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defmaybe · 1 month ago

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Safe

IVE’s An Yujin x Male Reader

2.4k words

Sequel to Shame

A/N: Again, dubious consent. Please proceed with caution. Thanks for reading! Also, I've started my ko-fi page too! If you'd like any commissions, ask ahead! Or you can also simply donate! Thanks!

—

“Keep shaking that ass, pretty boy. I’ll make you spread it wide and moan like a slut.”

Shivers run down your spine. Once again, Yujin’s voice tears through your heart like a jelly. She always has a way with her words. You’re left shaken, alone in the hallway. Your friends are nowhere to be seen. It’s just the murmuring, unhelpful onlookers surrounding the show of you two.

“Y–Yujin, please, seriously, stop h–harassing me,” you cry out—helpless, alone.

The growing length inside your pants tells a different story.

You hear Yujin scoff, before she clicks her heels against the tile floor. She’s walking towards you with purpose. Every step towards her frozen prey excites her. A small, evil laugh leaves her mouth.

“Bloody hell, you’re a stubborn one, aren't you?” she playfully asks, before landing a slap on your firm ass. You yelp.

“Th–This isn’t r–right, Yujin. You can’t just–ah!”

She delivers a loud smack on your supple rear again—grabbing, squeezing, kneading. She loves this. She loves to see you surrendering to her fully. You feel her undeniable heat on your back.

“You just can’t stop getting off in public, don’t you?” She then takes a swipe of her tongue off your ear, and your body shudders in response.

“Y–Yujin–”

“Look at you, that dick-sucking mouth not going along with your thoughts. You’re all hard now, don’t you?” She grabs your bulge harshly, feeling your hardness, delivering a powerful shock through your limbs. “I wanna see that pathetic cock twitch while I force that tight ass open.”

“Ngh.” You hear some onlookers chuckle at your whimper, but you just don’t have the resolve to look at them.

“Yes, moan for me, pretty boy, be my good little slut, and I might just reward you with something,” whispers Yujin into your shaken ear.

“B–But–”

“But what, you little man-whore? You love this, don’t you? You love being groped by a woman like me—domineering, harsh, unrelenting.” Her hands snake under your shirt, feeling every curve and contours of you. Your hands find handles on her meaty thighs. You hear her breath hitch slightly as your hands find her, but her resolve doesn’t falter even by slightly.

“I know you love having those cute–” she pauses, leaving time for her fingers to have a squeeze on your stiffened nubs. You moan out breathlessly in response, “–nipples played with.”

Her hands on your chest send jolts and jolts of ecstasy through your compliant body. Your grips on her thighs become tighter and tighter. You hear her moan softly, but she doesn’t let up. She won’t let up.

“I know you love having me jerking you off like that. Bet you went home that day and jerked off again—closing your eyes, imagining that it was my hand.”

“Th–That’s not true, Y–Yujin. I–I didn’t–”

“Hush, but you don’t stop just there. You put a big fucking dildo inside your ass, bouncing on it like some common whore, thinking it’s my strap, don’t you?” Yujin asks. Her finger is circling around your snug hole now, teasing you.

“As I’ve said before, it’s a waste of a good ass like this–” her fingers find your lissome rear under the waistband. She gives it a firm wrap of fingers, “–on someone as puritan as you, fucking Victorian slut.”

“Hhngn,” you whimper. The sensation of her finger on your snug hole is just too much. Your breaths come out shallow. Your cock twitches inside your pants furiously. You can feel a smirk beside your nifty ear. She’s revelling in this—the way you act, the eyes of the public, this whole damn dynamic.

“Don’t you, pretty boy? Don’t you love when your ass is stuffed with my giant cock? Hitting that soft, mushy prostate until you cum like a goddamn fountain,” Yujin continues to tease while her hand is feeling your tight ass under your fit pants, perfectly tailored for a woman like her to ogle at.

“I–I–”

“I wanna hear you say it, my little man-whore. I want you to say that you love being fucked right in that tight big ass by me,” Yujin commands, her voice laced with venom. Her hands are grabbing on the side of your meaty thighs now.

“I–I can’t, Y–Yujin, I shouldn’t,” you plead, though your heartbeats and the throbbing cock don’t support your case at all.

“Oh, why not, pretty boy? Don’t you love sucking my cock? Don’t you love getting plowed by daddy, huh?” Yujin asks seductively. She’s on your hardness now, and you can only shudder in response to her.

“D–D–Daddy?”

An evil laugh leaves her mouth as she flicks her tongue inside your ear again. “Yeah, daddy, my little cockslut.”

“N–No, Yujin, you’re not my–”

“Yes, I am, you fucking bitch. And you’ll give me the respect I fucking deserve, alright?” Yujin’s voice grows harsher now. Her grip on your cock grows tighter. Maybe this playing hard to get thing should end.

“Hgnn.”

“I know you want this, bitch, but you’re just too much of a coward to admit it,” she says, gently nibbling on your ear again.

“Wh–What if I don’t, Y–Yujin?”

“Goddamn it, maybe I should just leave then.” She then pulls her filthy hand away from your length, leaving it twitching emptily. She walks away from you, eventually. You’re left alone in the hallway again. The clicking of her heels becomes dimmer and dimmer. A sound of disappointment can be heard from the crowd.

You ask yourself: why am I like this? Is it shame? Is it pride? Why can’t you just let An Yujin plow your ass into oblivion?

It’s true, the accusations Yujin had about you. It’s always her when you’re alone in your bedroom. Your hand furiously sliding up and down your stiff cock while thinking of your bully jerking you off. You love the way she smelled that day. It was nothing short of wonderful. And you didn’t stop just there. A dildo you bought from the internet wasn’t for nothing. You lathered it with a generous amount of lube before slamming your tight ass down onto it. You moaned and moaned in ecstasy, thinking it was An Yujin fucking your ass.

A small part of you then overpowers you for a second.

“Wait!” You turn back to her.

She stops in her tracks, completely frozen, before she rotates herself back to you. A wicked, frightening smile is painted on her face. She laughs.

“Fucking finally, you bitch,” she says before slowly taking a stride towards you, one leg in front of the other.

Again, you smell her perfume as she gets closer—Yves Saint Laurent’s Libre. It’s intoxicating. Her firm midriff only entices you once more. You wish you could just give it a taste. The way she walks is alluring, meticulously designed to lure you into her, onto the huge strap she has in her locker.

“My little slut, giving in to his goddamn desires,” Yujin mocks you, but you only feel more aroused by her demeaning words. “I love little hard-mouthed brats like you, you know?”

She then rests her arms on your shoulder, pulling you closer by the neck. “And I’m going to fuck that tight ass until you can’t walk for a goddamn week,” Yujin whispers, smiling sinfully.

“Shall we?” she asks, pointing her head towards the women’s bathroom. “Hands on the sink, I’ll spread those cheeks so fucking wide then stick my cock into that tight hole.”

“O–Okay, Y–Yujin.”

—

The women’s bathroom is undeniably clean, well-lit, all-white. It’s much, much better than the men’s. It’s going to get dirty a bit, though—your drool mixed with your cum on the floor and all.

You’re standing face-to-face with Yujin. She’s a little taller than you, so you’re looking up to face her. You can see the fire inside her gorgeous eyes.

“Take that goddamn pants off, pretty boy.” You comply with Yujin’s command immediately, leaving your lower half with the boxers that’s struggling to contain your hardness.

Yujin’s eyes gleam with desire. She immediately grabs your cock through the thin cloth, making you moan in response to her sudden touch.

“Y–Yujin~ Ngh.”

“God, I wish I had this cock to myself. I’d love to see it twitch when I fuck that pretty ass of yours.”

You can do nothing but whimper. Her hand feels so warm, even though it's just on the boxers.

She starts to stroke that thick cock of yours through the cloth, stealing your already-scarce breath away.

“Y–Yujin~”

She says nothing, only a smile spreads across her face. She’s standing tall in front of you, jerking you off like she did that day. You can sense that her breaths are getting ragged, same as yours.

“D–Don’t get too excited, pretty boy. This is just the start.”

She adeptly twists her wrist as she reaches the tip, making the entire experience much, much more pleasing than it should be. Her free hand slithers under her own waistband, determined to relieve the heat that has been building inside of her.

“Yujin, w–what are you–”

“Shhh, pretty boy, I need a relief too, you know?” Her free wrist disappears under her short shorts that show off her meaty, supple thighs. You can see the movement within them now. She’s masturbating while jerking you off.

“R–Really, Yujin? I–I mean I can–”

“Don’t worry–” she brings out her juice-slicked hand to cup your face. You’re resisting with every fibre of you to not give it a taste. “–Daddy can do it by herself, alright?”

It’s an unusual warmth from Yujin. You’re a little taken aback by this sudden care. Left speechless, you are.

“I–I–uh–”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” She then draws her hand back into her slit, still smiling, thrusting her fingers into her cunt under the shorts. Small moans are heard leaving her mouth.

“Feels so–hmm–good, pretty boy,” she moans. The hand on your cock is still relentlessly pumping the life out of you.

The sight of this is unreal if you’re asked. An Yujin is masturbating in front of you with one hand while jerking you off with the other. The face she makes is nothing short of lewd—eyes fluttering, mouth opening wide. She’s lost in pleasure, and so are you.

Her wrist remains masterful at making you moan uncontrollably—slowing down at the hilt, while twisting it slightly as she reaches the top. It’s sending you into rapture, and you don’t think you can hold it off for long.

“You know, pretty boy, you’re cute when you’re like this,” Yujin says, giving you the rare, sincere smile.

“L–Like what, Yujin?”

“Well, under my control is one thing, of course.” She lets out a chuckle, amused by your quizzical reaction. “But you also look kinda–pretty, like actually pretty when you’re moaning.”

You try your best to not let out a smile in front of your bully. Is she actually complimenting you? It’s a rare sight, really.

“Maybe it’s just me, you know–” she laughs nervously, her movements become more erratic “–but I just love it when men moan because of me.”

“I–I think it’s p–pretty obvious, Y–Yujin.” Pleasure shoots through your body, making your words come out stuttered.

She lets out a small laugh that she doesn’t bother to conceal anymore. Is this more than a tryst?

But before you can think of anything, you can feel the ever-so-familiar feeling building up inside your loins. You’re going to cum, your breathing becomes shorter and shorter. She’s going to cum too—her thighs clench, her pupils dilate, and same as you, her breathing becomes shorter and shorter as the fingering goes on.

“Yujin, I–I’m gonna cum,” you utter. You can’t hold it anymore. You have to cum in her hands, right now.

“C–Cum with me, a–alright?” Yujin then quickly kneels down, sliding your boxers down with her motion. Your stiff cock springs free in arousal.

“Yujin, w–what are you–ah!”

Her lips connect with your hardness. Your bully is giving you a blowjob in the women’s bathroom now. She slides her mouth along your length with an unmatched adeptness. Fuck, she’s pushing you down her throat.

“D–Daddy,” you moan out. Her mouth is nothing short of perfection—the suction, the warmth, the tightness. They’re all so heavenly. You’re so lost in the pleasure right now, and you aren’t sure if anything could compare to this. Her fingers are still knuckles deep inside her cunt, making her moan into your cock relentlessly.

The way she looks into your eyes, god, you’re in the clouds. Those eyes are nothing short of angelic, and the fact only makes your orgasm come quicker and quicker.

“Daddy, I–I’m gonna–”

Yujin buries herself into your crotch, taking your entire length with bravery, bringing you into the best orgasm you’ve ever had. Your cock spews cum into her throat without relenting. Your body shakes and writhes in the godly climax. Your vision turns white. In front of you, Yujin also cums, squirt leaks out of her torn shorts. Her entire frame is tensed up in ecstasy. Her eyes flutter in rapture. She cums, hard.

Your orgasms then die down. Your heartbeats decelerate. Her squirt can be seen on the floor—fucking dirty. Some of your white nectar leaks out of her mouth, such a lewd sight.

Yujin then stands up, towering over you once more. You’re lost in her eyes. She’s so beautiful like this—messy hair, panting, cum leaking out from her lips. She’s an angel.

Fuck, you may have fallen in love with her.

Boldly, you pull her into a kiss, a deep kiss. Your tongue invades her mouth, tasting the remnants of your cum inside. It doesn’t taste the best, but you’re kissing An Yujin right now, and you don’t care whatever she tastes like.

After what feels like an eternity, you pull back from her lips. You find the rosy hue in her cheeks. She loved it as much as you did.

“Wow,” says Yujin. She’s speechless. Her breaths are out of rhythm. Her pupils dilate.

She has fallen in love with you too.

“I–I don’t know what to say, pretty boy.”

“There’s no need, Yujin. You’ve told me everything I need to know.”

—

#ive #ive smut #yujin #yujin smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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plumipal · 7 months ago

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I just had a thought- how would Grim and the ramshackle ghosts feel about all the stuff happening to us?

Especially if the yandere(s) are coming over to our dorm too! Would they, depending on the severity of the yandere and their specific actions, range from supporting it cuz yknow reader gets to be happy with someone who treats them well and loves them to concerned because sweetie please get yourself outta there 😭

I can imagine Grim is NOT alright with it and for a multitude of reasons, they are taking away your time with HIM, and once he pays more attention to the bigger picture? Yeah messed up things be occasionally happening that could very well hurt you!! He does not like that!!!

im just imagining Grim being visibly not alright and reader will not have it either when it comes to him, they are a PACKAGE deal and that is that no matter which yandere comes their way 🗣️

we have many people more alright with Grim being reader’s number one priority, or yknow silently(?) wishing it was them, poor Grim and Reader man encountering yandere after yandere 😭

Grim would give us a look if we expressed any sort of romantic interest in any yandere I think lol

‘Pologies if it was too long or ranty, though I am curious who you think would be the most and least alright with this? I imagine Leona and Ace (legally required to bring up Ace he’s my all time fav next to Grim) would NOT like it lmao

.. first off, this is the longest ask ive ever gotten, I gotta just say oml thank you so much????? You, wrote all of this, fpr me?? 🥹🥹🥹💖💖💖 this literally made my week thank you so much bestie 🥹😭 second off, this inspired me to rant too, I hope you enjoy!- (not proofread btw)

So im mainly gonna focus on grim, no offence to ramshackle ghost fans, I just really like the silly little fire-cat/rat/weasel/creature. He was literally our first friend, our first companion (I bet Ace and grim bicker on who was your first).

And oh boy, guy is NOT HAPPY when he sees all these dumbasses vying for your attention and either trying to butter him up with tuna (which will not work on the mighty grim!) or ugnore him completely! Like you stated you and him are a package deal! Get the prefect and get their silly hungry companion!!

Now, grim surely uses his position as your closest companion as a safety net, they can't kill off the closest you have to family in this world! Guess they gotta live with him if they wanna have a life with you.

Ace hates that grim was your friend before him, feeling annoyed whenever he bullied (Juice) Deuce about being friends with you before him only for grim to butt in. Ace isn't too annoyed with grim though, and grim thinks that Ace is one of the better choises of the roster you have, they're both friends after all.

Of course most students in the cast don't liek "sharing" you with grim, especially the more territorial ones. Leona is probably the worst, I mean come on they're both feline looking creatures. With scent being a heavy thing for felines (yes even beastmen dont come at me) Leona is not happy to have his scent on you be muddied by the little rodent (the greatest mage of all, grim). Probably the worst choise since they're just gonna bicker to the end of the world..

Floyd doesn't like this either! Not fair that he has to share!! And with grim no less.. Floyd results in biting you instead of scenting, his chompers being good for nibbling on you. He also has the advantage that grim is sorta afraid of him (honestly who wouldn't be? Especially yan Floyd...).

Kalim tries to brime grim, with anything he could ever think off! Unlimited tuna for grim, and the best there is as well!! Nything grim could ever want on a silver platter, only if grim let's kalim marry you! That alone doesn't sound too bad, but that unsettling horrifying servant that follows Kalim around. He knows what jamil can do, and he sure does NOT want you with that dude!- guy is manipulative and creepy (he would definelty seperate you and grim!-)

Malleus... Malleus scares grim, guys is honestly horrifying. Threatening to curse him into an eternal slumber so he can whisk you away from him, he doesn't want that! You would also get sad id malleus did that, so luckily the possessive dragon had to share (for now...)

Whoever you choose, grim would probably disapprove, guy thinks of you as family (he will never admit that tho). He cares about you, and he is not okay with the invasion of privacy from these teenagers! >:(

I know you didn't ask fpr any drawing or such, but I couldn't help myself sorry 🤭 hope you like my ramblings back at you!

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst art #yandere twisted wonderland art #yandere ace #yandere ace trappola #yandere leona #yandere leona kingscholar #yandere floyd #yandere floyd leech #yandere kalim #yandere kalim al asim #yandere jamil #yandere jamil viper #yandere malleus #yandere malleus draconia #grim being a silly guy #i love grim sm best dude in twst fr

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osarina · 1 month ago

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ᡣ𐭩 WE WERE BORN SICK

FEATURING: dazai osamu

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

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

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

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

SEE: WASTELAND, BABY! SERIES MASTERLIST

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

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

And he remembers you.

He remembers you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Who is that?

Why is he coming from grandfather’s room?

Is that-

Blood?

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

Shuji? Who’s Shu-

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

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

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

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

What is going on?

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

The leader of the Port Mafia.

The closest thing you have to a father.

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

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

How does he fix it?

Can he fix it?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t know.

———

The gun in your hand weighs heavily.

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

A mistake.

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

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

A mistake.

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

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

A mistake.

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

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

A mistake.

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

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

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

Did they know?

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

Ace opens his mouth to speak.

A mistake.

“It was nice meeting your-”

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

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

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

“Did you know?”

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

A subtle tell, but a tell nonetheless.

“No.”

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

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

He’s always put others before himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To his what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Do not cry here, little hime. Not here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks… frazzled. Nervous. Confused.

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

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

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

“Tell me.”

Who are you, Dazai Osamu?

———

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

Now, you won’t meet his eyes at all.

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

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

And you won’t even meet his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She doesn’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your name, kid?”

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

“Dazai Osamu.”

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

Odasaku brought him in.

Odasaku saved him.

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

They were his friends.

Family, maybe.

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

And then-

“We were the ones who killed him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were trying to get to you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dazai suddenly has a bad feeling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re crying.

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

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

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

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

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

“I do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I-”

“Stop.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I d-”

“Stop.”

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

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

“There’s nothing left to say.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why are you doing this?

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

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

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

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

“I do,” he replies just as softly.

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

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

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

“I do,” Dazai repeats.

You pull the trigger.

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

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sleepyangelkami · 3 months ago

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Can you make a part 4 for the “ perverted “ Carl grime’s story? (p.s. I love your writing so much 💜 it’s really detailed and neat)

PERVERTED IV c.grimes

𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT - 3.2K

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

𝜗𝜚 A/N: guys i'm so sorry that I took such a huge break this took way longer than it needed, im so sorry !!

𝜗𝜚 SUMMARY - ever since carl showed you how good it felt to be touched, you'd been iching for more. luckily for you, carl's got one more thing up his sleeve.

𝜗𝜚 WARNINGS - smut, p!v, dom!carl, sub!reader, fingering, mentions of past sexual innuendos, overstimulation, dumbification, kinda public!sex, innocence kink, corruption kink, praise kink, slight coercion, creampie, unprotected sex, virginity loss, virgin!reader, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

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ever since that night in the bedroom, you've had this god awful ache between your thighs.

carl, your 'best friend' showed you what you'd been missing out on since the beginning of time. he'd had this funny thing about him, whenever he was around you had the need to palm your hand between your thighs. and now was the worst of it, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

he wasn't your boyfriend but he'd kissed you on a number of occasions. he's not your boyfriend but he kissed below your panties too.

you didn't seem to care much about the whole 'boyfriend' title. besides, everyone in alexandria seemed to know that you were his and he was yours, perhaps they even knew before you two did.

"i'll see you two in the morning." rick grimes, carl's father stood in the doorway. lately, you couldn't seem to look him in the eye. perhaps that had something to do with the fact that last night, his son's hand was down your pants and the night before that, it was up your skirt.

it seemed like you weren't the only one who couldn't stop thinking about it, carl couldn't seem to keep his hands to himself.

"night dad." carl pretended to be uninterested, flicking about a comic book in his hands.

"goodnight, rick." you and carl's sleepovers were becoming much more of a regular thing. rick said nothing but he looked at you with this certain smirk that made you think he knew everything and that was pretty scary.

you didn't get a second to think before the door was closed.

carl was swift in his movements. he discarded the comic book within seconds, tossing it onto the beside locker as he leaned over and pressed his lips on yours.

your eyes fluttered shut with the featherlight feeling, heavy breath falling through your nose. but carl didn't stop with just a kiss, slowly, the boy lowered your body so that your back was flat against the mattress of his bed and those god awful navy bedsheets.

for a moment, your mind went foggy. the pretty kiss of carl grimes was enough to have your head spinning but the sound of distant footsteps was enough to have you spinning all the way back to reality.

"carl." you mumbled in hesitance once his kisses reached the side of your jaw. though his name came out as more of a strangled breath than a word.

"mmhph." he hummed into your neck as he placed hot wet kisses against it, he was aching to kiss you further, to suck the supple skin of your collarbones. he'd showed you what a hickey was not too long ago but he was sure not to leave the evidence on your neck, per your request. you couldn't imagine trying to explain to maggie or glenn how you'd come back from carl's with a hickey on your neck.

"carl." as good as the feeling felt, you sucked in a breath and placed your dainty hands upon his shoulders. he stopped almost immediately, leaning over you to look at your face. "your whole family's here." you absentmindedly picked at the loose thread of his shirt. "they'll hear us."

carl's lips fell into this pitiful smirk. "yeah? well by all means, sweetheart, tell me to stop." you felt his knee buck slightly, rubbing against your clothed cunt that was covered merely by your panties and your pyjama trousers.

carl knew you too well.

matter of fact, carl knew your body too well.

you felt his hot breath against your neck and his lips reattatch to your skin, leaving a trail of sloppy kisses in his wake.

you couldn't help the scratching feeling in the back of your throat, the knawing knot in your stomach that had your hands pawing at his long sleeved shirt, it was difficult to stop when he was making you feel so good.

"carl..." you were in two minds, ask him to stop or ask him to keep going. you felt one of his hands trail down, the soft feeling of his fingers working against your pyjama bottoms, lowering them but not enough to show your panties.

you decided against asking him to stop.

besides, you trusted him. carl knew what was best for the both of you.

"please." you bucked your hips forward, feeling a longing for his fingers all over again. you couldn't get rid of the knawing feeling, his fingers pounding in and out of you, his tongue lapping up your juices and his voice whispering pretty things in your ear.

"yeah? want me to keep going?" you could only nod breathlessly at his words. "tell me how badly you want it, pretty girl."

didn't carl just love to hear you beg.

he'd gotten you to a point where he could mold you to whatever way he wanted you, and hearing you beg for him instead of imagining it in his own mind was something he'd never cease to adore. "please, carl, want it so bad―need it."

"poor girl." you knew his words were nothing short of mockery but you couldn't help but nod anyway. "jus' wants to be touched huh?"

all the while, your hand had attached itself around his wrist, leading it down to where you needed him. "please, carl."

you let out a breath of relief as his hand passed your panties, fingers gently circling your clit. "you're such a good girl, aren't you, using your manners 'n all?"

you felt him kiss against your cheek but all you could think about was his hand working magic against you. "uh huh." you breathed out.

"yeah, my good girl." you felt his fingers collect the wetness from your sopping hole, gently pushing them into it and watching as you gasped and writhed. "think you need something extra special tonight, hm?"

you nodded, half humming, half whimpering.

carl's fingers felt euphoric. after he had touched you the first time, you went straight home and tried to do the same over and over again. you tried to capture the same feeling he had given you but you couldn't do it, not without his hands and his voice whispering to you. which is exactly why you came back with fustrated bed head and teary eyes.

carl was more than happy to help his poor girl out.

all he wanted was for you to feel good.

like now, as your back arched against the mattress of his bed, warm and sticky juices coated his fingers that he pumped in and out of you, palm against your clit every time he brought it back.

"feel good, huh?" your nod was enough of an answer, cheeks hot and teeth piercing your bottom lip. "you're so good." and as badly as you wanted to whimper and whine, you restrained. you were well aware of the family in the room over, you couldn't help but let out a small noise from behind your closed lips.

perhaps this was exactly where carl wanted you.

your breath stuttered. "i―nghh." you tried to force the words out. that familiar feeling in the bottom of your stomach was knotting, you found it rather difficult to tell him you were close when you also felt so ecstatic.

that was the benefits of carl knowing your body so well.

"you're close, yeah?" he knew without you having to utter a word. he was leaning over you, close as your head lay near his shoulder, your heavy breaths in his ear. "'s okay, jus' say my name, baby."

unsure, you didn't give it a thought. instead, you breathed his name passed your lips. "carl." though it was more of a quiet whine than anything else.

"again, angel." his lips kissed against the nape of your neck, hearing your breaths get heavier.

"carl, hmph, carl―" you spoke his name like a prayer against your lips. all you could feel, all you could see, all you could think. carl.

the feeling of knowing that he was the only thing on your mind... well it was enough for carl himself.

"gonna cum?" he didn't leave much room for you to shake your head. instead you nodded quickly, needily. "yeah? cum all over my hand, sweetheart, that's it."

and you did exactly what he'd told you to.

you found your lips shoved against the shoulder of his top, silencing the whimpers that left your lips as your back arched and your hips bucked into his hand. with his pumping fingers and thumb that had reached up to your clit, helping you ride out your high... well it was almost impossible not to cum.

when it passed, you laid against the bed with heavy breaths falling from your lips.

he still kissed at your neck, gently nipping at the skin as he helped pull your shirt above your head.

you felt sort of dazed, almost dumb. carl always left you feeling like this. you followed his movements, pulling his own shirt above his head while his lips reattached to your own.

carl began pulling down his jeans and your hands reached out to his hips.

before you could touch him, though, his hands stopped you. "doin' something a little different tonight, okay baby?"

your confused face looked up at him but you didn't question it. instead, you nodded and allowed him to help you discard of your own pyjama pants, allowing him to trail your soaking panties off your frame, tossing them somewhere on the ground that no doubt would be gone by morning, you'd find him with a guilty but amused face as you searched high and low for them.

he began to pull down his boxers and you held your breath.

carl was big.

though, it were true that you hadn't really seen anyone before in the way you saw carl but you knew from the mere imprint of his jeans that he was bigger than quite a lot of others. not that you ever found yourself looking...

you'd seen him many times, touched him even but every time you saw him again it was like you'd forgotten all over again. he was obviously hard, judging by the way his dick stood out. your eyes trailed back up to his face, though he was already watching you, curiously.

you were stumped.

he'd stopped your hands before, not wanting you to touch him, he was doing things 'differently' but he seemed to know an abundance more than you because you couldn't think of anything else to do other than touch each other.

"carl, what are we―"

the boy cut you off with a gentle shushing. "jus' relax baby, trust me." you felt his gentle but large hands grasp at your thighs, pushing them upwards. you felt your sensitive but needy cunt jut forward while he placed both your legs flat against his chest.

this was certainly a position you'd never been in before.

you watched as he pressed gentle kisses against your ankles, a hand gently grasping your sock-covered foot.

you watched in anticipation, confusion and excitement. carl had a way of making you feel all those three at once.

he moved his hand back down to his dick, you held your breath as he rubbed up and down his shaft lining it up with your entrance. as his cock pressed against your sensitive clit, you whimpered, moving away slightly.

carl was quick to move you back. "i know, i know, you're all sensitive but you'll feel good okay? gonna make you feel good." you nodded hesitantly. "everything okay down there, huh?" he gently tapped against your head, bringing you back to reality.

you found it difficult not to hold your breath. "nervous." is all you managed to muster up. you'd both touched each other before but he'd never had you like this.

the way he leaned over you was sort of scary but he also gave you this loving gentleness that made you feel almost protected. "don't be, angel, 's just me." you nodded as his thumb ran down your cheek softly. "yeah? not nervous?"

of course it wasn't that easy, but you nodded anyway, feeling somewhat comforted.

"c'mere, you're gonna be in control too." you felt his larger hand grasp your own. he led it downwards and placed it on his practically throbbing cock. you felt bad for carrying this out, he was probably hurting. "might hurt a little bit, bunny, okay? but just give me a few minutes, make it feel so much better."

"okay." you voiced, shakily, dumbly. his hand was wrapped around yours which was wrapped around his dick. he helped you maneuver it towards your sopping wet hole and you felt his tip insert itself inside.

you let out a noise of slight pain. "i know, baby, 's gonna take a minute." he was being oh so lovely, as gently as he could as he pushed himself inside. he was almost at the end when his two hands came to grab at yours, pulling them flat above your head against the mattress. "'s gonna feel good."

as soon as carl pushed himself completely in, he was reminded to control himself.

his eyes fluttered shut. he'd been dreaming, fantasizing about this moment for too long. it took everything in him not to take you right there and then, fuck you into the mattress until there was nothing left of you. but he couldn't. your twisted up face was a reminder that while he was excited, he must take his time.

you were getting used to his length which was... a lot.

your own eyes were fluttering shut but they opened at the feeling of his dick leaving you, pulling out but just as you felt him almost leave, he rutted his hips right back in until his dick was fully inside again.

"fuck." he let out a grunt while you squeezed your face up with a noise.

you felt him move again, ready to slide out but your mind was too focused on the pain of it all. "carl, i don't―" you were cut off with an embarrassing moan as he pushed himself back inside.

suddenly, the pain feigned itself as pleasure.

the stinging stopped and you were met with a feeling you'd never quite felt before.

"there you go." his own breath was heavy as he repeated the action, this time quicker. "good girl, see 's not so bad?"

you could only nod with a moan. your eyes shut again and you willed your mouth closed.

carl began moving his hips rather quickly. all the running he'd been doing his whole life was finally beginning to pay off, his stamina was unheard of. you found yourself writhing beneath him, mouth almost sewn shut while he pushed in and out of you, his cock filling you up completely.

you began to get nervous, though. the sounds coming out of you were only going to get louder and the last thing you wanted to do was alert anyone downstairs what you and carl had been doing in his bedroom.

but like always, carl was ten steps ahead of you.

his hand entrapped both your hands above your head but he used his free one to trail downwards. you felt his hand move over your mouth, holding it closed while he pumped his dick in and out of you, watching as your eyes screwed shut in pleasure.

"oh, fuck, you're doin' so well, sweetheart." he did his best to keep up his praise, he loved watching your cheeks go pink and feeling your pussy tighten around his cock the minute the words 'good girl' left his lips. but it was hard to think of anything while being inside you.

your gummy walls kept him close, tightening around him. it was almost impossible to keep rutting in and out of you but he couldn't stop, he was like a starved man, addicted to your body. you were gushing at him, wetness creating a white creamy ring at the base of his cock.

your eyebrows were pinched, tears of only pleasure beginning to sting at your eyes.

he was leaning forward, one hand holding your wrists which so desperately wanted to throw themselves forward to paw at him. his other hand held itself tightly around your lips, your sounds were muffled against the skin but he kept his ear close, straining them to listen to the pretty sounds you could make.

you felt his entire weight on you and oddly enough, it made you impossibly more wet.

the feeling of him practically on top of you was surreal, you could feel the sheets beneath you go damp, you were making such a mess.

"'s right, angel, make a mess f'me, good girl." carl didn't seem to care. on the contrary, it was only motivating him further.

it was a sudden realization, he was fucking you. he'd been waiting for this moment for too long. it was everything he'd ever dreamed of. no, it was more.

a sharp cry from you was muffled by his hand but he knew what it meant. "someone's close again, huh?" you nodded so quickly, tears springing at your eyes while your mind seemed cloudy, blank even. you were gone completely and utterly dumb, you couldn't even think.

carl would be lying if he said he could last much longer.

he'd bathe in this feeling forever if he could but he could feel the knot in his stomach too, willing to unfold.

he was going to cum inside of you.

"fuck, that's it angel, doin' so good. wanna cum on my dick, huh?" his voice turned a little more high pitched, a neediness that you both shared, both searching for your highs. his lips quirked. "say please." he teased, knowing you couldn't utter a word.

you only whined against his hand, a whine telling him that you couldn't deal with his teasing, not now.

"come on, pretty, cum on my dick." and like every other time, you'd complied almost instantly.

he pushed his hand harshly against your mouth, roughly holding your head close to the mattress as he felt your walls squeeze against his length. you gushed, wetness pushing around his cock while he felt himself unfold at just the same time.

he fucked his cum into you as he rode out his high, curses and swears falling from his lips while your eyes rolled backwards, dumb and empty minded.

when he finished, all he could think was you.

"fuck." heavy breaths as his hands loosened against you, you took in heavy breaths as you could breathe again, his hand moving away and your wrists suddenly free. they fell on your waist, gently holding you so he could pull his dick free from your hole.

as he looked down, all he could see was both he and your cum mixing together, coating his dick and pouring out from your hole.

all he could say?

"holy fucking shit."

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

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hana-no-seiiki · 1 year ago

Text

YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO FIGHT ME NOT F*CK ME!

yan! school grass (most handsome/perfect guy)/rival x crossdresser! male! reader x yan! friends - part one

tw/cw: mention of abusive parents (but not reader’s) and yandere themes. also your rival has some repressed sexual urges, he really needs to get laid or some head or something-

just read migi and dali and gahd NOW I WANNA WRITE A WHOLE CROSSDRESS /GENDERBENDER BL NOVEL IM IN HORRID ROTTING

Like I imagine this the best with stoic and/or tsun yans the best. You know those types that want to be perfect but only feels perfect when they’re with reader.

ive always loved these tropes as a kid, from mulan to that one tawog episode where darwin fell in love with fem! gumball and like this was even before i knew i wasnt cis but gahd AAAAAAA

also inspired by @moyazaika ‘s rival work. go read it!!

but anyways have the fic, lowercase intentional for first part to differentiate povs.

it was a dare given by your friend group earlier last weekend. wear the girls uniform and a wig for the entire month. it was easy to get the materials necessary for the most part. your mother had several wigs and was more than happy to style her son in feminine clothing. she was just amazing and supportive about your whims like that.

it didn’t take long for you to realize that no one recognized you in your new look.

the day started like many of your other ones at the school, you’d race your rival as the first one in class and whoever wins gets rights to a smug look on their face until the next thing you guys eventually compete on.

but unlike the crestfallen expression you expected — nay wanted — from that stupid pretty boy, you were greeted by what you could only described as complete bafflement.

“what?” despite having a different reaction from what you imagined, you managed to keep a composed appearance. “cat got your tongue?”

“ah. . .”

and that were the only words he said to you the entire day. nothing else. not a single groan of anger whenever you answered everything correctly, he didn’t even attempt at stopping you mid-way or disagree with you answer simply because he wanted to annoy you.

and so you couldn’t help it, as soon as the bell rang signalling lunch time you swiftly turned around to face him.

“are you alright?”

you inquired. not at all worried about his well-being at the slightest. you hated him with all your being after all and you didn’t make an effort to be soft with your tone either.

“h-huh?” he looked dazed. like his head had been in the clouds and you just yanked him down to ground.

your rival never got distracted.

“you—“ you reached out about to smack his face to keep him in check.

“if you’ll excuse me!” he smacked your hand out of the way, screeched at you, and then left in a hurry to who knows where.

nevermind that was definitely him. that silly brat hated it whenever you touched him. he must have just been having issues at home again or something.

Haoyu was trembling — shaking uncontrollably as his breaths turned more shallow by the second. His heart was pumping blood in places of his body where it shouldn’t have been in the middle of school hours. Sweat lined his entire skin and it didn’t help how the bathroom he rushed into had nothing to keep the temperature down.

Who were you?

You sat at his rival’s seat. That nasty kid that always got in his nerves. No one questioned the boy’s absence and he would have asked the teachers on what had happened if you didn’t suddenly take his breath away.

You were, ethereal. Otherworldy even. When he first saw you he was taken away by the way your hair moved in the wind (if only he knew . . .).

Still, he was far too distracted by [Y/N]’s absence to properly let the feeling simmer.

Then, all that went away when you reeled in his mind back at you again at class. You were incredible, capable, intelligent, and oh so perfect. But unlike that stupid child that usually sat in front of him, he did not feel an ounce of envy at all.

If only who could see your eyes as you spoke; the tone of your voice conveyed so much passion that he wanted to see in those beautiful (e/c) orbs.

And his prayers were granted by none other than the goddess that is you,

“Are you alright?”

Your voice? Oh your voice! Haoyu’s heard it already of course, but each new time you spoke it was like a whole new melody, a new piece that immediately turned into his favorite.

His mind was too fried with these thoughts, thoughts that his parents would no doubt beat out of him if they found out.

His feels the parts down there suddenly move. He wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the phenomenon. He wasn’t without his hormones after all. But this was the first time it ever reacted that way so strongly, like if he didn’t give it attention himself it’d explode.

“Mmph…”

And for the time in his entire life, Haoyu does something he knew his parents would definitely be disappointed if not livid about. A hand on his mouth, and another in his school uniform’s pants.

lunch time.

you usually spent those studying or preparing for the next class as hanging out with your friends always ended with you being too distracted to do schoolwork but today you had to show up with ‘proof’ that you went through with their dare.

“yiran ? yichen ?”

no response.

you sighed. as usual, the twins were late. what did you expect? those two would be caught dead before they could be early much less found in the library.

and so you spent the entire time reading,

unaware of the crowd that formed around you while you were busy studying.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere oc x reader #yandere core #yandere harem #yandere various #multiple yandere #crossdressing reader #crossdresser reader #yandere male #male yandere #fem yandere #yanderecore

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weneeya · 6 months ago

Note

hi!hi!!! this is the same person who requested tht office romance w/ kuroo last time hehe. i love your writing style so much bc its easy for someone like me (who has a deteriorating brain functioning system from all of the brainrot ive been influenced by the internet) to understand and imagine in my silly deluional head XDDD anyways !! id like to request dad! headcanons for the black jackals (specifically, hinata, sakusa, atsumu and bokuto^^) omg maybe a scenario where they find out that reader is pregnant then proceed with the headcanon with how they act with the kid/s i just needed to request this bc my baby fever has been progressively getting worst and i just cant stop thinking abt kids :']] GOODLUCK AND I WISH U WELLLL !!! <3333

baby fever w/ hinata, atsumu, sakusa, bokuto m.list | rules

note. omg thank you sm I'm so happy you loved the one with Kuroo because i loved writing it sm!! and i probably the idea even more because omg the boys as dads?? it's genius idk why i've never did it before! i hope you'll love it just as much <3

Hinata Shoyo

You had been trying to have a baby with Shoyo for a few weeks already, but it was like fate was against the two of you because you seemed to not be able to end up pregnant. You were slowly starting to lose hope ; thank God Hinata was way too positive and optimistic to even think about the worst. It was helping you, in a way.

He was at the gym to train for their next matches when you learned the good news. You didn’t hesitate twice before almost rushing to join him. He was talking with his team, most specifically Bokuto, when you arrived like a fury. Shoyo looked at you with a big smile and you waved at him. He came to you in no time.

“You seemed happy. What’s the news?” He asked with his usual smile, and you almost felt the tears in your eyes. You took his hands between yours, trying not to talk too loudly. “We did it Shoyo! I’m pregnant!” And your words didn’t get the time to fall in the silence.

Hinata held you tightly between his arms, carrying you off the ground and spinning around with you in his arms. Right after your feet finally met the floor again, he cupped your face with his hands to kiss you. “I told you, we needed to be patient!” And you were sure that the rest of the team was going to learn the news sooner than later.

good with children ; he has a little sister after all

always so patient no matter what

not the type to ever yell, so when he get to angry mod, the kid stop immediately

will talk a lot about highschool and his friends ; so proud

take pictures all the time, videos too ; a lot of memories of your baby boy

ready to take a break from volleyball so he could give all his time to you and the baby

Miya Atsumu

Saying that Atsumu was scared of having children was an euphemism. The man was absolutely terrified by the idea. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to have a child with you, of course not ; it was just the responsibilities which were so stressful for him. He kept acting cool at first but after some time you’ve been able to understand what was going on inside of his mind.

Until you’ve been confronted with reality. You were alone in the bathroom, and Atsumu was waiting for you right outside of the room. Things were a bit weird with your body lately and you both noticed it. So it wasn’t so surprising that you took a test just to be sure.

You got out of the bathroom, and your gaze met Atsumu’s eyes. You slowly showed him the test, and he could quickly read the answer he was waiting for. You were pregnant. He looked back at you, and he saw that you were about to say something he didn’t want to hear from you.

“Don’t ever say you're sorry,” he started, slowly caressing your cheek with his thumb. “It’s the best news you could have told me. Because we’re going to have the most beautiful baby ever, and I’m going to love you two until the end of my days.” This time, you couldn’t really help the tears which felt down your cheeks. You closed your eyes, and he left a kiss against your forehead.

“I love you,” you told him in a whisper, and he couldn’t help but to smile slowly. “I love you too,” was his answer before he held you tight between his arms. He was scared, of course ; but he couldn’t be happier at the same time because God knew how much he loved you.

the man is an overprotective mother ; almost like he was the one who bear the baby

careful about absolutely everything

acts cool but stressed when something doesn’t go as planned

girl’s dad at 100%

loves to be considered as a princess ; will wear a dress and a tiara

bringing gifts all the time, especially when away because of volleyball

Sakusa Kiyoomi

You already talked about having children with Sakusa, but the conversation was never ending well. In fact, it always ended up in an argument. Your partner was completely closed at the discussion and you couldn’t understand why.

So when you learned that you were actually pregnant, fear ran over you. You cried a lot, for a long time. How were you supposed to say this to him? Was he going to leave you? You were so scared, and it was messing with your poor mind.

Sakusa came home after practice, and he found you in your bed, curled up in the blanket to hide yourself. A sigh left his lips before he took place right beside you after being ready to do so. “What are you hiding from me? Don’t say nothing, I know you too well. There’s something wrong.”

You looked at him and he frowned immediately when he saw the redness of your eyes. You had been crying for quite a while, so he knew he was right ; even if he hoped to be wrong. He slowly caressed your cheek, waiting for you to find the strength to tell him.

“Kiyoomi… I’m pregnant…” You told him in a little voice, and his eyes widened almost right now. He blinked a few times, and you looked away, feeling the tears coming back. “I know, we talked about it, but I…”

Sakusa grabbed your chin with all the softness in the world, making you look back at him. He left a small kiss against your lips. “I couldn’t be happier, my love, I swear.” It was your turn to stay silent, all blinking. This is how you learned that the only reason behind Kiyoomi’s anger towards pregnancy was actually fear because of all the complications.

But if it was for you, he was ready to take the risk. Because having a baby with you was all he could dream of. You just needed to be careful.

biggest girl’s dad ever

will do anything for his baby girl ; even if it meant going out with ribbon in his hair

discreet about his private life but when he sees you two during his matches? can’t hide much longer

completely devoted but still know how to be a little strict

wants his child to have the best education so he’s careful about everything

get scared every time the baby is just a little sick

overly protective ; especially when it comes to boy close to his girl

Bokuto Koutaro

He was made to be a father, you were sure about it. He loved children so much, there was no way he wouldn’t be happy to learn that you were pregnant. But it was still pretty stressful for you, because you were never sure of anything with Bokuto.

Today was the day, because he was finally coming back home after being away with his teams for a few weeks. You couldn’t announce this to him on the phone so you had to wait for him to come back. When he entered your shared apartment, he had a huge smile on his lips. Being able to finally reunite with you was all he could ask for.

You were sitting on the couch, and he almost immediately jumped on you. As the yapper he was, he started to talk about his trip and everything that happened. But you seemed lost in your thoughts, and he noticed it quickly.

“What’s wrong babe?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. You met his gaze and a sigh left your lips. “I have something to tell you,” you started, and Bokuto slowly frowned his eyebrows. Something was weird, and he didn’t like it at all. He stayed strangely silent while you were trying to find the right words to tell him the news.

Another long sigh left your lips before you finally decided to say it out loud. “I’m pregnant, Kou.” And the silence after that was long. Too long for you, and you started to worry. Until a huge smile appeared on his lips. He grabbed your hands, eyes wide. “We’re expecting a baby? Really?”

It was like all your worries fled away at this exact moment, and you slowly nodded with a smile on your own lips. “Yes, we’re expecting a baby.” Nothing could go wrong if it was with Bokuto after all.

neither a girl’s dad or a boy’s dad ; just devoted and obsessed with his children

had probably cry more than you when he saw your baby for the first time

it’s like the accomplishment of his entire life

not really the strict parent ; doing half of the stupidities with your boy

will obviously teach him volleyball at the youngest age

always playing with your son when he can ; doing his best to be as present as possible

will show him to the camera during his interviews after a match

always talking about you or the baby to everyone ; really the proudest

a kid himself so obviously he know what to do to make the baby boy laugh

thank you for reading!

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latetaektalk · 9 months ago

Text

love to hate you | jjk [viii, preview]

“when obnoxiously rich and spoiled frat boy jeon jungkook comes up to you one day and asks you to fake date him for money, you definitely should have said no. because before you knew it, you were going on insta dates with him and having lunch with his equally obnoxiously rich and spoiled friends.”

— genre: fratboy! AU, fake dating! AU, college! AU, rich kid! AU, enemies to lovers! AU, angst, fluff, sexual themes (later chapters)

— pairing: jungkook x female reader

— word count: estimated 100k for the entire series, 970 for this preview

— warnings: none for this preview

— playlist: to be added

— a/n: i cant believe we've gotten this far into the story. we're slowly but surely nearing the end and i hope you guys will have as much fun reading this as i did writing it bc this is by far my favourite chapter ive written so far for those two idiots <3

— find it here

Oh.

Your friends followed your gaze.

Jungkook had his backpack strapped to his shoulder and the red scarf wrapped around his neck. It shouldn’t be possible. You were technically too far for you to properly see, but you saw it—the tension in his shoulders, the strain in his nape, the deep knit between his brows. He was…. annoyed. It was new to you. For a moment, you almost expected to find Narae walking behind him, bugging him, hot on his trail. It would explain it to you, and you would just simply walk over there and pull him to your table. Just like that, you would ease the knit between your brows, take the tension out of his shoulders and neck-

But it wasn’t Narae.

It was Taehyung.

He said something to Jungkook that made him roll his eyes. Jungkook didn’t seem to want to respond, shaking his head and waving his hand around, an attempt to end the conversation. But Taehyung wasn’t so kind, going on, even taking hold of his shoulder.

“Someone is in a mood,” Namjoon mumbled, cringing.

“What are they talking about, Y/N?” Jimin asked, looking at you, and you stared right back at him, frowning.

“How would I know?”

“You’re his girlfriend.”

“So?”

“Go find out.”

“What? I just walk up to them and say,” you raised your voice a few pitches, “‘Oh my God, hi, you guys are clearly fighting. Care to share?’ Is that what you want?”

Jimin blinked, shrugging. “Sure, that would work.”

“You’re so ridiculous, Jimin,” you hissed, touching a hand to your forehead. “That wouldn’t work.”

“Of course, it would. Kook’s absolutely obsessed-”

“Oh my God, shut up,” Chaeyoung hissed, slapping Jimin. “They’re looking!”

“You guys are always so loud,” Hoseok sighed, and you sent him a glare because no, you don’t! It’s just Jimin!

But they were right. Taehyung and Jungkook were both looking at you, their conversation having come to an end. When you met his gaze, Jungkook’s face contorted into something else, features twitching. You couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but it wasn’t the usual. He didn’t soften in the way you were used to when he would see you. And when you tried a smile, Jungkook struggled to return it. You felt shot, and your smile faltered.

But Jimin didn’t sense it at all, wildly waving his hand around, gesturing for the two to come this way. And as if it wasn’t more obvious, he yelled it too, “Hey, Tae and Kook! Come join us!”

Jisoo sighed, “He’s such an idiot.”

Chaeyoung and Hoseok shrugged, as if to say well, it’s Jimin. They were right, it was just Jimin being himself, unaware and impulsive. Namjoon didn’t have any words, shaking his head.

Jungkook and Taehyung looked at each other, exchanging a few words before the latter glanced at his watch and shook his head. He had to go. Taehyung placed his hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, whispering something into his ear. You must have imagined it but it looked like he glanced in your direction. But before you could think about it, Taehyung headed in the same direction he had previously come from, and Jungkook slowly made his way over, not meeting your eyes once.

“What were you arguing about?” Jimin asked when Jungkook stood in front of you, and you watched him grip the strap of his backpack, the skin over his knuckles stretching thin.

“Jimin!” Jisoo hissed, punching him.

“Ow!”

“Right, yeah, of course, you’d ask,” he smiled. “It’s fine.”

Jungkook said it with a laugh, but it was all wrong.

“We weren’t arguing.”

And as if it wasn’t enough, Jungkook put on his brightest and biggest smile. He showed it to everyone. Like a stone plunged into the deep sea, your heart sank. You had seen it before, that smile. It had decorated his lips during the Halloween party when you first walked in, or when you had first hurt his feelings while you had gone costume shopping.

Namjoon and you looked at each other shortly, both of you sensing it.

“Is everything-”

“Well, it looked like you were,” Jimin mumbled, accidentally interrupting Namjoon. He waited for Jungkook to budge and cave under his gaze, but when he wouldn’t, he shrugged. “Come sit.”

Maybe he could feel your burning gaze on him, but Jungkook finally glanced in your direction. If only for a second, so very brief. But it dug into your heart and split it open, gutted you and left you utterly empty. You had seen him just yesterday, picked out your dress together, parted ways this morning a few hours ago, and now he seemed like another person. He looked so sad, sad in a way you hadn’t seen before. You didn’t think that any emotion close to that had ever crossed his features, not in your presence at least. It was so new and surprising to you—because somehow in your mind, you had forgotten he had the ability to feel… upset—you froze.

“I’m sorry, I have to go,” Jungkook said, nailing that same smile back onto his lips as before. “But I’ll see you guys around.”

And before any of you could protest, he was gone, back turned to your table and heading into the crowd.

“Well, that was… weird,” Chaeyoung said, pointing out the elephant in the room. And as if she had said your name, everyone turned to you for some kind of answer.

You blinked back at them. “Yeah, I-I don’t know.”

There was another beat of silence before ultimately your friends shrugged.

“Maybe it’s just not a good day?” Hoseok proposed, and they were all quick to agree, moving on. And though you didn’t voice it, you knew it wasn’t that. It couldn’t just be that.

You knew it was about you. It had to be.

find it here

#jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenarios #jungkook fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #linh.preview

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hazelfoureyes · 10 months ago

Note

before i never really interacted with blogs(cuz anxiety and very toxic friends had my tumblr, who ive gotten rid of now) but now i literally interact with every post bc of you, you are god and i will worship you, your smut is poetic af and has my legs SHAKING(.literally.)

i am ON MY KNEES❗

also, alastor and his rivals(vox or lucifer) x reader smut? like i know alastor would be petty asf and have them watch as he fucks the living out of their beloved, im curious, do you have any ideas regarding that?(cuz your ideas are delicious and im hungry for that)

You’ve left me speechless which is quite the accomplishment, Darling. I am just a little goblin! Or like the tooth fairy, but instead of teeth I take praise and instead of money I leave filthy smut 🥺 I am so glad you removed the toxic friends and are interacting more. 💖 you deserve better and your interactions are a joy. Thank you for brightening my day! I am so far away and yet you’ve got me blushing like a fool.

oooh yes okay so! Here’s some ideas 👀

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊👑₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Energy for me is Lucifer: Here to please. Alastor: Here to win. I imagine Luci brings you to the hotel for Charlie’s Birthday party, already having a precious casual fling once or twice before. All the guests are there, everyone is dancing and drinking and having a good time. Alastor notices how you call him Luci, how Lucifer cant keep his cool when you lean closer to him when you speak. Naturally, Alastor sees an opportunity to fuck with Lucifer so he asks for a dance. He is uncharacteristically sweet and loving, willing to do anything to get under the king of hell’s skin. He changes the music to something slow, holding you close he whispers in your ear during your dance, “How can any man maintain composure around you? I feel my manners slipping through my fingers every time you look my way.” When you leave the party to cool down, Alastor follows, finding you in an empty room trying to decompress. “Would you hate me if I kissed you? Be forewarned, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Lucifer walks in to see you absolutely melting under Alastor, lipstick smeared and face flushed. But Luci adores you, your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s compelled to stay and watch, even as Alastor makes you moan and scream his name. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” “Whose cock are you made for?” You’re reduced to incoherent babbling by the time Alastor is finished toying with Lucifer. Lucifer can’t take it anymore and finds himself crawling onto the bed to swallow your moans and shower you in praise.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊🖥️₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

I can see Vox bringing his beloved personal assistant to an overlord meeting for note taking, and Alastor notices your glances to him. Vox adores you, and is always on his best behavior around you to impress you. Alastor waits for you outside of Vee Tower that night for a “chance run in”. “What luck! Allow me to buy you a drink, as a welcome to hell.” Charms you as any good southern boy could, and suggests you both go back to your office for privacy. Knowing full well Vox has cameras all over the office, Alastor fucks Vox’s assistant on his desk while maintaining eye contact with the massive collection of screens there. Vox catches sight of this while skimming through the feeds but can’t break away from the video. Alastor keeps your back to the displays while bouncing you on his cock, smirking at Vox the entire time as he leans back on his desk chair. Vox is seething and finally rushes to his office to find Alastor gone and you lying on your back, still out of breath and cum dripping onto the desk.

Vox keeps you, but gets rid of the desk. He can’t let Alastor have the satisfaction of making him lose his prized employee. For weeks after, while zoning out in board meetings, his screen flashes images of Alastor smirking from over your shoulder as you ride him. He’s entirely unaware that it’s happening and everyone is too scared to tell him.

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serpentandlily · 1 year ago

Text

Untouchable II - Azriel x Reader

Untouchable - Azriel x Rhysand'sSister! Reader ✨

Summary: For as long as you can remember, you have always had feelings for Azriel, your court's spymaster. But after centuries of watching him pine after your own cousin, hoping he'd eventually move on, your wish came true. He moved on-with Elain, your brother's mate's middle sister. Unable to watch him fall in love with someone else again, you flee from Velaris, from him. But things are a lot more complicated than that - more complicated than you ever imagined.

Warnings: angst

➻❥ Part I ➻❥ Part II ➻❥ Part III ➻❥ Part IV ➻❥ Part V

➻❥ Part VI ➻❥ Part VII ➻❥ Part VIII ➻❥ Part IX ➻❥ Part X

a/n: Thank you all so much for all the love on the first part of this story! If you want to be added to the tag list, either comment or message or send me an ask :)

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Part II

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The minute you guys winnowed into the foyer of the River House, you were nearly tackled to the ground by your own brother. He spun you in a circle, greeting you as if you’d just come back from a war or something. You couldn’t help but giggle at his huge overreaction.

“You act like I’ve been gone for years,” you laughed.

“It felt like it,” he replied, giving you what you assumed was his best impression of a sad puppy dog—an odd sight to see on such a powerful High Lord.

He had barely set you down when you were scooped up into someone else’s arms. Luckily Cassian wasn’t as dramatic as your brother. He pulled away to hold you at arm's length, taking a sweeping glance down your body.

“You’ve lost some muscle mass and what is this you’re wearing,” he chided in a teasing, affectionate tone. “Are you even still part of the night court, y/n?”

A scoff sounded from behind the General and you peeked over his shoulder to see Azriel standing there, his arms crossed. “She’s only been gone for three months.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him and you quickly pulled your eyes away, ignoring the strain in your chest. You jokingly shoved Cassian away from you. “I’m gone for three months and the first thing you say to me is that I’ve lost muscle? Can take the boy out of Illyria but not Illyria out of the boy.”

“Damn right,” Cassian said proudly as you stepped around him, finding the rest of your family lounging about in the sitting room. “Besides, do my letters to you not count as talking?”

You rolled your eyes before giving Azriel a smile. He dipped his head in greeting, his eyes trailing over your form, but made no move to embrace you like the other two.

“You wrote letters to Cass and Rhys,” he said. “But not to me? I thought I was your favorite.”

“Rhys demanded I write to him. And Cass wrote to me first.” You shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

A muscle ticked in his jaw when he met your eyes again but he said nothing else so you brushed past him, squeezing him on the shoulder as you did, determined to not let his presence squander the confidence you had built up these past months.

As soon as you stepped into the sitting room, a baby was pushed into your arms. You smiled at Feyre, pressing a kiss to her cheek in greeting and happily accepting to hold Nyx, your nephew. “It’s good to see you, y/n. Being on the continent has done you wonders. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you, I’ve been immensely enjoying my time there. But I missed you too, Fey,” you replied with a wink before hoisting the baby further up in your arms to snuggle against his head. “And Gods, I missed you, little one.”

“He missed you too, you know.” You looked up at Rhys who was leaning against the back of the chair Feyre had plopped down in. “You’re the only one who knows how to make him laugh when he’s in one of his moods.”

You saw his words for what they truly were - ammunition. A way to guilt you to stay. The sad part was it kind of worked. If there was anyone you’d drop everything for, it was your nephew. “I think you guys did just fine without me.”

“Some of us did,” Amren piped up. “Others wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘What do you think y/n is doing right now?’ ‘When do you think she is going to come home?’ ‘Send me to the continent to check on y/n.’” She mocked, glaring at your brother. But then her glare shifted to the shadowsinger who gave her an unamused look. Your cheeks turned pink. Had she been including Azriel in that…

“I’m glad you’re finally spreading those wings, girl. It’s about time,” Amren continued, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Anyways,” Mor cut in. “Are you going to tell us what is so important that you dragged me and your sister back for?”

“I will, during our family dinner,” Rhys said. “We’re still waiting for Lucien.”

You couldn’t help but glance at Elain, who looked just about as uncomfortable as you did. It wasn’t that you specifically had anything against the fox. But he had been the close companion of the male who was the reason your mother was dead, the reason you had almost lost your wings and your life that fateful night. It made it hard to be around him without thinking of Tamlin, which brought back those painful memories.

Conversation turned normal after that and you tried to keep your eyes away from the shadowsinger. Instead you listened to Cassian and Nesta talk about the improvements the Valkyries had made in the three months you were gone. You promised Cass that you’d go to training with them tomorrow morning.

Lucien finally showed up and the small party was moved to the dining room. You took a seat next to Cassian and your heart nearly froze as you watched the redhead enter and make his way towards the empty chair next to you. You clenched your skirt in your fist but before he could take it, Azriel cut in front of him and claimed the chair as his.

You gave him a small, grateful smile. He nodded and you turned away as Elain sat down next to him. Great. Perfect. Now you’d have to listen to them all night. Perhaps the fox would’ve been a better choice.

Dinner was served and you poked at your food. Your proximity to the shadowsinger made your appetite minimal. You leaned your head against Cass’s shoulder, taking comfort in him. Cassian had always felt like a second big brother to you. And he treated you as such.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured to you, stacking more food on your plate. “You’ve got to eat if you’re going to come train with us tomorrow.”

Nesta rolled her eyes from next to him and you covered your grin. You were about to reply when Rhys stood. The room quieted when he cleared his throat. “Feyre and I have invited you here tonight for a reason. Would you like to do the honors, darling?” He tilted his head to her and she stood, smiling.

You couldn’t help but melt at the sight of your brother and his mate. You were so happy he finally had the life he deserved. Feyre placed her tattooed hand on her stomach and your eyes widened, a gasp escaping your mouth as you realized what this announcement was.

“I’m pregnant again,” she said, pure happiness in her voice. “With a little baby girl.”

Cheers and shouts erupted around the room but you were the first to jump up and hug Feyre. You couldn’t stop smiling as you let her go to be embraced by the others, taking your brother in your arms instead.

“Congratulations,” you whispered in his ear. “I’m so happy for you, Rhysie.”

“I can’t believe it,” he muttered back. “Another baby. In less than two years.”

You felt claws scrape against your mental shield.

We’re going to name her after mother. We’ve already discussed it.

You pulled back with shock, looking up into his eyes to make sure he was telling the truth. Tears lined his eyes as he nodded at you. A small cry broke from your lip as you hugged him again. When you finally composed yourself, you let him go so the others could have their turn with him. You stood off to the side, wiping your tears.

You were so distracted that you didn’t even notice the male who fell into place next to you. “Are you alright?”

You looked up at Azriel who was watching you with concern in those beautiful hazel eyes. You nodded, clearing your throat. “They’re going to name her after our mother. After Selene.”

Azriel’s eyes widened and then he glanced at your brother, a small smile on his lips. You know how much Azriel and Cassian had loved your mother too. Had felt the loss of her all the same. You sucked in a breath and wiped away any lingering tears.

Azriel looked back down at you, his eyes searching your face. Part of you wanted to use your daemati gifts, to take a peek inside his head, to see what he was thinking. But you would never cross that line.

“You’ve got make-up,” he said, gesturing towards your face. “Here.”

You went to wipe it but he grabbed your hand. “Let me.”

He conjured a cloth napkin in his hand and gripped your chin with his other gloved hand, tilting your face up at him. Your eyes widened at his touch and you froze in place, your breath caught in your throat. He dapped at a spot on your check, just below your eye.

You hated the effect he had on you. How his scent wrapped around you, his mere presence clouding your mind. Hated how you wished to step closer to him. This wasn’t the first time he had done something as intimate as this with you but those moments were far and few between.

He was surprisingly gentle as he wiped at your face, his hand never leaving your chin even as his other fell back to his side. He stared down at you with an indiscernible emotion and your eyes bounced between his. Part of you wished this small moment would never end. But wishing and praying had never done you any good and the moment was over before you knew it.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” Elain had made her way over to you and Azriel dropped his grip on you like your skin had burned him. You swallowed harshly, looking at the girl who had captured his heart in the short time she had been here.

“I’m okay, Elain,” you replied with a little dip of your head. “Just a bit emotional is all.”

She smiled at you and you wished more than anything that you could hate her. But you couldn’t. She had only ever been sweet to you. Only ever wanted to be your friend. “I can’t believe we’re about to have another baby around here. You’ll have to help me set up the nursery for Feyre again, y/n!”

“Of course!”

Elain’s hand rested on Azriel’s bicep and the sight made the dinner you had just eaten churn in your stomach. You needed to get away from them. It hadn’t been long enough. You hadn’t been away long enough to get rid of these stupid feelings. You glanced back at Azriel to find him still looking at you. You mustered up the will to give them a parting smile before dipping away.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Feyre and Rhysand had called it a night after some time celebrating but Mor had declared the night wasn’t over. At least not for you two. You hadn’t hesitated to agree to go to Rita’s—ready to let loose after having to deal with the heartache of being near Azriel and Elain.

Cassian and Nesta decided to come as well. And then to everyone’s surprise, Azriel had also said he’d come which made Elain shyly say she’d come as well. Just when you’d thought you’d have a moment of relief, the Mother had decided to spite you again. Perhaps she was just trying to drill home the point that Azriel would never be yours.

Mor passed you another shot glass and you chugged it before even asking what was in it. All you knew was you wanted to be drunk—and fast. You were squeezed between Nesta and Mor in the large booth your group occupied.

Your eyes flicked to the other side of the table. Azriel and Elain sat there, both sipping on their drinks. Neither of them looked comfortable and you wondered why they even bothered to come.

“I wanna dance,” you slurred, pouting at Mor. You shoved at your cousin to let you out of the booth and she chuckled, moving out of the way.

“Take Mor with you, sweetheart.”

Nesta elbowed Cassian in his side. “She’s not a little girl, Cass.”

“She’s fine on her own,” Mor bit, backing up Nesta. “Besides, we can still see her from here.”

You missed the disapproving glare Azriel threw at Mor who rolled her eyes at him. The alcohol had finally taken effect, making you feel carefree. You let the music take over as you pushed your way into the dancing crowd.

For once you basked in the attention you were receiving and when you felt large hands wrap around your waist from behind, you didn’t falter like you might’ve before. You glanced up to see a high fae male smirking down at you. He was handsome with brown eyes and shaggy blonde hair.

You gave him your family’s signature feline grin and decided to just go with it—anything to get the shadowsinger out of your mind.

“Don’t,” Mor growled at Azriel as he went to stand up, his eyes locked on you and the male. Cassian watched with an annoyed frown. “Let her have fun. She knows how to handle herself.”

You were oblivious to the two disgruntled bats at the table though. A few more songs passed before the male grabbed your hand and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Come. Let me buy you a drink.”

You smiled and let him drag you to the bar. His hand slid to your lower back as you watched him place an order for both of you. He turned to hand you the drink the bartender made and his eyes widened as he looked at something over your shoulder.

Your brows furrowed until that familiar scent hit you.

“Leave us,” Azriel growled at him from behind you.

The male glanced between the two of you. “Sorry, I didn’t know she was here with someone.”

“I’m not here with him.” You crossed your arms, annoyed. The male’s eyebrow quirked up in amusement, looking back at Azriel.

“Well, it seems like the lady doesn’t want you here, pal,” he said. “So why don’t you leave us?”

A sliver of fear crossed his eyes as Azriel took a step forward, his hard chest pressing into your back. “Get lost,” he snarled, his voice pure ice. “Now.”

Your mouth dropped open as the male scurried off this time, evidently not wanting a confrontation with the shadowsinger. You whirled around to see Azriel glaring down at you. You pushed him away with a hand to his chest.

“What is your problem?!”

“My problem?” he snapped back at you. “That male was clearly going to take advantage of you. You should be thanking me for scaring him off.”

“Why the hell should I thank you! He wasn’t taking advantage of me. I wanted to be with that guy.”

“And he probably just wanted to use you to get close to Rhys for power or money—who knows.”

You felt a dagger pierce your heart at his words, at his unflinching cold stare. “Right. Because no one would ever want me for anything else. No one might ever just be interested in me and not my connection to Rhys.”

“Oh don’t be naive, y/n,” Azriel said, coldly. Your mouth dropped open, tears started building in your eyes at his cruelty. But then anger finally started to rise, overpowering the hurt.

“Just because you don’t desire me like that, doesn’t mean other males don’t as well! I am not a child anymore, Azriel. I know exactly what males want from me and I also know what I want from them. So do me a favor and leave me alone.”

You chugged the drink in your hand before slamming the glass on the counter.

“Y/n, that’s not what I—”

You turned away, not wanting to hear anything else he said. You couldn’t bear anymore hurt. All you wanted to do was go somewhere else. Somewhere he wasn't so you could unleash the tears stinging your eyes.

His cold hand grabbed your wrist and whirled you back around. “This conversation isn’t over,” he bit out but you shrugged yourself out of his grip.

“Yes it is,” you ground out through your teeth. “In fact, instead of sticking your nose in my business, why don’t you worry about your girlfriend’s.”

“My what—”

Azriel turned his head to follow your line of sight back to the booth you had all been sitting at before. Elain sat there alone, Mor likely dancing and Nesta and Cassian probably off making out somewhere. Some guy was leaning against the table talking to Elain, who looked incredibly uncomfortable.

You didn’t wait to hear Azriel’s response, using the distraction to storm off and disappear in the crowd—your first night had officially been ruined.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The last place you wanted to be today was the House of Wind, but you had promised Cassian and Nesta you’d show up for Valkyrie training and you knew one of them would come looking for you if you hadn’t. You could feel Azriel’s eyes on you from across the training ring but ignored him, keeping your focus on Cass.

“Alright,” Cass said, clapping his hands together. He had just led you guys through a series of exercises and you could already feel some sweat dripping down your back. “Let’s move on to sparring. Pair up and get started. Y/n, you’re with me today! Got to get you back up to speed.”

You made your way to Cassian but were intercepted by Azriel stepping in between you two. “I’ll take over her training. The new girls need more help.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at him but shrugged and walked off, leaving you alone with the shadowsinger. You clenched your fists, not at all happy with having to work with Azriel today when you wanted to avoid him. You were still upset with the way he talked to you last night.

“Come,” he barked, not even looking at you. “We’ll take the back corner.”

He strode off without even making sure you were following. You let out a puff of air. Great, he was in that sort of mood.

As soon as you were within range, he tossed you a training sword. You barely caught it, taken off guard.

“Let’s see how much you’ve regressed while galavanting on the continent.” His tone was cold, clearly as upset with you as you were with him. Before you could even get into a starting position, he came at you. You let out a startled noise, blocking his attack.

You narrowed your eyes at him. Fine, if this was how he wanted to play, you weren’t going to be the one to back down.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You could barely catch your breath, evading another one of his attacks. Class had already wrapped up, most Priestesses packing up their things to go back to the library. But Azriel hadn’t let up one bit.

“Class is over, Az,” you panted, side stepping another attack. “Can we stop?”

“Class is over when I say it is,” he growled at you. He lifted his sword above his head and came down with an overhead attack. You had to roll out of the way to avoid it.

“What’s gotten into you?” You snapped, putting some distance between you and him, trying to steady yourself. Azriel had never treated you like this before.

“You’re the one who declared you’re not a child anymore last night,” he snapped back at you. “So I’m not treating you like one. Suck it up, princess, and either disarm me or surrender.”

You gritted your teeth together, annoyed that he was acting like such a prick. Why the hell was he so upset with you? You had done nothing to him.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Shut up and fight me,” he growled. “Or surrender and go back to being coddled by your brother like always.”

Fury sparked a fire in your gut. Since when did you ever ask to be coddled by Rhys? He had been the one that was overprotective, to the point of being paranoid. All you ever did was try to be the person your brother expected you to be, to not have him worry over you. You attacked him this time but he was quick to parry. You felt frustrated tears start to build in your eyes.

“Oh don’t start crying now,” Azriel snarled. “You asked for this.”

“I never asked for anything from you!” You could hardly keep your sword in your hand, your body shaking from the anger you felt.

“Because your brother caters to your every need.” He spat out the word brother like it was a curse and that only fueled the fire building in you. “He gives you everything you want, takes care of you, and still you decide to go run off to the continent, causing him to constantly worry about you.”

“Fuck you,” you snapped. “And keep my brother out of this. You know nothing about our relationship!”

He maneuvered behind you, using his free arm to wrap around your neck and pull you flush against his body. You were both panting, both sweating. You could faintly hear Cassian yelling at you guys to stop but you ignored him, too lost in your own anger.

Azriel leaned down, his breath dancing against your ear. “I know you’re just a burden to him. Just another responsibility that fell on his shoulders.”

The breath was expelled from your lungs, your stomach twisted into a knot. A burden? Is that how Rhys truly saw you? Just something he was being forced to take care of?

You elbowed Azriel in the stomach and kicked him in the chest away from you. He slid to a stop in the sand but then came back twice as hard. You tried to evade, tried to parry his attacks, but it was no use. You were not close to being the warrior Azriel was.

A knock to your wrist had your sword flying from you hand and you fell on your backside, scooting away from him. He didn’t seem to notice he had unarmed you and raised his sword to slash at you again. You let out a whimper of fear and lifted your hands up to block your face.

The sword sliced down the middle of your palm and you let out a pained cry. Azriel immediately froze, towering over your much smaller form on the ground. His eyes widened, the sword slipped out of his hand and suddenly Cassian was in between you two, his wings flaring out to block you as he shoved Azriel in the chest—hard.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian screamed at him. He shoved him again but Azriel paid him no mind, his eyes stuck on you still sitting on the floor, now cradling your hand to your chest as blood dripped down your skin.

“Y/n…” Your name came from his lips, pure anguish in his voice as he stared at you in horror, as if now realizing he had gone way too far. You scrambled to your feet, fighting to rein in your tears.

Azriel stepped towards you but Cassian grabbed him by the shoulder roughly. “No, leave her alone. Why don’t you tell me what the hell that was?!”

Nesta was glancing between you and Azriel in shock and when she started to make her way towards you, you magick your wings, unfurled them, and took off into the sky as agony ripped through you.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

You had hoped to make it to your bedroom before running into anyone, but as per usual, the Mother decided to spite you. You nearly crashed into Rhys as you hurried down the hall. He caught you by your shoulders, his nostrils flaring as he smelt blood, before he looked down at you in surprise.

"Are you okay?" he asked before taking in the tears still pouring down your face. "Y/n, what happened? Why are you hurt?"

"It's nothing," you mumbled, trying to skirt around him but he yanked you into his office.

"It's not nothing," he said through clenched teeth, "You're bleeding and crying. Who hurt you?"

"It was just an accident during training this morning. I'm fine."

"Dove, please, I've seen you hurt worse than this and you never shed a tear then," he said, stroking your hair. "What happened?"

You couldn't hold it in anymore, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. "Am...am I a b-burden to you?"

"What?" he gasped in surprise. "Where did you get that idea?"

You shook your head, sniffling. Rhys sighed and pulled you into a hug. "Dove, you are not a burden to me. I don't know why you'd ever think that. I love you so much, too much perhaps. If anything, I'm the one who's burdened you with my incessant worrying."

You wished you felt relief but it just made you cry even more. Your brother continued to stroke your hair, holding you close. "Who caused you to think that?"

"No one," you mumbled into his chest. "It's nothing. I just thought—I don't know."

Rhys pulled back to hold you at arm's length. You tried to avoid eye contact with him but he gripped your chin and forced you to look up at him. Anger was swirling in his eyes. "Tell me who hurt you. Tell me who caused this."

You shook your head, not wanting to cause a fight between your brother and Azriel. His eyes glazed over for a second and you knew he was communicating with someone in his head. You felt yourself tense up. When his focus came back to you, that anger had grown into rage. You knew he had probably asked Cassian what happened at training and you cursed at the General for snitching.

He stepped around you and stalked towards the door just as Feyre entered his office. She gasped in surprise as she caught sight of the two of you. "Gods, what happened?"

Rhys brushed past her. "Stay here with her."

Feyre's eyebrows narrowed in confusion. "Rhys, what's going on? Where are you going?"

He glanced at her over her shoulder, his teeth bared in a snarl. "I'm going to go kick Azriel's ass."

And then he disappeared in a swirl of darkness.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Tag List: @kalulakunundrum @going-through-shit @thelov3lybookworm @tinystarfishgalaxy @cat-or-kitten @abysshaven @vhjlucky13 @polli05927 @nightcourtwritings @wicked-mind @mommyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

#acotar #azriel #fanfic #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x female!reader #azriel x oc #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #shadowsinger x reader #angst #azriel fic

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jenoslutie · 2 months ago

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ive been into such a spiral i need 00 line SO BAD RN WTHH all at once!! -🍓

🍓 ANON YOUUUU WANT ME DEADDDDDDDD.

imagine likeeee... jeno - the mean dom who wants to have you crying on his cock. depending on the occasion tho he'd either push the rest of the boys away so he can have you first or let all of them have their turns with you before he has his turn and stretches you out beyond belief. his cock bigger than all theirs and he loves the way you cry for him.

renjun - the unexpected dom. depending on the situation he'd either be really fucking nice or really fucking mean. you're going down on him and throating his whole cock? "you're so good for me baby". you're paying attention to one of the other guys instead of him? “you slut, you love all this attention on you don’t you?”

haechan - the loud switch. he knows what he wants and he’s fucking loud about it. never shuts up for even a second. you’re making him feel good? he’d whine, “fuck baby, you feel so good for me” you’re not paying enough attention to him? almost in tears he’d sob, “touch me, please”. he’s not above begging and it’s fucking hot.

jaemin - the condescending dom. expect a lot of false sympathy. would definitely over stimulate the fuck out of you and be like “aww is it too much for you, pretty?” and smirk as you try to whine and writhe in overstimulation because you and him know damn well he’s not stopping.

together they’d be bordering the line of too much. hands all over you, mouths all over you. haechan going down on you while jeno fucks your face and jaemin and renjun suck on your tits. and just working together to have you completely drunk on pleasure.

#nct dream smut #jeno smut #jaemin smut #haechan smut #renjun smut #nct smut #🍓 anon #jenoslutie asks

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k6tzie · 2 months ago

Note

oh my goodness ive had so many ideas running around my head about sub! & virgin! ghost and im so in love with your depictions of sub him.. just imagine he being so confused on why hes so painfully hard and he doesnt know what to do, he just wants his mommy help him out so desperately, and hes so confused why it feels so good when she wraps her hand around his length.. 🤭

ive never actually been an anon on your page before so hii

hii my lovely anon thank u for this request, read this and started gnawing on the bars of my enclosure this is so good YES! 💯 sub!virgin!ghost who never had or has time to rub one out, he doesn't know how to 'do it', per se, and he doubts it feels that good anyway - always cynical. he's far too busy to even think of anything like that and he doesn't wanna sit there and just rub it like he's stroking a dog or something. what if it doesn't feel good? what if his hands are dirty and he contracts some illness? he's always overthinking whilst he suffers another night of his painfully hard, fat cock straining his pants as he scrolls through your social media, seeing your pretty little smile and the clothes he's convinced you put on for him to see like minx. and here he is again, back at square one as he thrusts his hips around in his sheets, not daring to touch himself. and next thing he knows, you found out about all this and wanted to take care of your sweet boy. you are the only female figure in his life after all, why not help him? by this point, he's begging you to sit on his face, dominate him, ride him until he is an overstimulated, stupid mess. he's babbling how good your hand feels rubbing his lengthy cock whilst his eyes twitch in pleasure and his pretty brown eyes cross.

you don't let him cum, no not yet. you don't just wanna feel his warm cum drip down your fingers, what a waste. you wanna feel it drip down your belly, or the crease between your boobs - not just on your fingers. instead you climb atop his red leaky cock and sink down right onto it whilst your gummy walls stretch to accompany his girth. his eyes lock onto yours in pure adoration whilst his cock twitches and stretches inside your gummy walls. he loves being fucked by his mommy, a smart one you are. so experienced huh?

and each jagged, awkward thrust he pounds into you is followed by a weak; "am i being good for you? is this good love?" in need of reassurance. so when you cup his face, pouting and reassuring him, "yeah baby," his cum shoots right inside you :(, feels good having his mommy take care of him. but he feels so bad about coming without telling you yet, he was just so overstimulated with emotions he didn't know what to do or say, so he apologizes profusely and offers to get you off with his mouth until you're trembling against his tongue with your juices spread on his mouth, cheek and chin as he holds your waist longingly in hopes you'll say yes. (inspired by this video<3)

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harunovella · 11 months ago

Text

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ love language (verse iv); s.g.

synopsis: you and gojo go on your first double date... or is it really? content: canon divergence (teen!gojo era), fem!reader, hopeless romantic gojo, best bros satoru and suguru bickering as always, gojo may have had a 'help I've fallen on your boobs and I can't get up' moment, bestie shoko, not beta read (sorry for any errors!) note: another addition to my gojo anthology series! this one was sm fun to write, I love writing gojo and geto being nothing but idiots tbh... wanna be tagged? lmk in the replies!

"A dinner? A fancy dinner?" Shoko asked as you nodded. "What's a bunch of sixteen year olds gonna do at a fancy dinner?" She raised a brow in confusion. Ever since being paired by Yaga with Shoko, the two of you have grown quite close. You were more than thankful, as much as you loved your own little trio (including Nanami and Haibara), it was nice to have a friend that wasn't... well, a male.

Not that there was something wrong with that, you saw Nanami like a sort of twin—though you were a bit more on the social side—he got along with you the most. Then there was Haibara, who was an absolute sweetheart and a gem, the energy both you and your blond twin needed. However, seeing as Ieiri was your senior, there was quite a lot to learn from her—outside from the jujutsu world.

There was also Geto and Gojo... Geto was an interesting person to be around. He had dark humor but also was nothing but kind to you. Gojo, on the other hand...

"A double date?!" Satoru exclaimed as he was alone with Suguru after you invited the two young men to the dinner you told Shoko about.

Arching an eyebrow, Suguru crossed his arms. "Who said this is a double date? In your delusional world, you're dating our little junior when she only sees you as a friend—"

"That's a lie!" Gojo snapped, earning a snicker from his best friend. "I'll have you know we get along very well, we hangout a lot! And— and we have a lot of fun conversations!"

"Sounds fun," Geto said sarcastically. "We all know you're madly in love with her. However, we have no idea how she feels about you."

"Then explain the double date, huh?" Gojo was now the one to cross his arms, tapping his foot. "You and Shoko, me and my mochi?"

Sighing, Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. "Again, not a double date. It's four friends going to a nice restaurant to support one of our friend's family members. Nothing more, nothing less," he explained, only for everything to go into one ear and out the other for the white haired boy before him.

Satoru was in his own world, delusional as always, eyes sparkling at the thought of you in a cute dress. Heels or no heels, makeup or not, he just couldn't help but fantasize about how beautiful you were going to look tonight!

"Earth to Satoru?" Geto waved his hand in front of his best friend, only to laugh. "Thinking about how cute she'll look tonight, huh?"

"Yeah..." Gojo nodded, a face of pure ecstasy, as if he were about to drool.

"Maybe I'll swap dates, you can have Shoko, I'll have our beautiful—"

"No!" Satoru shouted, instantly jumping Suguru. "She's my date for the night!"

"Good luck with that, if you look like an idiot right now thinking about her, just imagine you tonight!" Suguru laughed as he shoved Satoru off of him. "You're gonna look like a complete idiot!"

"You're not discreet..." Geto mumbled towards Gojo as the young man sat beside you, cheek pressed in the palm of his hand as he ever so casually gazed at you. You were in the middle of a conversation with Shoko, something about a movie you both recently had seen together. Too lost in your discussion, laughing and enjoying the evening as Suguru watched his best friend look like he was in a trance. "You are literally staring..." Furrowing his eyebrows as a look of slight disgust took over his face, Suguru kicked Satoru.

"Shh," Gojo brushed off, kicking him back.

"You're lucky she's in her own world with Shoko to even hear us," Geto kicked again, feeling his best friend constantly kick back. Gojo was too focused on you to even pay him any mind.

The restaurant, although fancy, was quite lively and practically filled to the brim. The reservations were endless and everyone that came and went looked like they came from money. Satoru and Suguru wore similar suits, solely because they bought them last minute and ended up with the same look (Satoru was NOT happy, but Suguru found it very funny). Shoko, after seeing them, called them tweedledee and tweedledum... You, on the other, found it cute.

Cute... Gojo kept hearing your words echo in his head. You thought he, himself, was cute?! Forget Suguru, you said he was cute! He couldn't help but indulge in it as he gazed at you practically the whole dinner. For a split second, he did acknowledge the fact that you looked beyond gorgeous. In a white, fitted dress, hugging your curves with a sweetheart neckline... It was safe to say his mind was split in two. In particular, the two brain cells he had. Half of his mind was floating in the clouds of your compliment while the other half was focused on the top of your breasts (practically where his eyes kept falling to). He was... somewhat of a gentleman, he just couldn't help that dirty side of him. You were beautiful! He wanted you!

In his defense, he was used to seeing you in your uniform jacket, skirt, and tights... the times you weren't, you were always dressed cute and comfortable. Never had he seen you like this, curves and all.

Reaching over the table and yanking on Gojo's hair, Geto stifled a laugh as his best friend snapped his head and growled. "Rude, I was busy!" He hissed, reaching over and tugging on the bangs that hung over the dark haired young man's forehead.

Caught up with your conversation with Shoko (and not entirely hearing the commotion beside you with all the various voices around you in the restaurant) a sudden gasp left the brunette as she watched it all happen before her in slow motion. Gojo and Geto shoved one another, completely forgetting where they were as others nearby watched in confusion.

From one second to the next, you were knocked off your chair, head thudding with the ground as a body collapsed against you. Various gasps and whispers were heard as you winced. Blinking a few times and trying to sit up, you felt a pressure against your chest. Both Shoko and Suguru (who was pulled to his feet by Shoko), stared at the disaster before them. Satoru, with his face planted against your chest, as you stared at him, wide eyed.

"Satoru!" Shoko exclaimed, smacking his head as he lifted it, staring at you with a shared blush, before both of his friends yanked him up.

"I— I am so sorry!" He exclaimed, reaching for your hand to help you up as you looked stunned.

"God, you two are so immature. Before we get kicked out, take her home and I'll handle this," Shoko tsked as you blinked, only to snap out of your daze.

"It's— It's okay! I'll handle this! I invited you all—"

"No, you hit your head hard, let me handle this. Dummie over here will take you," Shoko kicked Satoru's calf. "Go. Now."

Without second thinking his actions, Gojo took your hand and lead you out. Both of you ignored the displeased stares and gossip that spread over the four kids who "shouldn't have been allowed into a restaurant like this in the first place."

Walking out, Satoru stopped in his tracks before turning to face you. "I'm so sorry about... my face being in your... Anyway, are you okay?" He asked, using his free hand to gently touch the back of your head. "There's no bump, but, are you alright?"

"I— It's okay, I'm not hurt," you swore as you nodded your head, looking up at him with your doe eyes. Gojo swore his heart grew two times its size. "I promise," you softly smiled.

Nodding, a small smile grew on the young man's lips. He couldn't help but gaze at you, softness in his eyes as he kept his hand on the back of your head. Silence weaved its way between the two of you. Nothing uncomfortable. You stood there for what felt like hours, looking at one another and nearly forgetting what you were doing or where you were.

The sound of honking snapped the two of you out of it as you realized you were out in the open, with people walking by and cars driving along.

Clearing his throat, Satoru lowered his hand from your head and kept his other in yours. "Let's get you home, yeah?"

tag list: @bakananya @strangehuman101 @thirtykiwis @sillygoosegoose (some of u I sadly couldn't tag!)

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atlabeth · 3 months ago

Text

howling at wolves

pairing: jaime lannister x fem reader

summary: jaime saves you from a wayward knight. a strange friendship forms in the ashes.

a/n: ive lost the plot chat why am i writing jaime lannister fic

wc: 2.7k

warning(s): sexual harassment/assault

“I truly have no idea how you do it,” Sansa says.

You smile as you finish her final braid. “Many years spent braiding the hair of my peers, my lady. You are a much easier subject than any of them.”

She smiles. You love when she smiles—makes her look her age, rather than the ‘beyond her years’ that is so often expected of her. “Well, you’re much better than my mother, at least. She’d have tugged half my hair out trying to do anything like you.”

“I imagine your mother is trying to gather up the rest of your siblings,” you say wryly. “She wants you all on best behavior for the king.”

“Probably trying to get the boys to stop chasing each other around and straighten themselves out,” Sansa says with a sigh. “Arya, too. She’s always up to something.”

You chuckle as you put the clasp together on her necklace, then ensure it lays properly before you step away. “I believe that is the final touch. What do you think?”

“You’re excellent as always,” she says, her smile growing. She reaches up to touch the pendant as she looks at herself in the mirror. “Have you met the king before?”

“I have, both before and after he took the throne,” you say. “And in my youth, I met King Aerys.”

Sansa turns, her eyes widening in surprise. “You met the Mad King?”

You nod. “You’re aware of how I came to serve your family, correct?”

“My grandfather housed you in return for your service,” she recalls. “Weren’t you my age?”

“Twelve,” you correct. “I met the king at a tourney in Harrenhal, when I was Lady Lyanna’s handmaiden.” Your heart twists at your own mention of her, and you sigh. “Gods rest her soul.”

Her lips press into a terse line, but she cannot hide the sadness in her eyes. You think all Starks carry an innate weariness in them, whether they know it or not—genetic strain from such untimely deaths.

“Were you in King’s Landing when my grandfather and uncle were…?” Sansa trails off, but her unsaid words weigh heavily in the air.

“Let us stop talking of such a morose subject, hm?” For her sake, you attempt to switch the topic. “You ought to meet up with the rest of your siblings. Ensure your mother doesn’t go too insane.”

Sansa chuckles at that, and she allows you to put on her extra layer of coats and furs. “I hope all goes well. I know they’re only visiting because of Jon Arryn’s death, but I’ve heard the king’s eldest son is quite handsome.”

“I suppose we shall see,” you say. “Now, run along, my dear. Before your mother starts yelling for you.”

She smiles and nods gratefully, pulling her coat tighter around her as she walks out. You watch her go with a sigh—if King Robert’s son is anything like him, you don’t want Sansa anywhere near him. But it is hardly your decision to make.

You clean up Sansa’s room and put on your own coat—you have Northern blood in your veins, but your hardiness only goes so far—then take your own leave.

The procession comes through smooth enough.

King Robert Baratheon is older and rounder than you remember, more crude than you think a king should be. He compliments Sansa, and you would be proud if you were not foremost disgusted.

Queen Cersei Lannister has sharp, inquisitive eyes, and they scan over everything as she gets out of the carriage. You shift under her gaze for the moment it passes over you, however small.

The queen’s brother, Jaime Lannister, well armored in plated gold, rides in with the last of the knights. He pulls his helmet off and shakes out his blonde hair.

When he was knighted as the youngest kingsguard, you had just begun to serve the Starks. What a difference being born into a noble house made.

You think the last time you were in their collective presence was that tourney in Harrenhal, when the Targaryen prince disgraced his bride by crowning Lyanna Stark.

Your jaw tenses. When you think of it, that tourney may have been the last moment of normalcy in your life. Nothing was the same after Rickard and Brandon were executed.

Even less so after you watched your lady die in her brother’s arms.

Everything else passes in a blur. Soon enough you’re back in the castle.

You hardly pay attention as you walk through the halls. With the arrival of King Robert, his family, the kingsguard and so many others, the entirety of the serving staff is working overtime to make things run smoothly. Your primary focus is Sansa, yes, but when she is with her family, you are just another maid.

As you’ve been working with the Starks for the past decade and a half, you have a decent idea by now of how things should go.

“What are you in such a hurry for?”

Which means you also know by now that this nuisance of a knight seems to have no plans of leaving you alone. He’s been intruding on your peace for the past month, only when you’re alone—likely knows that if Sansa caught word of it, she would get her father involved—and you thought he would have taken the hint by now.

You make no move to acknowledge the voice, only the clench of your jaw indicating you’ve heard him as you continue on your way.

“Even a broad like you’s got to know it’s rude to ignore someone,” he calls out. “Whatever you’re doing can’t be that important.”

You stay silent still. Typically, he shouts a few crude things at you, insinuates what he’d like to do, then leaves you alone. Today, though—

A hand encircles your wrist and you whip around on instinct, fire already blazing in your eyes as he leers at you.

“Are you deaf?” he asks. “Or just insolent?”

“Let go of me,” you spit.

“Insolent,” he decides. You try to tug your arm away, but his grip only tightens. “And not very good with questions.”

An involuntary gasp shudders out of you as he pushes you against the wall, his forearm pressed against your chest to keep you caged in, and you glare daggers at the man.

“I thought the Starks employed better men than this,” you growl. “What do you want?”

“There are those lovely eyes,” he mocks, ignoring your jab. “What about a smile? I bet it’s just as good.”

You try to pull away again, but he catches your wrists and pins them against the wall. The pressure off your chest is a relief quickly dashed by the look in his eyes. Your resistance is a joke to him, just simply part of the chase.

“I’m sure I can get one out of you soon,” the knight amends.

He kisses you. It’s nothing romantic, just a purely possessive clash of teeth as he tries to claim something he has no right to take. You fight against him all the while but it does you no good—it’s like the past month hasn’t been enough for him, like he has to make up for all the ways you’ve disrespected him.

“Now just what is going on here?”

He pulls away from you at the sound of the voice and you’ve never wanted to melt into yourself more. Your face burns—you’re angry at this wretch of a knight and you’re embarrassed that someone else witnessed your shame.

“Nothing you need to be concerned with,” the knight says. “This is Stark business—no concern for you Lannisters.”

Lannister?

You look over at your—gods hope it—savior, and your eyes widen despite yourself.

Jaime Lannister, brother of the queen and member of the kingsguard and the Kingslayer himself, stands with his hand just above his sheathed sword and the slight smile that seems to be a permanent facet of his appearance.

“Really?” His eyebrows rise. “Because to me, it looks like you’re in the midst of assaulting this poor woman.”

“What do you care?” the knight snarls. “She’s just a maid—you can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

“That doesn’t give you the right to defile this one against her will,” Jaime says.

“Who says it’s against her will?” He glances back at you, his wandering eyes making your skin crawl. “Look at her. She’s practically begging for it.”

“I would bash your skull in if I could,” you spit.

He laughs as he turns to Jaime. “See? She’s feisty—she enjoys having someone to tussle with.”

“I’ve never bashed a skull in before,” Jaime says thoughtfully, “but I’d imagine it would be quite grisly.” He smiles disarmingly at the knight. “Would you like to be my first, Ser…?”

The man’s grin twists into a scowl. “You’re really protecting this whore?”

“If it’s a whore you want, go peruse a brothel.” Jaime’s smile remains, though it’s lost its mirth. “You can find a dozen anywhere you look.”

Jaime and the knight stare at each other for what feels like an eternity, before he eventually steps away from you with a sharp laugh. You can’t disguise the relief that floods through your body at the distance.

He shakes his head as he begins to walk off. “You choose the funniest fights, Kingslayer.”

You watch him go, still pressed up against the wall until he’s fully out of sight. You let out a shaky breath as you lean your head back.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “I thought he would get to…”

“No need to linger on what could’ve happened,” Jaime says. “Are you hurt?”

You shake your head. “You stopped him before the worst. I’ll have some bruises, but better that than anything more permanent.”

“Were we in King’s Landing, he could’ve gotten a more appropriate punishment,” he says. “But I don’t think your Lord Stark would appreciate me mutilating his men before we’ve even made it through the night.” Jaime smiles. “A knight without hands would be nothing but sword fodder.”

“I pity the poor girl who gets stuck with him if he ends up at a brothel,” you murmur.

“She knows what she’s in for,” he says.

“That doesn’t make it better.”

Jaime stays silent at that, and you look over at him.

“What are you even doing here?” you can’t help but ask. “Surely you have more important duties than strolling through our halls.”

“I just had to find my brother in a brothel,” he says. “I thought some peace and quiet would do me good before whatever mess awaits me when my family is together.”

“Why did you save me?” Another question you can’t keep inside. “You’re a Kingsguard—a Lannister at that. I serve the Starks, and I am no king.”

“I like to believe I am a decent man beneath it all,” he says. “I would not be much of one had I let that brute have his way with you, Stark or not.”

A chill runs down your spine at his words. Having it spoken aloud by another makes it all disgustingly real. You still feel the heat of his hands on your body, and your lips all but fester from his forced kisses.

“I am surprised you care,” you murmur. “Most men would have turned a blind eye.”

“Most men care little for things that do not concern them.”

“And this concerns you?”

He shrugs. “Would you rather I let him continue?”

“No,” you say immediately. “I… I owe you my thanks, my lord. Immensely.”

He huffs a laugh at that. “My lord. I cannot recall the last time someone called me that.”

In your silence, he chuckles. “Ser Jaime is more than enough. I’m certainly not your lord.”

You bow your head. “Then I thank you, Ser Jaime.”

“And I wholly accept.” He pauses, then focuses back on you. “I never got your name.”

“I never gave it,” you say.

Jaime gives you a cockeyed grin. “I would like to have it, then. If you’d allow.”

“Why?”

“It isn’t every day you save a fair maiden,” he says. “I’d like to know who gave me the pleasure.”

“You are a knight,” you say. “Is it not your duty to save damsels in distress?”

“Among other things.” Jaime inclines his head. “Though it tends to be more kings in distress, and believe me, my lady—those I have served could not be considered fair nor a damsel.”

“I imagine not,” you say placidly. “You are the Kingslayer, after all.”

He winces. “And our conversation was going so well.”

You arch a brow. “It is the truth, is it not?”

“Just because it is the truth does not mean it must be brought up in every conversation I have,” he says.

“...You are right,” you admit. “You saved me from a fate none too kind. I should not bring up the past in return.”

Jaime blinks. For a moment, he seems to have nothing to say.

You cannot help the slightly wry smile that curves on your lips. “Surprised, Ser Jaime?”

He recovers quickly, that own sly smile back as if it never disappeared. “Never. It’s just that those at court typically do not lay off so easily.”

“I am not technically a part of court,” you say. “Perhaps that is it.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees. “You should consider yourself lucky you’ve managed to keep any courtly claws out of your skin. I’d wager it would make you far less pleasant.”

“How, pray tell, do you know I am pleasant?” you ask. “You just arrived in Winterfell.”

“You didn’t kill that man for what he did to you,” he says.

“Had I the ability, I would have,” you say. “Chop off those wandering hands, gouge out his lecherous eyes—”

“Perhaps you are not pleasant,” he interrupts, and your lips twitch despite yourself. “But you are interesting, and that is much better.”

“I’m a servant of House Stark,” you say. “There is nothing beyond that.”

Jaime shakes his head. “I don’t think so. I’ve actually noticed you, for one.”

“Then I’m a rather shoddy servant. We’re not meant to be noticed.”

“It was rather hard to miss you.”

A chill runs across your skin as you glance down the hallway—you can still feel it all.

“Men do not like to lose out on their conquests,” you say quietly. “He may be back with a vengeance.”

“Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep an eye out while we’re here,” Jaime says.

You turn back to him with a frown. “Why?”

“To stop his quest of vengeance,” he says. “It would be rather useless of me to save you once and then abandon you to the wolves.”

“I’ve always found comfort in wolves,” you say. “The Starks saved me long ago.”

“And today, a lion saved you,” Jaime says.

“And I thanked you for it.” You cross your arms. “Need I repeat myself again?”

He shrugs. “It certainly doesn’t hurt.”

You huff at that, only just managing to bite back the slightest of smiles. “I see your ego is as big as your blade.”

“As is the Lannister way.” Jaime glances past you out the window, and he offers a charming smile. “I’m afraid I must take my leave, my lady. Duty calls.”

“As does mine.” You blow out a loose breath and shake your head. “This whole debacle has thrown my entire day out of order. The other maids must be wondering where I am, and Vayon will have my head if I am any more late.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out during our stay,” he says. “Prevent any other unseemly escapades.”

“I’m not sure I want more of your attention,” you say. “You Lannisters bring nothing but trouble.”

“I just saved you a bit of trouble,” he corrects. “But if you’d like some to make up for it, I am more than happy to supply.”

“What happened to ‘duty calls’?” you ask wryly.

“What happened to your steward having your head?” Jaime responds in turn.

Again, your lips twitch despite yourself. “Goodbye, Ser Jaime.”

As he watches you go, a softer smile of his own forms.

It’s only when you disappear around the corner that he realizes he never got your name.

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