the drawer is where everything goes, but the minute you stop and think, you start to hear your heart pounding in your chest and throat and ears. It’s so loud. But you feel calm, despite it, because Seungmin is calm. You grab more clothes from the closet, and scan every corner while you’re in there. If Seungmin wasn’t so organized, you wouldn’t even bother, but the neat stack of shoe boxes catches your attention. There really isn’t time for this, but a quick peak won’t hurt.
The one on the very top has something scribbled out, but underneath in black marker there’s more writing: 00-03. Inside are photographs, not organized in anyway aside from the years written on the box. The first one you pick out and look at is baby Seungmin in the arms of his mother, and on the back is Hangul you can’t read except for his name. You wonder if his father took the photo. The next one is him again, a little older, sitting in a man’s lap—his father, you can only assume. You leave them out and open the next box: 06-08. This one is much lighter. Inside is, again, Seungmin and mom. You add that to the others. The next one is a family portrait; Seungmin, his mother, and his stepfather. Nobody looks very happy. You decide to try one more, and you finally find one of just him…a close-up of his young face, seven years old according to the year written on the back. Same chubby cheeks, same big brown eyes, same sideways smirk. You keep that one, too, and put everything else back in its place.
The shuffle and drag of something against the living room floor makes you move faster. Seungmin is probably working as quickly as he can, so you need to be ready when he is. The last stop is the bathroom, and you watch him work for a moment as you walk by; he’s zipping up a suitcase identical to the one from before, and he glances at you before you look away.
“Are we ready?” He looks at the bag you packed for him, and only adds a few more things.
“I think so. Where are we going?”
“We’ll figure that out after we get rid of the body”
Seungmin is quiet and focused as he drives, and right now, you’re not headed in the direction you expected; east, toward Uljin. You’ve been driving north for half an hour, and you still haven’t spoken up and asked him exactly what happened, or if he figured out a destination.
He looks at you, though, because eventually, he feels you watching.
“Hey,” you say as softly as possible. You’re turned toward him, knees hugged to your chest, “Minnie?”
“You should put your seatbelt on…you’re making me nervous.” His hand reaches out, and his fingers slide from your ankle all the way to your toes.
“That’s what making you nervous?”
There’s nothing nervous about him, actually. Seungmin bit down on his lip once since you’ve been watching, sighed twice, and mumbled to himself twice, at least that you caught. Very normal for him. If he is, he’s keeping it together for your sake, and you hate that.
“Yeah, a little.” He smiles at you and licks his lips. “We’re almost there.”
“And then you’ll tell me what’s going on?”
“Yes. And you’ll tell me…whatever I need to know, I hope.”
The seatbelt clicks, “I will, I promise.”
“Did you bring my music box?” It just hit him. He grabbed a few things, and he even checked his drawer. You assumed he saw the empty spot on the bookshelf, but he may have forgotten. Just as you suspected, he looks calm, but he isn’t. His mind is moving much faster than he’s letting on.
“Yeah, it’s in my bag”
“Thank you”
“We’re not going back, are we?”
Seungmin doesn’t answer right away, because he comes to an intersection and turns, and then turns again into an almost empty parking lot. “I’m not sure.”
“The Jasmine…we’re staying here tonight?” It's nothing special, and it's not very big, but the vacancy sign is lit up in the office window. Seungmin got here without directions, so he must be familiar with it.
He looks at the building, sees the sign already glowing in the early twilight, and then his face falls. “I forgot your flowers.”
“My flowers? The forget-me-nots? That’s alright.”
“No, I got you something else, and I was waiting until I felt better to give it to you”
“What was it, what kind of flowers?”
“Moonflowers. I’ll find you more somewhere. Let’s get inside.”
/ / /
Thirty-five miles away from home isn’t very far, but the small town you ended up in feels safe enough for the night. The man that checked you in hardly looked up from his book as Seungmin counted out enough money for two nights, just in case.
He withdrew a significant amount of cash before leaving Seoul, and brought even more that he had hidden even further back in his closet. Seeing such a large amount in one place was surreal, and sitting in the passenger seat putting the two separate amounts together for him was even more bizarre. You did your best counting it, writing it down, adding it up…
“Twenty-six million won…how much is that in American money?”
“I’m not sure,” he laughs and watches as you carefully sort the last few paper-clipped bundles. “Around twenty thousand maybe.” Seungmin smiles and laughs so easily, and it doesn’t seem the time for it.
“Definitely more than I’ve ever had at one time...maybe ever“
“Well now you have it, it’s all yours”
The room is small, about the size of Seungmin’s bedroom, but it’s clean and warm, and you don’t really care where you are as long as it’s with him.
“You packed a lot”
“Did I? It didn’t seem like much at the time…sorry”
“It’s alright. Maybe we just have a lot of important things.”
You unzip the biggest bag first and dig around, “that must be it,” pull out Daengmo, and toss him to Seungmin. He was almost left behind, but luckily he caught your eye as you were headed out the door.
“I thought we forgot you”
The way he holds him and looks at him reminds you of the little boy in the photograph—happy for the moment, comforted by his friend, and maybe a few good memories…but he can never quite hide the sadness in his eyes.
“Minnie?”
His mouth squishes to the side, and he looks even more like his seven year old self. Even the haircut matches. “Yeah?” The words get stuck in your throat when he looks from Daengmo to you. “I know, we have a lot to talk about—“
“No. I mean, yeah I know. I just wanted to tell you again, that I love you.”
“Still?” He smirks. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” If he says it back, you’ll feel better, lighter. You just want to hear it again.
Seungmin doesn’t speak right away. He falls back on the bed, and you can hear him sigh. “I don’t want you to get hurt if something happens. It’s not fair. None of this is your fault.”
What is he talking about? You were the one holding the knife when it pierced the girls heart, not him, and that’s exactly how you wanted things to play out. He picked her, yeah, and he fully intended to do what you did, but something happened, and you got your chance.
He sits up again. “I’ve never had to protect anyone but myself.”
“I know I’m safe with you, Minnie”
You watch as he hears the words, takes them in, understands them. Maybe it’s like saying I love you to him again…maybe better.
He joins you on the floor and crawls closer, “I hope so.”
“I am”
He sets his lips against your shoulder, “I love you, too.” It’s just a mumble—barely enough to make out, but you hear it.
Seungmin waits a few moments, feels your lips on the top of his head. He knows it’s time to explain the situation to you, and then you have to explain yourself to him.
“You should eat before we talk”
The forgotten galbijjim is replaced, and Seungmin smiles sweetly as he watches you take your first spoonful of rice. “This looks better than the place we bought from earlier." It gives you butterflies, his still hesitant smile. "Are we sharing? Did you just get one bowl?"
"I'm not hungry"
You stare at him and wait for more of an explanation, but he just sits silently. Not having an appetite makes sense, and you can't really blame him. You shouldn't have much of one either, but you do, and you plan on feeding it.
"You haven't eaten in a while, Minnie. I'd feel better if you had some."
He just shakes his head and changes the subject. “The phone. The notifications. They read like a friend checking in on her, and then worrying when there was no reply, which is bad enough, because I usually manage to get rid of the phone before we get anywhere near the apartment. Not every time, though, and if I do and they notice it’s missing, they freak out and leave to look for it.”
He pauses and seems to gather more of his thoughts, and maybe give you a chance to say something.
“So you forgot to take her phone?”
Seungmin nods and takes a drink of his coffee. “I fucked up the whole thing before I even got started. My head was not in the right place to do this, but I thought it was what I needed. I was stupid and selfish."
The two of you stare at each other, and it feels like he’s trying to tell you more without opening his mouth—something he doesn’t want to say out loud, but his acknowledgment that it was a mistake from the start is a relief. He seems to be out of that fog that had him gripped so tight for days.
“She was sharing her location the whole time…to the same friend who was texting her. So the phone is gone and burned up with everything else, but the damage was done as soon as I let her in.”
“Seungmin, this is bad”
He sets his mug down, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…I may have ruined everything. The girl will be reported missing, and the friend will have some information about the guy who took her back to his apartment. I’m sure they’ll find some evidence I left behind, and if we’re lucky—”
“Minnie…”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll have a little more time together before my face is all over the news.”
“And if that doesn’t happen? If they don’t find evidence, or a body…or find you, if they even manage to come to that conclusion? The location she was sharing won’t be the apartment, it will be the building…and it’s a big building.”
“I like how practical you are, even now…yes, there are sixty-two occupied apartments in the building.”
“How the hell do you know that?”
Seungmin laughs and picks up his coffee again. “I own the building. I guess I never mentioned that.”
You’re surprised he still has any sense of humor, considering how worried he revealed himself to be. “No, you didn’t. That explains a few things, and might complicate them, too.”
“I know. They’ll look for me because I have everyone’s information, and I won’t be there, which might be suspicious.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Going out of town isn’t evidence for murder. I tried to clear out anything that would be suspicious—the drawer, the ten boxes of hair dye. You may have had other things I wasn’t aware of, though.”
“No, the drawer was the worst of it…that was everything”
The memory of finding your ear cuff in his drawer pops into your head. You probably threw it in the box with everything else without realizing. “You don’t keep trophies?”
“No, I don’t. If anything gets left behind,” he thinks back to the silver hoop earring dropped on the floor, “it’s because I messed up. I have no desire to remember them after they served their purpose—what?”
You’re grinning at him, and you don’t even realize it. Seungmin charms you, if you can call it charm, with little effort, and without even realizing it. “I like your brain. And learning more about you every day.
“You like my damaged brain?”
“I love your damaged brain”
“That’s a first”
“I'm sure another one of your victims was hoping for a second date before the first one ended abruptly"
"Like you?"
"Yeah, exactly like me"
Seungmin has to think. How many people does he have to think backward through; two dozen? More?"
“I have taken people out on real dates before…before taking them back. Sometimes it seemed like they were genuinely interested in me, but I never got the impression that those feelings stuck around.”
“Why not?”
“Mm, there was a girl I brought back to the apartment a few years ago. She was nice, even though I assumed the whole time we were both working toward one thing. But she seemed kind, and when we got to the apartment, she told me how badly she wanted to meet someone and develop something real, and that she was tired of being alone. Tired of dating apps and first dates, that's exactly what she said, and I don't know why I still remember that."
“So what happened?”
He returns to his silence, but you know there’s more to his story. The memory is returning to him slowly. “We got to the bedroom, and everything seemed to be going well, but then she saw Daengmo,” he turns and looks at him sitting on the bed, “and she laughed…asked me why I had that on my bed.” He sighs deeply, “she made me feel stupid.”
You remember the first time Seungmin took you to his room, and how out of place his little dog looked. The mood of almost everything in his apartment is grown-up and dark, except for a few things—Daengmo being one of them. But asking him about it was the furthest thing from your mind, especially the second time you ended up in his room.
“We didn’t get any further than that”
“You let her go?”
Seungmin shakes his head, “I’ve never let anyone go,” then smiles at you. “Did I seem weird? My apartment, and me…you left in such a hurry the first time. You must have thought something was off. Or thought I was off.”
Sort of, you think to yourself.
“Oh, you did call me weird. I remember now.”
Should you tell him what went through your mind on your first visit? “No, not you…your patience with me is what was weird.” Something tells you he can handle it, at least if it’s coming from you. “The expensive apartment was a little odd, only because I could tell you were young. But yeah, I did always assume something was off about you—the way you looked at me and touched me when we sat on the couch, I wondered if I was over-looking something. I wanted you—I wanted your attention, and your touch. That’s why I ran.”
“Because I was giving you attention?”
You nod.
“You seem to think so little of yourself…why?”
It’s hard to put into words, and it’s so much to dive into. Seungmin is going to want to know more—he’ll have questions, certainly more tonight than he had this morning. But you believe he’ll understand what you have to say more than anyone else you’ve ever spoken to, and that’s a comfort you’ve never imagined. “I was tolerated by everyone my entire life.”
“Tolerated?” He rolls the word around in his mouth and his head. His English is almost perfect, but some words are just not in his vocabulary.
“I was cared for, but nobody really cared about me.” You speak as simply as possible, but you’re sure he’ll understand. “I was fed, sent to school, had somewhere to sleep, but there was nothing else. No bedtime stories, and no help with my homework. No advice or comfort when I came home with a black eye from a playground fight.”
“Nobody loved you?"
“They may have, sometimes. It could be that I’m just forgetting…but when I think I remember something, it was because my sister was there with me.”
“She took it all?”
Spilling everything to him is easy. Every time you think you should stop for fear of scaring him off, you catch him looking at you with a warmth he probably doesn’t realize he has in him. “It wasn’t her fault. It was given to her. If they gave it to me, I would have taken it all, too.” And you remember exactly who he is, and how far away you are from scaring him.
“I’m worried I won’t always have enough in me”
"Enough?"
“Love. I’ll give you all I have, I promise.”
/ / /
Seungmin watches as you slowly dig through your bag. He’s grateful for how much you actually managed to pack so quickly and so well, because he already misses being home. You pull out one of his old t-shirts and hold it to your chest, and then find another small bag holding the contents of your important nighttime ritual.
“Shower? That will help you feel better.” He feels your kiss hit the top of his head, and a wave of pleasure travels all the way through him.
“Much better if you join me”
“I’ll grab my stuff…I’ll be in”
Now it’s his turn to dig around his bag, except he has no idea what you packed and where you put it. He pulls out his pill bottles and sets them somewhere he won’t forget them. Whether he’s adjusting to them or not is still a mystery, but if today is any indication…probably not. He’s been in a fog most of his time awake since restarting them. He's been seeing things far more frequently, and his dreams are still as intense as they've ever been.
The bathroom door is cracked and Seungmin can see the steam already starting to swirl out. You aren’t in the shower yet, though. You’re partially undressed, crouched down, back against the wall across from the sink.
“What’s wrong?” Seungmin’s drops to your level and his hands cup your face, but he doesn’t move you. He watches your eyes squeeze shut and then relax, over and over until he says your name. And they finally open. “What happened?”
“Just dizzy. I’m okay now, I think.”
“Do you feel sick?”
“I get vertigo when I’m anxious, and sick in the stomach from both. It’ll go away.”
He turns the hot water down, and you’re already attempting to stand before he can get to you again. “Please let me help you—hold onto me.”
“You gonna hold me in the shower, too?” You smile and squeeze your arms around him, but the dizzy feeling has mostly passed.
“Yes, if you need me to. I’m sorry you don’t feel well. I’m going to fix this, and I’ll get us back home."
somewhere in the middle of the forest, pine trees on every side, and up…he can hardly see the sky through the mist and crowded treetops. he doesn’t know where he is, this scene is new. if it wasn’t so unsettling, it’d be beautiful. but seungmin doesn’t get scared so easily…no, He’s not around this time to scare him. but someone is getting closer. footsteps crunch across the thick, cold forest floor. someTHING, maybe. the steps are off and far too light to be a person.
a black cloud bounces in the corner of his eye. and then again on the opposite side
crunch crunch
but it’s so loud. snowflakes start dancing in front of him. no, not snowflakes…what is this? the dead remnants of a distant fire.
scratch scratch
fingers…claws, digging into the bark
His eyes open, slowly and calmly. No pounding heart; no tears; no sweat rolling from his neck and forehead. It’s quiet for a moment and the only thing he hears is the tick of the old alarm clock. Seungmin wonders how you fell asleep with that sound in your ears.
scratch scratch
The door moves ever so slightly. The loose doorknob shakes. Two scratches, and then three. Over and over. He thinks he hears a whimper. Maybe he’s still asleep. Seungmin reaches back and squeezes your hip. He’s relieved to feel you shift and turn and wrap around him.
“I thought you were asleep,” you whisper and settle against his curled up body. “Bad dream?”
“Did you hear that?”
You stay quiet for a few seconds and listen. “No, what—“
scratch scratch
“That”
“I don’t hear anything”
Seungmin sits up, and your hands fall away from him. “You don’t hear it?” But he’s going for the door before you can answer him. “That scratching?”
Again, you listen and hold your breath, but nothing happens—no sounds, no scratching anywhere in the room. Seungmin is hearing something that isn’t there. You watch as he listens carefully, inches from the door, hand flat against it. The muscles in his neck and back tense as he goes for the lock, and then the knob, and he turns it so slowly.
There's nothing, but your heart still pounds like crazy because Seungmin is so sure something will be on the other side. He stops and releases it, turns to look at you, and he seems confused; tired, sad, and very confused.
“I think it’s gone, whatever it was”
Before you can respond, his hand grabs the knob and swings the door open. And nothing is there. Seungmin is standing alone in the empty doorway, and he steps out into the dark until you can’t see him.
“Minnie?” You really don’t want to get up and go after him, but you will. “Seungmin, please come back to bed.” Just as you throw the blankets off, you hear the creak of his footsteps in the hallway, and it’s hard to tell if they’re getting closer, or further away. He doesn’t reappear, though.
“Seungmin?” It’s so dark. It’s impossibly dark, even though it’s nearly dawn, and you don’t even feel his presence out here. Where could he have gone? He wouldn’t leave you by yourself with the door wide open and unlocked. “Please, Min—” the floor creaks again, as if someone is putting their weight down gently. Now you feel him there, and the outline of him slowly comes into view. “Hey, you’re scaring me…say something.”
He reaches out and grabs you, or someone does. It looks like his hand, but everything feels wrong. It squeezes your wrist and pulls you, and you’re face to face with something else—something that isn’t quite Seungmin. This isn’t who you just woke up next to. Two angry eyes stare you down, and lips pull back from its teeth before you manage to pull your arm free, but you lose your balance and fall backwards.
“I’m here, open your eyes...look at me…that’s better”
Everything is a blur, but you keep your eyes open and blink until he’s finally there. It’s really him…
“Hey, good morning”
It’s his brown eyes, big and full of worry, his pretty smile, and his messy morning hair. That horrible face won’t go away, though. It’s burned into your mind.
“Morning?”
Seungmin nods and comes down to kiss your forehead. “Yeah, we made it through the night. Bad dream?”
“Yeah. Strange one. Did you wake me up last night?”
He tucks you back under the blankets and curls up next to you, “no, I slept through the night for a change. I had a dream, but it wasn’t my usual one.”
“So you didn’t hear anything last night?" It's the second thing you remember after that face; Seungmin, if he were truly a monster. "Scratching?” You’re floating, suddenly…the room warms, or you do. Yeah, it’s you. A cold sweat starts as you force yourself up, and now your stomach spins. “I have to—”
“What? You have to what?” His hand touches your cheek. “You’re cold.”
Both feet touch the ground, but your legs won’t hold you up. He makes it to you quickly, and his arms wrap around you as you sit there doubled over in pain. All Seungmin can do is wait and listen to you quietly cry—there aren’t many people in the hotel, but it’s not empty. You can’t risk the attention.
"What can I do?"
"It's okay...it'll pass"
"I can get you to a hospital. Last night, and now your stomach."
“We can’t go to hospital, we don’t even know if they’re looking for you”
Seungmin knows you’re right, but he’s avoided checking any sort of news because he doesn’t want his world to truly come crashing down on him yet. “Can you look at me? At least let me get you back into bed.”
You sit up slowly, and he’s right there steadying you, hands on your shoulders. He doesn’t want to tell you how worried he really is. Seungmin thinks he’s done a great job so far of keeping himself and you calm, but he knows this isn’t going to go away so easily. “Where does it hurt?"
Everywhere, you think. You take his hand and spread it out right above your belly button. And then you slide it down below it. He pushes a little and the whimper catches in your throat.
“Let me know if it gets worse, or better.” His hand moves to your forehead, cold and covered in sweat. “I think it’s time we checked the news.”
/ / /
There’s not much you can do aside from observe until the pain eases up, and it doesn’t feel like it’s going anywhere. It gives you time to dwell on the dream, and the dream within the dream. Were you inside of his? “Where are you checking?”
Seungmin finds and turns on his phone for the first time since you left yesterday. “A few local news sites, social media. Looking on Twitter would be easier if I had gotten a name.”
“Is there anyone in your building you trust enough to talk to and ask if anything strange happened?”
Something hits him—some clarity, the sudden realization that his mind has been moving so fast it’s made him overlook the most obvious solution. “The security cameras.”
“You have cameras up?”
“I’m required to have them at every entrance and exit, but I turn them off as needed. That’s the only thing I didn’t fuck up yesterday.” He’s back on his phone, typing, and then watching silently. “Did you bring your laptop?”
Now you can clearly see what he sees—the screen is split into four separate camera feeds, and the quality surprisingly good. Seungmin turned the cameras off when he escorted the girl into the building, but he forgot to turn them off again after that. At 50x speed, he watches the main entrance, the side and back exit, and the elevator starting around the time the two of you snuck out the back.
Twenty hours of footage...tenants coming and going, and you assume Seungmin recognizes the faces that are supposed to be in and out. His eyes don’t leave the screen, and you keep quiet and let him watch. Three hours of footage later, he pauses it to rest his eyes.
“Nothing strange yet?”
“No, not that I can tell”
“You should eat something”
He shakes his head. “Maybe last nights food got you sick.”
“I didn’t eat very much”
Seungmin starts the footage again. Another three hours of almost nothing. “This doesn’t make sense. Did her friend not report her missing?”
“Maybe the police didn't believe her. At least not six hours after.”
Another three hours. Nothing. “How is the pain?”
You flip onto your back and let his hand wander over your chest and stomach. “A little better.”
“Good”
Three more hours. Seungmin picks up the speed between midnight and sunrise, and then slows it down again—9 am, 10, 11…nothing out of the ordinary. He switches to the live feed, and still nothing.
“So the apartment is safe for now”
“For now. We’re not going back yet, unless you start feeling worse.”
“Are we staying here?”
scratch scratch
Despite the pain, you push yourself up and look at the door. Did you actually hear that? Seungmin doesn’t move, so he obviously didn’t. You definitely heard it, and it sounds just like it did in your dream.
“We can stay another night, or we can find a new place on the way to Uljin”
The live feed still has his attention when you turn and set your feet on the carpet, and this time, your legs hold you up. Pain shoots from your belly button to your chest, and then back down, but you try to breathe through it.
“Where are you going? Get back in bed”
“You didn’t hear that?” You reach the door and open it, and the hallway is empty…just like your dream. “Let’s stay somewhere else.”
Now you head east, and you drive much longer this time. Seungmin’s gaze falls on you every few minutes for the entire first hour, but he stays silent until you get to the new destination. Wherever you are, surrounded by mountains…it’s nice.
“Where are we now?”
“Hongcheon”
“Dal…”
Seungmin looks at you, and waits patiently as you attempt to read the Hangul on the motel sign.
“Oh, double k…g. Dalkkum?”
“Very good...Dalkkum.” He says it properly, and it sounds pretty coming from his mouth.
“Dal means moon, right?”
“I’m not surprised you remember that, yes. Dalkkum means moon dream.”
“That’s nice. We should stay here for a while, I like it.”
He turns the engine off and sighs, but it’s a good sigh; one of relief, and a little bit of satisfaction. The lack of activity at the apartment may have put his mind at ease, but you both know it's still too early to truly relax. “Yeah, we can stay more than one night if you want”
The pain in your stomach is mostly gone, so maybe you can convince Seungmin to go on a walk around town. It’s cold, but the fresh air might be good for both of you. “Can we get kimbap?”
“Yeah, whatever you want”
“Cheesy kimbap?”
“Yes, I will eat if we get cheese kimbap”
/ / /
The sun is warm, and Seungmin doesn’t mind the walk, but he eventually drags you and the food to a nearby bench. He checks the bag, and you can tell he’s taking in the smell. “Are you comfortable here, or should we head back to the motel?”
“We should eat it now, while it’s fresh”
“And can we talk?”
“Talk?”
He clears his throat, fidgets a little. Seungmin actually seems a little nervous now, but he unbags all of the food and separates it before continuing. “Yes…about what happened, and what you said.”
“Oh, right”
Seungmin jumps in before you can change the subject. “You said I already have. What exactly did you mean…that you were ready to do it, or that you’ve done it before?”
This is what you’ve been ruminating on for weeks—from the moment you came back in his bed, and tried to escape. When he let you go, and when you couldn’t stop thinking about him even though he should have been far behind you, and quickly getting further and further away. Seungmin kept catching you in your own thoughts, and in your dreams. You went looking for him, and it worked—he still wanted you just the same as you wanted him. He’s been wondering why, you assume...wondering why you want to be close to him, but he’s stopped pushing the question. That’s good, because you still don’t have an answer.
“It’s hard to talk about. I’ve never spoken about it to anyone, ever, and I never expected to. I had planned on taking this to my grave.”
“I understand. You’ve kind of answered my question, so if it's too difficult, you don’t have to."
“No, I do. This is something I need to say, and it’s something I need to give to you."
“It must be too heavy to carry around all by yourself”
You nod as Seungmin lifts a bite of food up to your mouth, and you can’t help but smile when he does. It seems like his way of putting you at ease. “Yeah, but also…” you let him feed you, and then he takes his own bite. It’s a relief to see him eating, finally, after three days. “It’s something you deserve to know.”
“Who did you kill?”
The question, asked so bluntly, throws you back in time. You stand in your living room, bare feet on the dirty floor, tv on and blaring in the corner. He’s sitting in front of you where he always does every single night, and you know in a few hours, he’ll do the same sick shit he does every Thursday night while your mother is at work.
“My dad”
“Your dad? You killed your father?” He sets his chopsticks down and stares at the food, and you wonder if this was too personal. Seungmin doesn’t know his victims, and you already know he was very close to his mother. His stepfather, no…but killing a parent is personal. Maybe you’re actually worse than he is. “When?” He’s looking at you again, but he’s looking at you the way he always looks at you when he’s not in a fog, or having a bad day—like he wants to kiss you.
“I was fourteen, so…almost twenty years ago”
“Fourteen? You were so young”
“I had to”
“I don’t doubt that…and we don’t have to get into it, unless talking about it will help”
“It is heavy to carry around, and sometimes the guilt catches up to me. But he was a very bad person.”
Seungmin finds your hand and squeezes it between his. “We are strangely similar, despite being a world away from each other our entire lives.”
“You don’t think I’m terrible for killing my father?”
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?
“No…but, it seems different. It's worse than killing a stranger.”
His stare goes straight through you, and you're so exposed again. Whatever is going on behind his eyes is locked up, though. You need to know what he's thinking about. “Let’s go back to the room and finish this. You’re getting cold.”
#kim seungmin x reader#skz x reader#kim seungmin fanfic#kim seungmin x you#skz x you#stray kids x reader#kim seungmin au#stray kids au#stray kids angst#kim seungmin angst
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ʚїɞ Not just a little crush ʚїɞ
ʚїɞ Port mafia!Dazai Osamu x Gn!Reader
ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!
ʚїɞ word count: 1k
ʚїɞ Tw’s: literally nothing, just pure fluff of him being down bad
ʚїɞ This is literally just 1k words of Pmzai being down bad, whipped, even lovesick, for his crush🤷♀️
How did he end up like this?
The youngest executive in Port Mafia’s history, The demon Prodigy, one of the most feared people in Yokohama if not the whole of Japan, Dazai Osamu has fallen in love.
He tried to tell himself that it wasn't that. That the nice feeling he got whenever he was around you was just because of him standing near, or spending time with a friend, a close one, but denial can go on only for so long.
The brunette at first thought that his crush, as Chuuya had called it when he had caught onto Dazai's more than normally weird behavior, was one-sided. After all, there was no way that someone like you could love him, that just wasn't a possibility in Dazai's mind, yet you decided to go against his calculations once again, you seemed to like doing that and causing him to freak out.
It wasn't too long before he realized that, just maybe, you did at least like him in a romantic way, some acts just couldn't be brushed off as a friend gesture.
One thing he just couldn't brush off, as well as it being the reason he realized his crush may not be one-sided, was him remembering one of the times you cooked him food, even though you were aware how picky he could get with that matter.
///////////////////////////
A figure with brown-haired locks could be seen walking on the deserted sidewalk. Moonlight shone on him as he arrived at his destination, your house.
You always greeted him so sweetly, especially when compared to all the people in his life. Welcomed him like he was a classmate, a friend, a normal person that you both knew he wasn’t. He wasn't treated like a superior, like someone who would kill if the smallest mistake was made around him, and Dazai knew that he liked it from the very start.
Dazai had thought before how would it be if you somehow were in the PM, but to his surprise, he realized he hated, even despised that idea. Something about the concept of someone like you, a person who in his eyes could be an angel for all he cares, being in a dark place full of violence and death like the Port Mafia, was just absolutely not right.
Dazai had arrived at your door, not having to wait long after knocking for the door to be opened by you.
“Dazai?”
You. Oh, the lovely little thing that you were in his eyes. Innocent compared to him, a civilian who somehow met and befriended a feared mafioso without the slightest care in the world.
He had no idea how he managed to get where he was, but he had no regrets.
“Yes, me! Now let me in, it's damn cold!”
///////////////////////////
You disliked crab.
In fact, you disliked most seafood, he was perfectly aware of it, and yet, you did this just for him.
A crab that could as well look like it was made by a restaurant chef laid in front of him on the table. It looked well-seasoned, the crab’s shell was purely gotten rid of, and the smell wasn’t overwhelming like a lot of food tends to be like to him… you really thought it out carefully.
“What is this?” It was kind of a stupid question, but he wanted to know your reasons.
“What do you mean? I thought you liked crab?”
“I do-”
“Then shush and eat, you stick.”
What did you just call him? Did he hear it right?
“...’Stick’?” You turned to look at him as he said that, stopping the cleanup you were doing just moments before.
“Yes, have you seen yourself? When was the last time that you ate a proper meal, dear?”
Oh. Goddammit. Don’t get him started on the pet names. He was aware that you used it on people you considered close to you, as long as they agreed, and he’s been lowkey embarrassed ever since you asked for his permission to use them on him, or more like embarrassed on how fast he agreed to that. Dazai didn’t know why he liked it so much, maybe it was because of how no one ever referred to him as such, maybe it was the way you sounded when you addressed him with them, or maybe it was entirely just the fault of your voice but he simply didn’t care anymore.
“I think we both know that you’d rather not know the answer.” His answer caused you to let out a soft sigh, but what he said was kind of true. In truth, he would answer that it was the last time he ate at your place, which on one side wasn’t that long ago, but otherwise, he barely eats anything. You and Chuuya were the only ones getting any kind of nutrition into his body, which he supposed he should be thankful for… not like he’s ever going to voice it out.
“Right. Now eat, I don't need you collapsing on my floor.”
“But I don't wanna!” If any of his subordinates saw him like this, whining because of food, they would be dead on the spot, but he's alone with you, and he’s been over being embarrassed about his behavior with you a long time ago.
You sighed, and he knew that you were about to use the biggest thing you have on the brunet against him, just to get him to eat… Not like that wasn't Dazai’s plan from the start, he's gotta get his fair share of you, doesn't he?
“You eat the most you can and you get cuddles.”
“With you playing with my hair?”
You smiled softly and said, “I'll even add head kisses to the mix.” knowing damn well that it’s gonna win him over.
You knew what you were doing, you had to, and he didn't mind as long as you kept your side of the deal. He's gonna finish that damn plate if it means affection from his favorite person will be solely on him for as long as he wants it.
Hearts, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated
#another thing he cannot brush off is how affectionate reader is with him with no hesitation <3#me looking at the word count expecting to see that I wrote 500-600 words but saw 1019 words: WHA- HUH???😰😭#anyway i love this sm#bsd x reader#bsd x gender neutral reader#bsd x you#bsd x y/n#x reader#bsd#bungo stray dogs#dazai x reader#bsd dazai#dazai osamu#port mafia x reader#port mafia dazai#port mafia dazai x reader#mafia dazai x reader
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deal - cl16 (3/?)
Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader
Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.
Chapter Summary: Charles takes you on an adventure, that you won't forget that easily.
Warnings: angst (talks about Charles dad), comfort, google translated French
Word Count: 3.4k
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A/N: part 3! hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!
Sitting on the passenger side of your own car is strange.
It doesn't feel completely wrong, but still, a queasy feeling spreads through you. Like when you lived with your parents. Whenever someone was visiting, your mom had said, "Just sit anywhere," and of course the guests didn't know that you had an unassigned assigned seat. And when they actually sat down in your seat and you couldn't sit in yours, you had the same feeling as you do now at this moment.
After you dressed for the weather, you grabbed your car keys and your camera. If Charles was actually taking you to the most beautiful viewpoint in the country, then maybe you could snap some pictures for your private Instagram account. Your little private photo album. With no followers, no obligations.
Charles car is at his primary residence, according to his statement. Except for a few cars, the underground garage where your car is parked is empty. Your roommate insisted on driving because, first, you don't know where the trip is going and, second, he doesn't want to tell you where to go. Grumpily, you threw him the key and he caught it with a grin.
Then Charles made himself comfortable in the driver's seat of your old Renault as if it were his birthright. Right hand on the wheel, left elbow on the door and head propped on his hand, he maneuvers you through the streets of Monaco. Black sunglasses sit on his nose and the radio plays a pop song that somehow gets played every time you get in the car. Charles whistles along with the rhythm.
You turn in his direction. "Are you going to tell me where exactly we're going?"
Instead of answering you, he just shakes his head briefly. He runs a hand through his brown hair once, whistling merrily along.
You roll your eyes and rub your forehead.
Not only did you just get in the car with a stranger - to be fair, it's your car and Charles isn't a stranger (anymore) - but he actually won't tell you where he's going. "Like I said, we're going to the most beautiful view," is all he replies.
You've looked it up. According to Google, there are about fifteen lookouts. And each of them is supposed to be the "most beautiful view in Monaco," according to the websites. You looked up the locations on Google Maps, but none of them are in the direction you're heading. Maybe he's trying to kill you after all.
"I haven't driven a real stick shift car in ages." Charles wraps his big hand around the gearshift knob to shift into the next gear. His bracelets slide from his forearm to his wrist as he does so. Without much jerking and very smoothly, you move forward.
You raise an eyebrow. "So you only drive automatic cars?"
Charles shakes his head. "My personal car - the one that's at my other apartment - is an automatic. The company car I drive is manual." His hand moves from the shift knob back to the steering wheel. His long fingers grip the worn, dark leather.
"So what do you prefer to drive?"
He shrugs. "I like both."
You purse your lips and look out the window. You drive past small boutiques whose clothes you could never afford, and see cars whose insurance per month is sure to exceed your former annual salary. But this is nothing new to you. This is Monaco, after all. "I've never driven an automatic car before."
Charles glances over at you for a moment. "Really?" You shake your head. "It's kind of like riding a bumper car. Two pedals, gas and brake." He has to grin. "But if you ever drive automatic, please don't crash into other road users."
"Haha."
Charles drives the car out of town. The view out the window changes from old houses, whose architecture enchants you every time, to rocks and trees. By now, a quiet song is playing on the radio, Charles has stopped whistling, and somehow you're enjoying sitting here, next to your roommate, who wants to show you new, exciting things.
It's been ages since you've been introduced to something completely new.
The brunette turns off the main road onto a path that you would have missed yourself. It's not paved, which is why the car jolts quite a bit as you drive along. Trees and bushes line the path, and it is so narrow that it would be quite difficult if another car were to come towards you. If you were driving, you would have peed your pants for sure.
But not Charles. He drives as if he were driving this route every day. He knows where there are big rocks that he has to drive around to avoid damaging your car - which wouldn't be so dramatic - and also where he has to countersteer to avoid driving over potholes deeper than the Mariana Trench.
When he stops after a few minutes, he turns off the car. Then he turns to you and takes off his sunglasses. "I know this place looks pretty shady, and I can understand if you don't trust me. But if you get out of here with me now, I promise you, you won't regret it." He pulls the key out of the ignition. "Unfortunately, we can't get any further here by car. That's why we have to continue on foot for a short while. If you want."
You took a leap of faith when you decided to drive here with him. And he didn't try to kill you last night. That's a big plus. And that's why you hold out your hand to him without giving it much thought. "As long as I can have the key."
A smile spreads across his face as he drops it into your hand. "Let's do it, then."
Charles wasn't lying - it's actually not a long walk. You walk side by side in silence, the key held tightly in your hand. There's not a whole lot of sunlight shining down on you through the trees, and you regret not taking a thicker jacket. You didn't expect it to be so cold in the shade.
And then you arrive. At the most beautiful view in Monaco.
You're standing on a small hill that can't be seen from the main road. There is a single tree here, which is why the sun can shine relentlessly on you despite the winter, warming the skin on your face. You take a few steps forward, not realizing that Charles is not following you as you take in the view.
From here, from this beautiful spot, you can actually overlook all of Monaco. The houses, the yachts, the luxury for which this country is famous. But you don't only see the typical postcard Monaco. You also see the green of the forests, small blue bays of the Côte d'Azur, which you have never seen - neither in reality nor on the Internet - and the Mediterranean Sea, which stretches out in front of you and whose sound you can hear despite the distance.
You feel Charles next to you, but can't tear your gaze away from the view. "It's..." You can't think of a suitable word to describe what you're looking at. None of the million words, both in English and the few in French, would do it justice.
"I know." His voice rings softly in your ears. "Shall we sit down?"
You settle down near the tree. The meadow is dry - thank goodness - as you sit down cross-legged, facing each other. For a few minutes, you enjoy the view in silence until Charles interrupts.
"My father showed me this spot when I was little." He plucks a few tufts of grass from the ground. "He liked to come down here when the world down there" - with a nod of his head, he points to beautiful Monaco - "got too stressful for him. Or too noisy. Or just too much." He smiles faintly. "With three young sons who liked to mess with each other, I can't blame him."
You watch as he grinds a few blades of grass between his index finger and thumb until they trickle down in small pieces. "Then he's lucky you're all grown up now."
Charles lips pucker into a thin line and he lets the remaining grass fall to the ground. He folds his hands in his lap and looks toward Monaco. Even though he has his sunglasses on, you can see he closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. "My father died when I was nineteen."
You don't know how to respond. You're glad Charles keeps talking. "Aside from my mother, he was the best and kindest person I know. He saw something good in everyone, even if they didn't deserve it. He..." Charles swallows the lump in his throat. "He always pushed me to be better, but always brought me back down to earth when I took off. He was never disappointed in me, ever."
You have to smile. "Sounds like a wonderful man."
Charles nods. "He was." He looks back down at his hands. "I miss him every day."
It's strange to hear someone talk about their parents like that when your own are the complete opposite. You can't remember your parents ever being proud of you. Their disappointment and criticism were your constant companions, which is why you couldn't wait to finally move out. And you haven't looked back since.
"I like to come here when I'm stuck. When I'm stuck in a situation where I wish I could ask him for advice. Or I'm feeling lonely." A faint smile returned to his face. "I may not get an answer here, but somehow - I don't know - I don't feel quite so alone anymore when I'm here."
You don't know what to say to him. You've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, were at each other's throats yesterday, and yet he's confided something so intangibly private to you, while you've been nothing but skeptical of him. Charles has revealed himself to you, laid bare some of his cards, made himself vulnerable. And he did so without much hesitation.
"You don't have to tell me who called you. Or whatever that person screwed up. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you." He takes the sunglasses off his nose so he can really look at you, and hangs them on the collar of his sweater. The green of the woods behind you is beautiful, but nothing can compete with the green of his eyes. "That's what friends are for, after all."
You have to smile. "Are we?" You point your index finger at the distance between you. "Friends?"
You feel your question is justified. After all, your "friends" dropped you after ... after everything that happened.
Charles shrugs. "If that's what you want. After all, we live together. Of course, I don't want to force you into it, nor could I. You'd sooner smack me with a rolled-up magazine. I just think it's almost impossible for us not to become friends."
He is right. The apartment is not very big and there is no way you could avoid each other. Especially since you don't have any obligations anymore, no job to go to every day. You'll be hanging out at home all the time and you'll definitely spend all your time next to each other, as long as Charles has nothing to do either.
That you two will become friends is inevitable.
One look at Charles and you'll throw all worries out the window. Charles, who lets you live in his apartment. Charles, who lets you have the bedroom. Charles, who can cook incredibly well. And Charles, who takes you to the most beautiful place, even though it means so much to him.
He looks at you in surprise as you pull the car key out of your jacket pocket and toss it to him. Surprised, he catches it. "I guess I won't need to lock the bedroom door then, will I?"
Charles grins. "I promise not to kill you while you're sleeping." With his index finger, he makes a cross over where his heart beats in his chest. "I might try it when you're awake, though." He winks at you.
Your grin widens. "Luckily, there are still some magazines lying around at home that I can use to defend myself. Just please don't do it when I'm only wearing a towel. That would be an unfair fight."
Charles laughs. He laughs even though he has just expressed one of his deepest feelings and this place reminds him of someone he loved and lost. Even though he's poured his heart out to you. And yet he's sitting there, cross-legged, in front of you, and he's got his head thrown back and he's laughing so loud you're afraid he can be heard all the way to Monte-Carlo.
And good heavens - it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in a long time.
For a moment longer, you enjoy the moment. Despite the call and Charles past, a lightness has spread through you that you haven't felt in ages. The worries have not fallen off your shoulders, but they are no longer so heavy and you would like to thank Charles for that. But as soon as you can open your mouth, he's on his feet in front of you again, looking down at you.
"I didn't promise you too much, did I?" Confused, you look at him. "I mean, about the view."
You shake your head and stand up as well. Side by side, you gaze down at Monaco. "It's the perfect postcard view."
Charles watches you while you take some photos with your camera. You try to take a good picture from every angle, from every position, and as far as you can tell from the small display, some of the shots don't turn out too badly. When you turn around, Charles is standing right behind you.
"If you need another model," he puts his hands on his hips, "I'll volunteer."
You laugh. "Absolutely not. Or I'll get a crack in the lens."
He pushes his bottom lip forward and pouts. "Okay, wow. I'm going to take that personally. Then don't." He's about to turn away from you when you manage to grab the sleeve of his sweater. He glances briefly at where your fingers are gripping the fabric, and unsure, you let go.
"All right. One photo." You raise your camera. Charles tries to get a decent stance, puts his hands in his pockets, then decides against it, crosses his arms in front of his chest, drops them again, runs his hands through his hair. "You'll have to stand in style for me to take a decent picture."
A slight blush creeps onto his cheeks. "What exactly do you want me to do? What would you like?"
You smile at him. "Relax. This isn't a professional shoot, after all." You lower the camera again. "You said you have two brothers. What's the funniest thing you've been through together?"
Charles thinks for a moment and starts to grin. As he tells you about a Christmas when Arthur had been in charge of dessert but unfortunately switched sugar for salt, making the food inedible, you snap a photo of him. His smile is wide, a dimple adorns his cheek, and the wind ruffles his hair. You don't need to snap another. This picture is perfect.
" ... And then we went to McDonalds in the middle of the night to get ice cream," he finishes his story. He looks up. "Did you take a picture? I didn't even notice!" He stands close to you so he can see the camera's display. His perfume hits your nose. "Oh my God." He takes a step away from you, his grin wide. "I've never looked so good. Can you send this to me?"
The walk to the car takes longer than the walk there, in no small part because you don't really want to leave. You memorize every single step so you can find Monaco's most beautiful view again.
"Thank you for bringing me here."
He looks up from his feet and over at you. "I've never brought anyone here before." He smiles gently. "But somehow I felt like you needed this. To be away from it all for once."
"I appreciate that very much. I promise I won't tell anyone about this." You draw a cross with your index finger where your heart beats. Just like he just did. You know how much this place means to him. Never in your life would you bring anyone else here.
Your car comes into your field of vision. In a moment you would drive back home and everything you successfully repressed until just now would be waiting for you there. But it still can't spoil your mood. Not after the beautiful morning.
You hear Charles inhale to say something when suddenly his phone rings. Annoyed, he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen before tossing you the car keys. You almost drop them on the floor. "I need to make a quick call." His voice tone is cold, definitely not as warm and mellow as it was just a few minutes ago. "Go ahead and get in the car. I'll be right behind you."
You nod to him and walk the few feet. You catch the beginning of the conversation anyway.
"Nous en avons déjà parlé. Je t'ai dit que je ne rentrerais pas chez moi pour le moment. Non, écoute, je n'ai ni le temps ni les nerfs pour en parler avec toi. Je suis en déplacement en ce moment. Cela ne te concerne pas". coming home – discuss – not your business
You unlock the car and plant yourself in the passenger seat, which, unlike a moment ago, no longer feels too wrong. While you can no longer understand what Charles is saying, judging by his facial expressions and gestures, it's definitely not a pleasant conversation. His face is flushed and he runs his hand through his hair several times before rolling his eyes.
When his gaze catches yours, you feel caught. As if you're watching him do something private that's none of your business. And for a moment you think that Charles is annoyed, telling you to do something other than watch him. But he just tilts his head and smiles softly before raising a finger in the air with his free hand. His mouth moves and it looks like "One minute" and some French word you can't make out by lip-reading.
You also answer him with a smile and look at the photo on the camera again. It's a little blurry and definitely not your best work, but it was taken from a beautiful moment and is one of your favorite pictures for that alone.
"Sorry." You barely notice Charles sitting down next to you in the car.
You drop the key into his open hand and look at him with concern. "Are you okay?"
He breathes in and out before putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine rev. He doesn't give you an answer to your question, but starts a new topic. "We're going to see Joris. I'd love to know how he got the idea to rent out the apartment without discussing it first." He doesn't smile, but his voice is no longer so callous. You just nod.
The situation is tense, and there's nothing you can do to defuse it except sit quietly and let Charles feel his feelings without judging him. You'd like to reach for his hand and squeeze it so he knows he's not alone. But you don't dare. The look on his face when you just touched his sweater-not even Charles per se-and the thought that you might be crossing a line burns into your brain.
You interlace your fingers in your lap and look out the window.
Of course, you don't notice that Charles' gaze briefly falls on your hands and that he wishes he could take yours in his for a little comfort.
next part
#charles leclerc#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc blurb#charles leclerc prompt#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x female reader#Charles Leclerc one shot#Charles Leclerc angst#Charles Leclerc fanfiction#charles leclerc x reader#Carlos Sainz jr
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I love your fics omg you're so talented
Can you make an adult world fic? Alex obviously. Like reader is working with him and Alex keeps pushing vibrators on her skin and laughing n stuff. Then she's sick of his shit right so then she goes to the back and does her thing out there but Alex keeps teasing her and he goes out back with her and he starts to like rub himself on her and put her hand on his boner. Stuff like that. Kinda non con but the reader likes it she just doesn't want to admit it.
Can you make Alex make the reader give him head too? If it's too much just do the teasing. Luv u <3
i tried my best to make this fit your request i hope i did alright, i’ve never really written anything non con i don’t even know if this fits as the category lol but either way hope you enjoy :)
~~~
The Late Shift
Alex (Adult World) x f!reader
warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, slight non con, oral male receiving, sex toys (not used for sex tho), pretty rough sex tbh, lmk what else if i missed any
summary: as you and alex are doing your last work for the night, things take a different turn than what you expected…
word count: 2.2k
~~~
You’ve never been big on sex. You like it of course. But you’ve never been one to experiment with sex toys or watch a ton of porn. So how you ended up working for a sex shop is a mystery. You were desperate for a job, and Adult World happened to be the closest, easiest place hiring. It’s been an easy job, for the most part. Except for one thing.
Your manager.
Alex is a good person, he’s funny, kind, and when you’re confused on anything he’s a great help. The only issue is how fucking attracted you are to him. You swear he’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. His dark curly hair, dark mysterious eyes, he’s perfect. You’ve never wanted a guy more than you want Alex. It makes working with him hard, but so far, you’ve managed. Barely.
Right now, the two of you are unpacking new sex toys for the store. You talk casually, but you focus more of your attention on the crazy shapes and sizes these dildos are. Alex must notice your surprise.
“Would you ever use one of these?” He asks, holding up a glass dildo with patterns on it.
You chuckle. “I think that thing would tear me apart.”
“I’ve seen girls stick way crazier things up their pussy’s, like food and shit,” Alex replies with a laugh.
“So that’s what you jerk off to? Good to know,” you tease.
“Yeah, I bet you wanted to know. Just so you know, ff I go searching tomorrow night and find a video of you sticking a cucumber up your pussy, I’ll cum so hard.”
You feel your cheeks go red at his comment but keep your composer. Sometimes Alex says things that make you a little uncomfortable, but you know it’s all jokes so you don’t care too much. Plus, it gives you hope that maybe he has the same feelings for you.
“Hey y/n, get a look at this,” Alex says.
Before you can look you feel the vibrations on your skin. You flinch and push Alex’s hand away, but he keeps putting the vibrator on you. He’s laughing, you’re not. You don’t find his distractions entertaining right now. After a few seconds of this you slap the vibrator out of his hand and glare at him.
“Stop Alex, I’m trying to work,” you snap. He keeps laughing and with each second that passes you become more annoyed.
“It’s just a joke calm your tits. I’m the manager dude it’s not like we’re gonna get in trouble for talking,” he replies.
You huff. “Just, stop okay.”
“How about you stop being such a buzz kill,” he mumbles under his breath.
You ignore his comment and continue to unpack. Things are calm for a few minutes, before Alex gets his hands on another vibrator. He presses it against your cheek this time. You immediately slap his hand away again, but this time you stand up and try your hardest not to lose your cool. He looks up at you, about to speak, but you cut him off before he can.
“I’m gonna take this box out to the garbage,” you say, picking up an empty box that once contained a number of dildos and walking to the back door without listening to his reply.
You wonder why he’s being so difficult tonight. He typically talks a lot during your shifts together, but this is different. Usually, his jokes and comments aren’t too bad, why’s tonight different? You get to the back of the store quick and stuff the box into the dumpster. When that’s done you lean back on the brick wall, a sigh escapes your lips at the silence, it’s nice not hearing Alex’s voice. You grab your phone out of your pocket and start to text your friends back.
Sadly, your peace is interrupted after only five minutes. Alex calls your name from the door, telling you to come back in and help him finish before you guys have to close up. You silently curse but follow his instructions. You feel a bit bad; you know he’s not trying to make you upset, but he just is. You promise yourself you’ll try your hardest to tolerate him, after all you only have an hour left till the store closes. You can suck it up.
You’re walking down one of the aisles when Alex appears in front of you. You give him a small smile. You feel worse looking at his innocent face. Maybe you were overreacting.
“Sorry for walking out, I’m just tired and I want to go home,” you apologize.
“I get it, I’m sorry if I was being annoying, I really like making you laugh. Sometimes I try too hard,” he replies with a small laugh.
You smile. “That’s sweet.”
“You think so?”
You begin to walk toward him, toward the last unopened boxes. “Of course, I’m very flattered you enjoy my laughter. But anyway, how about we speed through the last of the boxes and go home early? You think they’ll notice?”
“Probably not,” he answers.
You’re close enough to him that you expect him to move aside so you can go to the unfinished work, but he doesn’t. Instead of moving he simply stares down at you, a strange look in his eyes. You know that look, you’ve looked at him like that. He wants you. If it were any other day, you’d be ecstatic. But right now, all you want to do is finish the tasks and go home. You look around him, trying to signal that you want him to move. He doesn’t.
“So, let's get this shit over with,” you say, clear as day about what you want.
He still doesn’t move. “You know y/n, you’re more fun when you aren’t taking this job seriously.” He steps closer to you, only a foot now separating the two of you. “I want that version of you right now.”
You laugh awkwardly. “Come on Alex, I just want to go home.”
“I’ll be quick, but I assumed you wanted something that would last longer.”
He puts his hands on your shoulders and backs you up against a shelf. Your heart rate quickens, is this real? You stare into his eyes, a confused expression on your face. You’ve had dreams of this happening, but in all of them you wanted it, right now you don’t exactly want it.
“Alex...” you say. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t play coy, I’ve seen the way you look at me. I know you want this too,” he answers, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. He presses his body against you and you feel how hard he is, it makes you gasp. “I want it really bad.”
You don’t know what to say. Part of you wants to push him off you and run out of the store, but another part of you wants to see where this goes. You feel him start to rub himself against your leg, it makes you feel paralyzed. He’s too strong to push away, you think. It would be useless to try. So, you realize your fate lies with what Alex chooses to do.
He leans his head down, softly pressing his lips against yours. You can’t deny how long you’ve wanted this to happen. You just wish it wasn’t happening right this second. Nevertheless, you kiss him back, your mind adjusting to the knowledge that this is going to happen. You let him grope your breasts, squeezing and massaging them through your shirt. You even let him scoop you up in his arms and carry you to one of the desks in the back office. Though, you didn’t have much of a choice to start with.
He lays you down on a desk, his lips moving feverishly with yours. You can’t keep it together. His lips are moving so aggressively, they’re so soft. He bites down on your bottom lip and you groan into his mouth, the pain making that feeling between your thighs grow. He pulls his lips away and starts to kiss down your neck, leaving hickeys behind as he takes your delicate skin into his mouth. You throw your head back and moan, he pushes your knees apart and fills the space with his body.
“Alex... are there any cameras back here?” You ask, your breath ragged as he sucks a spot near your collar bone.
“Course not,” he answers in a hushed tone.
“Are you sure we should be doing this? What if someone comes in?” You’re second guessing this, maybe you should’ve protested more. The last thing you want is to have a customer come in and catch this.
“Just be quiet y/n it’s fine,” he responds.
You’re about to speak again, but that’s when he starts to rub one of his hands up your thigh and right between your thighs. You moan again as he starts to rub you through your pants. He knows exactly what he’s doing and it makes you feel like your body is floating.
He trails his kisses back up your neck until he catches your lips again. You kiss him hard, your arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him closer. You buck your hips; you need more pressure. Alex understands this and presses his fingers harder on your jeans right over your clit. You’re so wet, you need him. You’ve never felt such desire for another human being.
“I want you to do something for me,” Alex says against your lips.
“Anything,” you reply without thinking, you’re too wrapped up on how good he’s rubbing you.
He pulls back and you open your eyes, he’s unbuckling his belt. You sit up on your elbows and watch as he pulls down his jeans, his hard cock very noticeable. He grabs your hands and pulls you forward till you’re off the desk. You’re confused until he pushes you down onto your knees, his crotch right in front of your face. You look up at him, he brushed a hand though your hair.
You don’t really want to suck his dick, but you’re too afraid of him forcing you that you don’t object. Instead, you pull him boxers down and stoke him gently. He sighs in pleasure and continues to brush his fingers through your hair. You don’t waste any more time. You start by slowly swirling your tongue around his tip, enjoying the way he whispers your name. After that, you lick down his shaft, you don’t like when dicks are dry down your throat.
Soon enough you’re deepthroating him, practically gagging on his dick. He’s a moaning mess, both his hands tangled in your hair. You don’t mind it as much as earlier. You even enjoy certain parts. Like how when you move your tongue as you suck, he’ll praise you, or how when you tighten your lips around him, he groans. With each sound that leaves him your panties become more and more wet.
When he’s close to cumming he pushes you off him, telling you to take your clothes off and lay back down on the desk. You do exactly as he says and before long, he’s back between your thighs, leaving wet kisses all over your body. You can’t handle how much you need him. The heart beat between your legs is all you can think of, and when he brushes his tip between your soaked folds you almost moan.
You grip his shoulders, your eyes locked on his. “Alex just fuck me already.”
“Someone’s needy,” he mumbled, his tone sending tingles throughout your body. He positions his tip at your entrance and leans down to connect your lips. “But your wish is my command.”
With that, he begins to fuck you. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your nails digging into his shoulders. He thrusts at a pace that makes your toes curl. It’s so hard, so deep, so perfect. The desk rocks so hard you think the legs might break. You don’t even care. All you care about is that Alex doesn’t stop, not for anything.
He does though, but for a good reason. He pulls out of you and before you can even question it, he grabs you, flips you, and bends you over the edge of the desk. He resumes his thrusts, and you can’t help but moan loud enough that anyone in the store would be able to hear. You almost scream when he grabs your hips and pulls you back, his dick hitting right on your cervix over and over again. It’s almost too much for you to take.
He leans down after a few minutes and whispers in your ear, “You feel so fucking good y/n, it’s so hard not to cum.”
“Alex,” you moan.
“Are you close baby?” He breathes.
“Yes, please keep going,” you answer.
In minutes you cum so hard you swear you see stars. You moan Alex’s name so loud you’re sure everyone in the building next door can hear you. It’s the best feeling of your life. Your legs give out, Alex has to hold you up. Your nails dig into the desk, your whole face turns red, and you feel those orgasmic pulses throughout your entire body. He cums soon after you, pulling out and spilling his seed onto your back. You’re grateful, you forgot to tell him you weren’t on the pill.
“Well,” he says as you’re both still trying to catch your breath. “That was definitely better than unpacking those boxes.”
#writing#evan peters#evan peters smut#evan peters x reader#fanfiction#james march x reader#jimmy darling#kai anderson#kit walker#tate langdon#alex adult world#alex x reader#adult world#tate langdon smut#smut#evan peters fic#working#i love this#kyle spencer#kyle spencer smut#ahs fanfic#ahs murder house#ahs asylum#ahs smut#kit walker smut#smut prompts
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i loved your work with the yandere green lanterns, can you make more im begging girl (its up to you btw) 🙏🏻😍
Give and Take
Men were kind of like animals, you think while starting at Hal and Guy get into each other’s face like deers looking to impale the other with its antlers. But, you know too well that would just lead to a deadlock, so seeing that John isn’t here to break them up, you simply sigh and move to place yourself between the arguing duo.
“—what were you even thinking, bringing her to that shit stain of a sector!?”
“Like anything would happen to her on my watch, so maybe take that stick out of your—!”
You place a hand on either man’s chest, and try to push them away, but both men remain unmovable, “Calm down, there’s no need to shout at each other like this. And for the record, I wanted to go there. A plague hit a planet in that ‘shit stain’ sector pretty hard and it’s kind of my job to fix that, Hal.”
Hal pinches a finger between his brow, “You know it’s not safe right now, and I don’t like the idea of you being outside this sector, much less the other side of the universe—!”
Guy scoffs, “She was with me, a Green Lantern, nobody could have gotten the drop on us. Face it, you’re just mad that I had her keeping me warm for once instead of you.”
Hal’s face tightens with anger for a second before he takes a breath and shoots you a look of exasperation, “Did you really convince Guy to take you out by letting him…was it even worth it?”
“Yes,” you answer without a beat of hesitation, while Guy loudly protests. Letting Guy use your mouth was a small price to pay to save the lives of many.
“You,” Hal begins, a fond quirk of his lips betraying the previous sternness of his demeanour, “are a real vixen sometimes.”
You know you’re not off the hook when you stare into his darkened eyes that trailed down your body in appreciation, acting as if he hadn’t seen you just last week.
But, you’re more than familiar in dealing with the whims of Green Lantern, even if it means toeing the line of their overprotectiveness and your duties. So you simply retract your suit, revealing your bare flesh as Guy lets out a noise of appreciation behind you. Hal exhales, raising a hand to cradle your face, as you nuzzle your cheek against his palm, letting your eyes flutter shut.
“You make it impossible to be mad at you when you act so obedient,” Hal muses, letting his hand trail down to your neck, pressing his thumb against your pulse, “but you know that, don’t you?”
You simply lift his hand off you, and bring it to grip your breast instead, “Let me be good for you then, Hal.”
He audibly stifles a groan as he wraps an arm around your waist to press you against his clothed erection. “Don’t think I’m going to let you off easy, you won’t be leaving bed for the next week after I’m done with you.”
You feel a hand grope your rear, as Guy sandwiches you between him and Hal, “Sure you got it in you, think I see some grey hairs. Maybe let me take the lead, old timer.”
Hal’s grip on you tightens, “I’m going to kill you, Guy.”
Despite his words, he seems more focused on dropping a hand between your legs, as your head falls against his shoulder with a shaky breath.
You have no doubt that even by himself Hal would carry out his promise, so you’re sure adding Guy to the mix will put you through the wringer, but it was a small burden to bare as a Blue Lantern. It was give and take with Green Lanterns, after all.
They get to possess your body, mind, and loyalty, tugging you around like a cherished toy, and you get to do your job. Sometimes.
And, maybe you enjoyed it that way.
‘STOPPPP FIGHTINGGG’ blue lantern reader cracks me up, sometimes…I think I go pretty light on yan content, like reader has to be an enabler or I feel guilty lol…
Masterlist
#dc imagine#dc x reader#green lantern x reader#hal jordan x reader#guy gardner x reader#yandere hal jordan#yandere guy gardner#yandere green lantern#yandere dc#yandere x reader#blue lantern reader#green lantern x blue lantern#dc smut#ask
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Unexpected Saviour // Mattheo Riddle x GN!Reader
Summary: Reader makes the reckless decision to rescue Mattheo from the Malfoy Manor during the War.
Notes: Slight angst and fluff, sort of hurt/comfort, Mattheo is a damsel in distress and reader in the knight in invisibility cloak.
Word count: 878 words
Masterlist
Happy reading! :)
You shivered in the dark, your breath coming fast and shallow. This was a terrible idea by all accounts and yet, you had to find him. You might not be best friends with Mattheo Riddle but after all these months of a tentative friendship, you knew he wanted out. So you would get him out. Although apparating into Malfoy Manor to do it was by far one of the worst ideas you’d ever had.
You weren’t entirely sure where you were in the Manor, somewhere in the grounds, but this was what you had stolen Harry’s invisibility cloak for. Harry would be very angry, and angrier when he realised where you’d gone, they all would be, but you’d apologise and they’d eventually forgive you. But you were not going to sit by and watch Riddle get involved in a war he did not want.
Gripping the cloak tighter around yourself, you headed indoors. This was mad, beyond mad, and you felt yourself trembling at the thought of encountering one of the Malfoys or Fenrir or, Merlin, even You Know Who himself. You steeled yourself with the thought of Mattheo’s tear-stained face, the one time he’d let you through his walls, and you let it fuel you enough to go up the stairs and to the bedrooms.
The Manor was quiet. It was night and they were probably asleep or maybe they were scheming somewhere. Nevertheless, the quiet made it easier to creep around and listen for anyone heading your way. Cringing as you checked each bedroom, you stopped short when you came to the door at the end. You hoped this one was his because you had not entirely prepared for the eventuality that you might not find him.
You didn’t need to worry though, for as you eased the door open and poked your head in, there he was: curled up in bed with his mop of curls sticking out of the blanket, one hand outstretched towards the astrology book you’d given him that now perched on the nightstand. You slipped inside, closing the door behind you, and surveyed the room first before pulling the cloak off yourself.
Walking over to the bed, you knelt and tugged the blanket just the slightest to reveal his face to you. His scar stood out prominently in the moonlight, stark against the soft of his face, delicate eyelashes brushing his cheeks. He looked paler though, and leaner, too, and your worry for him quadrupled. You reached forward, pushing back the curl that had dropped over his forehead and whispered his name.
It took a minute for his eyes to flutter open, latching onto your figure. He muttered your name, brow furrowing in confusion, sleep heavy in his eyes. That lasted only a moment though before he registered where you were and that you weren’t a dream. He bolted upright, panic evident in his eyes. “What are you doing here?” he whispered harshly.
The anger came quickly as he leapt out of bed, grabbing you before you could respond and pulling you away from the door further into the darkness of the room. “What-” His fury, warring with worry, kept the right words out of his grasp.
“I came to get you,” you whispered.
“Get me? Are you insane? Do you realise where you are?”
“Mattheo, let go of my arm. You’re hurting me.”
He seemed to snap back into himself and let go. “He will kill you,” he said, desperation lacing his voice.
“He will kill you,” you responded. “Come with me. I’ve got an invisibility cloak, we’ll disapparate, the Order will find you a safehouse.”
“This is insanity.”
“No, it isn’t! I am not leaving you here with them. With him.” Your hand reached up, ghosting over the scar on his cheek and he shuddered.
He whispered your name like a prayer. “He will be angry. He will hurt someone.”
“He’s going to hurt people irrespective of where you are.”
“Why are you doing this?” He looked at you, eyes brimming with tears that silently pleaded with you to leave.
There was no point holding your cards to your chest anymore. “Because I love you.” Damn the consequences, you surged forward and tugged his face to yours, lips meeting in the middle. It was a quick kiss but it seemed to freeze time. Mattheo had gone completely still and a tear escaped, running down his cheek.
“I love you,” you repeated, “and I don’t care what you say, I am not leaving here without you.”
He huffed and before you could continue with your pleas, he drew you to him, mashing your lips together. His were soft against yours and it eased something in you to know that he was safe in your arms. Your hands cradled his face as his wound around your torso, leaving not an inch of space between the two of you.
When you drew apart, there were tears on his face and you gently wiped them away. “I don’t think I’m that bad at kissing.”
Mattheo laughed under his breath, drawing you back to him again and burying his face in your shoulder. “I love you, too.”
You blinked back tears and ran your fingers through his curls. “I’m getting you out of here.”
xxx
Hope you enjoyed this! If you see a typo, let me know. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated. :) - Nina
#harry potter#mattheo riddle#x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#harry potter x reader#mattheo riddle hurt/comfort#x reader hurt/comfort#mattheo riddle x reader hurt/comfort#harry potter fanfic#slytherin boys
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╰┈➤ satoru gojo x reader // like ghosts in the snow
╰┈➤ the one where ur son asks a big question...
Words: 5.3k TWs:: mention of character death, toddler being a toddler, alcohol mentions, reader using her psychic powerz ;3 story timeline here, if ur interested :)
┈➤ next chapper !!!
╰┈➤ previous chapter here ₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
✎ reminder that reader has been given the default name 'shiori myoji'!. you have a clairvoyance technique and a two-year old gojo >;3 enjoy!!
Tokyo, Japan- 2014.
You lingered at the edge of the ceremony, half-hidden beneath the steady drumming of rain against your umbrella. At first, you’d been against the idea. A gathering… for Suguru? After all he’d done, the tarnish he’d placed on Tokyo Jujutsu High’s name? But you saw the look on Satoru’s face, the closure he needed. He needed to remember the person that he lost, so that… maybe he could actually grieve Suguru’s death, as the rest of you had years ago. Years before he’d even died.
He stood at the center of the crowd, his tall stature and white hair making him stick out from the rest. You should have left after your first exchange with him, acknowledged him and offered condolences, then be on your way. But now you were here, staring at the small patch of skin where his hand brushed yours, the touch too lingering to be accidental. You looked up at him, and he spoke first.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he chided, his tone missing the playfulness you'd come to expect from Satoru Gojo.
You flinched, startled, lowering your gaze. He wasn’t even looking in your direction, and yet somehow… he could still feel your gaze. “I wasn’t–,”
“Yes, you were,” his lips twisted into a bitter smile as he tilted his head toward the sky, allowing the rain to slip down his face in tear-like streaks. “You’re trying to figure something out.”
You braced an excuse, taking in a sharp breath–
“Don’t lie,” he clicked his tongue. His voice was quiet beneath the rain, but razor sharp. He turned to you and the weight of his stare made you take a step back. Even with glasses on, even with the rain between you, it was like he was staring through you– into your soul. He craned his head closer to you, the corners of his pink lips turning upward. “This place is depressing. You wanna leave?”
“...and then Suguru practically threw himself between you and that cursed spirit. Do you know that you would have died if he hadn’t?” You said, admonishing him with a shake of your head as you sipped on your tea. Satoru sat across from you with an amused grin, nursing some kind of half-coffee/half-ice cream beverage topped with ungodly amounts of whipped cream. “Do you even remember how close you were to getting us all killed?”
Satoru leaned back in his seat, his grin widening. “Chill out, I knew Suguru had my back. You worry too much.”
You narrowed your eyes at the sorcerer across from you. “I worried because you were stealing from it,” you shot back, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Did you really think it was a good idea to take a cursed item from a spirit mid-fight just to prove a point?”
He shrugged, obviously unfazed. “It wasn’t just any cursed item. It was a miniature Inugami statue– super rare, extremely cursed, and probably worth a fortune.”
“All for you to use as a paperweight, Satoru? You weren’t going to sell it,” you scoffed. “Admit it was just for bragging rights, and I’ll let it go.”
“I totally would, if that were the case,” he insisted. “I’ll have you know, it was actually for research.”
“Unbelievable,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Suguru was practically pulling his hair out, and I had to activate my technique just to get us out of there alive. Which, by the way, Yaga told us not to do.”
“That’s teamwork for you,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Besides, you saved us, didn’t you? We lived to tell the tale!”
You shook your head once more, setting your cup down. Recalling the mission, your irritation started to soften. It had been one of the first missions you’d been sent on with Satoru, and you remembered the raw panic of seeing him in action– reckless and brilliant as any star in the sky –always charging headfirst into danger. You hadn’t known how to handle him back then, usually clinging to Suguru to remain grounded.
You still didn’t really know.
“Speaaaakingg of your technique,” he sung, his voice shifting into something more focused, interested. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table between you. “You’ve never actually explained it to me.”
You blinked, startled by his sudden closeness. “Huh?”
“Your technique,” he said, watching you intently. “You’ve been dodging all of my questions about it since high school– I’ve seen it in action like a million times now, but you’ve never told me how it works. And don’t pretend you don’t remember– I’ve been asking for years!”
You hesitated, his gaze pinning you in place. He wasn’t teasing anymore, and the shift in his demeanor was starting to make you squirm. “I just… didn’t think it was important,” you said finally, quieter now.
“Not important,” he repeated incredulously. “Shi-chan, you predicted every move that cursed spirit made before it even made them. You’ve utilized your technique to the extent of a first-grade sorcerer– sponsored in part by yours truly, by the way,” he beamed at you, a quick wink following suit.
“It’s boring, okay?” You spit out defensively, gripping your tea a little tighter. “Messy. Unreliable. It’s… not as useful as you think.”
“Shiori,” he said softly, abandoning his earlier playfulness. You froze at the uncharacteristic weight in his voice. You looked up into an open, serious expression, like he was trying to draw something out of you. You felt like… an equal. “Tell me.”
You exhaled slowly and downed the rest of your drink. “It’s… threads,” you began, the words tasting unfamiliar on your tongue. You’ve never tried to explain this before. “Imagine you’ve stepped onto a spider web, right in the middle… staring out into thousands of possible pathways, connected by everything– choices, actions, outcomes. They aren’t all clear. If I focus, I can follow them. Sometimes, the outcomes come to me before anything else– like all of the choices have been made, all of the steps have been taken, and now all we can do is… embrace what comes next. Prepare for it.”
He didn’t say anything at first, and you worried you hadn’t explained it well enough. The intensity of his gaze made you feel like you’d just stripped yourself bare in front of him. “You see the threads of fate,” he said after a few quiet beats.
You swallowed hard. “I guess. It’s not perfect. It’s overwhelming, usually. I can’t always control the visions that come to me, and sometimes… there’s nothing I can do about them.”
“And you live with that?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious. “Seeing all of it… every day?”
“It’s not that different from you, I suppose,” you sighed, meeting his gaze despite the unease twisting in your gut. “You see cursed energy down to an atomic level, right? The flow of it, the flaws in it. You can’t turn it off. You live with it, too.”
For a long moment, Satoru didn’t say anything. He stared at you, his eyes brighter than you remember them being, with a clarity that was nearly overwhelming. You were worried that he was going to laugh for implying that your techniques could even be compared, but… he didn’t. Instead, his lips curved into a faint, bittersweet smile. “So, that’s why you always look at me like that.”
You blinked. Huh? “Like what?”
“Like you knew something that even I didn’t,” he said. “Like you saw something that I couldn’t.”
Your breath caught, his words settling deep in your chest. You weren’t prepared for them. For years, you’d thought of him as the untouchable one– the person that no one could truly understand. But now, as he stared at you– almost fondly, it felt like… he was saying the same about you.
“We’re the same,” he continued, his voice a bit softer now. Almost hesitant. “You and me. We see too much. Control too little. And it’s…,” he trailed off, his eyes searching yours. “It’s lonely, isn’t it?”
You didn’t answer. You felt a blush creeping across your cheeks, and the noise of the cafe faded into the background, leaving only the sound of your heartbeat and the weight of his gaze between you. You didn’t know what to say, but at that moment, it felt like he’d already said enough for both of you.
Somewhere out west, 2018...
The smell of coffee lingered in your memory, rich and warm, as though you could still taste it. You remembered the way the cafe lights cast a faint golden glow on Satoru’s white hair, the way he’d leaned across the table with that uncharacteristically serious expression.
“We see too much. Control too little. And it’s… it’s lonely, isn’t it?”
You exhaled sharply, your eyes adjusting to the brightness of the morning. Natural light fled in through the windows, and you reacquainted yourself with your surroundings. You were dreaming of him again. The memory faded, replaced by the creak of wood and the soft sound of Haruto’s laughter filtering in through the cabin’s thin walls.
The storm had passed. You could feel the silence it left behind– a fragile, weighty calm pressing down on the trees, the roof, and the snow piled high outside. Your routine waited for you, with very little space to allot for memories of Haruto’s father.
You rolled out of bed, tugging on a thick robe before padding into the main room. Haruto’s laughter grew louder as you neared the entryway, bright and unrestrained. The kind of pure, innocent joy that made your heart swell and ache all at once.
“Aya,” you called, your voice carrying over the sound of your son’s delighted squeals. “You didn’t have to start without me.”
Aya stood near the front door, she turned toward you with a wry smile. Her shadow manipulation technique was at work, sending dark tendrils of energy rippling across the snow-covered ground. They were pushing and pulling, heaving snow from your doorstep out into the surrounding forest. Aya’s hands moved fluidly, almost like a conductor guiding an orchestra as shadows stretched beneath her feet.
“Good morning to you, too,” She said, raising an eyebrow. Her tone was teasing but warm. “Someone was eager to get started.”
Your gaze fell to precious Haruto, who stood bundled in his little puffy winter coat, stomping his boots gleefully as the snow shifted in heaps under Aya’s command. “Make a wolf!” He cried, his voice high-pitched with excitement. “Make a wolf again!”
Aya chuckled, and with a flick of her wrist, the shadows twisted and curled, forming a sleek, wolf-like figure that bounded through the snow. Haruto squealed with delight, clapping his mittened hands as the shadow wolf ran a wide circle around him before dissolving back into the earth.
“You’re spoiling him,” you said, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile.
Haruto ran toward you, his cheeks pink from the cold and his blue eyes sparkling with joy. “Mama, did you see? Aya made a wolf!”
“I saw,” you said, crouching down to straighten his hat. “Did you say thank you?”
“Thank you, Aya!” Haruto shouted, spinning back toward her before tugging on your hand. “Mama, I wanna play in the snow!”
“After breakfast,” You said firmly, standing and brushing the snow off his coat. “And we’re not going anywhere until Aya finishes clearing the door.”
“Almost done,” Aya said, her voice light as the shadows moved in one final sweep, gathering the last of the snow into a neat pile several feet from the cabin.
“It’s late. Do you still plan on opening the shop today?” you asked, pouring a cup of coffee. It had never been your drink of choice before moving to the States, but it had grown on you tremendously when Haruto entered toddlerhood. Some days, it felt like the only thing keeping you on your feet.
“Of course!” Aya tsked, as if the answer was obvious. “You’ve got appointments to keep, Madam Myoji.” Her chuckle was warm but laced with dry humor. “And don’t pretend otherwise.”
You nodded at her insistence, never one to take a break. Aya had slipped into this life with you so seamlessly that you sometimes forgot how strange it must have been for her—a former Zenin, once heir to a prominent jujutsu clan, now living in a sleepy American mountain town where her shadows swept driveways instead of fighting curses.
“This is my life now, huh?” you muttered, sipping your coffee. “Selling my technique for spare change. Reading fortunes for a living…” You rolled your eyes.
Haruto giggled from the porch, his mittened hands clapping as a few of Aya’s lingering shadows swirled into shapes—first a bird, then a bear, then a giant, wiggling snake. “Aya, make a dragon!” he shouted, bouncing on his toes.
“A dragon?” Aya exaggerated a gasp and arched her eyebrow at you. “This boy’s got high standards. You sure he’s not a Gojo?”
You groaned, setting your coffee cup down on the counter behind you. “Don’t start, Aya.”
She laughed softly, but there was a knowing glint in her eyes as she approached Haruto, her hands moving in fluid motions as the shadows shifted and expanded, taking on the elegant form of a serpent-like dragon. Haruto squealed with delight, stomping his boots as the dragon coiled and twisted in the snow.
“I spoil you, little one,” Aya said, her voice warm as the dragon dissolved into misty shadows. “But don’t get used to it. I’ve got a shop to run.”
“And we’ve got a living to make,” you muttered, leaning against the doorframe. The words were practical, a reminder to yourself as much as to anyone else. “Haruto, come inside. You can play in the snow after I’ve seen you eat.”
“But the dragon!” Haruto whined, dragging his feet as he shuffled toward you, his cheeks flushed and his nose red from the cold.
“Dragons will still be there after breakfast,” you said, tugging off his hat as he stepped inside. You crouched to unbutton his coat, brushing the snow from his sleeves. “You’re going to turn into a snowman if you stay out any longer.”
An hour and two Haruto tantrums later, you and Aya stepped into her seamstress shop, snow crunching under your boots. Haruto trailed behind you, bundled up like a marshmallow, dragging Snowy across the floor. You flipped the sign from CLOSED to OPEN with a practiced motion, sighing softly.
The familiar warmth of the shop wrapped around you, the lingering scent of fabric, thread, and lavender from one of Aya’s enchanted sachets. Her strange Zenin shadow magic kept the shop pristine despite the storms that often battered the mountain town. While the rest of the village dug out from under snow drifts, her storefront always remained untouched—an unspoken oddity that no one questioned.
Clients would show up today, no matter the weather. You knew they would. When the forest loomed as dark and enigmatic as it did here, people sought answers wherever they could find them.
Aya pulled her gloves off with a practiced motion, her shadows flicking the shop's wood stove to life as she said, “Warm up and keep that little one busy while I set up for the day.”
“Good luck,” you muttered, pulling Haruto’s coat off as he squirmed. His attention was already fixed on the bolt of fabric sitting on Aya’s worktable, his small fingers twitching as though itching to touch it. Aya caught him with a pointed look.
“Don’t even think about it,” she said, and Haruto immediately darted to the corner where his box of toys waited, forgetting about it quickly— as toddlers do.
Shaking your head, you walked past the racks of handmade garments and stepped through the beaded curtain into your private workspace. The faint clatter of beads behind you felt like crossing into another world, and the cool calm of the room washed over you. A soundproof veil rippled faintly overhead, separating this space from the bustling shop floor.
Myoji Metaphysical.
Your real job. The one that kept your technique sharp while providing enough income to raise a toddler. A balancing act, though you couldn’t help but feel the edges fraying every now and then.
The room was simple—candles lined the shelves, the scent of sandalwood lingering in the air. A small, sturdy table sat in the center, surrounded by two chairs. You lit the candles with a quick flick of a match, dimmed the lights, and exhaled deeply. The room always had a stillness to it, as though the walls themselves were holding their breath.
This was how you lived now. Clients came in, you held their hands, maybe drew a few cards, and guided them through the tangled web of fate that stretched before them. You weren’t lying to anyone—your technique worked. Their paths revealed themselves clearly enough when you focused. You could see which thread was strongest, which outcomes loomed closest. Many of the townspeople were so pleased with your readings that they came back, regularly booking appointments for ‘advising’.
The shop’s structure kept you nearly invisible. All income filtered discreetly under Aya’s business, unlisted, untraceable. A ghost in the system. Just the way you wanted it.
The faint chime of the front door’s bell echoed through the curtain. Your first client of the day. You sat down at the table, hands moving with muscle memory as you shuffled your cards. The scent of sandalwood mingled with the first faint tendrils of tension that always came with meeting someone else’s threads of fate.
Aya’s voice carried softly from the main shop. “Special event? Straight down that hall and to the left, dear.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, steadying yourself, and then exhaled. This was your life, and the day was just beginning.
The beaded curtain swayed, and a nervous energy swept into the room. You looked up from your cards to see a woman hesitating in the doorway, her hands clutching the strap of her bag so tightly that her knuckles were white. Her scarf and coat were dusted with snow, her face red from the cold, but her wide eyes were what caught your attention: she was frightened.
“Come in,” you said gently, gesturing toward the chair across from you. “It’s warm here. Take a seat.”
She thanked you politely and shuffled forward, her boots scuffing the floor as she sat down. She didn’t let go of her bag, clutching it to her chest as though it might shield her from whatever it was that she feared. You waited, letting her adjust.
She cleared her throat and spoke quietly. “It’s about my husband,” she said, her voice shaky but determined. “I… I don’t think he’s cheating, but something’s wrong. He’s been sneaking out at night.”
Your expression stayed neutral, though your interest piqued. “What makes you say that?”
“He doesn’t know I’ve noticed,” she continued, glancing at the candles flickering on the shelves. “He waits until he thinks I’m asleep, then he slips out the back door. And he always takes the lantern with him, the one he uses when he’s going into the woods.”
Your fingers paused mid-shuffle. “The woods?”
She nodded, biting her lip. “He won’t tell me where he’s going or why. But he comes back hours later smelling like smoke and… something else. Something I can’t place. And his hands…” She swallowed hard, her voice lowering. “They’re always filthy, like he’s been digging in the dirt.”
Her words lingered in the air, and you felt your own pulse quicken as you stared at her, calculating. The woods were no place for anyone to wander alone, especially at night. The town’s collective silence on what truly lingered in the forest spoke louder than any words could. Whatever superstitions the townsfolk clung to, you knew the truth: cursed energy lingered in those woods, and where there was energy, there was danger.
“And you think he might be…” You trailed off, giving her space to fill in the blank.
She hesitated, her voice barely above a whisper when she spoke again. “I think he might be… dabbling in something. Something occult. He’s always been stubborn, and he doesn’t talk about what he does out there. But I’ve heard stories about those woods. I don’t know what to think.”
You took a deep breath, setting your cards aside. “All right. Let’s take a look.”
She blinked at you, her hands trembling slightly as you extended your own. “Place your hands in mine,” you said, your voice steady despite the tension coiling in your chest. “Let’s see if we can’t get to the bottom of this.”
She obeyed, her fingers cold as they pressed against yours. You closed your eyes, reaching out with your technique. The threads began to unwind before you, tangling and twisting like a web of possibilities stretching into the unknown. You followed them, searching for clarity, and—
There it was. A figure in the woods, lantern in hand, crouched over something. You saw the faint glow of fire, the smell of smoke thick in the air. He was hunched over a makeshift still, the clink of glass jars faint but unmistakable. Moonshine. He wasn’t calling spirits from the forest—he was brewing something potent and illegal, alone in the dark to avoid prying eyes.
You exhaled sharply, relief flooding your chest as you pulled back from the threads. The woman’s wide-eyed gaze met yours, searching for answers.
“He’s not dabbling in anything occult,” you said carefully, watching her shoulders sag with visible relief. “But he has been sneaking out. He’s… working on something.”
“Working on what?” she asked, her voice tinged with suspicion.
You chuckled, unable to help yourself, then gave her the truth. “A still. I believe he’s brewing moonshine in the woods.”
Her face froze, her expression caught between shock and disbelief. “Moonshine?”
“Yes,” you confirmed, folding your hands in your lap. “He’s taking the lantern because he needs the firelight. That’s where the smoke and the dirt are coming from.”
The tension in her face melted into something almost comical, and she let out a shaky laugh. “You mean to tell me he’s been sneaking out to make bootleg liquor?”
“Looks like it,” you said, unable to keep a small smile from creeping onto your face. “If it’s any comfort, he’s not summoning spirits or doing anything dangerous. Not occult spirits, anyway.”
She buried her face in her hands, letting out another laugh—this one tinged with exasperation. “That man is going to give me a heart attack,” she muttered. “I thought he was dragging some eldritch horror into our lives, and it’s just booze. God, I’m going to kill him.”
You chuckled softly, standing as she gathered her bag and made her way to the beaded curtain. “Tell him to be careful,” you said lightly. “Those woods… they’re not safe at night. Perhaps he can… relocate his business elsewhere?”
She barked a laugh, shaking her head as she slipped back into the main shop. “Thank you,” she called over her shoulder. “For the peace of mind, at least.”
The beads clattered softly in her wake, and you sat back down, exhaling deeply. Relief lingered in your chest, though a faint unease tugged at the edges of your thoughts. They have no idea what’s out there.
Aya’s voice filtered through the curtain, teasing and warm. “She looked happier leaving than when she came in. That’s always a good sign.”
“Let’s hope it lasts,” you murmured, already reaching for your cards again.
The day is slammed full of mundane readings, your head aching just a little by the time you finished up with your last client. After seeing the young man through the front door, you smiled politely through the glass before flipping the OPEN sign back to CLOSED. You breathed a small sigh of relief, letting your shoulders drop with the exhale.
You were grateful to be loading Haruto into his car seat that evening, starting the short drive up the mountain to your home. Dinner was a simple chicken soup, which everyone thankfully enjoyed, and it felt as if the day had flown by when you were finishing up the last of the dishes, staring out into the snow-covered forest beyond your kitchen window. Aya’s voice carried over from Haruto’s bedroom; she was trying to get him to wind down for bed.
“I wan’ a story!” You heard him protest, stifling a chuckle at his persistence. He’d do anything to stay awake a little longer, even when he’s swaying on his feet.
“Which would you like me to read tonight, little one?” Aya’s warm voice carried over to you.
You finished putting away leftovers and tidying the kitchen quickly, stepping into Haruto’s room just as Aya finished the book she’d pulled from the shelf. He was already tucked into bed, Snowy the Rabbit hugged tightly to his chest as he listened intently. You lingered in the doorway, unable to help the smile taking over your lips at the warmth in Aya’s voice.
“...And the little prince slept soundly,” She read, her tone soft and soothing, “knowing that his mama and papa would always be right outside, fighting off all of the monsters.”
Haruto clapped his hands excitedly, his laughter bright and bubbly in the cozy room. “Monsters!” he giggled, mimicking the word like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He babbled on about how he’d fight monsters, too, waving Snowy around in his fist like a sword. Eventually, he settled down and his gaze turned thoughtful.
He looked up at Aya with wide, curious eyes, and you felt a tugging in your chest. Your skin erupted in gooseflesh, and a chill overcame you. My technique.
“Aya,” your son said, his innocent curiosity making your heart ache. “Do I have a papa?”
The room stilled. Aya froze, her fingers lingering over the cover of the storybook still sitting in her lap. Slowly, she looked to you in the doorway, straightened as if bracing for impact.
When she finally spoke, her words were measured. Careful. “That’s a big question, Haruto,” she said gently, her voice steady. “I think your mama can answer it better than I can.”
He was looking at you now, blue eyes sparkling like stars as he waited for your answer. You pushed off the doorframe and approached his bed with your heart thundering in your chest. You knelt beside him, hands trembling as you smoothed a lock of his white hair.
“Honey,” you started, trying to choose your words carefully. “You do have a papa. But… he’s not here right now. Mommy hasn’t seen him in quite a long time.”
“Where is he?” He pressed, tilting his head.
You forced a small smile to your lips despite the lump in your throat. “He’s… somewhere very far away, doing something very important. But you don’t have to worry about that, sweet boy. I’m here, and I will always take care of you.”
Haruto seemed to consider this for a moment, his gaze drifting toward the ceiling. He looked back at you suddenly, as if he just had a realization. His expression was earnest and concerned as he exclaimed, “But mama! Who’s gonna help you fight all the monsters?”
The question hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. Even Aya inhaled sharply behind you, her usually neutral expression momentarily shaken. You stared at your son, his innocent concern, unable to speak as his words echoed in your mind.
“I don’t need anyone else, Haruto,” you nearly whispered, your voice quieter than you’d intended. You cupped his cheek in your hand. “As long as I have you, I’ll be just fine.”
A soft lie wrapped in love.
As stubborn as his father, your son pouted at your carefully crafted response. He furrowed his little brows and inhaled as if he were going to argue. Your heart squeezed in your chest, bracing for whatever unfiltered truth that might tumble from his lips next.
Haruto puffed out his tiny chest and sat up in bed. “Don’t worry, mama!” He declared, his voice full of confidence. “I’ll help you fight ‘em!”
The fierceness in his tone startled you, his resemblance to Satoru so shocking in that moment that you might have started crying if it weren’t for the soft laughter bubbling up from your throat. The sound cracked through the weight of the moment, warming the room like the glow of a candle.
“You will, huh?” You murmured, brushing a hand through his snowy white tresses. “My brave little warrior.”
“Yeah!” He nodded enthusiastically, blue eyes sparkling with familiar determination.
Your throat tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from fear or guilt– it was from the sheer, overwhelming love you felt for this tiny boy– the most precious of all of your secrets. He had no idea how much you wished you could keep him safe from all of life’s monsters, real or imagined.
“That’s a big job, little one,” Aya spoke now, closing the story book with a snap. “You’d better rest up if you’re gonna keep up with mama.”
And finally, he smiled, nodding at the sentiment. He settled back in bed, his eyelids starting to drop as he nestled into his quilt and clutched Snowy close.
When you stepped out of the room for the night, the weight of the moment finally settled over you, suffocating. Inescapable. You closed the door softly behind you, careful not to disturb Haruto as the ache in your chest intensified.
The tears that clouded your eyes were hot and stinging, and you blinked them away furiously– trying desperately to keep them at bay. You didn’t cry over Satoru often– not anymore. You’d trained yourself to push those feelings away, ignore them, bury them deep into the recesses of your heart where they couldn’t touch you anymore.
But tonight, the walls you’d built around them were crumbling.
“I hope I can be all that he needs,” you whispered, voice trembling. You clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle the sob threatening to escape. “I… I want to be.”
Your knees nearly buckled, and you leaned against the wall. Your hand pressed tightly against your lips as the tears spilled over. Aya’s soft steps stopped beside you, and though she didn’t speak, you felt her steadying hand on your shoulder.
“You are,” she said, firm but gentle in your ear. “Even when you don’t believe it.”
You shook your head, the words doing little to soothe the guilt gnawing at your insides. “He deserves so much more,” you managed to say between shaky breaths. “More than I can–,”
“He has you, Shiori,” Aya said, her voice carrying a necessary edge to get you to listen. “That is enough.”
“I… I knew he would ask eventually,” you said with a shake of your head. “But… So soon? He’s so little.”
“Little and smart. He’s curious, Shi-chan. Questions like that are only going to come up more as he gets older.” She said evenly.
“How will I know how to answer them?” You whispered, eyes falling on the cracked door to his bedroom.
Aya sighed, her fingers brushing over your arm. “You don’t have to have the perfect response right now,” she said. “But you should prepare some of them. He’s a sharp little one.”
Her words were blunt, but practical. She bore no judgment in her tone, only acknowledgment of the difficult path you’d chosen. You closed your eyes and pressed your back against the wall, letting out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding.
“I respect your decisions,” she continued after a moment, watching you carefully from where she stood next to Haruto’s doorframe. “You’re protecting him the way you know best. However, your little boy is going to need you to be honest with him someday.”
You nodded shakily, refusing to acknowledge the scalding tears returning to your waterline. “I know.”
As Aya’s footsteps faded down the hall, you lingered in the quiet she left behind. Your gaze fixed on the door that separated you from your son’s tiny world. “Someday,” you murmured to yourself, clutching the fragile hope that the truth, when it came to light, would be enough.
...
This is Chapter 2 of a multi-chapter fic to be crossposted to AO3. Taglist below as requested. @starlightglimmersworld @mccookiemonster @leilakaro @certainduckanchor @itsbellablue-blog @shokosbunny @megumisthirdog @thegh0stwife @54fangirl @misslovingpearl @idkuluka
#gojo x reader#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#jujutsu kaisen#geto suguru#smut#JJK smut#JJK s1#JJK oc#reader insert#pregnancy fic#pregnancy fantasy#gojo smut#suguru geto#character death#kid fic#baby gojo#gojos baby#sorry this chapters long as fawwwk
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Hi!! I miss your Derek fics so much so how’s one where you and him are in a casual relationship if yk what I mean when all of a sudden there’s a mishap that causes him to pull away and end up ghosting you because he caught feelings and is terrified of them, you still try to get in contact with him but got tired of it and that’s when Derek comes back basically begging for a chance to fix it🥺
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Derek Hale knows he’s gone too far because he’s no longer nervous waking up to hear someone else’s heartbeat next to him. Derek stays alone, always; it saves him the trouble of having to think about saving someone other than himself if he ever wakes up to another roaring inferno. Derek is good at being alone. It’s never something he’s struggled with, even as a lone wolf without a pack. He still talks to other people on occasion. It’s fine.
He’d thought it was fine. Derek had almost gotten to the point of convincing himself of it, and then he started making mistakes like entertaining himself with someone else, and by the time it occurred to him that he was long past the point of no return, there was no way he could ever end it. So he lives with it, it’s fine. Until it isn’t.
Derek Hale has never been the type to get caught up over a girl. He did it once, then swore it would never happen again. There is the idea of Derek, the lone wolf; Derek, the man with a heart colder than ice. He wouldn’t go so far as to describe himself as a womanizer, but he’s dated not one but two of the women who’ve tried to kill him and the other wolves in town, so maybe he should start thinking about raising his standards.
He did, though. That was the problem. Of all the people in this world, good and bad and outright bloodthirsty, Derek found the one woman capable of waltzing right past his best defenses and laying claim to the very organ he thought would never be bothered with again. Derek has long since assumed that, so long as it keeps beating on schedule, he’d never think about his heart unless someone was actively ripping it out of his chest, but Y/N changed that. She changed everything.
It was nothing at first. That’s what he promised himself the first time he woke up in an unfamiliar room that definitely wasn’t in his apartment complex. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he picked up on the sound of someone else breathing evenly next to him, but Y/N had woken up not long after him so they’d been able to talk things through. They’d both agreed that it was a one time thing, the result of years of rising tensions against supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and would never happen again.
The second time, Derek was no less taken aback, but a little more disappointed in himself. Usually, when he makes his word, he sticks to it for longer than a month. He’d left before she woke up that time. Didn’t stop him from crawling back, though. He can blame it on the alcohol that doesn’t affect him, the battle rush of adrenaline he’s long since learned to master. Excuses are easy. Falling is easier still.
Derek doesn’t fall, though. He won’t. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. Derek can lock himself up and cut away his heart and distrust his mind until any conceivable feeling dies off from lack of oxygen. It wouldn’t be the first time. Somehow, he doubts it’ll be the last.
This is all well and good, but it doesn’t work as well as it should. Even now, blinking the last of the past night’s sleep from his eyes, Derek sits up slowly in his own bed, and the sight of Y/N there next to him isn’t surprising. Not at all. His internal alarm system stopped going off around her a long time ago. Hell, he gets more uneasy the longer he goes without seeing her instead of the other way around.
A year ago, he would have called that a mistake. Hales survive because they trust only each other. Y/N may be an ally in this eternally war-torn town, but that does not make her someone he can afford to keep around. Still, when he carefully lifts himself out of bed to avoid waking her, when she comes out of the room about half an hour later in one of his shirts, when Derek can’t quite tell where her perfume ends and his cologne begins, he wonders to himself if he hasn’t already crossed that line a very long time ago.
It doesn’t matter. None of this is real. He doesn’t make her breakfast, she doesn’t say goodbye. They just go about their lives as if the past night had never happened at all, as if none of the nights before that, all stretching out in one vast line of pale, bedsheet-white dominoes do not exist between them. You cannot topple what you do not see, and Derek’s eyes are snapped shut tight.
He’s started noticing things, though, against his better judgment. The furrows in Y/N’s brow vanish while she’s asleep, but they appear again when she looks around at her house or his in the morning and remembers something she’ll never tell him. Her shoulders always rise and pinch together right before she leaves without a word. Derek has started making himself scarce whenever she wakes up. It’s better for both of them if there’s no opportunity to stay any longer.
Most of all, Derek takes care to ensure that whatever happens at night does not affect either of them during the day. Y/N’s more closely allied with the McCall pack than whatever dregs are left of Derek’s ill-gotten attempt to seize power with his own batch of betas, but he still sees her often enough on wolf business. Derek has no doubt that Scott has caught on to the fact that they’re seeing each other, but neither of them will bring it up so long as it doesn’t become a problem.
A couple of times, Derek has felt Scott’s eyes on him like an accusation, burning holes into his shoulders whenever Y/N shows up late or seems listless during the discussions. Derek wants to throw up his hands and declare to anyone who cares to listen or blame him that he’s doing his best to make sure he isn’t the cause, but he doubts any of the younger pack members want to know that he’s specifically trimming off any stem of feeling before it takes root. He’s doing his best, at least. Surely that counts for something.
Still, he can feel their judgment like a plague, even outside of passing glimpses. When Scott McCall shows up at Derek’s door to ask for his help with a sudden hunter shootout at the hospital, Derek can still see the awareness in the back of the kid’s eyes. Y/N’s got her own thing going, Derek wants to clarify, she’s long past school-crush days just like him. They’re both adults and they can do what they please. High school sweethearts all die by hunters’ arrows. The ones who survive don’t play by the rules.
Scott will never bring it up, though, so Derek won’t, either. Instead, he just accompanies Scott to the hospital, where he slashes and stabs at anyone who tries to shoot at him. These sorts of things are becoming normal occurrences by now; Melissa McCall and the other doctors are probably sick of it, but what can you do?
Derek’s only half paying attention. He focuses enough to keep himself alive, but it’s easy to go on autopilot. The hunters will always attack, and they will always defend. Some will get hurt. They’ll heal in time to start the game over again. Nothing new.
It should be nothing new. It is, until Derek rounds a corner and he sees one of the hunters shooting at Y/N’s back. She’s distracted taking out someone else. She won’t react in time, Derek knows it, he can feel it in his bones like a bad frost, and Derek– he actually screams, a guttural shout of despair, and he hurls himself at the hunter. The gun goes flying out of the guy’s hands and into a corner of the room, blood spatters following it a second later. It’s alright again. Y/N is fine.
Y/N, actually, is staring at him in confusion. “What was that about?” She asks slowly.
Derek catches a hazy glimpse of himself in the glass panel of a nearby door and realizes that he looks mad. His eyes are wide, startled, glowing; his claws are out and dripping with gore. “He was going to shoot you,” he says, a little unsteadily, “You weren’t paying attention.”
She shakes her head slowly. “I was, Derek. His gun was empty. No more bullets left, I heard the empty barrel click a minute ago.”
Derek stares at her uncomprehendingly, and Y/N has to cross the room, pick up the fallen hunter’s weapon, and pull the trigger several times until Derek understands. She was right, no ammunition was shot. It was a complete misfire on his end, and something that he should have picked up on far before he decided to strike. If Y/N could hear that the gun was empty from across the room, Derek should have known it from where he stood.
He knows what this means, then. It means he’s making mistakes, and mistakes get you killed. They get everyone killed. Derek hasn’t made a mistake like this in a long time, because he never let anyone in, but he has now, hasn’t he? He’s known it for a long time. Y/N means far more to him than a prolonged one night stand. He has feelings for her, of a depth he couldn’t decipher if given a thousand years trapped inside his own head. Derek Hale has fallen in love, but this love will destroy him. It will make him weak.
And, fuck, Derek knows how this is going to end. How it always ends. He is a fire, consuming everything in his path; burning down his family home; choking the last breath from the lungs of anyone foolish enough to love him. If Y/N realizes that he loves her, if she does something so terrible as to love him back, she will fall before the year is out. They always do, and it will be his fault again, his fault like it was for all the others.
He moves before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N is calling after him, he thinks, but Derek is already rounding the corner and out of the hallway. Hunters in his path are killed by a wolf that might be Derek, if Derek was aware enough of what he was doing to act on anything more than animal instinct. Instead, he just keeps going like a bloodsoaked robot until Scott tells him it’s over, and then he leaves. He does not check in with the rest of the pack. He does not check in with Y/N.
In fact, he does not speak with her again. She tries texting him afterwards to see if he’s alright, and then even shows up at his door when he’s unresponsive for days, but Derek just waits silently in the confines of his apartment until she goes away. She can probably hear his heartbeat, but it doesn’t matter. This will benefit both of them. Neither Derek nor Y/N can afford an attachment like this. He’s already started slipping up in the heat of battle. Who knows what sort of deadly error he will commit next?
If he thought the McCall pack’s judgment was bad enough before, they’re downright diabolical now. He can’t speak to them without being on the receiving end of a thousand hateful stares. Every time he so much as crosses their path, you’d think he murdered their entire family. It’s unreal. Don’t they know he’s doing this for the best?
It’s not like Derek enjoys this, anyway. It’s unnatural. He’s started waking up at odd hours of the night, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. Derek rises with the sun and stares at the empty other half of the bed. He starts to get up quietly and then remembers that there’s no one around who’s still sleeping, so he can be as loud as he pleases. It feels wrong when the floor creaks.
He’s started creeping closer to the door whenever Y/N stops by. He hovers right by the threshold, listening; he can tell by the inflections of her voice that she’s starting to give up hope, and then she stops coming. When a week goes by without a single word from her, Derek thinks that he should be pleased because he’s finally saved her from himself, but instead, all he feels is alone.
It’s not a good feeling, this. Derek thought he would be able to shake off any and all feelings for her in a matter of weeks, but even a month later, he’s still in a terrible state. Lydia starts taking pity on him, he thinks, and actually treats him like a normal human being again, which kind of makes it all worse. He doesn’t want her compassion. He wants–
He wants Y/N. Waking up alone again, hands curling into fists around empty sheets, Derek realizes the earth-shattering truth as if from a dream. He wants her. He wants her more than anything. If this is safety, Derek doesn’t want it. He hates not knowing if she’s alright. He hates thinking that he might have hurt her. If this is the cost of keeping them both alive, Derek would rather be dead.
He throws on his clothes, headed towards the door in a flash. He wakes up early, always has; if he can just get over to her place before she leaves to go to work, maybe it would be okay– maybe she would still want him– maybe he would be enough, now that he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is for him–
Y/N doesn’t open her door at first, which is, admittedly, justified. Derek’s cheeks flush with shame remembering all the times he’d pointedly ignored her visits. However, she’s better than him, always has been, and opens the door eventually. He looks at her, breathes out at last, and says– “I miss you.”
Y/N arches a brow. “You do?”
“I do,” Derek repeats, “And I’ve been– stupid, really, and I shouldn’t have been. I know better than that.”
Y/N folds her arms across her chest. “What made you change your mind?”
“I realized I love you,” Derek says. It’s only five words, but it makes Y/N sway as if she’s been shot.
“You’re just saying that,” she whispers faintly.
Derek shakes her head. “I’m not the type to throw those words around. You know that. You know me better than anyone, Y/N. Tell me if I’m lying.”
He waits. She stares at him, but at last she nods slowly, and says, “You love me?”
“I love you,” he affirms. Then: “Can I come in?”
A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. “Always so forward, aren’t you?”
He laughs a little, actually. It surprises both of them, Derek the most. “I thought you liked that about me.”
“I do,” she admits, and steps aside to let him pass. Derek lingers by her side, he can’t help it. Moments like these were meant to be treasured. He may have messed up too many of them to count, but for once, Derek can start again. He intends to make the most of it.
teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria
all tags list: @wordsarelife
#derek hale#derek hale imagines#derek hale x reader#derek hale oneshot#teen wolf#teen wolf imagines#teen wolf x reader#teen wolf oneshot#teen wolf derek#teen wolf derek imagines#teen wolf derek x reader#teen wolf derek oneshot
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