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osarina · 4 months

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ᡣ𐭩 I LAUGH LIKE ME AGAIN (SHE LAUGHS LIKE YOU)

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: four years apart and the ultimate question is about to be answered: do you and dazai really still know each other, or are you clinging to a fantasy of the past? you decide to put it to the test with a game of wits and questions when dazai gets back to your apartment—but as the game drags on, dazai starts to wonder if maybe he was wrong. worse, if maybe he would prefer to be wrong.

(wordcount: 14.5k; ņsfw; fem!reader; port mafia executive!reader, jealous!dazai, possessive!dazai, smoking & drinking, unprotected sex, switch!dazai, switch!reader, undertones of angst (happy ending). lmk if anything is missing, im rushing to get this out!)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: guys here it IS - sorry it's late, but TRUST it's worth it. i'm so proud of this fic, genuinely one of the things im most proud of writing. this is technically a part 2 to he's my collar but can be read as a standalone

It takes far too long for Dazai to make it out of the Port Mafia headquarters, with both Akutagawa and Chuuya prowling about like the dogs they are. He wonders if you tipped either of them off—Chuuya, in particular—because the slug had been looking around like he was searching for someone. He thinks you’re entirely wretched for it, knowing that if he got caught, he’d be trapped in that damp and filthy torture chamber until he managed to finagle his way out, and he plans to make it known to you just how entirely displeased he is by the situation.

The path to your apartment is achingly familiar, and the giddiness in his chest is something he hasn’t felt since the day he left. He knows that he should probably be more careful—he’s still in Port Mafia territory, your apartment spans the top floor of the easternmost building of the five towers—but he also knows that you’re the only one with direct access to the cameras in this building so he’s more reckless than he would’ve otherwise been.

The floors tick up agonizingly slowly, Dazai swears that there must be something wrong with the elevator because it’s never taken this long before to get up to your place. His fingers thrum against his thigh, and his foot taps the ground impatiently. He paces from corner to corner within the small space like a caged animal. He thinks that maybe he should be taking advantage of the time alone, come up with some better excuses as to why he didn’t say anything to you before he left.

“I wouldn’t have left,” isn’t going to cut it. As true as it might be, it’s not the full truth, and Dazai knows you’ll be able to sniff it out in a matter of a few seconds with a clear head. He’s not walking into a cheerful reunion between old lovers, he’s walking into what’s about to be a stressful game of chess against a strategist whom Dazai has always considered a near-equal, a battle of wits against a woman whose whole life has revolved around political warfare. If he wants to keep his dignity intact and his secrets safe, he’s going to have to be incredibly cautious with what he says to you and even with how he reacts to what you say to him.

Still, he can’t help the giddiness. The excitement. He’s missed you. He’s missed you so much that it hurts. He’d thought that over time, the longing for you would go away, but it never did. If anything, it got worse because, over time, the pictures of you started to lack the soothing feeling they used to bring to the aching in his chest. Over time, he started to forget the sound of your voice and the sound of your laugh.

He’d known that you’d been sent away on foreign business not long after his last call to you, but he didn’t think Mori would actually keep you abroad for three whole years. He’d been hoping, maybe, that he could stumble into you one day. Or maybe just watch from afar, get close enough to hear the sound of your voice again. He’s been grossly denied of you for too long, and he knows that it’s of his own doing but that only makes it worse.

When the elevator dings, announcing his arrival on your floor, Dazai is sorely unprepared for the conversation about to take place. He steps into your penthouse, eyes drifting around the familiar vast space.

Like your office, not much has changed since the last time he was here. Your coffee table is still set down a few centimeters too close to the couch in the living room—the same couch he had his first kiss on with you when the two of you were sixteen and drunk on champagne celebrating a successful mission. You still hang your black jacket over a chair instead of properly on a hanger, it’s why it always has a crease on the back—he’d noticed it when you left your office, and he can’t help but smile slightly at the confirmation as his eyes linger on where it’s draped over one of your kitchen chairs.

You tried to convince him that you’ve changed in the years the two of you have been apart, but Dazai doesn’t think you’ve changed much at all.

You’re leaning against the windows, looking down on the city—he knows you must’ve heard the elevator, but you haven’t bothered to look his way yet. There’s an indecipherable expression on your face and a glass of wine in your hand. You’re still dressed in your suit and Dazai notices there’s a glass of whiskey on the rocks untouched on the kitchen table. He shrugs off his trench coat and drapes it over yours, hoping that the scent of you seeps into it because he’s gone too long without it.

His fingers curl around the glass of whiskey you’d left out for him, and for a moment, he swears that he’s eighteen again. He’s making his way to your penthouse after a long mission with Chuuya, you’re expecting him—you always are—and he can never push away the fondness that squeezes his chest when he finds you lounging back on your couch, flipping through channels to find something to watch, a glass of his favorite whiskey set down on the coffee table next to where your feet are propped up as you wait for him to show up.

He wonders if you even care to remember what his favorite is. He wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t.

He makes his way out of the kitchen and back into the living room, and he’s reminded that he’s not eighteen and you’re not waiting for him to show up after a mission because you finally look at him, and his breath catches in his throat.

He thinks you look a bit older now than you did four years ago—to be expected, of course—and there’s a coldness to your eyes that hadn’t been there before. Impossibly, he thinks that you’re somehow even more beautiful than you were when he last saw you, and he realizes again, throat tightening, that even after three years of no contact with you, he’s just as in love with you now as he was the day he left.

He knew it back then before he left, even if he never said it. When he was eighteen and could only feel any inkling of pleasure when he was with you; it wasn’t like he’d never tried to have sex with other people, he’d whore himself out for information at any given chance and slept around frequently after you started dating a civilian to distract himself from the bitter jealousy he felt, but he’d never known how good it was supposed to feel until he slept with you for the first time. When he was seventeen and could only ever feel comfortable in your presence, seeking you out at any given chance when he couldn’t handle being around people anymore; he’d curl up in your office with your orange blanket, napping as you did work, knowing that you’d keep people away from him. He thinks he might’ve even known when he was sixteen when the two of you first met on the streets of the Kanagawa prefecture.

He wonders if you even believed him when he said it earlier—he doubts it, you don’t seem too keen to believe anything he says, and he doesn’t blame you for it.

But whether you believe it or not, it’s yours—that rotted heart of his, shriveled and shabby, riddled with holes and decay, half-eaten by maggots and worms it might be, but it’s still yours. He thinks that it was meant to be yours since the moment he was born, and it’ll be yours even after the two of you are long dead. He doesn’t know how he’s meant to go without you again—he doesn’t think he can. He knows that despite the tentative ceasefire, the Port Mafia and the Agency are still enemies, but he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to leave you again. Even just the sight of you has condemned him completely.

Then you speak, and at once, his entire world falls apart.

“I’m leaving again in the morning,” you finally say, tone flat and eyes sharp and shrewd as you look over him. He reminds himself that this is not a reunion, that he needs to get his head on straight if he wants to make it out of your apartment in one piece, but it’s hard. “I was only brought back to smooth things over with the government after the whole fiasco with Fitzgerald and his American cronies. I’ll be leaving for Russia in the morning to meet with Tolstoy and Nabakov. Hopefully, gain some intel on Fyodor Dostoevsky’s plans before the man makes another move on the city.”

He… did not anticipate that you’d be leaving again so soon. Something cold and sharp latches to his heart, like jagged nails ripping it apart. He makes sure it doesn’t show on his face.

“Be careful,” he tells you quietly. “Dostoevsky… he’s not someone to underestimate. Just-Just be careful.”

You raise your eyebrows, unimpressed, “I’ve worked with Dostoevsky before. I don’t need you to warn me about him.”

Your voice is cool. Sharp. Dazai sighs, knowing that anything he might’ve said to you earlier in the night is lost to you, and he doesn’t know if he’ll have it in him to bare his heart again, only for you to scorn it. He’s not meeting with you as he knows you—as his closest friend, as his lover; he’s meeting with you as the Port Mafia executive. Not the version of you that treats with allies, wining and dining them with glittering eyes and playful smiles as you use your ability to ensure they never turn on the Port Mafia; the version of you that sits at the round table with enemies, with a quick mind and calculating eyes as you decide whether or not they’re worthy of being absorbed into the Port Mafia or if Double Black will be sent out to eradicate them.

“I told you everything I had to say back at the office,” Dazai tries, and he wonders if you’ll let him get away with it—he doubts it, but it’s worth a shot, and it will at least stall for a few moments as he tries to forcibly turn the cogs in his mind to figure out the best way of appeasing you. “I missed you. I… couldn’t say goodbye to you, not if I was to leave. I…”

I love you.

He doesn’t say it; he thinks he was only able to push it out earlier in the night in the heat of the moment, the orgasm-induced haze fogging his brain enough to let it slip out in desperation to make you give him a chance. And it worked because you gave him a second chance when you invited him back to your apartment, but Dazai doesn’t know how to make the most of the opportunity. He thinks he’s a fool for not preparing for this before getting here.

You click your tongue sharply, lip curling up in something close to disgust, and Dazai is glad he didn’t speak his ‘I love you’ because he thinks he might’ve actually cried if that was your reaction to him saying it.

“The only things you told me earlier in the night were half-truths and sweet talk. I didn’t invite you back to my apartment to hear you beg for another chance, Dazai,” you say coolly, and Dazai desperately misses the sound of his given name on your tongue. The corner of your lip curves up into a half-smirk, eyes suddenly glittering beneath the dim lighting of your penthouse as you add, “Although, I wouldn’t be opposed to it after we talk.”

He thinks the fact that you’re already considering an after might be a good sign. He can feel his cheeks flush a bit at your words, but instead of letting himself get rattled, he takes a step forward, well into your personal space, as he dips his face down so close to yours that his lips nearly brush yours as he speaks.

“I’d beg pretty for you,” he whispers, letting his voice drop an octave as his gaze tracks down to your lips. “I’d even get on my knees.”

Unfortunately, you are entirely unbothered by the proposition. “We’ll see, I suppose,” you say, and then raise your eyebrows, signaling for him to take a step back.

He does, and he feels distinctly put out and rejected by your reaction, but he sighs and asks, “What did you invite me here for then?”

He very much does not like the way your eyes glitter now—shrewd this time, more amused, dangerous, as if you know the two of you are about to tread down territory that he’s going to be unfamiliar with. You nod for him to follow you into the kitchen, taking a seat at the head of the table and motioning for him to sit opposite you.

He does.

“We can play a game,” you finally concede. Dazai settles back against his chair, fingers still tapping rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, a terrible habit that Dazai has accrued whenever he feels cornered. Not a frequent occurrence, but damning when it is. Your eyes linger on them, and he knows you’ve pinpointed the tell. He forces himself to stop, but from the way your lips curl up, he can tell it doesn’t matter. “Ten questions each. Yes or no answers only.”

Dazai notices that you pointedly leave out any rule about the honesty of each answer—intentional, surely, so he probes.

“How do we determine the winner?” Dazai asks. He finally takes a sip of the fine whiskey you’d poured for him, and his question from earlier is answered. His favorite. There’s a warm feeling in his chest at the realization that you’ve remembered it even after all of these years.

Your lips curve up into a sharper and wider smile, teeth glimmering like knives beneath the soft lighting of your kitchen. The glass of wine in your hands is suddenly more reminiscent of a gun being pointed at him than your choice of alcohol, and he feels as if he’s already made some egregious mistake in your eyes.

“After we give our answer, the other has to decide whether or not it was truthful. In the end, we’ll both see how many the other got right. A test to see how well we still know each other,” is all you say in response. You’re mocking him and his insistence that the two of you are still the same, but Dazai intends to prove himself right. You tilt your head to the side and then say, “The prize is to be determined by the winner. I’ll ask the first question.”

Dazai winks, a lecherous comment already on his tongue about the prize, but the withering look you give him is more than enough to make it die before he can let it loose. He pointedly takes another sip of his drink and sinks in his seat.

He thinks that this should be an easy win. You’re quite the adept liar, but you’ve always had a glaring tell. Well, he amends, it’s glaring to him, at least. Not many others would be observant enough to catch it, and even if they were, only someone with an abundance of experience with you would be able to put it together. His gaze flickers up to meet yours, wondering if your lashes flutter right before you tell a lie. It’s such a simple and subtle tell, so casual that it took Dazai a year and a half to put together, but it was hard to miss once he did.

You hum to yourself as you give off the appearance of thinking about a question, but Dazai knows you better than anyone, and he’s certain that you already have all ten prepared, so he rolls his eyes at the faux show of uncertainty.

“We both know you know what you want to ask,” he finally says. “Do us both a favor and quit with the theatrics.”

Your lip quirks up in amusement. “And here I was being gracious giving you more time to formulate whatever lies you’ll try to get away with,” you drawl, and Dazai nearly flinches.

“You know me so well,” Dazai sighs to hide how disconcerted he really is. “The question?”

You stare at him for a moment, and your lips curl up into a deceptively soft smile that almost throws Dazai off because, god, he’s missed you. And he knows you’re looking at him like this just for this specific reason because you’re a despicable bitch who knows that he’s always been easily unsettled when people show any semblance of affection toward him, but he can’t help the way he falters.

He tries to brace himself for whatever invasive question you’re about to ask regarding his reasons for leaving. Tries to prepare himself to lie cleanly because he’s sure you’re as aware of his tells as he is of yours.

Then you ask:

“Did you defect because of something Oda asked of you?”

Jesus. Right for the throat. You really don’t pull punches.

Dazai’s throat tightens at the mention of his old friend, but he’s able to keep his expression clear of the sudden pain that your question brings on. You’re watching him carefully for reactions, gaze hawklike as you study his face, and Dazai is not about to let you pinpoint any more of his tells so early in the game.

He figures that this is an easy question; you already know the answer but want to hear the confirmation from his lips, so he decides to tell the truth.

“Yes.”

“The truth,” you say, an indecipherable expression on your face. He wonders if you want to ask what Odasaku asked of him, but that’s not part of the game and Dazai has no intention of answering that.

Be on the side that saves people. If both are the same to you, become a good man.

You might laugh in his face—Dazai Osamu, the Demon Prodigy, a good man? The idea is blasphemous, and he thinks it might actually hurt him if you scoff or laugh in response to hearing that, so he keeps his mouth shut and doesn’t give away more than he has to, hoping that you don’t just straight up ask him.

You open your lips to speak, and Dazai braces himself for the prying question, but instead, you only probe, “First question?”

He wonders if your whole first question and the implications of it was just a means of trying to throw him off because now he’s fumbling trying to remember what he wanted to ask you before you hit him with it. He wouldn’t put it past you to play dirty like that—bringing up his dead friend and his last request just to unsettle him to give you the edge.

“Did we meet during my underground years after I defected?” he finally asks, and yeah, he knows the answer to this question. The missing half of his ear and waking up in the old safe house he used to hide out at with you is more than enough evidence for him to come to a definite conclusion, but he wants to hear it from you.

“Yes.”

Dazai inhales sharply and then murmurs, “That’s the truth.” And then, more loudly and far more affronted, he accuses, “I can’t believe you shot half of my ear off.”

He expects you to toss him a wink and a sharp grin, unrepentant and even finding amusement in his offense, but instead, your expression falters for the first time since he’s arrived. Something strange crosses your face; for whatever reason, his words leave you conflicted and Dazai suddenly feels even more nervous than he already was because now he can’t help but wonder what he might’ve said to you in his drunken state.

He supposes that’ll have to be another question, but first, he’s going to have to figure out how to phrase it to get a yes or no answer first, without being vague enough for it to be a waste of a question or easy for you to misconstrue.

You hum after a few moments, taking a pointed sip of your wine. Dazai watches curiously—you’re bothered still, you’re not even trying to hide it. He knows you have better control over your facial expressions than this, so he thinks maybe it’s a ploy to get him to start spiraling down a path of useless questions. Put off by his sudden inability to discern your schemes, a part of him wonders if maybe you were right because the him of four years ago would’ve seen right through you right now.

“I’m afraid it had to be done,” you sigh with faux regret, but he can tell from the way the smile on your lips doesn’t reach your eyes that you’re not into the banter. “Were you able to fulfill Oda’s request?”

Fuck. This time Dazai can’t withhold the grimace that spreads across his face. He tries to keep his voice light with a deflecting comment, “My, bella, you’re really hitting with the deep questions tonight, aren’t you?”

You raise your eyebrows, tilting your head to the side as you wait for an answer, not giving him any room to formulate a response to your question. He finally sighs and shakes his head, taking a long sip of his whiskey. He wishes he had a pack of cigarettes on him, suddenly desperately longing for the pleasant burn of the smoke against his throat; he needs the buzz badly right now.

As if you could read his mind, you shift in your seat a bit and stuff your hand into the pocket of your slacks. It takes a few seconds but you fish out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, sliding them across the table over to him. If he wasn’t already so in his head over the question you asked, he’d make a quip over the fact that you still know him so well despite your insistence otherwise, but he only pulls out a cigarette and lights it, looking curiously down at the familiar brand.

“Since when did you start smoking these?” he asks quietly, eyes fluttering shut as he tilts his head back and takes a long drag of it. He exhales slowly and then adds, “Thought you liked the other ones, in the green box.”

“Teal,” you correct, and then frown a bit. “... Switched after you left.”

Dazai’s eyes flutter back open as his gaze focuses on you, wondering if the implication you left up in the air is something he can take at face value or if it’s just another way of trying to get him to lower his guard. But from the way you suddenly don’t meet his eyes, Dazai thinks you might be being honest: you switched because they reminded you of him.

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

“... No,” he finally responds to your second question. “Not yet, at least.”

“... Truth,” you say, and Dazai’s lips curl into a wry smile.

“Unfortunately.” The word slips out before he can stop it.

Your gaze flickers back up to him, curious, but Dazai doesn’t give you the chance to dwell on his comment, asking his next question: “Did I… admit anything to you that night that I wouldn’t have said while sober?”

His fingers tap rhythmically against his glass of whiskey, half-empty now; he’s anxious to hear your response.

“You did,” you confirm.

Dazai grimaces because that’s another truth, and that is not good. But just like how he doesn’t offer any context for his answers, you don’t either. He doesn’t know what he might’ve admitted or how you might’ve taken it—he’s going to have to waste another question on this topic.

“Truth,” he murmurs.

You hum and then ask, “Do you still blame yourself for what happened to him?”

“Come on,” Dazai complains sharply, tossing you a dirty look now. His jaw is tight. He wonders if you keep asking about Oda as some sort of sick revenge for him leaving, ripping open wounds that never properly healed so you can dig your fingers into them and twist around. You don’t look bothered by his outburst, waiting patiently for a response. He lets out an angry sigh, looking away and taking another long drink from his glass and another drag of his cigarette.

He voices his first lie, “No.”

You let out a puff of air, rising to your feet and making your way over to the opposite counter, you grab the bottle of whiskey and bring it back over to him, topping off his now-empty glass before pointedly holding out your hand. He passes the cigarette over to you, tilting his head back to watch you bring it to your lips—a part of him longs to lean forward, to slide his hand behind your neck and cradle your head as he brings his lips to yours, inhaling the smoke as you exhale it, dizzy off the proximity to you, high off the buzz of the nicotine, just like the two of you would do when before he left.

He refrains, if only barely.

You exhale the smoke, a small cloud billowing around you—Dazai mourns the waste—and then you pass the cigarette back over to him. Your fingers brush his as you do, and a spark shoots through his arm at the touch.

“A lie,” you finally say, looking down at him with a frown. “You shouldn’t blame yourself. There was nothing you could’ve done to save him.”

“You don’t know that,” Dazai says tightly, averting his gaze from you as you make your way back over to your seat across from him. “If I’d been faster-”

“If Mori wants someone dead, then they’ll die,” you interrupt him, a grimace on your face as you look down at your wine glass. “Trust me, Dazai, there was no saving Oda Sakunosuke.”

Dazai pauses instead of snapping again, catching the expression on your face. Haunted, as if you’re speaking from experience. He tilts his head to the side and then asks quietly, “Are you talking about your ex-partner? Itou?”

If Dazai remembers correctly, he died on a mission when you turned eighteen. You never told him the circumstances, and he never asked, but it was the first and only time you ever broke down in front of him.

The corner of your lips tightens, “Is that your next question?”

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh.

“No,” he says quietly, and then asks, “Did I tell you why I couldn’t say goodbye? The real reason?”

He holds his breath now as he waits for your response. One way or another, this question is a double blade: if he did tell you why, then he’s at another disadvantage because he’s going to feel distinctly bare and vulnerable; if he didn’t tell you, he just admitted that he lied back at your office, at least partially.

After what feels like an eternity, you finally say, “Yes.”

The truth. Dazai wonders when you’re going to utter your first lie, if you will, or if you’re trying to make some sort of point by being honest with him. He voices his answer and then waits impatiently for your next question as his mind races.

He desperately wants to know how you responded to him back then. Would you have come with him had he come to you before he left? Or would you have chosen the Port Mafia? He wonders if he should ask, make it one of his remaining seven questions, but he doesn’t know if he has the guts to hear your answer, so maybe he’ll just change the subject.

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

For the life of him, Dazai cannot figure out your angle. First, the prying questions about Oda and now asking about the Agency. He doesn’t know what he expected at the start of the game—you’ve always been unpredictable, but even more so now. He’s never had such a hard time reading you or your intentions before.

He starts to feel even more doubtful, wondering if you were right.

Maybe he doesn’t know you as well as he thinks he does anymore.

But this is an easy question, so he says the truth with little hesitation, “I am.”

Dazai swears the corners of your lips curl up into a soft smile, but it’s gone so quickly that he might’ve imagined it.

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

Dazai’s lips part, a warm feeling spreads through his chest at the honesty in your tone. Desperately, he wants to know what’s going on—where’s the rage and the betrayal he expected from you? The hate? Why do you seem… okay with all of this?

Irrationally, he starts to wonder if everything from the office was just a heat-of-the-moment conversation. If now that you’ve had time to sit on your thoughts, you’ve realized… realized what? That you’ve moved on from him? That you don’t care what he does anymore? That you’ve accepted that he’s no longer a part of your life? The warmth in his chest disappears, edged away by a sudden coldness and desperation because he thinks he’d rather die than go back to a life without you.

Even more irrationally, he remembers the comment you made back at the office, the admission that you’ve slept around since he left. Oh god, what if you really have moved on?

He knows his next question.

“The people you slept with—were they all one-night stands?”

He doesn’t want to know the answer unless it’s a yes.

You raise your eyebrows at the abrupt shift in his line of questioning, and then, to his absolute horror, you say, truthfully, “No.”

“What do you mean no?” he asks angrily—he thinks if he was a bird, he’d be puffing his chest out in irritation. He feels antsy suddenly, he needs to move around. He starts tapping his foot against the floor, his fingers against the glass. And again, he thinks you’re a despicable bitch because you only look amused at his question as if he’s not beside himself with righteous fury.

“It’s not your turn,” is all you respond with, and Dazai has a distinct urge to throttle you. Then you ask, “Do you feel like you belong there?”

He halts.

His fingers freeze from where they’re tapping against the glass, his foot freezes mid-motion. His lips part as he’s confronted with the very question that he’s been struggling with for two years now. He wants to yes, if only to maybe be a little spiteful, to rub in your face that he’s somewhere good and he’s somewhere where he belongs, and it’s not somewhere with you. A cruel dig to get back for the aching in his chest at the thought of you being with other people, but he knows that you’ll catch the lie, and more importantly, he doesn’t want to hurt you like that.

Maybe he has grown a bit because the Dazai of four years ago nearly killed your civilian boyfriend when he found out that you were dating someone besides him and then promptly made a show of sleeping around to try to get back at you.

So, instead, he says quite honestly, “I don’t know.”

You tilt your head to the side. “Not a yes or no answer, but I suppose it works. How curious.”

He hates your cryptic comments. Pointedly, he side-eyes you as he takes another long drag of his cigarette. Already, it’s nearly down to the nub, so he puts it out on your table, ignoring the distasteful look you give him, and then reaches for another to light as he asks: “Were you in a relationship with any of them?”

You roll your eyes at his prying, and he cannot hide the abject horror that crosses his face when you say, “Yes.”

“That better be a lie,” he complains, and when you look at him as if to ask if that’s really his guess, he makes a show of pushing out his bottom lip and looking away as he says: “I cannot believe you dated other people. Cheater.”

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

“Yes, we were,” Dazai protests instantly, entirely aghast at your words. “We absolutely were. What does that even mean? Of course, we were dating. Everybody knew it. Ask anybody. Ane-san knew. Gin-chan knew. Chuuya knew. Even Mori knew. We were so dating, you-”

“You never officially asked me to be your girlfriend, which is, unfortunately, the most fundamental step of dating,” you interrupt him, and Dazai stares at you in disbelief.

“I bought you flowers, we fucked exclusively,” Dazai complains, aggrieved. “We were definitely dating, and you definitely cheated on me because we never broke up.”

“If we were dating,” you emphasize the if very pointedly, and Dazai is distinctly put out by it, “then we broke up the day you left without saying goodbye.”

Dazai withers. He has no witty comment to return fire with, so instead, he just takes another sip of his whiskey, grateful for the combined buzz of the alcohol and the nicotine to distract him from the overwhelming guilt he feels whenever you bring up how he left you.

“Do you feel like you belong more with the Agency than you did with the Port Mafia?”

Your next question is an amendment to your previous on, and it leaves Dazai just as lost.

He wants to belong with the Agency. He does. Desperately. He wants more than anything to feel as at home and comfortable in the light as he does in the dark. He doesn’t want to question his place among them anymore, he doesn’t want to wonder if he sticks out like a sore thumb. He wants to enter the office and feel like he doesn’t have to pretend to be someone he’s not, just so he can keep his place with them. He doesn’t want to have to fear at every corner that he’s going to revert to old habits, and they’ll see him for the monster that he is: a monster that should have never left the dark crevices that he crawled out from, a monster with blood so black that it strikes fear in even the most terrible mafiosos.

“No,” he admits the insecurity that’s plagued him to the one person he feels comfortable enough with to voice it aloud. He can’t bring himself to look up at you, wondering if the admission will give you some sort of sick satisfaction, if you’ll be happy that he’s not finding a place he can be comfortable in without you. Instead, he decides to rush to ask his next question: “The one you were in a relationship with, did you love him?”

He thinks that the question came across as far more timid than he meant it to be, and his eyes slide shut as he waits for your answer.

“There were multiple I had relationships with—” Dazai scoffs, of course, there were multiple. “—...but no, I did not.”

He lets out a soft puff of air, shoulders slumping a bit in relief. But his fingers are still tense around his glass, waiting for whatever question you’re going to ask next that’s going to dig deep into open wounds, stripping him of all of his masks and armor to force him to lay himself entirely bare in front of you.

“Did you really blow up Chuuya’s car before you left?”

His eyes fly open at the sudden change of pace in your questions, noting the smirk curling at the corner of your lips and the amusement glinting in your eyes. He accepts the olive branch quickly as he gives you a sharp smile and asks: “What do you think?”

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle a laugh, and the smile on Dazai’s lips becomes a bit softer as he watches you desperately try to get yourself under control. “You’re insane, you know that?” you finally say, still trying to bite back giggles. “He was so mad. Raged about it for weeks.”

Another question pops into Dazai’s head at the mention of Chuuya, and before he can consider whether or not he actually wants to know the answer to it, he asks: “Speaking of Chuuya, was he one of your trysts while I was gone?”

Suddenly, you are not laughing, and suddenly, Dazai regrets speaking.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “Do not tell me-”

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty.

He grabs the bottle and drinks right from it, miserable.

“I think I would’ve rather been stabbed through the heart,” Dazai says mournfully, and though he keeps a faux-light tone with you, his throat feels like it’s swollen, and he feels a bit sick to his stomach.

He’s always been jealous of the bond you have with Chuuya. Absurdly jealous, even. You clicked with him quickly—you clicked with both of them quickly, and maybe it was a matter of the three of you being the youngest of the Port Mafia’s uppermost echelon, but Dazai doesn’t want to attribute it solely to that—but the way you clicked with Chuuya was different from how you clicked with Dazai. Two people so completely human locked away in the dark, clinging to one another to maintain some sense of normalcy; your and his casual humanity made Dazai’s lack of it irrefutable and glaring.

Regardless of the why, he never liked how close you were with Chuuya.

Even before you were dating him—because you were dating him—a part of him had always felt sidelined whenever the three of you hung out together. Not because of either of your wrongdoings but just because it was hard for him to keep up with the two of you. He always felt a bit lost trying to, unable to follow along when the two of you would start laughing at jokes that he didn’t understand even when you explained them to him, when you would share glances with one another that spoke whole conversations he wasn’t privy to. The two of you got along in ways that Dazai would never be able to get along with anyone because there’s just something fundamentally wrong with him at his core. Chuuya, for all of his talk and fear regarding the question of his humanity, has always been so unfailingly human in ways that Dazai, to this day, cannot fathom to understand.

After you started dating him—because you were dating him—it only got worse because he’d see you with Chuuya and wonder if you were better off with someone like him instead. Dazai doesn’t know how to treat you right, clearly. He can’t even treat himself right; and Chuuya has always been the epitome of a gentleman, loathe Dazai is to admit it—Ane-san drilled that into the other boy where Mori only taught Dazai how to be cruel and unforgiving. The line between love and obsession has always been a terribly blurry one for him, and you have always wavered on either side of it—and Dazai, unfortunately, does not love healthily and obsesses so entirely that it would have most people running for the hills.

For better or for worse, you’re not most people.

In his spiral of insecurity, he doesn’t catch the way your brows furrow as you put together some puzzle pieces. “Dazai,” you say suddenly, drawing him from his thoughts abruptly. There’s an accusatory look in your eyes that he really does not like. “Were you the one that booby-trapped my fucking apartment?”

Dazai snorts.

“You bastard,” you snap at him, and Dazai can’t help but bite the palm of his hand as a means of trying to stifle his laughter. “Mori thought it was a goddamn assassination attempt. He kept me under watch for weeks because of you. I couldn’t leave the towers without half of the Black Lizards with me.”

“Sorry,” he coos, not sorry at all. Dazai, because he clearly doesn’t know when to learn his lesson, then he promptly asks, “Am I better fuck than Chuuya?”

“Jesus Christ, Dazai, get off the topic of Chuuya and my sex life, it’s clearly only upsetting you,” you snap at him instead of answering the question. Dazai wants to argue and retain some dignity; he’s not upset, but then his entire world is shattered by your next words: “I am not answering this question.”

Dazai blanches. He can feel the blood drain from his face. He’d thought this was an easy question to make him feel a bit better. What do you mean you won’t answer? Does that mean Chuuya-

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “He’s not a better fuck than me. You can’t possibly-”

“He’s not,” you finally say, and Dazai audibly lets out a sigh of relief. “But if you ever mention anything along the likes of that to him, you will never fuck me again, Dazai Osamu. Do you understand?”

Dazai is too relieved to even argue. “Yeah.”

“No more questions about my sex life,” you say firmly, and Dazai doesn’t respond, but he does agree internally because he doesn’t think his heart can handle any more scares like that. Your eyes sharpen again, and Dazai braces himself. “Were you the one to tell Mori I lied about being sick so I could skip out on the ball Mishima hosted when we were seventeen?”

Dazai’s eyes narrow right back at you and rather than answering, he shoots one of his own questions at you: “Were you the one to tell Mori I had his contact in my phone as ‘ignore’?”

You take his lack of an answer as an affirmative, correctly so. Dazai has no regrets about ratting you out to Mori because he was not about to attend Mishima’s event without you on his arm. He’d rather die.

“You bastard, do you know the lengths I went to fake being sick? I wanted one night to relax without people breathing down my neck.”

“If I had to go, you had to go,” Dazai retorts petulantly. “I was not about to suffer with only Chuuya as company. You had no reason to tell Mori about the contact name besides to be petty. I fought with Chuuya for weeks because I thought he was the one to do it.”

You choke on a laugh. “Chuuya was so mad, he had no idea what you were talking about.”

“He tied me to a pole and swung me around for three hours,” Dazai complains, but there’s a smile on his lips as you burst into laughter, unable to stifle the giggles that spill from your lips.

“I know,” you wheeze, “I got it on video. We watch it sometimes when we’re bored and can’t find a movie.”

Dazai gapes, and you laugh harder, but for the first time in four years, Dazai finally feels… at home, he feels comfortable in his own skin again. He’s back in your penthouse, he’s drinking his favorite whiskey and smoking his favorite brand of cigarettes, you’re sitting at the kitchen table with him and laughing your head off at his expense, and for a moment, Dazai feels as if nothing has changed: he feels like himself again, eighteen and entirely enamored by the sight and sound of you, and you feel like you again, all of the doubt that had begun to rise to his chest as the two of you played the questions game long gone.

He falls in love with you all over again. Harder this time. Faster. He thinks he’ll fall in love with you again and again every day for the rest of your lives, each time more than the last, no matter how impossible it might seem.

He thinks maybe it’s not that he feels like he belongs with the Port Mafia more than the Agency. He thinks that it’s you. You’re the one he feels at home with. You’re the one he’s comfortable enough to be himself with. You’re the one he belongs with, always has, and always will.

After a few moments, you finally manage to get yourself under control, still giggling a bit as you look back up at him. Your smile is softer now, eyes gentle, more genuine than the smile you gave him before asking the first question. Dazai’s breath catches because when was the last time you looked at him like this—the last time anyone has looked at him like this? A warm feeling spreads through his chest; Dazai thinks he would stay in this moment forever if given the opportunity.

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

Dazai blinks, startled, and an odd feeling spreads through his chest once your question registers. His lips part to answer, but no words leave them; he draws back as if he’s been slapped, a bit flustered and confused because that’s the furthest thing from what he expected you to ask. He wonders if you’d asked the last three questions to lull him into a false sense of security.

“I-” he starts to say but cuts himself off. “What kind of question is that?”

He tries to deflect instead of properly answering, frowning, but you only raise your eyebrows, pointedly keeping your lips sealed to let him know that you expect an answer. He shakes his head and then sighs, bouncing the question in his head a few times before going for a cop-out: “When I’m with you? Always.”

You’re not pleased by his decision, frowning as you look away from him—he knows that’s not what you asked, not really, but you should have been clearer with your question if you wanted him to give you the answer you expected. But he doesn’t like the sudden disappointment on your face, it leaves his skin itchy and his chest longing for the soft look to return.

So he sits there, ruminating on the question. Is he happy? He should be, right? He’s saving people. He’s on the way to fulfilling Odasaku’s final request. He has a whole group of people whom he can rely on without having to fear being taken advantage of or betrayed at every corner. He’s happy.

But is he trying to convince himself of it? Why is he still trying to kill himself if he’s happy? Why is there a part of him that feels lonely no matter how surrounded he is by people? Why is it that when he’s at his lowest points, the only two people he wishes he could be with are you and Chuuya? Why does he ache for the days he’d spend dragging the two of you around Yokohama, causing trouble for Mori—the closest he’s ever felt to enjoying life?

“I don’t know,” he finally amends his answer, looking down at the bottle in front of him and the cinders of the cigarette dangling between his fingers. He lifts it to his lips again, taking one last drag of it as he tries to figure out what his last question should be.

There’s only one pressing question he has left, but he hesitates, unsure if he really wants to know your answer.

He forces it out anyway.

“Would you… would you have come with me back then?” His voice is quieter than he intended, cracks over ‘me’, and to your credit, you don’t react to the question, expression as eerily still as it was before, as if you’re considering your words.

A yes or no. It shouldn’t take this long for you to answer. Each second that passes feels like an eternity, and Dazai suddenly feels anxious, he doesn’t know why he asked this question because if the answer is no—if it’s no, then…

Finally, you let you a soft sigh, taking a sip of your wine as if to prolong his agony.

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

Dazai’s voice sounds far away as he says, “That’s a lie.”

“I guess you were right,” you say softly, but you sound so distant, like you’re on the opposite side of a long, empty tunnel and not sitting right in front of him. “We do still know each other decently well; you got them all right.”

Dazai doesn’t care. In fact, he would have gladly conceded a loss in this game, and he would’ve gladly admitted that maybe the two of you don’t know each other as well as you used to if it meant that he got the last question wrong because then he would’ve just given you a coy expression and asked if you’d let him get to know this new version of you too. You would’ve said yes, and he would’ve made quite the pleasurable night out of it for the two of you. Instead, he had to insist that nothing has changed, and now he has to come to terms with the fact that he was right and he had known you well enough back then to know not to ask you to leave with him because you would have chosen the Mafia over him.

He’s so lost in his thoughts that he doesn’t even notice you approaching him until you’re leaning on the table next to him, index and middle finger coming beneath his chin to tilt his face up toward you. He looks up at you through his lashes, eyes searching your face, but he only finds another blank slate that he can’t read. His breath hitches when your hand slides from his chin to cup his cheek, and he can’t help the way that he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“I would choose you over so many things, Osamu.” You speak his given name for the first time in years, but he can hardly find any comfort in it because he knows he’s not going to like what you’re about to say. Your fingers card through the tips of his hair, brushing the dark locks behind his ear as your thumb sweeps over his cheekbone. “But not over the Port Mafia. Just like how you didn’t choose to stay for me.”

“It’s not the same,” he says, voice hoarse. “It’s-”

“It is,” you interrupt, voice deceptively gentle, and he thinks you’re entirely unfair because he can hardly focus with your touch distracting him. He’s missed it so much—he’s gone four years without it, without any type of touch that wasn’t him getting his shit kicked in by Kunikida or an enemy. “You didn’t choose to stay for me. I wouldn’t have chosen to leave for you.”

“Why?” Dazai asks tightly, and he hates that when his jaw tenses, you smooth your fingers over it, and he unclenches it immediately.

There’s a sadder look in your eye now as you give him a small smile. “You know why.”

Of course, he knows why. He feels the hatred deep in his gut as his mind draws back to Mori. Because that’s who the issue is. It’s not the Port Mafia. It’s not your friendship with Kouyou. It’s not even your friendship with Chuuya that’s the issue. It’s Mori and your undying loyalty to him. No matter how much you claim to despise him, bashing him every chance you get, sneering at him whenever he tries to treat you like his daughter, Dazai knows that when it comes down to it, you’ll always choose him. You’d throw yourself on a sword if he asked it of you, and not for the first time, Dazai wants to spit in the man’s face for making you feel as if you’re eternally indebted to him for rescuing you from that warzone so many years ago; for making you feel as if you’re nothing without the Mafia, nothing without him.

“You don’t owe him anything,” Dazai says tightly. “You have to know that by now—you don’t owe him anything.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation, Dazai,” you sigh, sounding tired. Your hand drops from his face, and Dazai longs for your touch again instantly. His fingers twitch from where they’re resting on his lap; he only barely stops himself from reaching out for you. You try to smile as you change the subject, but it hardly meets your eyes, “It’s a tie then. No prize for either of us, hm?”

Dazai is not so inclined to switch the subject. He wants to press on this now that he has the chance; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to rip you out from beneath Mori’s thumb, but he needs to at least try… but you’re leaving again in the morning, and Dazai also does not want to ruin this night with you. He doesn’t know when he’ll get another.

So, instead, he matches your half-assed smile as he looks up at you and says, “I didn’t say you got them all right. You only said that I got them all right.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Did I get any wrong?” you ask, amused.

No.

“Yes.”

“Liar,” you say, but there’s a fond lilt to your tone as you let out another puff of air, the smile on your face finally reaching your eyes as you look down at him. The soft lighting of your kitchen casts a pretty glow over your face, your smile is so entrancing that Dazai thinks he could stare at it forever.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes out, the words slipping from his lips before he can stop them. “I’ve missed you so much.”

He’s sure he must look like a fool right now, entirely enamored by the sight of you, unable to even fathom drawing his gaze away. He wonders if you’ll protest again, call him a liar, and shift away from him.

You don’t.

The smile on your lips falls, and a wrecked expression crosses your face as your eyes search his. Your lips part to speak, and he waits with bated breath for whatever you’re about to say—he thinks that if you deny him again right now, it might completely shatter all of the walls he’d so carefully built to protect himself.

“I’ve missed you too,” you whisper as if you’re scared to speak the words out loud—and how can he blame you when the last time you dared to speak them, he hung up on you, never hearing from him again until tonight.

God, the guilt he feels whenever he thinks of you returns with a vengeance, so intense that Dazai starts to feel sick to his stomach. He can’t handle it, so he does the only thing he knows how to do to distract himself from it.

His movements are clumsy as he pushes himself up to his feet, nearly tripping over the leg of his chair, and his fingers feel clunky as he lifts them up to cup your cheeks. For a second, he fears that you might move away from him, but you don’t, so he leans in to press his lips against yours.

There’s no tenderness to his kiss. Dazai kisses you like he wants to consume you, lips sliding messily against yours, blunt nails indent crescents into your cheeks as he holds you close. Usually, he would be embarrassed by his blatant desperation and lack of finesse—he’s never been a sloppy kisser, when the two of you were younger, you would always let out pleased hums into his mouth, lashes fluttering as he worked his lips carefully against yours, tongue sliding against your own as he traces his name on it.

All of his finely honed skill is thrown out the window now as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for years. He has been starved for years—the quick fuck in your office did nothing to quell the longing he’s felt for you the past four years. He could kiss you for hours. Days, even, and it still won’t be enough. Nothing short of an eternity with you would be enough to make up for the four years he’s been deprived of you.

He lets out a low groan into your mouth as you nip at his bottom lip, hands sliding from your face down to your hips. He’d take you here. Right now. But he remembers the last time he tried to fuck you on your kitchen table, it ended with him choking on the barrel of your gun as you yelled at him for being gross (“I eat on this table, you heathen!”) and he’s not particularly in the mood to set off your temper now that he finally has you in his arms again, so it’s with much restraint that he grabs you by the hips to walk you back into your bedroom.

He can hardly concentrate as your fingers twist the hair at the nape of his neck, soft moans slipping from his lips, muffled against your mouth. It’s only sheer instinct and muscle memory that has him making his way from the kitchen and down the hall. He can’t bring himself to separate his lips from yours for even a second. And he’s a mess because he’s not coherent enough to force himself to breathe properly through his nose, so his lungs are burning and his head feels a bit light, but he doesn’t care so long as it means he can keep kissing you.

Turn left, turn right, second door from the end of the hall.

His fingers fumble for the knob of your bedroom door, pushing it open a bit too hard, considering the way he hears it slam against the wall and how you tug his hair hard in retaliation. He doesn’t care, moans a bit louder even when your nails scrape his stinging scalp, and you let out a derisive noise against his lips before biting down hard enough to draw blood.

The taste of iron makes a slow smile curl at his lips, walking you back toward the bed, and it’s only when your knees hit the edge that you finally pull away from him. “If you broke my door, you’re fixing it, Osamu.”

Dazai’s smile is lecherous. “I’m gonna break something alright,” he croons, relishing in the way you immediately roll your eyes at him. It’s all so familiar—he can almost pretend that he never left, that nothing has changed since the two of you were eighteen, dumb, reckless, and in love.

Before he can press you back against the bed, he feels your fingers drop from around his neck to his waistband, curling around his belt loops. In an instant, you’ve twisted the both of you around, and suddenly, it’s the back of Dazai’s knees pressed against the edge of the bed as you push him down onto the mattress. He hits the sheets with an ‘oof’ and a hazy smile, surrounded by the scent of you, drowning in the sight of you. He thinks he might be in heaven.

You shift on top of him, straddling his waist; Dazai’s hands instantly come to rest on your thighs, sliding up the sides to grab your ass and pull you more firmly onto him. He groans when he feels you grind down against his cock, and god, he’s already hard just from kissing you. He hears you snort above him, but Dazai doesn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed.

His lips part in a silent moan as you lean down to ghost kisses along his jaw, hands sliding up his chest. He feels you wrap your fingers around his bolo tie and tug it, you let out a sharp noise of distaste against his skin before murmuring: “I hate this ugly thing.”

He lets out a huff of laughter that quickly breaks off into a moan when your lips trail to the spot behind his ear that always makes him writhe. His fingers bite into your hips, pushing you down on him as he rocks his hips up into you—shit, he might be able to cum just from this. His cock is straining painfully against his beige pants, twitching as he grinds up against your clothed cunt. He thinks maybe if he fucks his hips upward a few more times, he might be able to push himself over the edge, but as desperate as he is to chase his release, he refuses to cum anywhere but inside of you.

Plus, he thinks he’ll be shamed to hell and back if he finishes in his pants with you hardly touching him.

“Then strip me out of it,” he gasps, lashes fluttering as your teeth graze his pulse point right above the edge of his bandages. Fuck, he’d give anything for you to bite down—riddle him with marks he can’t cover so he can flaunt them off to everyone who looks at him. Dazai knows that there are countless men and women out there who’d die to be able to be called yours, he wants them to know he’s the only one who can take that honor. “What’re you waiting for?”

You hum and then sit back on his hips—he bites his bottom lip raw as you unintentionally put even more pressure on his cock. He’s half dazed out, not realizing that your grip tightened on his bolo tie until you straight up yank it off of him, snapping the string around his neck.

“No!” he complains, watching with wide eyes and parted lips as you fling the now-broken bolo tie off to the side of your room. “Noooo, why’d you do that? I’m going to have to order a new one.”

“Boo-hoo,” you say dryly, hardly paying attention to him as your fingers curl around the hem of his vest, pulling it up over his head, snorting when he lets out a puff of irritation as his nose gets caught around the collar.

“This is so unsexy,” he protests, rubbing his nose. “Shouldn’t you be more gentle?”

“Stop wearing so many layers of clothes,” you retort, but Dazai is placated when you lean back down to kiss the corner of his lips, lashes fluttering as his eyes slide shut. He lets out a pleased hum as you kiss down his jaw, nimble fingers unbuttoning his final layer of clothing. He wishes he wore an undershirt just to watch you huff in annoyance. His breath catches as you nip at his skin and then murmur, “This better?”

“Yeah,” he breathes out, voice wavering as you get down to the last button of his shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and easing him out of it. His body shudders as your hands slide over the bandages wrapped around his abdomen. Fuck, it’s been so long since anyone’s touched him beneath his clothes, even with the bandages still acting as a layer between the two of you, his nerves are on end, sensitive to everywhere your fingers touch.

He wonders if you’ll pull off the bandages—it’s a line that the two of you only crossed once back then, and although the idea of it has him brimming with anxiety, he longs for the feeling of your skin flush to his.

He almost feels a bit embarrassed when you sit back again to admire him as if there’s not a scar-ridden body hidden beneath the bandages. You look at him like he’s beautiful, like he’s not a monster disguised as a man, like he’s human. Dazai has always felt distinctly seen beneath your stare like you can see through all of the masks he wears and see him for him, and that has not changed over the past four years.

He’s missed the comfort of it. He has. It used to unnerve him back then, thinking someone could see him so clearly when he tried so hard and so carefully to hide himself beneath layers of impenetrable masks, but after going four years alone, with no one for him to turn to, no one he could look at and have them just know what he’s thinking…

Yosano once mentioned offhandedly that to be loved is to be seen, and Dazai thinks the only time he’s ever been seen—truly seen, down to his core, deep in his soul—is when he’s with you.

It was a very lonely four years without you.

“I thought about you every day,” Dazai tells you softly, the grip on your hips easing up as he looks up at you. “Made a list of places I wanted to bring you and then burned it because I never thought I’d get the chance to be with you again. Stared at old pictures of you all the time, couldn’t sleep without thinking about memories with you. Drank your favorite wine just so I could pretend I was tasting it off your lips.”

You bring your hand up to cup his cheek, and Dazai leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut again. He kisses your palm, humming softly when your thumb runs along his bottom lip.

“There wasn’t a single day I went without you crossing my mind,” you admit quietly and Dazai’s breath hitches as he stares up at you, dark eyes wide and lips parted. He thinks he should say something, anything really, but it’s a lost cause. You don’t seem to mind, luckily, because you only lean down to brush your lips against his again.

This kiss is softer than the last, lips trembling against yours as your tongue dances along his inner lip. He thinks his cheeks might feel wet but he doesn’t dare acknowledge it; you don’t either, only using your thumbs to brush away the tears as they spill over his cheeks.

“Are you really leaving again in the morning?” he finally asks, and he hates that his voice cracks over the words.

You hum in agreement, still hovering over him, still running your thumbs along his cheekbone. His lashes droop shut, but he forces them back open as you speak. “I am. Bright and early. Flight leaves at six.”

His gaze flickers to the left, over to where your alarm clock is set up on your nightstand.

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

You give him a soft, wry smile. “We should make the most of the night then, hm?”

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

His grip on your hip tightens, and in one swift motion, he flips the two of you around, elbows resting on the mattress on either side of your head as he hovers above you. Your eyes glitter as you give him a coy smile, and again, Dazai falls in love.

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

Your smile drops. “Osamu, what the fuck?”

“Tell me,” he pouts, nudging his nose against your cheek and peppering soft kisses on your cheek and down your neck. His knees drop to the bed on either side of your hips, holding up his weight as he reaches down to unbutton your slacks, sliding them off your body. A smile flickers onto his lips as his fingers graze your panties—drenched, finally, evidence that he’s not the only one so affected by this. “Tell me. Were you on top? Did he take you from behind? Was he rough? No, it’s Chuuya-”

“If you care so much about how Chuuya fucks, Osamu, how about you go fuck him yourself?” you interrupt him.

Dazai gags.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says and then returns to his mission, fumbling with his own pants now as he tries to yank them and his briefs off, unable to hold back the relieved sigh when he finally frees his cock, unceremoniously tossing them to the floor. “Tell me.”

“Why do you care so much, hm?” you ask, reaching up to brush his hair out of his eyes. “I told you that you were better.”

You’re only trying to deflect from the question and he almost lets you succeed, partially placated, but he stays strong, leveling an unrelenting stare onto you as he waits for your answer. You sigh heavily, and he knows he’s won.

“Not rough,” you say as if Dazai hasn’t already come to that conclusion. Chuuya’s had a crush on you since the three of you were sixteen. Dazai assumed he had grown out of it, but evidently, he was wrong, considering he took the opportunity to sleep with Dazai’s girlfriend—because you were his girlfriend—the moment Dazai was out of the picture. What a little snake. Dazai needs to vandalize his apartment again. Maybe set up a few more bombs. He’s only drawn back from his mental spiral when you start talking again: “He took the lead. Wanted to see my face the whole time, make sure I was okay.”

“How gentlemanly of him,” Dazai says—he’s not bitter. He’s not.

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you say. “You asked.”

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

“Oh, shut the fuck up, Osamu, I’m not wistful.”

“How-”

“Are we going to talk about Nakahara Chuuya all night, or are you going to fuck me?” you interrupt immediately, looking increasingly incensed. Dazai only raises his chin at you pointedly—you’re the one that slept with Chuuya. “Time is dwindling, Osamu.”

Okay.

Dazai’s gaze flickers back to the clock and then back down to you, withering a bit under your irritated stare. He sighs and leans back over you to kiss the corner of your lips, fingers curling around the hem of your panties to slide them off your legs.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, his kisses linger against your skin now as he drags his lips down to your jaw. “The thought of him being with you…”

It makes Dazai want to do terrible things. The part of him that he locked up deep within rattles at the bars of its cage, furious and bloodthirsty. The trigger finger he’s been so careful to tame twitches with a desire he hasn’t felt in four years. The thought of anyone being with you makes Dazai sick to his stomach—Dazai is the only one who should get to see you like this, be with you like this—but the thought of Chuuya being with you is so much worse.

“You’re all I’ve ever wanted, Osamu,” you tell him quietly, fingers intertwining with his hair as he nips at your neck. “No matter how much I slept around, nothing was ever able to fill the hole losing you left. Not even Chuuya.”

Dazai exhales, shaky—the guilt returns, and so does the doubt because what right does he have sitting here being petty about what you did while he was gone when he was the one who left you behind without so much as a word? His eyes flutter shut, he spares a few more chaste kisses across your throat before lifting his face back to yours, kissing you gently.

“Let me make up for lost time then,” he says softly.

He doesn’t hesitate now, one hand dropping down to your thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist as he presses his hips into you. His breath shudders when his cock slips against your folds, a low moan spilling from his lips. He has to reach down to angle himself properly, tip pressing against your tight hole.

The fingers of his free hands are shaky as he lifts them to cup your cheek. “Look at me,” he says, heat spreading through his abdomen when he realizes you already can hardly hold your eyes open, quick breaths escaping your lips as you try to keep yourself from cumming already. “Look at me, I want to see you.”

Your eyes flutter open, lidded and heavy as you look up at him, and Dazai thinks that maybe he could cum just from the expression on your face alone, inhaling sharply as his thumb drags across your bottom lip. He thinks maybe he should try to get ahold of himself, fearing that if he pushes inside of you now, he might cum on the spot, but his cock is aching so badly that Dazai thinks he might die if he doesn’t feel your heat around him immediately.

It takes all of his strength to keep his eyes from sliding shut as he pushes inside of you, desperate to see the way your face twists and your breath catches. Your lips tremble, chest rising and falling rapidly, he can feel your thighs tightening around his waist, and Dazai groans when your heels dig into his lower back, forcing his hips flush to you, burying his cock deep in your cunt. He chokes, grip on your thigh bruising; his abdomen tightens, and his head feels light.

No way, he thinks, gritting his teeth as he tries to hold back the waves of pleasure threatening to tear through him. He hears you let out a huff of laughter beneath him, and Dazai would shut you up with a sharp thrust of your hips, but he’s still desperately trying to regain control over himself, so he thinks that’s maybe not the best idea.

His forehead drops to rest on the pillow next to your head, lips brushing your ear as he lets out a low moan. He can’t even savor the way you let out a full-body shudder, fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of his neck. Fuck, you’re so tight—Dazai can feel your walls tightening around him, spasming, his breath is shaky, and he tries to distract himself by pressing his lips to your skin, mouthing messily at your skin, sucking and nipping and counting to ten as he tries to settle down.

But it’s hard with the soft sighs you’re letting out, the way your fingers catch on his tousled hair, tugging enough to make his scalp sting. His head is so fogged that he can hardly think straight—god, he’s missed this, he hasn’t had the comfort of letting himself go like this in… since he left, really. His mind is always turning, plotting out ten, twenty, thirty steps in advance in fear of making a mistake, slipping up and letting the rest of the Agency see him for what he is, slipping up and their lives being the price just like with Odasaku. It’s only with you that’s ever comfortable enough to finally let the cogs in his brain slow and shatter, lose himself in carnal pleasures, lose himself in you; it’s been four years since he’s last had a reprieve from his own brain.

But he only lets himself slip halfway—tonight isn’t going to be about him, it’s about you. He has four years to make up for and he intends on getting a good start on it tonight.

He pants quietly as he lifts his head enough to bite your earlobe, tugging it gently before pressing his lips to your temple. “I’ve missed this,” he admits, voice raspy and clogged thick with emotion. “I’ve-”

He can hardly get the words out, and his breath catches when your hands slide from behind his head to cup his cheeks, forcing him to look at you. He thinks he must look wrecked—he can already feel the sweat beading on his forehead, and he knows his eyes are probably glazed over. You still look stunning, a soft expression on your face as you look up at him as if he’s not buried to the hilt inside of you.

Unfair, he thinks mournfully.

“What're you still holding onto, hm?” you ask, and Dazai only barely registers your words, sinking into your touch as you brush matted hair out of his eyes. He can finally bring himself to roll his hips—experimental, slow, trying to make sure he can actually move before trying to fuck you. Then you sigh softly, and he’s too out of it to try to make out the expression on your face as you say: “You work yourself so hard… always have. I’ve got you, you can let go, Dazai. C’mon.”

“No,” he hums, but his voice is strained, evidence of his struggle. “Tonight’s about my favorite girl.”

“Favorite?” you tease, lifting your shoulders off the bed to ghost a kiss against his lips that nearly has his hips stuttering—the conversation so reminiscent of one that the two of you had at seventeen it almost makes him smile.

“Only,” he amends quietly, kissing your nose, then the corner of your lips, and then nipping your jawline.

Just when he thinks he’s good to actually start picking up the pace, intent on fucking the thoughts out of you until you forget about your stupid flight in the morning, he catches a suspicious expression on your face, one that has his eyes narrowing.

“What?” he asks dubiously; your eyes are glittering in a way that he knows from experience is dangerous.

You don’t say anything, just look pointedly at your thighs, then up to his shoulders. Dazai tilts his head to the side, recognizing what you want, and after a moment’s hesitation, he slides your legs up above his shoulders, folding them to your chest, eyes nearly rolling back at the new angle. Fuck, his hips do stutter this time, breath hitching. He has to readjust again, mentally focus on not cumming on the spot, and then-

And then you say: “He had my legs like this.”

A trick.

Dazai knows it.

You’re trying to make him let go of the thin thread of self-control he still has. To give in. To let all of the gears in his brain finally fall apart for the first time in four years.

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

Dazai’s jaw tightens, gaze snapping down to you only to catch a goading look in your eyes, a sly smile on your lips that Dazai has every intention of fucking right off your face. He inhales sharply, one hand sliding up your body to grab your chin, blunt nails digging a bit too deeply into your cheeks.

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough.

Your lashes flutter and lips part as Dazai pointedly jerks his hips up. Your breath catches over a moan, and Dazai knows that this new angle is affecting you just as much as it is him.

“Mhm,” you agree, and just like that, the thin thread snaps.

He snaps his hips into you so hard that your bedframe bangs loudly against the wall behind it, quickly setting a steady pace, nice and deep, quick enough that you can’t even get a breath of air to your lungs before Dazai is fucking it right out of you. Already, he’s so fucked out that his mind is in shambles, one hand settling on your hip to hold you in place as he thrusts his hips into you, hitting that sweet spot with each stroke while his other hand, still cupping your face, slides down to your neck.

He doesn’t squeeze—wouldn’t dare to cut off the pretty noises spilling from your lips, moans of his names, choked gasps and cries between each rock of his hips—but the fact that you trust him, him, enough to have his fingers wrapped around your throat is always a quick way make him topple over the edge.

His eyes dart down to your chest, realizing, very unfortunately, that you haven’t taken off your button-up yet. He nearly bites down on his tongue in frustration as his hand comes down to your chest, careful to keep the pace of his hips as he hooks his fingers around the first button just to yank down, popping off half of the buttons of your expensive dress shirt and haphazardly pulling it off of you to toss it to the side before fumbling with the clip of your bra.

“Osamu,” you hiss, and Dazai revels in the way your voice wavers with each thrust, biting back moans. “That’s the second-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence. Dazai tosses your bra over with your discarded shirt and dips his head down to wrap his lips around your nipple, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before rolling it between his teeth, and you’re gone—Dazai lets out a muffled groan around you as your back arches up into him, crying out his name, walls tightening around him as you cum on his cock.

“Oh-f-hah-fuck,” Dazai gasps as he rests his head on your collarbone, grip on your waist tightening.

He has to physically force himself to lift his head, bracing his forearm on the mattress next to your head, desperate to see the way your eyes roll back, he can already feel himself teetering over the edge—the lewd sound of skin-on-skin, the sloppiness of his cock driving in and out of your cunt, he can feel your cum dripping down his cock, smeared on his pelvis.

His hand slides behind your head, lifting it from where you have it pressed against the mattress. Beautiful—the only thought that can run through his hazy brain is of you and how perfect you are, lips swollen and bitten raw, parted as pitched moans escape them, tears spilling from the corner of your eyes as he fucks you through your orgasm and right into a second. He’s the only one that should ever get to see you like this, with your clever brain fucked right and dumb, body writhing against the bed as you cling to him.

He leans down again, trailing sloppy kisses against your neck, gasping as he starts to feel his high approaching.

“No one makes you feel like this,” he says, or maybe he begs, he’s not sure if he’s making a statement or pleading for you to tell him it’s the truth. “Tell me. T-shit-tell me.”

“No one,” you sob over another moan, and Dazai can feel your pussy fluttering around him—he wonders if he’s already fucked you into a third. Usually, it takes longer. “No one, Osamu, you’re the only one.”

And that’s the only thing he needed to hear to give him that final push. His steady pace shifts into a more erratic one, sloppy and desperate, as he chases a high that’s just out of reach. His moans are muffled against your skin, teeth scraping your collarbone, mind a jumbled mess of thoughts of you. He feels your fingers trembling as you lift them to his cheeks, pulling his face up to press your lips against his, and that’s all it takes: he lets out a wanton moan against your mouth, pressing your legs further into your chest as his hips still against your ass, finishing deep inside of you.

Spots dance in his vision, head buzzing and ears ringing; he swears his orgasm lasts an eternity, body shaking and shuddering above you, letting out breathy moans into your mouth. He can feel his cum dribbling out of you, pooling onto the sheets beneath the two of you, so much of it that you can’t even keep it all in you.

He doesn’t let his lips leave yours once—the kisses are messy and sloppy, devoid of all of the finesse that the two of you usually have, teeth nearly clashing, tongues sliding against each other’s.

It’s only when his vision finally starts to clear and his head feels less on the verge of passing out does Dazai finally trails kisses from your lips to your jaw and down your neck before he finally collapses on top of you, mind entirely gone, like he’s floating on clouds. He pants as he tries to catch his breath, eyes lidded as he absently trails kisses along your chest and collarbone. He thinks the world could be ending around the two of you, and Dazai wouldn’t even have the capacity to notice. For the first time in four years, he really, truly allows his brain to rest.

He doesn’t know how much time passes, eyes drooping shut as he lets himself be enveloped by your arms, drowning in the comfort of your scent.

He doesn’t want to know. He’s scared to look at the clock and check.

“Tonight was supposed to be about you,” Dazai finally complains, burying his face in your chest as he pouts.

You only let out a soft laugh above him. “We have the rest of our lives for that… You deserved a break, Osamu.”

The rest of our lives.

Dazai’s throat tightens, vision blurring a bit at the thought—he can only barely bring himself to respond, and the words that slip out are not what he means to say: “I never thought I’d get to be with you like this again,” he admits, voice hoarse. “I never thought-”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet, a bit shaky. “... I know.”

Of course, you know.

He can’t bring himself to say anything else, so he doesn’t, sinking into your arms and allowing himself the comfort he’s deprived himself of for so long. He almost starts to drift off—and god, he can’t remember the last time he’s dozed off willingly, only able to sleep after drinking copious amounts of alcohol or taking an even more copious number of sleeping pills. It’s not until you speak again does he stir back awake from the brink of sleep.

“What did he ask of you? Oda, I mean,” you finally ask, fingers brushing through his dark hair, lulling him further to sleep.

Dazai thinks that you’re cruel, asking him while his mind is still fogged from the exhaustion following his high, and he’s still half asleep in your arms, trying to regain his bearings. The words slip out before he can think twice, forgetting his fear of you laughing at the idea of him trying to be a better man.

“He asked me to be on the side that saves people… if both are the same to me, he wanted me to be a good man.”

The words dawn on him too late; he can hardly bring himself to look up at you, scared that he’s going to find an amused expression on your face or a derisive sneer. He wouldn’t blame you, he’s thought the same about himself ever since he left the Port Mafia, doubt and self-loathing riddling him with every step he takes in the light. He waits for the scoff, he waits for the laugh, he waits for-

“... I think he would be proud of who you’ve become, Osamu. I think you’ve fulfilled his request.”

Dazai does look up at you now, feeling particularly vulnerable, still scared that he might find a mocking expression on your face but he doesn’t. Only an uncharacteristically soft expression is painted on your face as you look up at the ceiling, a genuine one—a small smile and a look in your eyes that makes his heart feel warm. You don’t notice him looking until he lets slip out:

“I’ve missed you so much,” he whispers.

(I love you, he means)

“I’ve missed you too,” you say back quietly.

(I love you too)

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

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luvvixu · 4 months

Text

mind over matter pt. 2

synopsis: witness how your marriage was bound to fall apart with you on the front seat and your husband gojo had missed the show—now, he gotta figure out the story on his own.

content: arrange marriage au, angst, husband!gojo, mean!gojo, mention of blood, strong languages, some unsettling scenarios, emotional trauma, read at your own risk

a/n: couldn't still believe that this ff blew up like tysm for all of your support! and thank you so much for waiting~ and like always, this is not proofread lol

previous / masterlist / next

“if i'm not mistaken, the mission would take at least three to four business days.” yaga passes satoru a sheet of paper where it contains all of the information he needed to know and what kind of things he should focus on investigating.

satoru looked at his former teacher in uncertainty despite the blindfold in his eyes. he's very hesitant to take the mission not because he cannot beat this curse, but because he still needs to apologize to you as soon as possible.

“yaga, c—can i not…” satoru was about to continue when he suddenly trailed off.

“not what?” yaga raises his eyebrow.

but to think that it's all his fault, he must have really hurted you this time, and you wouldn't probably hear him out that easily. that is why satoru thinks that it is best to just give you some space as of now, and when he comes back from his mission, that is the time when he would bother you with his presence.

“it's nothing. i’ll be taking my leave now.”

“very well—” before yaga could even finish his sentence, satoru already vanished in thin air.

the duo, yuuji and megumi, was on their way to visit you just like what they had promised to themselves a while ago.

it was around eight o'clock in the evening and here they are, kind of tiptoeing through the hallway where your room is located.

“i think it's better to let her know our presence first.” megumi said quietly to the pink haired male while holding out a basket with foods that are suitable for digestion of a pregnant lady.

“then it wouldn't be a surprise if we told her.” yuuji then answered. he was carrying two board games on his left arm and a uno card on his right hand. you actually once told them that you were exceptionally good at these kinds of games, so yuuji wanted to test that out.

suddenly, the two boys stopped in front of a door where they immediately froze at the smell of something oddly familiar. “me…megumi, is this y/n sensei’s room?” yuuji slowly mumbles out a word, his eyes going wide.

however, megumi didn't answer him. instead, he immediately tries to open the door without any hesitation just to know that it is locked.

panic slashed across their faces as the smell of blood coming out of your room becomes the leading factor of their franticness behavior.

“y/n sensei! are you there?!” yuuji keeps on calling out to you while megumi does the door breaking.

“it's locked! i can’t break the door!” curse these doors in jujutsu high. megumi could not help but to mumble profanities when he remembered that the doors in jujutsu high are purposely made this strong so any invading curses could not sneak in especially during sleeping hours where most of the sorcerers are vulnerable.

“itadori! call yaga sensei and shoko-san, quick!” megumi screamed at the other boy, whom he instantly obliged.

a weave of panic surge on their bodies because you are involved in this situation. not to mention, you are pregnant on top of that and that puts the situation into a more nerve-wracking experience.

sweat drips on megumi’s forehead as he still tries to break the door. kicks and punches were made but still the door wouldn't flinch his attacks. the idea of using his curse technique came into his mind but he's afraid that it would worsen the situation.

sooner and faster, yuuji came back with the two elders running faster than before. both also have a panic flash on their faces as yaga begins to break the door with his insane force. and after countless tries, he successfully invades the door.

everybody froze at the sight, because there they saw you, lying unconsciously in a pool of your blood that trickled down on your lower body.

“shit! what happened?!” shoko was the first to react and immediately came closer to you to check your pulse, it was there but weak. then shoko proceeds to check your baby's heartbeat, and to her disappointment, there was none that she could detect.

“yaga sensei, please help me get y/n to my clinic. now!” without a further do, yaga carefully lifted up your body and then proceeded to follow the frantic shoko to her said clinic.

on the other hand, yuuji and megumi watch the two elders quickly move away from the scene and that leaves the two. they had been quiet all the time, probably still traumatized because they just saw one of their teachers (plus with an unborn child) on the literal verge of dying.

megumi's eyes trailed on the pool of blood that had been sitting on your floor. he could tell that you had been unconscious for like way past an hour now due to some parts of the blood being fresh while some parts were dried.

“what the hell just happened…?” yuuji was still flabbergasted. he would never expect that this would happen when he just visualizes this night as a fun one because he got everything ready for a surprise mini party to cheer you up.

“i don't know.” megumi solemnly answered.

“...do you think y/n sensei and her baby would be alright?” yuuji added, totally worried about your situation.

for the first time in his life, megumi didn't think he that would utter the same word but with a different tone, different meaning, and in a different situation.

“i…i don't know.”

satoru gojo was busy walking through the busy street of roppongi despite the sky being nighttime. the whole atmosphere was still so lively from bright signage up to crowded night market stalls. this makes a perfect night for a perfect leisure.

but satoru isn't here to do that. he was supposed to do a job and finish it as soon as possible so he could get back to you and finally do the right thing.

he was about to enter an abandoned building when he received a phone call. without looking at the caller, he answered.

“what?”

“where are you?” it was his corporate friend, nanami.

a teasing smile made it into his demeanor. “oh wow! here is my underclassmen calling me first—!”

“i am asking you, where are you?” nanami was clearly not in the mood for his bullshit. his tone was beyond serious and it made satoru wonder if something happened.

“i'm in roppongi. somewhere behind a luxurious night bar.” gojo said.

the moment he said his address, the phone suddenly dropped. confused, the six eyes looked at his phone then just shrugged it off. for the second time, he was about to enter the said building when someone appeared from behind.

“you should go back.” there he saw nanami, breathless as he tried to catch his breath. looks like he ran his way towards his location.

“yo, my man! what are you doing he—”

“go back to the jujutsu high. i’ll be taking your mission here.” nanami explained like he was .

did something happen? was on satoru's mind.

“why?” satoru dropped all of his mischievousness as it was replaced by his unhidden worry—you were literally there at the jujutsu high.

there was a pause on nanami, he seemed very hesitant to say it and satoru was growing impatient.

“just say it nanami—”

“yaga asked me to take your mission on your behalf after something happened. it's about your wife. she was found unconscious in her room.”

never ever in his life he could feel the quickest adrenaline rush in his body as nanami didn't even manage to utter the last syllables of his sentence when satoru already uses his technique and teleports himself towards your room back in jujutsu high.

and there, he was welcomed by the janitors of the said school, mopping the dried liquid on the floor. the smell was so familiar that it made his body tremble in a span of a second.

“w-what the fuck happened here?” he asked the janitor who looked at him in pity as he continued to solemnly wipe the floor.

“miss y/n was found unconscious and there was blood…in her lower area.”

blood, y/n, unconscious, my wife, danger, the baby…my baby!

that was the only thing that came into his mind as he went out of the hallway and ran somewhere he wasn't aware of. his mind raced with negative thoughts.

and since his life is not always about sugarcoating—he thought that probably you just had a miscarriage, got attacked by some curses, or worse, you're dead. his wife, you, were hurt when he was away and not even there to at least protect you.

unbeknownst, to the man, tears were threatening to slip down his six eyes, making his blindfold become wet as it was being absorbed by his tears constantly. satoru could feel that his body was filled with self-loathing, guilt, and regret all over his system.

“satoru.” a voice called him from behind. satoru does not need to turn around to know who it was. it was yaga.

“come to my office.” without waiting for him, yaga already left with satoru trailing behind him. taking off his blindfold, satoru wiped the tears that were about to fall.

when they arrived at yaga’s office, he saw his two students, yuuji and megumi, sitting quietly by the couch. they were both acting quietly odd, like they knew what was going on too.

“where's y/n?” satoru asked.

“do you want to know what happened first?” yaga avoided his question for now. instead, he goes into the other aspect that he's been wondering too. satoru fell quiet, so yaga took it as a yes.

the principal looked at the two students who were already looking at him. sighing deeply, yaga then proceeds to start explaining.

“y/n was found unconscious by these two. it has been over an hour since she's been in that situation judging by the dryness of her blood. right now, we still had no idea about her state since shoko's the one who's been handling the situation. and it's been a while too since we have seen her.”

“and the baby…i'm sorry, gojo. but we have no idea either.” yaga sighed heavily. satoru was all silent, he couldn't bring himself to utter any word. he was too caught up about the situation that he had so many things to say to the point that he couldn't figure out where to start.

“i know it's not my business to interfere but…did something happen that leads to this?” the principal asked the strongest. the next moment was something that everyone expected—they did not receive any response from the man.

suddenly, the door burst open, revealing the tired doctor. her eyes landed on your husband who's still frozen about your condition. on the other hand, satoru was too busy drowning himself with his thoughts to notice shoko in the room.

“itadori, megumi…go back to your dorm for now. it's getting late and i’ll just update you two tomorrow.” shoko scurry the two younger boys and they obliged.

as the door in yaga's office closed, the three grown-ups fell into a silent atmosphere, only the sound of the air ventilation could be heard inside.

“h-how’s y/n and the child?” yaga was the first one to speak among the three. but shoko's attention was drawn to gojo only and gojo was still unable to move.

“her situation was so severe that we needed to put her into a hospital as soon as possible.” shoko said quietly and directed to gojo only. her eyes were trailed to him, and only him. she wants him to taste the bitter medicine of his aftermath and she is going to make sure he's taking it.

call her brutal and cruel, but in your realm of marriage where her role is only being a worried close friend, she would choose you over everything. that's how much she cares for you. shoko could see what kind of person you are, and she believes that you deserve better than what you are right now.

sure, gojo was right when he said that she'd only known you for a short period of time. but that is enough for her to determine that she is going to stick by your side whatever may happen. because she knows how a gojo satoru works, she knows what kind of person he could be.

if gojo can manage to leave shoko out in his life, then he could do it to y/n too.

“she was bleeding too much, i'm afraid it has to do with the child. so if we don't act fast, we might have to choose who to save—are we going to save y/n and lose the baby? are we going to save the baby and lose y/n? or…what if we lose them both—”

*boogsh!*

a sudden explosion was seen. the four walls inside yaga’s office have officially become three when satoru couldn't handle his emotions that he let his cursed energy slip and create a hole into one of yaga’s walls. the impact was so strong that it literally shook the whole jujutsu high.

and surprisingly, none of the three inside the scene was scratched, just emotionally taken aback. the once gojo satoru who couldn't even utter a word earlier, was now looking at shoko with a mixture of menace, trouble, anger, grief, and…extreme sadness.

shoko ties his stare, looking equivalently. “did you hear what i said, gojo? your wife and your baby are currently facing the grim reaper. do you understand that?” she said calmly but there is a hit or hardness into her tone.

“shut up! fucking shut up!” another surge of curse energy flows in different directions, making yaga and shoko feel goosebumps on how strong it is.

“satoru!” yaga yelled in panic.

“where is she? where the fuck is she?! show me where she is!” satoru screamed at the doctor. shoko, whose face is now back to emotionless, decides to subside her annoyance to the man as she knows you are the top priority right now.

“i will let you see her. but once you see her, you have to teleport us into the hospital immediately if you still want to see her open her eyes.” shoko said seriously. thankfully, satoru managed to calm himself alone and just stared at shoko, waiting for her to continue.

“y/n was experiencing placenta abruption. it's a very serious complication in her case because the placenta in the inner wall of her uterus is completely detached. it greatly affects the baby’s supply of oxygen and nutrients and the situation causes her to bleed heavily.”

“i immediately minimize the bleeding but i cannot guarantee the two's safety, especially the baby, since it is not worth the risk to imply cursed energy to an unborn child—” before shoko could even finished explaining, satoru already stormed out of the room and just proceeds to the room where his guts tell you where. he was being followed by shoko who was screaming at him.

opening one of the doors, there he saw you all pale. he could feel your cursed energy barely beating, and that scared the shit out of him because that indicates your weakness.

“o-oh god…” satoru couldn't help but to feel his breathing pattern becoming irregular as a single tear followed by another drop from his gorgeous powerful blue eyes.

this can't be happening. you were just fine a while ago!

“y/n, oh my g-god! my wife…” gojo satoru, known by his title as the strongest sorcerer in his generation, was seen crying over his dying wife and dying unborn child. his tall figure was trembling in tangled emotions that he couldn't even determine the two ends.

“sorry to ruin your moment, but if you want to save your family, it's better for us to keep moving now.” shoko followed the suit, still savage as ever.

gojo does what she said and teleports the three of you into the bestest hospital that he knows. ignoring the toll on his cursed energy as it took more, more than the usual usage, satoru believes that your well-being should be his priority rather than his.

when they arrived, shoko immediately started to bump the people out of the way and started to call for help. “someone! get us to an emergency!” she screamed.

meanwhile, satoru keeps your body close to him. hugging your frame ever so delicately, scared that you might break or disappear.

a man like satoru gojo, whom to some called him a man-god, find himself crying out to every gods and deities out there to help you, to help him get this through. he prays and prays to keep you safe and how he's sorry for all of the things he would do.

for sure, he knew this sudden care for you is not born out of pity or regret, it is a late realization on how much he couldn't bear to see you like this. because deep inside him, satoru couldn't deny the warm feeling of having someone that was waiting for him to come home, provide him service, and even give him a bundle of joy.

the words he swore to himself that he doesn't need a wife to console his woes as he is completely capable of being by himself was getting eaten by his current self. served on a silver platter, satoru didn't mind eating his own words.

a stretcher was bought on sight and shoko instructed him to put your body there and watch the series of doctors rush your body into the emergency room. satoru watches the light above the door where you were in turns red, signaling that it requires immediate medical attention.

placing his traumatized body on one of the cold walls of the hospital, sliding his man shoulders and crumbling himself into small pieces to make himself as small as possible. never he would have thought that the night would end with him continuing to pray for your safety.

satoru didn't realize that he dozed off within the walls of a random corner of a hospital where he brought you in. he only realized his current situation when he could feel someone kicking his lower body constantly.

opening his tired eyes, he saw shoko eyeing him while still continuing to nudge him. “good, you're awake.” she said.

it feels like a surge of energy flows to his body and it immediately makes him rise up faster than he could. that was also when he started to feel all of the aches in his body just from sleeping in that kind of position.

“fuck, my whole body aches.” he mumbles to himself. satoru was about to stretch himself when he saw the time on the wall.

5:05 AM

and then his eyes landed on the door.

there was no red light anymore.

“y/n. shoko, where's y/n?!” anxiousness washed all over his body. he didn't know what to expect on what answers he's about to receive regarding his family condition.

meanwhile, shoko thinks that gojo looked like a lost puppy on how his eyes literally beg for a positive answer. despite his six foot frame, he looks like a poor and desperate child.

“the operation ended an hour ago. y/n was now stable and goy transferred into one of the private rooms. while the baby…” she pauses.

“w-what? what happened to my baby?” shoko almost grimaces the way satoru addresses the unborn child, wondering where the hell did he get the guts to say that.

the doctor was this close to brutally and savagely roast this man until he flew in shame—that’s how mad, angry, and upset shoko from what satoru did to you. but today is not the suitable day for that, she may be cruel but she had limits. so, shoko forcefully swallowed the harsh words and decided to just put it aside.

“the baby was delivered early through cesarean, it's the only way to save y/n and the child. the baby is currently in a neonatal intensive care unit where the bestest doctors monitor the child until it reaches mature development.”

so basically, you give birth to his child. satoru couldn't explain what he's feeling right now. he's happy for the baby, and yet at the same time, he feels really undeserving, but he still wants to be part of the child's life—this is too complicated for him.

and besides, this is not the right time to contemplate. because as a husband and father, he needed to stay with his family to provide them love, support, and to patch that once had been wounded. and he's going to start with…

“can i go and see y/n?” deep inside him, satoru felt ridiculous for asking that question since he is the literal husband! or was he? after everything he had done to her for five years?

shoko then tiredly pointed at the room at the end of the hallway and satoru, with the help of his long legs, never ran faster than his whole life.

gently opening the door in your room, satoru was greeted by your peaceful and sleeping form with all of the tubes connected on the back of your hand. closing the door behind him, satoru finally let go of the tears he's been holding the whole time, ranging from the confrontation with you until to to this situation.

sitting on the chair beside your bed, satoru weeps as he holds your arm. at this moment, the strongest no longer exists, it was just gojo satoru who couldn't stop himself from muttering an apology to his wife that he did so wrong.

they say, you would only realize the importance of something when it's now late. satoru would absolutely agree to that statement and he could even provide proofs and evidence. at first, he's being a total dick and douchebag to his wife who clearly doesn't even do anything wrong to him. then his own wife endured all of his actions for the whole five years and still remained as if their relationship could be only determined on a sheet of paper.

“i'm sorry. i'm so sorry.” satoru may not know what would happen the moment you would open your eyes. would you send him away? or would you let him stay despite all of the pain and trauma he caused you? for now, he can never know.

but one thing he's going to let you know, he's going to change for you and for his baby. he's done doing things for himself, and now, he should focus on you.

and he's going to start with cutting all of his ties to his mistress.

[part 3 is now posted! for those who wanted to be tagged, just say it on the comments — ©luvvixu2024]

taglists: @mistymuii @kalopsia-flaneur @sherryuki-callmeyuki @tttttttf @slyhersophia @rirk-ke @username23345 @lvstru @neteyxms

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barcaatthemoon · 1 month

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silence || lia walti x reader ||

lia doesn't think you'll come to her game while the two of you are fighting.

you hated the quiet, but you were stubborn. lia was mad at you for something, an old fight that was rehashed a few days ago. you didn't seem to get the message, so lia had left last night. there was no note, no call or text. lia packed up an overnight bag and made her way to leah's to get ready for the game. you didn't even know if lia wanted you to come, but you were going to anyway.

this game was big, and even if you weren't there for just lia, you'd go to support the friends you had made on the arsenal team. as a kid, you had played on the youth team, but eventually gave it up for a coaching career. you had spent years learning in america coaching a college team before you came back to london to take a position at a team a league down from arsenal.

you loved your job, occasionally too much. you put in way more time and effort than what was required of you to do so. lia wanted you to take a step back and relax a little, but you couldn't. that was probably the root of the fight, and regrettable things were said on both ends. neither you nor lia were innocent in this fight. you knew that you had to apologize, but you weren't sure if lia would feel the same way and that was where your apprehension came in.

it was easy enough to find your seat in the friends and family section. you always sat in the same place, generally next to the same people. since today was a big day, you found yourself sandwiched between katie's and alessia's mothers. you liked the two women, who definitely doted on you a little whenever they saw you.

sometimes, you'd sit with lia's family when they came down, but you doubted that they'd want to see you. lia had to have told someone what was going on, so you stayed in your seat. you tried to keep to your best behavior in order to not attract attention. you knew how lia could be after big fights, and the last thing you wanted to do was distract her with such a big game hanging over her head. to a lot of people, it was just another game, but you knew that a loss here would knock them out of any major tournament play chances.

"(y/n), lia said you weren't coming today." you hated how surprised alessia looked as she saw you. you rubbed the back of your neck as you awkwardly shifted your weight between your feet. "i thought you were out of town."

"is that what she told you?" you asked. alessia shook her head, but you didnt miss the guilty look on her face. "i should probably go. good job today less, that was a great goal."

you quickly shoved all of your things in your bag and tried to make a quick exit when you walked right into lia. she had her back to you, so she didn't notice who it was until you were speeding past her. the conversation with her parents was immediately cut short to chase after you, genuinely not having believed that you'd try to come see her play after the week of silence between the two of you.

lia knew that you hated not talking to her, but you wouldn't open up communication until she did. whether it was you being stubborn or just not knowing how, lia wasn't completely sure. she knew that you had a hard time opening up to anybody, and that sometimes it was easiest to give you space to work things out on your own. lia also knew that she had really hurt your feelings during your last argument, and that it was best if she didn't accidentally say something to make it worse.

"i'm really happy that you showed up," lia said as she grabbed onto your wrist. you stopped moving the moment that she touched you. "i missed you last night and this morning. are we okay?"

"yeah, i think so," you told her. lia let out a sigh of relief as she pulled you into a hug. you melted against her body, leaning heavily into her embrace. "will you come home tonight?"

"only if you're sure that you want me back. i am really sorry for what i said and for ignoring you. you'd never expect me to put my job on the backburner for you, and i can't expect you to do the same for me," lia apologized. after the week that you had, you easily would have done anything that lia wanted you to. luckily, she realized that you were living your dream the same way that she was.

"i'm sorry that i've been distant. i'll be better," you promised. lia smiled as she cupped your cheeks and leaned in to kiss you. you kissed her back eagerly, hoping to make up for all of the kisses that you had missed out on because of the fighting. "go back and celebrate with your team, i'll pick up something for dinner."

"no, come celebrate with us. i don't want to celebrate without you there too."

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #lia walti imagine #lia walti x reader

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hypewinter · 1 year

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I got a take on the Danny is Damian's older brother au. He's Damian's brother but he's his adopted brother. So hear me out:

Danny is running away post TUE and he encounters some assassins. For whatever reason they get into a fight and he beats them. This ends up getting back to Ra's who is quite curious about who beat up his most prized assassins effortlessly. After some investigation, he extends an invite for Danny to train under him. On Danny's part, he jumps at the chance to disappear off the face of the earth and have a free place to stay.

Danny ends up being an absolute prodigy. This is him close to being Dan so his morals are much shakier. He doesn't leap at the opportunity to kill, but he's most definitely not above it if need be. Combine that with his ghost powers and personal training by Ra's himself and the guy becomes like the golden standard within the league. So much so to the point where Ra's even names him his heir and adopts him. Though Danny insists he is his adopted grandson and not adopted son.

Flashforward to Damian being born and Ra's obviously wants him to be his new heir. Not that Danny has any problem with this. He's very clearly Ra's favorite considering the things he's allowed to get away with. Like letting targets go, having worldly possessions in his room (TV, gaming console, computer, etc), and even befriending his subordinates (Ra's particularly doesn't like that one but knows Danny will never allow it to become a weakness for him). Even if Danny wasn't the heir, he would still maintain a significant level of authority within the league (again not that he cares about having power as long as there's a roof over his head).

The problem is, Damian can't compete with Danny. After all, who could match up to a highly trained half ghost with dubious morals? Let alone a kid. Too bad Ra's doesn't see it that way. He sees Damian as a failure who will never measure up to Danny. That's why he sends the boy off to live with his father. It's under the excuse that he'll be receiving a different sort of training but in reality, the Demon Head no longer wants anything to do with his biological grandson.

Obviously this turns into quite the complex for Damian. Meanwhile Danny absolutely adores Damian. From the moment he was introduced to the baby he was ecstatic. He'd always wanted to be an older brother. He would constantly be barging into Damian's room to hang out and whenever they'd sparred together, he'd try to let him win. Ra's quickly caught onto that one and put a stop to it immediately though. Basically Danny is Damian's League of Assassins version of Dick. An example of what he's supposed to be that he will always compare himself to (and that also has no idea what personal space is).

Danny loved his little brother so much that he even managed to get a mission to Gotham about a year after Damian had been sent there in order to surprise him with a belated birthday present.

The bats are absolutely shocked with an assassin suddenly charges at Damian and before anyone can react, scoops him into a hug. Damian is screeching bloody murder as he attempts to get Danny to let him go. Danny is just hugging him while saying stuff like "I missed you little brother" and "You've grown so much since I last saw you" all while avoiding knives to the chest.

The bats get shocked x2 because wait.... little brother!? Talia had another child!? And one far older than Damian to boot. Damian is quick to clarify that Danny is adopted while still trying to stab him. Imagine the boy's horror and Danny's delight when he gets invited back to the batcave to speak further.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #winter's tales #btw i don't think ra's knows that danny is a half ghost #just a troubled kid trying to run away from something #which works for him because that means there's no danger of danny leaving the league #or is there?

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lia-loves · 29 days

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aventurine, ratio, and jing yuan crumbs because I’m not over them (why are they my fave males in this game?)

a/n: fluffy fluff I thought of for them! if you don’t like cussing, don’t read but that’s the only warning (and my poor attempts at humor) lol! :D

aventurine

one of the best listeners there is, I said it.

despite his persona, he could listen to you for HOURS and not get tired. also the type to remember specific things you like that you mention in passing and you get surprised when he knows what you mean

he could be gambling and you could be talking to him and he would almost memorize all of what you’re throwing at him.

the type of person to hype the shit out of you in closed quarters

ALSO ALSO IMAGINE GOSSIP KING AVEN like that would be so cute. you could text him during your lunch break at work and be like “omg babe guess what?” and no matter how busy he is, he ALWAYS responds immediately and it stuns you how quick he is.

The type to throw/spend his credits on you almost (not enough to be reckless but you get what I mean) recklessly, but if you ask him to stop, he will. spending his credits on you is NOT his love language (imo)

he gets very cuddly at night and he is pretty warm to cuddle with (not in the summertime when it’s abysmally hot tho). he knows when to back off.

when you called him Kakavasha for the first time, he cried because he has never been so emotionally vulnerable with someone before except for his sister.

your honor, I love him (10/10 experience, y’all work shit out together)

dr. ratio

he is also a very good listener but will interrupt your tangents of interest to ask questions because he is curious and this is a subject he wishes to know better.

Despite his “I hate idiots” aura/attitude, he would do ANYTHING and I mean ANYTHING for you. you want a hug? it’ll be awkward as fuck, but he’ll give you one.

top of the head/forehead kisses >>> for him are the way to this man’s heart, I just know it. he also likes giving you those types of kisses in closed quarters.

I can’t see him liking butterfly kisses though, it would take too much adjusting and for whatever reason, it overwhelms him.

texts you about his teachings, research, or any breakthroughs in whatever he’s doing as well as plans to stay late etc.,

his communication skills are top-notch it’s kinda crazy.

Topaz and Aventurine found out you’re his Lock Screen/ Home Screen, and they won’t let ratio love it down. (They love you too and probably don’t know you)

9/10 experience because sometimes he can be a lil’ mean but he quickly apologizes to you so it goes back up to 10/10 :3

jing yuan

the clingiest motherfucker it’s insane, but you love it.

anytime he gets a break, he messages you about how much he misses you.

this man WILL pass the fuck out if you scratch his scalp, I just know it. the second your hands go through his hair and take out the ribbon, it’s game over for both of you. good luck trying to move an almost corpse with how heavy he can sleep.

he tells yanqing ALL about you if he gets the feeling he is going to marry you. granted, you’d have to be with him for a long ass time before he tells yanqing anything about you, but if he has that feeling, he and yanqing will be having a session of talking about you and respecting people (instead of their rigorous training) cause why the hell not :D

he will be happy and upset if you’re a long-living species like he is, because while he wants to live forever with you, it’s possible he may get sad because of something happening with you.

clingy but not overbearing- if you get overwhelmed, he WILL pick up on the signs and give space if you need it.

I saw a post (which I reblogged bc that’s so smart fr) as well as yunli’s trailer (idk I think that’s what they said that was from) that jing yuan went “pspspsps” and i think he definitely treats you like a cat and does “pspspsps” to get your attention. you could be reading or doing something (your attention is not on him) and he’ll just go “pspspsps (name)” and it irritates the shit out of you

10/10 experience though, I love him

#hsr x reader #airlia writes #jing yuan x reader #dr ratio x reader #aventurine x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hopefully my tags are right lol #cooked this up in 10 minutes and debated posting it #worth it imo #look at me go! :D

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gay-dorito-dust · 7 months

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Dick loves your plushie collection.

He doesn’t find it embarrassing in the slightest! If anything he finds it more offensive that you’d think it embarrassing having plushies as an adult. After he himself has a plush bunny dressed in his nightwing attire -escrima sticks and all- that he won at an arcade game a while back perched on the top of his bed back home.

He calls it dick jr and cuddles it when he has a rough night of crime fighting.

So he’s the last person to ever cast judgment on your plush collection.

If anything he lets his imagination run wild with them and takes full advantage of them. So if the instance came where you weren’t home, Dick would always send you photos and mini videos of him taking excellent care of a plush hare called Sir John Roderick Wellington the third by tucking him in bed at night, pretending to brush his teeth, etc

Or he’d make enact a photo shoot with a couple of them and send the results to you as your left asking where’d he manage to get all sorts of accessories for them…you’re still awaiting the answer to this day. Another thing he’d do with them is take them with him as company while he’s doing mundane chores in the apartment and act as though the plush is helping him.

You were quick to catch on that Dick having a hell of blast with it with how often he spammed your phone with a plethora of photos and videos that kept you up to date with the daily misadventures of your plushy. And yet you weren’t any better either as you kept them all in a album in your phone and are still wondering why your phone keeps informing you that you are running low on space…

Your favourite picture of your plushy was one where Dick had it tucked in bed, a picture of you on its lap, meanwhile Dick’s face could be seen peaking up from the bottom corner of the screen followed by the caption; ‘he misses you and can’t wait for you to come home and cuddle him. Oh and also me. :(

It’s became your Home Screen now and it was the best decision you’ve been made because it never failed to make you smile even on a bad day.

Jason loves it when you wear his clothes.

It’s free therapy for the man seeing you in his clothes and you can quote me on that.

He fucking loved coming home to see you do your own thing while looking all comfortable and relaxed in his shirts or hoodies doing so. For all Jason could ever want for you was for you to feel comfortable with him however you saw fit.

Also it gives him the more reason to stare at you shamelessly, well more than he did already, but you get the point. Jason is a simple man who’s not above letting it known how much he absolutely adores you.

So you wearing his clothes only added onto that adoration that he had for you. No one else could be more perfect in his eyes then you and he stands by that that statement.

‘You look perfect.’ -Jason

‘Jason, I’m wearing sweats and one of your shirts while eating pizza.’ -you

‘Yeah, perfect.’ -Jason

‘Doofus.’ -you, smiling.

Some days Jason would even go out of his way to leave his clothes on your side of the bed as a hint that he wants you to wear it for the day. Other days however he would be outright and blunt with the fact that he’d rather have you in his clothes than your own at this point.

‘Why are you wearing your clothes?’ - Jason

‘Because they’re my clothes and I feel bad wearing all of yours all the time.’ -you

‘Well I on the other hand don’t, take this shirt and go back into our bedroom and change.’ - Jason says as he takes off the shirt he was wearing and hands it to you, uncaring of the fact that he was shirtless in the living room.

‘You’re being dramatic Jason.’ - you as you take the warm shirt from his hands.

‘No I’m not, I just like you in my clothes a lot better than anything else.’ - Jason said, crossing his arms over his chest.

‘You’re getting jealous over clothes now?’ - you asked, raising a brow.

‘Yes.’ Jason responds instantly. ‘Now for the sake of my sanity go back and put my shirt on please.’

You kiss his cheek before leaving for the bedroom to change. ‘If you insist.’

‘I heavily insist chipmunk.’ - Jason says as he watched you walk away before following after to grab another shirt.

Jason loves it when you’re in his clothes. It’s his greatest strength and his greatest weakness.

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scoutswritingcorner · 5 months

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Deerly Beloved PT.2

Alastor x GN!Deer!Reader

Part 1

TW:NONE

A/n: Cause some people asked for this.

-🦌 Starting where I left off last time: Eskimo kisses are the only kisses he will give out in public or in the hotel. It’s just become routine for you both to do it to one another. He’ll bend down, tilt your head up by your chin and just give you little eskimo kisses before he leaves.

-🦌 If he’s actually going to kiss you, it will be behind closed doors and away from private eyes. He can’t get enough of it.

-🦌 He’s very suave. But he’s also equally as awkward. Like he can flirt with you all day but then you flirt back and he’s just standing there eyes wide and confused.

-🦌 More awkward Alastor? He has trouble reading the room sometimes so he just kinda stands somewhere. (honestly me too bud-)

-🦌 If you have horns he’s either laying his chin on your head between them or trying to balance things on them. Please sit still, this could go on for hours. The last thing he could get on there was a marshmallow. (He cleans your horns for you don’t worry)

-🦌 This man is stuck to you like glue. Like- You could be doing your job around the hotel and he’s hugging you from behind and carrying you around. Charlie has to tell him to let you work. He gets grumpy.

-🦌 Sometimes he just stares off into space and he’s unresponsive for a bit. Prime time to get him back. Hang something on his horns and act like nothing happened when he clocks back into reality.

-🦌When he gets mad at you for something? He stomps his hooves and walks off. It’s his way of throwing a tantrum without causing too much a scene.

-🦌 He’s not up to date on modern slang at all so if he gets on your nerves bamboozle the old man with some weird slang and he’ll be confused for an hour or so until someone tells him.

-🦌 Fall asleep somewhere and he’ll sit by or near you to watch over you, he’s usually reading but he makes sure everyone in the room leaves you alone.

-🦌 He loves having you sitting on his lap, it’s solely because he likes comparing your hooves together. Like- you could be asleep and he’d be talking still about your hooves. He doesn’t take offense to you falling asleep while he talks, he’s grateful his voice soothes you.

-🦌 Like anything- he has deer tendencies. Like grooming you, he loves to help brush your hair and fix your clothing. He lets you do the same to him. It helps keep down his more animalistic urges.

-🦌 I 100% feel like he knows how to braid, wash and help brush any type of hair. Whether it’s curly, wavy, straight, coily, thick, anything. If you ask him, he will help. His Mama taught him well.

-🦌 If you get self conscious of your horns falling out cause it does happen he’ll help in anyway he can. He will make a joke about you missing something though. Be aware.

-🦌 Once again, he loves playing silly little games with you. Like in my last post, a fucked up game of tag where he’s chasing you around the hotel cause he can or play fighting with you cause its fun. His other favorite game of his is hiding your things around the hotel.

-🦌 (Don’t imagine him in a white shirt, suspenders and trousers. Don’t do it gang.)

-🦌 Once again. He will pick you up if you take too long with something and he will be unapologetic. He’s got a busy schedule! (He’s getting restless).

A/n: This turned into me thinking about silly things he does and I’m so sorry. I got way off track..ENJOY!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #gn reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you

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moonstruckme · 7 months

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spencer reid holding hands 4 the first time : ( 've been rewatching cm and i miss my boy sm : (( you're most recent peter fic is so sweet btw im absolutely obssessed!!!!! love you bunches

Thank you sweetheart <3

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 665 words

You and Spencer have had a very…tentative beginning to your relationship. Normally, when you think of a first date, you’re worried about how much the other person expects. (Will they want to kiss you? Will they want more? What if you don’t want to? How do you say no without making it awkward?) With Spencer, there’s been none of that. You’re on date three, and he’s kept completely to himself the entire time. When you met up earlier in the week he’d let a hand hover near your elbow when you nearly tripped over a curb, but you’d barely felt the whisper of his skin against yours before he was putting it back in his pocket, the danger having passed.

You’ve always thought that you’d prefer to take things slow, and Spencer seems that way too, but now you’re itching for something more. Just something tangible to show that you like him, that he likes you too, that you’re not just going on these dates for no reason at all.

So, bold thing that you are, you let your hand hang in the empty space between you as you walk. An offering.

The first time Spencer’s knuckles brush across yours, knobby and skimming, he almost stops talking. He’s been saying something about Alexander Pope and Eliza Haywood (and you’re doing your best to follow along, honest), but he falters mid-sentence, his hand stuttering in its movement.

“And, uh, actually,” Spencer goes on, getting his verbal feet back under him, “it was only in the late twentieth century that her works started surfacing in academia…”

You nod along but don’t move your hand, letting Spencer’s graze past it again. This time, you lean into the touch, pushing your knuckles into his almost imperceptibly. And this time, Spencer’s hand doesn’t continue along its trajectory. He lets it rest alongside yours, your skin brushing up against each other’s with the movement of your walking. After a few seconds, his pinkie teases yours.

You bite back a smile, crooking your pinkie so it hooks around his. Spencer moves his hand, and for a second your heart drops, but he’s only bringing it to the inside of yours, interlacing your fingers loosely.

“Is this okay with you?” he asks, careful and to-the-point.

“Yeah.” You look up at him sheepishly, wriggling your fingers in his to get them closer. “I’ve been wanting to do this.”

“Me too,” Spencer says quietly. Your heart balloons until you’re sure it’s about to float off and take you with it.

His palm is rougher than you’d expected. Spencer comes off as such an academic, sometimes you can forget that he’s in the literal FBI. He handles guns and had to go through training, and you can feel it in the light scratch of his calluses against your palm. Slender fingers stretch over your knuckles, deft and capable. His touch sends a pleasant tingling all the way up from your hand into your buzzing brain.

“Sorry,” you say softly.

Spencer looks confused. His thumb runs the length of yours, a thoughtless movement or a soothing touch, it doesn’t matter. If he does it again, you’ll puddle down onto the pavement for sure.

“What are you sorry for?” he asks.

“I sort of interrupted you.”

A little smile teases the dimple in his cheek. “I don’t mind.”

You give his hand a gentle tug, feeling brazen. It cracks something open in him, and his smile comes out for real, the familiarity between you suddenly so natural.

“Tell me about Eliza Haywood,” you urge. “Did Pope just hate her because she was a woman?”

“That was definitely a big part of it,” Spencer allows, and his voice seems to go back into the conversation while his face stays somewhere else. He’s still wearing that smile, eyes squinted just slightly like he’s having some trouble figuring you out and it might be his new favorite game. “But also it had a lot to do with the perception of novels…”

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help-itrappedmyself · 7 months

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Summoning Game Show Part 6

Masterpost

“You had me going for a bit there, but that was pretty good.” Danny admits, clearing the screen away. “How come you know so much about space?”

“Learned some of it in school.” Red replies, hand coming up to rub the back of his head. “I do some work in the sciences now, engineering, and I’ve actually had to go to space a few times for the gig.” The hand lowers as he shrugs. “ Plus, I just like to know things.”

Danny has stars in his eyes now. “You’ve been to space?”

“Oh. Well yeah, I’ve had a few missions. Miss Martian has a ship that the team took.”

Danny’s expression light up even more and Red looks back at his brothers in confusion. “You know a Martian?” It was whispered in awe, Red could barely hear it, but he nods in response.

They stand there for a minute, Danny just staring at Red in some mix of amazement and awe before he shakes himself out of it.

“Right! Well, that’s awesome.” Danny nods to himself and then forcibly turns to face the screen and changes the subject. “Last thing then! You get a letter for the puzzle!”

The puzzle appeared on the screen again with a wave of Danny’s hand.

“ I would like H, please.” Red Robin states.

“What a fantastic guess, there are three H’s!” Danny is trying to resign himself to the fact that he’ll actually have to deal with being King after this. Red was super smart, he doesn’t think he’s going to get out of it at this point.

“Alright, that’s all the letters you will be getting. Before you take a guess at the answer, I am required to tell you that it is a Proper Noun. Please decide who among you will be solving the puzzle.

Red turns to face his brothers but they all just wave him off, motioning for him to go for it. “That’s me, I guess.” He shrugs, turning back to Danny.

Danny nods “Okay, all you have to do in order to meet the Ghost King is solve two puzzles! First the word puzzle, you have 30 seconds.”

A timer starts counting down on the top left of the screen.

Red mouths words to himself for 10 seconds, then asks, “High King Phantom?”

More confetti appears on the screen as the solved puzzle appears.

Danny makes a weird face. “That’s correct!”

There is a lot of clapping and laughing coming from the ghosts in the stands, but it stops when Danny shoots them a glare.

“Alright, last thing.” The podiums disappear and Red steps back towards his family. “The king has been here the whole time, and you will get your meeting with him, as soon as you identify him. You have one guess.”

Hood, Robin, and Nightwing all turn to each other to start whispering, but Red just tilts his head at Danny.

“Well, It’s you isn’t it?” Red asks and his brothers all turn back to stare at him. Danny tilts his head in response. “Well you were the first one here, so you’re the only one that’s been here the entire time. And you’ve been running the show, everyone has listened to you. Also, your shirt has a P on it, inside the D, but I figure that if the D stands for Danny, then the P would have to be Phantom.”

Danny just leans back and groans.

When Danny straightens back as his outfit starts to change, he gains a crown and a cape, his ears turn more pointed and he has fangs now. “So what did you want with me? Is it healthcare? Because we do have a doctor that Hood could see.”

“A doctor?” Hood questions.

“Oh geez you don’t even know do you?” Danny starts rubbing his forehead. “Well, you’ve got to get that taken care of, it’s stunting your core development.”

“ Get what taken care of?”

Danny sputters. “The ectoplasm?!” He waves his arms in Hood’s direction. “It's so old and stagnant and worn out and your core isn’t old enough to make its own ectoplasm yet, so you should really supplement until your core finishes.”

Danny can see that none of them know what he’s talking about and he just shakes his head. “I can’t believe you don’t even know. Haven’t there been mood changes, random bursts of emotions, followed by sluggishness? Aren’t you tired?”

Now everyone is looking at Hood who grumbles. “Well, yeah. But that’s been happening since I died.”

Danny nods as if that makes perfect sense and Dick really would like an explanation. Red and Robin are also just nodding, having noticed the mood swings themselves.

“Relatable, but condolences. Anyways, we could help with that, but I take it that wasn’t why you tried to summon me, so what did you actually want?”

“Nothing that is more important than Hood’s health, if you can help him.” Nightwing interjects.

“Oh. Well, technically you won, so you have the right to an audience to at least ask for whatever else you wanted.” Danny turns and waves in the direction of the stand, motioning someone down. “But If Hood would like to forfeit his right to the audience, he could have a checkup with Frostbite while we meet?”

Hood nods. “I’ll do that. This… Frostbite will be able to explain?”

“Probably better than I could!” Danny says cheerily as he turns to the Yeti heading towards them. “Frostbite, Hood here needs a checkup, if you could help him correct the malnutrition so his core can grow.”

Frostbite nods, “You can come with me, Sir.”

“Bring him back here when you guys are done!” Danny shouts after them as Frostbite leads Hood away. “Now, you guys can come follow me and we’ll sit and talk.”

#batman #danny phantom #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #fanfiction #my writing #red robin #tim drake #robin #red hood #batfamily #nightwing #frostbite #summoning game show #red hood ectoplasm problems

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ireneaesthetic · 6 months

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Pointing out little moments and details of scenes that need to be remembered.

"i can show you" scene • episode 1

the first wille’s smile of the season and simon is the one and only reason for it to happen *act surprised*.

he has no rush but takes his time to enjoy simon’s presence, looking from afar first and then approaching him. just having him there is enough to make him This happy.

the casual gestures of fixing the jacket or bumping into the shoulder make me melt - just typical boyfriends things and we absolutely praise them in this house!

wille's flirtatious mood in this whole sequence is the best thing that could've happened to me - to simon too! the "i can show you", the whispering, the head's nod. he's still my fav loser but oh how much he has learned and stepped up the game.

also, i genuinely think not showing them holding hands here with a wider shot is a crime.

such a perfect parallel of the fish scene and they're probably reminded of that too: this time it's wilhelm's bedroom and a foreign place for simon, so he's the curious one - looking around and taking the space in - while wille simply waits for him.

simon's "mysigt" to describe the room, just like wilhelm did. it is another special moment for both of them.

this. this. this!!! claim a s3 moment as your own - this is mine.

to me it is the most seductive and romantic one they've ever shared hands down. it comes straight out of a fanfic.

the tension, the longing, the chemistry, the flirting. there's so much to unpack here: wille's breath is literally vibrating and simon's presence is so intense, he builds up the tension and keeps wilhelm waiting for his next move in the most endearing way - wille is also leaning into his hand at the end. there's no talking, they're barely touching but still filling the room with all the passion and attraction they feel for one another - this is actually insanely scripted and portrayed.

no thoughts head empty just simon's tongue and his hands through wille's hair (he's obsessed, excuse him!).

and it kinda seems like simon is getting pulled closer by the waist or he's pushing himself closer - either way it's hot soo

simon's little leg lift and him pinning wille down on the bed by the wrist right before the cut - they're comfortable and open and so playful with each other. wilhelm's hand that caresses simon's back is very much important too.

simon caressing wille's cheek (he has to return the favor ig) and wilhelm leaning up again when they interrupt the kiss.

these brief moments are the cutest. i love how they stay so close and can't stop tracing each other's features.

the nose rub. the mirrored smiles. they've missed and wanted this for so long and they're taking the most of it.

this whole scene is so passionate and they're both so touchy bc they were clearly waiting for this to happen - during a meeting at the palace might not be the greatest scenario, but the thrill that comes with it is definitely something.

i like the role play throughout the scene sm: wille initiates the first kiss, simon is the one taking the lead next and then it all comes back to wille rolling them over and taking initiative. the neck action is a serious thing for him and idk where his hand would've ended up if they hadn't been interrupted - and we do! love! all of it!

they're laughing over the fact that they were not caring about anything at all but spending quality time with each other. and they deserve it so freaking much.

look at them!!! this is not a subtle look bc they simply do not care anymore. i adore them your honor.

#we're back baby #young royals #young royals analysis #yr s3 #i can show you scene #wilhelm x simon #wilmon

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jj-one · 6 months

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FIRST TIME’S A CHARM.

this is smut, do not interact if under 18

pairing: sports au, football jock!boyfriend!han jisung x cheerleader!fem!reader genre/tags: smut, fluff, light angst (if you squint), reader is so in love with jisung it makes everyone sick, reader is a virgin, oral (f. receiving), fingering, piv, protected sex, use of pet names (baby, princess, etc.), typical nervousness of first time sex, cherry popping, multiple orgasms, spitting, dirty talk words: 5.1k

**old repost from my deleted blog

Feelings of melancholy plagued your heart this morning. You miss him. You want to touch him, talk to him, breathe the same air as him. Your boyfriend Han was your world. He hasn’t replied to your usual ‘good morning’ text yet and the waiting game was slowly eating you up. You have to get ready for cheer practice since tomorrow is game day but you were hoping that your boyfriend could walk you to the gymnasium. You dread going to practice sometimes but Han would always find a way to lift your spirits and make your mood instantly better.

“You need to give him some space y/n.. you know he’s busy, we can just walk together it’ll be fine!” Karina attempts to snap you into a reality check.

She was your roommate and also on your cheer team, she’s been one of your closest friends since you transferred to this school a few months ago.

“But he always walks with me! I’ll just wait for him to reply, what if he texts me while we’re walking there and then he-“

“Jesus Christ y/n, you should hear yourself talk the way you go on and on about this boy! Don’t you think you’re a little too obsessed?” Karina retorts, “Let’s get a move on, we don’t need to be late to practice for the third time in a row!”

Grabbing your arm in the process, Karina heads out the door with you to get going. You wanted to whine and complain some more but you decided to let it go since you don’t want to annoy your friend with anymore talk of your boyfriend. You could talk about him all day long, you never get sick of being around him, he’s just always so busy with football and other things that it’s hard to see him sometimes. Since the gym you were practicing at was near the football field, you’d hope to eventually run into him later.

Your boyfriend did ultimately text you back but not until your cheer practice was over. You kept messing up the routine and Mrs. Park, your coach was getting irritated by your lack of coordination.

“Y/n, what’s with you today?! I know you can do way better than this!” She snaps in front of everyone, your whole team was looking at you and the embarrassment fully sunk in.

You didn’t have much to say other than a simple “I’m sorry” and “I’ll try harder”, it was your fault that you let your inner thoughts cloud your ability of performing. You gave yourself a couple minutes to recuperate and stretch to join the team again, you couldn’t let them down since the stunt you had to do needed to be executed perfectly.

After cheer practice you read the texts Han sent you:

‘Heyyy babe, so sorry for the late reply :( I’ve been practicing all morning and didn’t get a chance to check my phone!’

‘I just finished, wanna meet in a bit? I’m with Chan and Changbin rn’

You were now grinning ear to ear from his reply, you’ve been waiting all day to see him. It didn’t take long for you to respond back to him enthusiastically.

‘Yes! Where are you??’

‘Still on the field but at the bleachers, meet me there’

‘Ok, coming now!!’

‘See you in a few ;)’

With almost lightning speed you make a dash for the locker rooms and changed out of your cheer clothes to go find your boyfriend. Karina wanted to tag along since she secretly has a crush on Changbin but doesn’t quite want to admit it just yet. Making your way to the football field, you see some figures in the distance sitting on the bleachers; presuming to be your boyfriend and his two friends. You picked up your pace practically sprinting at this point to go hug your boyfriend who was still in mid-conversation with Chan and Changbin. You didn’t even acknowledge or say hi to either of them, only focusing on the man in front of you now. You’ve been craving to see him all day and finally being able to hug him made the sadness you felt this morning dissipate.

“How’s my pretty princess feeling today?” Han says, still having you wrapped tight in a bear hug. His fingers stroked your hair as he felt you against him, words couldn’t describe how happy you were in this moment.

“I’m okay now that I’m with you!” You exclaim, nuzzling your chin into his broad shoulder.

Everytime he hugged or held you, it felt like the warmest place you could be. Nothing compared to his embrace, it electrified you in so many ways that couldn’t be spoken into words.

“Ugh! Could you guys get a damn room already? I’m sick of seeing you act all lovey dovey, makes me depressed that I’m still single!” Changbin teases the both of you. You know he was only joking but it made you want to be even more of a nuisance.

“Then turn around and look the other way, we’re not going anywhere!” Han fires back, now bringing his face towards you to kiss him. He plants his lips on yours and gives you a soft kiss, delighting you with the taste of his minty flavored chapstick.

“Mmm… that flavor tastes good Hannie, could kiss your lips all day!” You go back in for another kiss, completely forgetting that Chan, Changbin, and Karina were right there watching this whole thing go down.

“Alright, enough!” Chan interrupts you and your boyfriends almost near make-out sesh with a reminder of previous plans. “Are we still going back to my place for movie night? I didn’t buy popcorn and snacks for no reason!”

“Ah shit, I totally forgot about movie night…” Han face palms from the lack of remembrance.

“Can I join?!” You chime in, hoping that Chan will allow you in the group so you can spend more time with Han.

“Could I come too?” Karina asks, sitting next to Chan trying her best not to make eye contact with Changbin.

“Yeah sure, the more the merrier I guess!” He shrugs his shoulders.

You were glad Chan let the both of you come along since you didn’t know him that well, you only talked to him on a few different occasions but each time he seemed pretty chill. He was the football quarterback and was loved by pretty much the entire university, he was practically the leader of the football team and looked after everyone. Your boyfriend was also a very popular guy and was well-liked by all his pupils, he was a really good defense and took his athletic skills seriously. You were so proud of your boyfriend and everything that he’s accomplished so far.

“Alright, let’s get going shall we? My dorms not that far from here, should only be a 10 minute walk!” Chan says while standing up.

Everyone gets up from the bleachers to start heading in the direction of the dorms and Han takes your hand in his.

“You cold babe?” Han asks while walking, he sees you shivering a bit from the sudden cool breeze of the wind.

You were wearing a short sleeve t-shirt which probably wasn’t the best idea but you were rushing this morning. You simply nod your head to his ask, you could feel the goosebumps rising on your delicate skin.

“Don’t worry, here you go darling.” Han quickly takes the letterman varsity jacket off his body to bring onto yours. The jacket weighs you down a bit and it was completely drowning you but you didn’t care.

“You look so adorable in my jacket babe, always look so cute wearing my things.” He compliments you while holding your hand tighter.

You could smell Han’s scent on the fabric, everything about him felt like home to you. You’ve been dating for 4 months now, you transferred to this new university thinking you wouldn’t make any friends at all. As soon as you became a cheerleader Han noticed you straight away, he asked a few of the girls about you but you were new so they didn’t know much. He wanted to get to know you more so he went in to shoot his shot and ended up being successful, now you’re both dating and are essentially the school’s power couple. The most popular jock dating the new pretty cheerleader was the perfect recipe to get everyone around the school talking.

“We’re here guys!” Chan says while coming to a stop in front of the dormitory.

He opens the door to lead the way for you all and Han has his arms wrapped behind you plastering small kisses to your cheek. You giggle as you walk inside to see more people sitting on the couch. It was some more members from the football team who joined for movie night but you and Han weren’t actually planning to watch movies with the rest of them.

“Let’s go somewhere else, yeah?” Han whispers in your ear, his voice sending a chill down your spine.

You agree to his ask and Han tells everyone that you’ll both be back before the movie starts getting good. Chan couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the fact you both casually go into his room, he adds one last piece of advice, “make sure to use protection guys!”

Han doesn’t comment back at that, only reacting with a chuckle and heading towards the bedroom.

Chan’s room was your typical early twenties, frat-boy style living quarters. Clothes spread all on the floor, a couple posters adorned the walls, and the bed was unmade with a few textbooks on top. It was everything you’d imagine it would be, nothing in the slightest bit romantic.

“Wow, what a lovely choice to make our grand escape!” You said sarcastically, looking around at the tornado of a room it was.

“Hey, mine is way worse and you don’t even complain!” Han retorts, throwing the textbooks off the bed.

“That’s because I clean your room every time I come over!”

You sat on the bed with Han beside you, he snaked his arm over to wrap you into another tight hug. You feel the hardness of his chest against you and the sounds of his heartbeat produced butterflies in your stomach. You’ve been waiting to be alone with your boyfriend all day and now that the time has come you can’t keep your lips off him. You brought your face closer to his and sealed his lips to yours, his short brown locks tickled your forehead in the process.

You’ve been thinking about the next big step in your relationship— sex. Sex was what built the foundation of (most) relationships, it only proved how much you love your partner deeply. You wanted to give Han your everything, you’ve never wanted to do something more in your life. As you slowly break away from the kiss, you make sincere eye contact with your boyfriend, his eyes shown nothing but endearment for you.

“So I’ve been thinking about stuff lately…” you trailed your eyes away for a second, not feeling so confident in yourself anymore.

“Thinking about what?” He asks attentively, his eyes were still glued onto you, you could feel the intensity of his stare.

You had either two options: tell him how you really feel and what you actually want or you can save this for another time. You went with the latter and chose to keep it to yourself.

“Never mind… I’ll tell you later maybe, or another time.”

This doesn’t sit too well with Han. He likes when you’re open with him, honesty has always been a huge thing for him and when you act reclusive towards him he gets worried.

“No babe, just tell me. I promise I won’t judge you— I never do! I just want you to feel comfortable and be able to share anything with me.” His hand rubbed your thigh gently which made you feel more at ease and much calmer.

“I think I’m ready to take the next step with you.”

“Next step?” Han replies with confusion, “You mean as in like getting married? I think we’re a bit too young for that right no-“

“No Ji, I meant like I’m ready to have sex!” You finally admit, the look on his face became utterly priceless.

“Oh— really? What made you decide that?” He wonders curiously.

He knew for a long time that he was ready to have sex with you but just never mentioned it until you gave him the green light. He’s never pressured you into doing anything you didn’t want to do, make-out sessions with him would get super hot and heavy sometimes but that still didn’t stop him from not pushing your boundaries. He knew you were a virgin and that it would take time for you to make a decision as the relationship progresses.

“I just love you so fucking much Ji, I wanna give you my whole body, want you to be my first.” You bring your hand to his, moving it to your breasts for him to feel you.

His hand squeezes your boob gently, causing you to gasp at the light action. He cups his whole hand around it and juggles it in his palm, smiling at your beauty.

“You have the most perfect tits.” Han says in almost a whisper, still admiring your presence.

Both of his hands now playing with your boobs as he massages them through your t-shirt, you couldn’t help but go back and kiss his soft lips. The kiss grew more passionate as time went on, you couldn’t stop kissing those precious lips of his, you wanted your face attached to his 24/7. You got on top of him now, tangling your fingers through his luscious hair whilst your tongues glide against each other. He removed one of his hands from your breast to go grab your ass, squeezing your left cheek firmly.

“Lay on your back princess” Han says, instructing you as you lye back down on the bed. You aren’t sure what he has in mind but it can’t be anything innocent.

“What do you want to do to me?” You ask, pressing your thighs together to feel something.

“I want to make you feel really good…” He continues in a sultry tone, “I’m going to make you feel so amazing baby.”

His mouth goes back onto yours, kissing almost roughly this time. Something was taking over your boyfriend and it was turning you on incredibly. He plastered a few more wet kisses to your chin and neck, leaving trails of his glistening saliva all over you. Not a doubt was going through your mind, just undying love and devotion to your boyfriend.

“I love you so much y/n, you know that?” Han says reassuringly, you know he loves you but hearing it still made your heart flutter every time.

“I love you so much Hannie!” You probably loved him more than yourself at this point.

His hands roamed your half naked body once he rid you of your t-shirt and sports bra. His soft, tender touch was enough to drive you crazy and he’s barely done anything yet. You held your breath as his fingers danced across your skin, your brain was completely fuzzy and only filled with desire. You tugged at the end of his shirt so he could take it off and he obliged, pulling it from the top and lifting it over his head. You get a full clear view of body, that beautiful body of his, you wonder how a man can be shaped so gracefully. He had the most broad shoulders, chiselled abs and muscles, but his waist was so pretty and tiny. It didn’t make sense how one could be built such a way but he was perfect, his physique truly mesmerized you.

You go in to feel his muscles, his biceps were absolutely to die for, every time he flexed you swear you could hear your kitty purring down there. He was just so hot, you needed to taste each and every inch of him.

“Want you so bad…” you trace the lines of body, fully enamored by your gorgeous boyfriend.

“I’m all yours babe.”

Han lazily brung his hand to the waistband of your pants, fumbling with the button to take them off but was struggling a bit.

“Here, let me help you.” You guide him in the right direction and he successfully unbuttons them.

Once your pants are off he slides your underwear down past your knees, his face lights up at the sight beneath him. You were nervous but didn’t want to tell him that incase he stops, feeling a lump in your throat now forming.

“Let me know if you want me to stop at anytime.” You loved that he was always making sure you were 100% okay with everything he did.

You nod and let him continue doing his thing, he captures his lips with yours one more time before a hand creeps up your inner thigh. His fingers lightly brush your folds and you shudder from the sensitivity. He smirks into the kiss as he presses a single digit against it, gathering your slick nicely.

“Your pussy feels so wet, I can’t wait to be inside you darling.” Han says after parting from the kiss.

His finger glides between your wet folds, feeling your warm juices gush onto him. He makes a V shape with his fingers to spread you open now, getting a better look at your heat. He licks his lips at the sight, wanting nothing more than to get a taste of you. He inches his head closer to your core and spits on it, watching the saliva run down as he licks a long, slow stripe to your cunt.

His mouth becomes suctioned to your clit as he runs his tongue all over it, slobbering against you whilst holding your hips in place.

“Fuck! So good, so good, so good…” you couldn’t stop moaning, the pleasure was just hitting you all at once.

Your eyes were about to roll to the back of your head and your legs were shaking from Han’s insane pussy eating skills. You felt your chest cave in from all the intense pleasure and just when you thought it couldn’t get any better than this, you were in for hell of a treat. One of his digits entered you, now fingerfucking you. You elicit another moan for him as his tongue picks up a quicker pace, his tongue flicks your nub viciously. His finger slips in and out slowly and adds another digit to make you gasp louder. The feeling of your boyfriend stretching you out for him was amazing, you felt your release coming by the second.

“I- I feel weird Ji..” you try to explain how you feel right now but you just can’t describe it. It felt as though you had to pee but you know you didn’t actually need to.

“It’s okay princess, it’s normal. Trust me, just let go. I promise you’ll feel so much better after baby.” He stopped what he was doing for a moment to encourage you.

His words made you instantly let go, you whimpered from the feeling of his mouth on your clit again. You rocked your hips forward to grind against him while he ate you out, playing with his hair and slightly pulling it once you felt yourself cumming. Your hips shook rapidly around him, his eye contact never broke off with you and it made you lose your mind. You mumble under your breath, trying your best to contain your orgasm but everything came crashing down violently. Han could taste your sweet essence on his tongue as he lapped up all your juices, not letting any of you go to waste. He kept himself buried between your shaky legs and pulled his fingers out, leaving you with an empty feeling.

“You ready for my cock babe?” He finally lifts his head up from your dripping cunt, his face fully soaked from the action he just performed.

“Yes, need you so bad Ji.. want you to pop my cherry.”

You looked at him with the most seductive eyes, he bit down his lip at what you just said. You know exactly how to make him feel the most special, he was special to you though, this whole moment meant everything to you.

“I’ll be gentle with you princess, I’ll try and make this as painless as possible for you.” He kisses your forehead and captures your lips in his.

He gets up momentarily to go find a condom in one of Chan’s drawers and quickly comes back. He undoes his pants to pull them off along with his boxers, opening the wrapper with his teeth and pulling the condom out to slide it on.

“I don’t usually like condoms,” Han explains “but since this is our first time I don’t want to scare you.”

You giggle at that comment, you don’t know the first thing about sex and all of this is so new to you. You’re just glad you have an experienced boyfriend that can help make this easier for you, it made you feel a lot less awkward.

“I guess I’ll have to get on birth control soon then?” You were willing to do anything for him at this point.

“It’s your body y/n, I’m not going to tell you what to do. You make your own choices.”

It was sweet how even right now he’s only thinking about how you feel, he really does care so much about you. Han repositioned himself to be between your legs again, his cock was now pressed along your folds. He gives you another kiss before asking one last time,

“You ready to do this?”

“Yes! Please hurry, I’m getting impatient!” You whine, wanting to finally feel what it’s like to take dick.

“Okay, okay, I’m just making sure you really want to do this!”

He rubs his cock against you, sliding it up and down to collect more of your wetness. You bite down on your lip, waiting for the real moment to transpire. His hand rests on the end of his cock, guiding it to your entrance, he prods your hole gently. A rush of pain inflicts your body from the feeling of just the tip stretching you, you could only close your eyes at the sensation.

“Let me know if I’m hurting you at all.” Han continues pushing himself in.

The more he inched inside you, the more painful it became. It felt as though your whole body was on fire, everything felt so strange to you. You endured the pain in hopes of it becoming better soon, you didn’t want to worry your boyfriend. You feel the size of his cock growing in you, the constant throbbing was making you dizzy. You held onto him tightly, not wanting to let ever go of him. You clench around him as he attempts to fully fit his entire cock but you wince at only half of him inside you.

“Fuck, you alright baby? Did I hurt you?” He studies you with concern, stopping immediately to gauge your body language.

“You’re so fucking tight, even though you’re soaking wet I can still barely fit my cock inside.”

Your face turns red as a tomato, you don’t know what to say and you’re getting too flustered.

“Awe, is my little princess feeling nervous? I told you it’s okay, I’ll be here with you every step of the way, I got you.”

He holds your hand in his, tentatively caressing the inside of your palm, he brings your hand up to kiss it and gave you a warm smile. He continues sliding more of his cock in and is eventually able to get most of himself settled. Your mouth is wide open once he begins slowly thrusting in you. The pain was starting to go away now, just slightly. You focus on the feeling of his length in you, you try to relax your muscles the best way you could. You feel so full, so stuffed, his cock fully immersed in your sweet cunt.

“You feel so good around me princess, just wanna fuck your tight pussy all night long..” he groans while picking up his pace, the discomfort comes back to you now, you wriggle around to make the burning sensation go away.

“Is it supposed to feel like this Ji?” You croak, trying your best to be good for him.

You know that Han would never judge you but you still felt insecure about your performance in the bedroom.

“It’s only going to hurt for a little bit, just keep thinking about me darling, think only thoughts of me.”

You can feel a knot in your stomach form now, his cock slamming into you deeply was making you see stars. You gnaw at his neck to bite down softly, you couldn’t hold in your emotions anymore. The pain was now fully gone again, the intense pleasure washing over you like a tsunami. You kept your eyes tightly shut to feel all of him, focusing on what he told you when he said to think only thoughts of him.

“Your cock feels good Ji, I love how feel inside me!” You cry out to him, arching your back against the bed.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it all felt too good to be real. He increases his rhythm as he thrusts into you, fucking into your little virgin cunt harder. Your pussy twitches around his cock, you feel that need to pee like when he was eating you out.

“I- I think I’m gonna… cumming…” you could barely get a coherent sentence out. All you could do was continue digging your nails in his back and moan out his name.

“You gonna cum for me princess? Do it. Want us to cum together for our first time.” Han throws his head back as he keeps fucking you. He was bucking his hips in a sloppier motion now, indicating that he was getting close like you. It only took a few more pumps of his cock to get you to form a large ‘O’ with your mouth, your jaw stayed locked in place. Your walls contract around his thick cock and you gasped for air as you lose your breath.

“Ah, fuck y/n!” Han almost says with a growl, his chest feels heavy as he releases his load into the condom.

He continues thrusting slowly into you while gently massaging your breasts. You let go and feel your second orgasm approach, feeling waves of ecstasy throughout your whole body. You were both heavily panting, staring at each other with nothing but complete passion. Han collapses onto you, his sticky and sweaty body rested on yours. His cock was still buried in your cunt, you didn’t want this moment to ever be over.

“So how would you rate your first time?” Han asks while propping his head up, “on a scale of 1 to 10?”

“I’d say a 100/10, I’ll remember this day forever.”

You snuggle up against him, completely forgetting that you had your first time with Han in Chan’s bedroom.

“Well… maybe it could’ve been better if we did this in our rooms.”

“I agree, but hey there’s always next time!” Han finally pulls out of you and notices tiny droplets of blood on the condom.

“Oh my god babe, I popped your cherry!”

You were shocked that even happened since you didn’t feel anything inside you tearing, guess it was a myth that you could feel your cherry pop. Han looked so stoked by this discovery and you wish you could engrain the look on his face in your brain. You just giggle at his actions and give him another chaste kiss, cuddling with him and forgetting the rest of the world around you.

“I think we should head back out soon, they’re probably thinking what the hell we’ve been doing in here for so long.” Han gets up from the bed to go and put his clothes back on.

“I hope we weren’t too loud!” You say, grabbing your clothes to get changed too.

“If they heard us don’t worry about it, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. They’ll probably congratulate me by how much noise you were making!”

You blush once again by what he said, you can’t believe you just lost your virginity, you don’t feel any different physically but you feel way closer to your boyfriend than ever before. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to have such a loving, healthy, and supportive relationship. Han Jisung really was the light of your life.

Coming out of Chan’s room felt the walk of shame. You couldn’t face any of his friends or Karina in the living room, they all instantly turned their heads to face you. Changbin started clapping loudly and everyone else followed suit after, you knew this was going to be embarrassing but this just felt like pure torture.

“Congratulations bro! It was about time you finally both got some!” Han’s friend/teammate Minho shouts.

Your biggest fear came true, everyone heard absolutely everything.

“Did you guys really have to fuck in my bed though? I just washed those sheets last week!” Chan exclaimed, giving him the evil eye.

“Hey, I don’t kiss and tell! Whatever happened in that room stays in that room.” Han brings his hand to his lips to make it look like he sealed them.

All the guys keep teasing him and you couldn’t stop blushing, maybe you should’ve waited to have sex in one of your dorms since Chan will probably never let him live this one down.

“You missed the movie anyway, might as well just leave and go for round 2!” Chan jokes.

“That actually doesn’t seem like a bad idea… thanks. Let’s go y/n!” Han links your arm around his and speed walks out the door.

Now that you were no longer a virgin, it didn’t feel all that odd to you as you thought it would be. It actually felt nice knowing you lost it to someone you love so much, someone you care so deeply out. It may not have been in the most romantic atmosphere which you’ve always pictured losing your virginity in a much better setting. However, you’ll cherish this special day with Han because even if it wasn’t the ideal scenery you had in mind, it was still a reminder that you had such a strong, beautiful connection with your lover.

#han jisung x reader #han jisung smut #han smut #han jisung x female reader #skz x reader #han jisung fanfic #han x reader #han jisung fluff #han fluff #skz smut #stray kids smut #han jisung fic #han jisung scenarios #han jisung imagines #han jisung oneshot #skz fanfic #skz x female reader #stray kids oneshot

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hazelfoureyes · 13 days

Text

A Doe in Fall (Part 9)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

A burlesquer with a penchant for conning men, you find your latest game interrupted when your next mark saves you from an aggressive fan— by killing him. The chance encounter left you curious, still half convinced you could complete your normal chase. Unbeknownst to you, you were the one being tracked.

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦 Part 8 - Trust sexual 🥵 Part 9 - Shiny Things 📍 Part 10 - Good Deeds

Part 9 - Shiny Things

Ephi moves in, and Ruth reads you like an open book.

「Warnings/Promises: HumanAlastor x Fem! BurlesqueReader, Reference to domestic abuse of non-reader character, fucks, crows, swans, emotions be emotioning, so many birds, I don’t think reader is Aromantic I think she’s just stubborn, Cliff diving is just a joke do not follow people off cliffs, everyone is kicking reader’s ass in some way, my apologies to parts of Texas but not Texas as a whole」

Long time no see ! My head wasn’t in the right space for this story, and my head was also literally not doing well. But! Reading glasses helped since I’m writing on my phone like 7 inches from my face. the goal is Wednesday updates~ there’s about four parts already written so we’ve got a month of runway 👌🏼 Wednesday mornings are ‘God, That’s Good’ by @macabr3-barbi3 and nights are ADIF!

🎶 last time on A Doe In Fall 🎶 : you came home from your first week staying officially at Alastor’s to find your estranged sister waiting on your stoop.

this isn’t sexy but just like minors come on, MDNI? This blog is a sex shop

It’s not that you hated your sister, it’s that you resented her. You could love someone and not like them an ounce… but unfortunately when she left so did your familial love. Which meant all that held you together now was distrust and an obligation to a dead woman.

“So things didn’t pan out up north?” You waved her into your apartment, agitation apparent in even the gesture of your arm.

“It’s peachy! Just need to lay low a bit.” She said it with a chipper voice while looking around your apartment like she paid for it. “Wow you weren’t lying about the no money, huh? Talk about a shoebox.”

Charming.

“Well, Ephi, you’re welcome to leave.” While you didn’t understand the name it wasn’t your business to question what someone asked to be called. Especially considering your own dual identity. You may have disliked the woman but human decency still hung to the bones of the relationship you called your sisterhood.

An obnoxious chuckle, “Nah it’ll do! Just the one single bed?”

“Why would I have more than one bed?”

A deep sigh from her, “Still last to be picked by the fellas, sis?” Her hand passed over your dresses hanging in the open closet, “The ugly duckling was always your favorite story.”

The fine hairs rose on the back of your neck, a cat’s hackles moving as the anger bristled through your body. You opened your mouth to shout all the ways you were not the ugly one in the room, hand already in the air to direct her attention to the dried, hanging flowers covering the far wall. How many people threw flowers at her feet? How many proposals were shouted to her? Wedding rings slipped off fingers and into pockets for her?

The air in your lungs went flat as a small fire of embarrassment rose in your gut.

How could she so quickly reduce you to a little girl again? Taking the bait for a fight you couldn’t win, because she wasn’t listening to anything but her own voice. Biting the inside of your cheek, your hand fell back to your side.

“You can take it. I’ll just be by for clothes now and then. Been staying with a friend closer to work.” Flipping through your mind you tried to catalog your valuables. What did you absolutely need to not turn up missing?

Ephi sat on the bed and crossed her legs in her best imitation of a lady. “Staying with Mister Fancy Pants?” A smile that reminded you of your childhood. A smile that said, “I won’t tell mom!” Right before turning and running to your mother’s ear.

“No.”

A giggle two octaves above her usual tone, “Sure, okay! No skin off my back.”

You took your time to gather the items you had forgotten first, then the items you didn’t want her to have. Unsure how exactly to tell Alastor why a week into sharing his home officially you were already redecorating, you left that for your future self to figure out. The first item was obvious.

An angel statue your mother kept on her nightstand. You wrapped it in some newspaper, trying not to look in her direction.

Your sister chased dick like most people chased liberty. Something she shared with your mother. Which was her right, but it rubbed you the wrong way how she would always forget everyone else in her life when she had a man to call her own. A fair weather friend, at that.

“How’s Howard?” The dick that took her away so many years ago.

She abandoned the lady act and rummaged through your cabinets, “Who’s that?”

Right.

A gold coin on a necklace. You slipped it inside a sock.

“So, then, who is the man of the hour?”

Ephi began opening the dresser drawers, poking here and there. “Whaddya mean! I am an independent woman.”

You weren’t sure that had ever been true. While your mother had drilled it into your skull to never place yourself in the need of a man, she always seemed to throw her heart (and house keys and purse strings…) at the feet of any man willing to love her.

“Love” her.

There was no love in any of that. A common problem of confusing love with any and all intense emotions affected your mother and many others.

Slashed furniture is not adoration. Breaking windows is not a love language. Bruises are not affection.

Your hands ran down the bag’s shapeless sides. Without thinking, you smiled. Adoration. Love languages. Affection. You had them and the knowledge of their secrets all to yourself.

Secrets you didn’t need slipping out. Secrets your sister couldn’t hold to save her life, or yours for that matter. You hurried around the room grabbing knick-knacks and photos and jewelry. Alastor would be at work soon, you wondered if you should call to warn him. This time not about a hot headed flatfoot but a nosey sibling.

You’d tell him later. No reason to talk to Brenda again. Quickly your leather bag got full and heavy. What was supposed to be a casual foray into sharing a home already turning into a full on move.

Everything you needed and a few things no one ever would, because damn would Ephi pawn them the very second she needed something, were safely zipped away. Any plans to relax at home before work were abandoned and you just marched to the door.

A random memory flashed behind your eyes, washing Alastor’s hair in the tub until the water ran clear. Why now? The only memory shared in your apartment. And it was an awful one. But, it had Alastor. That gave it value.

“Hey, if any men come by looking for me you just don’t answer, okay?” You forced your face to relax, to show the sincerity you worked so hard to keep to yourself, “Please, Ephi.”

Her smile widened past unnaturally white teeth, no money for a room but clearly cash for peroxide tooth gel, “Ooh, why? Little sister make some enemies?”

Why couldn’t she just fucking agree?

“My job sometimes attracts crazies. I don’t tell them where I live but occasionally they figure it out. They’ve gotten violent before so…just don’t answer the buzzer. They’ll say they’re damn near anyone to get you to let them up.” You stopped the nervous twisting of your bag’s handle, “Boyfriend, boss, detective. They've tried it all.”

“Aww, sis. Look at you.” She leaned her full figure against the open door frame, arm raised up like a pin up. Ephi was always effortlessly enchanting when her mouth was closed. “Stalkers? Mama would be so proud. Finally learning how to catch a man’s attention.”

The tears that stung your eyes were inspired partly by anger and partly by pain. They came so suddenly you could only laugh in response.

“Lovely to see your new name hasn’t changed you, Ephi. I’ll be back occasionally. Don’t steal anything, no strangers over. Spare key is in the bowl by the door.”

“Oh hey!”

You turned back.

“I do need some cash. Until I find work.”

The numbness blanketed you with a chill.

“I’ve got like, three bucks. Is that fine?”

Why did you ask that? You knew she could very well say it wasn’t fine and you’d be obligated to offer to get more. Atleast, that’s what you’d have done when you were younger. How easily you both slipped into old roles. Or perhaps she never grew out of hers.

She mulled it over, “Yeah that’ll be fine.” Her hand came out and waited for the bills.

An open palm waiting for your money.

You pulled the folded bills from your wallet and set them in her hand without touching her skin.

“Thanks sis!” She turned and closed the door before you could reply.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The other dancers shot you a look when your bag jingled and clanked as it hit the floor, you wincing as you remembered the ceramic figurine.

“You…. going somewhere, hun? The detective got you on something?”

A quick shake of your head. You hadn’t considered the optics. Luckily it was early enough the room wasn’t very busy. A few select missing women would have pried for more information. Your hands fidgeted, unsure what to do. On the way in you saw some newer talent getting their feet on stage, maybe watch them? Too early for make up.

A loving voice from Ruth, always a savior, “Cigarette?”

You melted at the offer. Alastor wasn’t a fan of the smell so you were slyly cutting back.

She popped a sun bleached folding chair open and set it in between you both as a footrest. So many broken and ruined chairs littered the sides of the dingy roof, you were shocked she found a good one on her first try.

“Alright, tell me what happened with that detective. Do I need to go rough up a city employee?” Ruth leaned back and settled into her chair with a creak and a whine of the wood.

You needed a second, eyes flitting around as she handed her cigarette for you to take a drag. What could you say? What did she already know? You’d not spoken about it since she helped shoo him away but the appearance of half your belongings haphazardly stuffed into a bag clearly had her alarms going off.

“So remember the guy who came by for me? Tall handsome one.”

She nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! Of course. Don’t forget a name like his. Or face.” She whistled like a crude man trying to get a woman’s attention in the most annoying way.

“The detective thinks he did something to Tommy. That he was jealous. Which is ridiculous-,” you felt a nervous energy slip down your arms.

An abrupt laugh, “That string bean couldn’t open a heavy window. He didn’t do shit to Tommy. What a stupid thing to say.”

Did she notice how much you’d been holding your breath? A deep sigh as you let it go. “Exactly! He doesn’t even know about what happened that night with that guy and Tommy’s arrangement; it’s too mortifying. Anyway, the detective has been hounding me about it. I don’t wanna cause trouble.” You ashed the cigarette and held it out for her, “Stuff is still new with him and me, so I didn’t tell the detective his details or work anything. Why would I? So he can harass him too?” The words all tumbled out so quickly. A faucet turned too far to the left.

“Fair.” A few passes back and forth in what you hoped was a comfortable silence and not an indication she was piecing together things you needed to remain unlinked. Finally, “Didn’t realize you two were still seeing each other. Longest one you’ve kept for awhile now.”

Looking up, you marveled at the view of the open sky. Not a cloud in sight. A smile crept across your face, the heat of the sun warming you from the inside out. The slightest chill to the air warning you of Fall. “Yeah.”

She asked what made him so special and you didn’t know where to start. “The obvious,” you began. “He’s so-,”

“Clever.” “Handsome.”

You’d spoken at the same time, her attempt at soothsaying failing miserably.

“Clever, Ruth. He’s very clever. Handsome men are a dime a dozen. But he’s sharp as a tack.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand around for you to go on. You let your mind toss out the shiniest examples. “He’s so skilled. He knows how to hunt and take apart animals. He can fish. Cooks like a dream. He knows how to clean clothes well and how to use a washing board.”

“Useful.” She mused. That isn’t what you meant. You weren’t trying to list off his features like a new appliance. It was just— impressive. He was well rounded.

“And he’s terribly kind. He’s always,” how to say it delicately, “going out of his way to help others solve their problems.” That seemed accurate and vague enough. You chuckled to yourself, remembering him at the kitchen table, “His face lights up so bright when he’s talking about his hobbies. Like, I can see his soul glittering behind his eyes and suddenly I’m just as interested in whatever he’s talking about as he is.” You let your eyes close around the mental image of his surprised face every time you complimented him. But they shot open when she began giggling, “What?”

“You’re in looooove,” her foot kicked yours, “I know that look. Head over heels already. Talking about him like he made the fucking stars.”

Wide eyed and stunned, was it written on your face so plainly? “Oh don’t say that. It makes me so uncomfortable. We’re just enjoying each other's company.” When she moved to give you the cigarette again you didn’t take it. “All I was saying was—,” fuck, what were you saying? That he was special? “He’s a very nice person to spend my limited time with. It’s a finite resource and all.”

With a shrug she took another puff, “What’s to be uncomfortable about? Falling in love is a wonderful thing, hun.”

Was it? Honestly, had she ever considered how much damage came with loving someone? It was putting your heart outside your body. Letting someone else carry it around and just praying they didn’t hurt you, or get hurt, or go off and die and take your heart with them. Why would anyone willingly do such a silly thing?

“Cheesy. And kind of creepy. Falling? How do I get back up if things go south?”

You’d successfully avoided emotional attachment to nearly every lover you’d taken. The way women seemed to get struck down dumb by any old John or Jane just wasn’t appealing. Love was for fools. The weak. The dependent.

Or, so you had whispered to yourself as you pretended to not be home when suitors came knocking, as you avoided ringing phones, as you apologized and slid out of restaurant seats after awkward dinners.

“If you fall hard enough, you don’t get back up.” She said it like it was a good thing. “You’ll love them forever, even if you hate em.”

That was the problem, too. How could she not hear that as she said it? All loss of control of your own heart and emotions was simply bad. People do irrational things for love.

You shivered, “That sounds absolutely horrid, Ruth.”

“Aah,” she dismissed you with a raspberry blown between her lips, “For the right man, you’ll find yourself enjoying the trip down!”

“Nah, I’m not fan of heights. No dick is worth that.”

“Is that all men are to you? Sex?” She guffawed, taken aback by your comment. Which was odd, given it was Ruth.

But, Yes.

Well. No . But — he wasn't a man. He was something different. The exception to the rule. Alastor was different.

Or, fine.

Yes, he was a man.

No, you didn’t see them as just sex. It was easier to say people were just pleasure and not stop to think about life any other way. Things got complicated when you added another person. Life became sloppy and uncontainable. If you stopped and considered the lives behind the people you used to lead on and let go before things got too difficult, you’d just wound yourself. It was easier to stop at sex.

When you could. Which you could, before. When sex was a token you traded back and forth with someone. But Alastor didn’t accept that currency. You couldn’t hand him your body and get brief but lovely companionship back. Your value had to lie elsewhere, the things you set before him and the wonders he had to offer were much richer in their worth than what you’d ever had before.

Sometimes it felt like you slid him a penny and he handed you a quarter. You found yourself scrounging up the petty coins of your worth and trying to save them up for him. Practicing your makeup, learning how he liked his coffee, remembering all of the things he said he hated and loved. Attempting to stop smoking. Every act was another shiny offering for him.

A crow scrounging the park grounds for glittering trash. Not very swan-like, you thought.

“You really don’t think you’re falling for him?” Ruth put out the cigarette in the coffee can beside her. As you turned to argue with her you saw her face full of amusement and incredulousness. It was rhetorical.

The argument withered and you could only pout, everyone that day seeming to catch your tongue, “I don’t wanna think about it. I’ll get scared and run away. He’ll figure out how little I have to give eventually. If anything more is gonna happen, it’ll happen. I’ll just… let it. Why ruin it with… saying childish things.”

“You’re naive but that’s okay. Enjoy the honeymoon stage while you can.”

Your eyes rolled, “What if he doesn’t feel the same? Why embarrass myself.” When you sighed the weight of just how heavy and true that sentiment was resonated in your stomach. Telling him you were falling in love? Alastor was a killer. His passion was singular. What good was a dame to him? No, worse than worthless. A liability. A witness. A weak point in the walls he so carefully crafted. If he knew you were in love with him he’d just end things sooner than they would have naturally.

“Dontcha wanna know if he’s a waste of that precious time, then?”

You cackled, choking on your spit. Alastor? He was the most worthwhile thing you’d ever encountered. Time with him suddenly had …. Value. That fucking word again. But time with him, it was slow enough to be deep and rich, but so fleeting you already felt a mourning mood for how much closer you were to the end.

You could only shake your head, “Wait, Ruth, didn’t you get divorced?”

“Shhh that doesn’t count!” She rose and stretched her long arms up to the sun and then out to the horizon, “Plus that’s how I know what I’m talking about! After the honeymoon phase? You’ll be arguing about laundry and wishing you were strangers again. Fighting about children and lawncare.”

As your finger nervously came to your mouth, teeth cutting into the nail, you considered how if Alastor complained about laundry and you could argue back with the comfort of knowing neither would simply leave, that’d be….nice. The safety of being honest without the fear of the other person giving up on you. Was that love?

And did that matter at all?

You’d thought earlier you knew the answers but now, when someone else said it, you got scared of those words.

Ruth must have put a spell on you. As you and a bevy of others danced in line on stage, arms over shoulders and legs kicking high enough to show cheek and jiggle the soft skin of your thighs and stomach, you felt butterflies in your gut. Alastor would be picking you up in a matter of hours.

A few men sent you drinks, which you repaid with a wink and a kiss blown across the bar before downing the liquor. It was the usual routine. You hadn’t felt nerves to see Alastor quite like that since sheepishly picking out “comfortable” shoes.

Alastor’s eyes widened when he took the bag from you, not noticing your attempts to avoid making eye contact. He let out a chuckle, his best attempt at stifling the joking question, “Already moving in?”

He realized quickly enough that wasn’t a good joke. Not when he finally looked up and saw your stare was distant.

“Everything okay, dear?” He walked to open your door for you, and you nodded a thank you and an affirmative.

Should you rip off the band aid? Should you just say it and see what happens?

When you turned to look at him and blurt out a confession, you were stopped by the profile of his face. What a gentle face. A lovely jaw. Even his bones were better than other people’s. What were you doing in this man’s car? What little pieces of glittering trash were you about to toss at him on a random Friday night?

No, in the books you read, confessions were always grande affairs. Fireworks and dinner parties and passionate kisses in rain storms.

You’d have to put a little effort into this. His brows rose as he clocked your staring. Eyes on the road, smirk pulled to the right, his hand came to rest on your thigh.

He deserved something much better than whatever you had to offer. Something unlike yourself entirely.

The drive home, and yes you let yourself linger on the word instead of shoo it away, you watched a deer jump across the dirt road just past the bridge.

“The bucks chase the does. It’s part of their mating ritual. I guess it’s not unlike the ‘playing hard to get’ some women like. The longer the chase, the prouder the buck to snag his prize.”

You laughed, “Women don’t like it, I don’t think. Well, some do I am sure but… If we don’t do that then people think we’re easy. We need plausible deniability. If people learn we put out we can claim we didn’t really want to and save some face.”

Alastor grimaced, “Gross.”

Unseen, you nodded and turned to watch the buck leap after its doe.

“Kind of funny, you chased me down, didn’t you?” Alastor’s comment pulled you back to him.

“Oh yes. That makes you my doe.” Your arm came to rest against the car door, the trees slowly rolling by in the darkness. “Reminds me of the small freckles across your shoulders.”

“My mighty buck!” He fawned, in jest, pretending to collapse into your lap. You shoved him back up and behind the wheel proper. “Well given the chance, I’d chase you for miles.” His hand flexed on your leg.

“To Texas?” You asked. Your usual end point.

“Further.”

“How far?”

“There is no limit. I’d … run right off a cliff, head first, if you were waiting at the bottom.” He took his hand back, needing both to hold the wheel. What he said hit him harder than he had intended. Was it too much? A tad too dramatic? A nervous clearing of his throat, followed by an awkward laugh to put more space between him and the confession.

The idea of you making Alastor chase you was ridiculous. You enjoyed the games you played with others, but you were never meant to be caught. If you wanted that, you’d just…give yourself. As you had done with him. Only him. The first and last person you ever wanted to give yourself over to in any sense. “And if I just… lied down and let you catch me? Would that make me a poorly earned prize?”

“Nope! That’d make me a lucky duck. And make you quite smart, if I do say so myself.” A wink. “Why run from such a catch like me?”

You landed a smack on his arm, light and playful.

A truly comfortable silence settled in, just the sound of the car trembling over the rough road. The newest model Ford was still as loud as the last, but luckily you were far from others.

The words had lingered like smoke, and you felt the need to address them.

“Don’t actually do that though. If I run off a cliff or something stupid, don’t you dare follow me.”

Alastor just laughed, wasn’t that what you were doing for him already? Diving into hell for some inexplicable reason after Alastor. He wasn’t expressing some lack of self preservation, he was merely letting you know he’d reciprocate the fall. You hadn’t made him run after you, but instead seemed to just….rest your neck between his canines. And trust.

If you were to go to heaven, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. It was too late to redeem his soul now. How far was heaven from hell, anyways? If the devil survived the plummet perhaps he could scale the walls of his enclosure and breach the gates.

Though, as he thought about the idea of heaven, he considered how happy his mother would be to meet you. To take you from her would be as cruel as heaven taking you from him.

Maybe he could make a plea. To just be able to see you from below.

But if the knowledge you were happy and safe was all he had, he’d be a richer man in hell than he’d ever been on earth. It’d be enough.

He’d just need to broadcast his radio waves a little further for your listening pleasure.

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ⋆Masterlist.ೃ࿔*:･

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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