#and port's good at that sort of thing when he wants to be! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

yawarakaizai · 7 months

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pm dazai and pm chuuya who constantly fight each other for readers attention... but then someone hurts reader and all of a sudden they work together so seamlessly to kill the mf who dared to touch you (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

ⵌ YOU'RE QUITE THE SAME IF LOVE'S THE GAIN

SENDER Reader (Fem) RECIPITENT PM!Dazai Osamu + PM!Chuuya Nakahara (BSD) CONTENTS jealousy, reader+chuuya+dazai are 16/17, reader is an heiress, hostage situation, fluff n cute!! (implied) torture, worried chuuya NOTE This wasn't the department you specialised in. You wanted to manage finances, and while Mori was more than happy to grant you the role - Dazai would nag for you to join him and Chuuya on missions that didn't concern you in the slightest. There's only so much patience one can have. COMPANY Tangled Up

A/N THI S WA S RLL Y C UT E !! sorr y this one was l ate ;//; i hav e a scho o l trip tmrw ^^// maybe i'l l t ry sm ut nex t ... i have a l ot of good re qs i ho pe i ca n ge t throu gh the m a ll ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

Missions with Dazai and Chuuya always resulted in a thrilling adventure. There was never a time you'd look back on a mission you'd had with both and say to yourself, 'that was a bummer.'

You weren't supposed to work alongside them. Within the Port Mafia, Dazai and Chuuya were always to be assigned missions that were too dangerous for someone ordinary.

And, you? Well.

You possessed no ability. Your purpose in the Port Mafia was your background - your status.

Heiress to your father's wealth in your homeland of France, your parents were part of a certain elite group that made you a walking target should you venture without protection.

That is why you were always thrown as the bait.

With all respects to Dazai, that is, who introduced to Mori the idea of having you be the helpless, dumb damsel skipping merrily into danger.

You weren't happy about this arrangement and that was made clear by your sulking.

" Oh, look at me, I am an unattended woman. "

You sluggishly wandered around the dark halls of the abandoned facility, your voice just barely loud enough for the walls to echo your sarcastic jokes.

" This is serioouuuss! " The earpiece cleverly hidden in your ear crackled into life, you knew the voice belonged to Dazai. " Been chasing this guy for ages now, I think he's got some sort of phasing ability. He might appear outta no where, but Chuuya's trailing behind you, so don't worry. "

As if it could ease your nerves, it only made you regret agreeing to this further. " Great. I'm comforted. " You replied in a snarky manner.

You were dressed in lavish clothing that not even your pompous, arrogant mother would ever think of wearing. You seemed to have a distaste for reminders of the generational wealth you possess and opt to distance yourself from a 'royal' life. It proved impossible when it was the only thing that allowed you to maintain a job in the Port Mafia.

The gloomy and cold atmosphere left you hugging yourself for warmth as you traversed through complicated corridors. Although your earpiece was not connected to Chuuya's, you worried that you were walking off-course and/or Chuuya knew where you are meant to go, but could not blow his cover to correct your stupid mistakes.

Chuuya did a pretty good job at staying hidden. You could not hear a thing other than the clacking of your heels against metal flooring. " Ohh.. I'm so scared. " You pitched your voice higher, this being your best shot at luring out whoever it is the PM were after. You weren't taking this seriously, that was clear to both Dazai and Chuuya.

This wasn't the first mission you three were together, there were a few others that you'd two go through but this was the first time you were thrown a seal to a shark.

Dazai was elsewhere in the building, you weren't sure where and he gave no information when asked. With the affirmation Chuuya had your back, you knew that there was nothing to fear.

You would have appreciated some communication on his end though. You figured it must be his unnatural shyness towards you that made it hard for him to be too forward.

You easily noticed how his behaviour would change around you. And with Dazai around? Oh, boy.

Even if you could be a little air-headed sometimes, you weren't dumb to the hints in front of you.

From the day you were rescued from captivity - a story for another day - Chuuya stood out. You find it funny how he'd be unable to face you for more than a minute before looking away hurriedly. It sprung your new-found hobby of teasing Chuuya whenever you could. Of course Dazai picked up on it pretty soon after too and Chuuya has not known peace since. You couldn't help it! You weren't to blame! You giggled to yourself reminding yourself of Chuuya's little crush, fingers intertwined behind your back loosely, your back straightening from its previous hunched-over stance.

Feeling sudden confidence surge through your veins with the recollection of memories with Chuuya, you were just about to turn on your heel to address the gravity manipulator until a hand grabbed you from behind - before you had the chance to see who it was, you felt cold metal press against your temple that made you freeze up.

In front of you, Chuuya had finally revealed himself, but he too was stood as still as stone.

" Kill me 'n the girl goes too. "

They have never let it get THIS bad. Not ever have you ever even been in the hold or this close to an enemy, and here you were at gunpoint, something that was not planned.

You didn't dare break eye contact from Chuuya. This might just be your final moment. With great trust in Chuuya and Dazai's ability, you weren't sure how they'd proceed with this.

Chuuya might end up being the last thing you see. The look of fear on his face too didn't ease your nerves. They were not in the position to bargain. And funnily enough, you blamed yourself for this.

" Fine, yeah. Let her go. " Chuuya stood up from his mid-offensive position and dropped whatever weapon he had. A gun and a small knife for close-combat, he raised his arms above his head to firmly show his surrender. The hand that was previously on your lower hip raised to roughly cover your mouth, a gloved palm shoving itself in your face and that broke you down immediately. Fear took over and your knees went weak with pure fright, yet the man behind you had his fingers digging into the flesh of your cheek with such a harsh grab that it kept you standing up-right, the barrel of the gun pressing in deeper to your skull, sure to leave indents - that is if you weren't just shot dead. Then an indent would be the less of your worries.

With your back pressed against the chest of the stranger, you could feel the vibration of his confident voice as he spoke loudly, " Don't take me for a fool, Nakahara. You could easily use that ability of yours. " And that was true. You actually forgot about Chuuya's ability. Your mind was too foggy at the moment.

It was the first time you saw Chuuya Nakahara look uncertain in whether this mission would end well or not. He smiled insecurely as he let out a gruff exhale, " Wouldn't do that if I wanted her to live, yeah? Now let her go. "

Even if he kept grinning, you could see how the sweat dripped from his face even through your own teary eyes. With the palm pressing over your mouth and nose, it was difficult to breathe and steady your heart that was already beating fast enough as it is.

" Hmm.. " The gun was lowered slowly, caressing down your cheek and to your chest before being positioned at the pit of your stomach, " But do I really wanna? "

You began to squeal in protest, unable to accept your helplessness but it seemed someone else did your job of retaliation for you.

In the blink of an eye, the man holding you captive fell backwards and consequentially dragged you down with him but ended up tripping you up a bit further. You fell with your head banging on the hard floor, your captors hand slipping from your mouth and allowing you to briefly ‎gasp for air. The clattering of a gun was heard somewhere yet you were too dazed to properly do anything at this point.

The last thing you remember was the feeling of being raised from your underarms and distant shouting.

" -as if she'd be able to do-"

" No, you shut up! You could've done something easily. "

" It was your idea to use her as a fuckin' pawn, don't twist this. "

" Uhh! I'm sowwy~! I thought Chuuya Naka-fucking-hara had some balls to intercept~! "

" Zip it! She's waking up! "

Groggily, you stared at the two of them, sitting opposite each-other on the end of your bed. Judging by the bright white, you were most likely in the infirmary.

Chuuya was the first to lean in, he must have not noticed his hand coming to rest over yours which were folded nearly over your stomach. He had hope in his eyes, contrasting with the emotion you last remember them in. " Y/N? " He called out to you, taking a glimpse at the steady heart monitor.

Testing your voice, you let out a low hum before croaking out a meek, " Heya. "

Dazai was the first to break a laugh at your first words. His and Chuuya's eyes were soft.

" Don't look cute, I'm pissed at you both. " You huffed, turning your head to the side, avoiding them both.

Chuuya held your hand a little tighter, he understood if you decided to be unhappy with him. " Sorry, Y/N. I really fucked that up. Shit, I just didn't know what to do. " He explained himself with such compassion you were urged to look at him again. " I guess I discovered seein' you like that. Uh. In trouble and stuff, makes me seize up badly. "

From the corner of your eye you saw Dazai huff before standing up, but Chuuya held onto your attention as he continued speaking tenderly to you, " I thought that this loser would have planned a set-up and knew that was gonna happen but. It took too long. I realised last second he didn't plan shit. "

" Hey! Don't be so rude, Chuuya~ Besides, if it weren't for me, precious princess would've been shot. " You saw Dazai reach into his back pocket for something you couldn't quite recognise yet.

" Oh, that was you, Dazai? " You asked, alluding to the sudden drop during the action. " Yuup~ And y'know what the best part is? "

You quirked a brow and stole a shared glance from Chuuya. Dazai was unexpectable.

" Since me and Chuuya are so nice.. "

So Chuuya was in on this too?

Dazai paused his sentence and hummed in a baby-ish voice. " Kill me and the girl goes too! " He mocked, earning him an earnest giggle from you. " That wasn't funny, Dazai! I was scared! " You retorted, but still couldn't wipe that smile off of your face.

" Sorry, sorry. But, like he wanted, he's not dead. "

Dazai held the object he had pulled out in front of him. Bloodied priars.

" Technically death caused by unattended injuries is not 'killing him' on MY end, isn't that right, Chuuya? "

Chuuya nod his head before you.

They have that man locked in a fucking basement.

©yawarakaizai 2023 ﹒﹒ reblogs appreciated! requests open :3

#chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #pm dazai x reader #pm chuuya x reader #dazai x reader x chuuya #bsd x reader

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remlionheart · 1 month

Text

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die (part two)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ask and you shall receive ~ you guys wanted more, so here it is! 𓆩♡𓆪 thank u so much for all the love on this ♡ i didn't expect my first shot at Chuuya to gain so much traction but i'm really glad it did (he's just soooo ♡‿♡ u know?) hope you like a good slowburn bc buckle up, heavy "we shouldn't be doing this" vibes, Chuuya would honestly be the most arrogant yet easy to break dom because of how badly he wants to please you and you can't convince me otherwise, porn with a plot, 5.6k words. this fic once again had me swooning and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure writing it so pls lemme know whatcha think, also big shoutout to @bratbby333 for helping me edit this ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ ♡ here's part one if you're new here ♡

You stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror with a sigh, tugging at the neck of your shirt. It was late August, 90 degrees outside, and you were on day three of wearing a turtleneck.

You felt like you were attending a funeral in your black top, black heels, and black tennis skirt - but it was all you had left. You'd already worn your other patterned and pleated options earlier in the week. Already paired each stifling hot sweater with the nicest necklaces you had to make them look more business casual than walk-of-shame.

But no matter how nonchalant you'd tried to seem about your sudden change in wardrobe, it was impossible to ignore the curious stares you'd been getting. The suspicious glances from Akutagawa who just a few days ago could barely even look in your direction without tripping over his own feet. There was a palpable sense of skepticism that followed you and it only seemed to get worse with each high-collared shirt you wore.

You let out another sharp exhale, surveying yourself one last time before heading back to your office. You were busy trying to decide on which expletive you were going to spend the next 7 hours cross-stitching when you rounded the corner, a sudden rush of warmth spreading across your face as a pair of cerulean eyes locked with yours.

Out of all the looks you'd gotten recently, his were by far the hardest to avoid.

Time seemed to slow as you passed him. A subtle but taunting smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth while he continued his conversation with Mori. Something about his upcoming assignment in Osaka and how it'd require him to be gone for at least two weeks.

You disappeared into your office, closing the door behind you as you took a seat and diligently began working on a new project.

Your thread kit had become invaluable over the last few days. It wasn't just a way to pass time anymore - it was an escape. A tool you used to steer your thoughts away from the one place that they kept relentlessly trying to wander back to.

Since the announcement of his solo mission, there'd hardly been a chance for you to see Chuuya outside of the lingering glances you'd exchange in passing. Mori had been keeping close tabs on him, constantly barging in and out of his office to go over the details of his assignment. You tried to remind yourself that it was probably for the best. That the safest thing you could do was keep what had happened between the two of you a onetime fling and nothing more.

It hadn't mattered in the moment how careless you'd both been when you assumed that you'd never see him again, but now that your time here had been extended, you were quickly realizing how critical it was to keep your wits about you. Up until arriving at Port Mafia, you'd barely been skating by. Living off of a dwindling savings account and more often than not having to choose between dinner or rent.

The first check you received from Mori alone was more than you made all of last year working as a barista. You knew that this sort of opportunity would never come again. That it was absolutely fleeting and subject to change at any given moment, but that's what made keeping it for as long as you could so important. The money you were making now would put you through college. It would grant you a future that didn't involve debt. A sense of stability that you never would've had otherwise.

You had no choice but to lay low, for real this time.

You moved your tapestry needle with ease, adding small, strategically placed hearts around the words, "choke me" as you stretched out your legs with a yawn.

The coffee they had here wasn't nearly as good as the coffee you'd usually get from the cafe down the street, but you decided it was better than nothing as you set your cross-stitch pad on your desk and ventured down the hallway.

For as dangerous as this place was, there was still an odd allure of normalcy about it. There were mundane things like work meetings and fax machines and a breakroom that stayed stocked with beverages and snacks. If it weren't for the people that worked here, this truly would be just another business building in downtown Yokohama.

Your suede pumps tapped against the tile as you entered the breakroom, grabbing a k-cup out of the drawer and popping it into the machine before walking over to the cabinet. Despite the three-inch heels you were wearing, you still had to resort to using your tiptoes to reach the mug you wanted.

Your waist leaned into the counter, your arm reaching as high as it could go when your entire body suddenly froze.

You felt him before you heard him, a pair of gloved hands stealthily gripping around your hips. He rested his head on your shoulder, his breath sending chills along your skin as it broke through the barrier of your shirt and danced across the nape of your neck. He pulled you in closer, your ass meeting the firmness of his growing bulge while his palm slowly drifted up past your skirt and brushed against your inner thigh.

"You know you can't ignore me forever, right?" It was posed as a question but held the weight of a threat with the tantalizing way he touched you.

Your pulse raced, heat gathering at your center as he began to toy with the lacy outline of your underwear. His fingers were dangerously close to where you wanted them and where you knew they shouldn't be. Where they couldn't be if you wanted to stay here.

It was cruel irony that just last week it had been him who was trying so hard to keep himself together and now you were somehow the one struggling to maintain your composure. Failing to stop yourself from arching your back against him. Nearly whining when he abruptly pulled away from you and disappeared without another word.

You swallowed hard, looking down at yourself while you straightened out the hem of your skirt, your body still aching from the disappearance of his touch. It was only then that you realized just how fitting your outfit for today actually was.

You were attending a funeral, mourning the loss of your dignity that had died so easily at the hands of Chuuya Nakahara.

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Two days had passed since your run-in with the redhead and you'd barely seen him since. You knew he was set to leave for Osaka tomorrow morning from the conversations you'd overheard while wandering the hall and you knew he wasn’t looking forward to it.

Maybe it would've been easier to not care about what he was doing if you weren't forced to be here every day, but there was no such thing as a break when working for Port Mafia. No weekends. No time off. Even as arguably their most useless member, you were still expected to show up day in and day out without complaint.

You didn't like to admit it, but his assignment had been weighing on you since you'd first found out about it. You didn't understand why he was being asked to go alone. Why he'd have to be there for two weeks. Why you even cared to begin with.

It'd been bleeding into everything you touched, your embroidery going from mindless patterns to things you couldn't possibly bring yourself to say out loud.

Your fingers moved with precision, adding dainty purple flowers around the words "please be safe" when the landline on your desk let out a shrill, unexpected ring.

You paused, staring at the phone with hesitant curiosity. You'd assumed up until now that it was a decorative prop. A piece of outdated technology to help add to the illusion that you had a real office rather than just an empty room to keep hidden away in for 9 hours. You were floored that it actually worked.

On the fourth ring, you finally caved, answering it with a reluctant, "Hello...?"

"You'd make a terrible receptionist, y'know that?"

You hated the smile that crept across your face as you twirled the phone cord around your index finger. "Don't you have anything better to do besides bother the help?"

"Nah, not really." You could hear the smirk in his voice. "Mori's finally out of my hair for a bit. Somethin' about needing to go check the status of one of our bases out in Tokyo so he should be gone the rest of the day."

"Hmm," You hummed, still fidgeting with the tangled wire. "Guess you'll have plenty of time to clean your office before you leave then."

He let out a semblance of a laugh, his tone still riddled with salacious arrogance as he said, "Get your ass in here." and hung up.

You drew in a shallow breath, mentally kicking yourself yet again for how little self-control you had as you stood up and made your way down the hall. Your skin had just healed from the marks he'd left on you and here you were, flirting with the possibility of getting more.

The door opened seconds after you'd knocked, a set of narrowed blue eyes and tousled red hair greeting you as you stepped into his dimly lit workplace.

You took a seat on the leather couch he had in the corner of the room, pretending not to notice as he locked the door behind you.

"Does Mori not pay you enough to have more than one lamp in here?"

He stood in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, a cocky grin breaking through his nonchalant demeanor. “Sorry, where does he have you working again? That tiny ass room that used to be the broom closet? Yeah, I bet the fluorescent lighting is way better in there.”

You bit back your own dumb smile, rolling your eyes as you crossed one leg over the other. "Did you drag me in here to just insult me or do you actually need something?"

"Depends, do you like being insulted?"

You could feel your body betray you, a telling shade of pink decorating your cheeks as you averted your gaze from his.

"Really?"

You didn't have to look at him to know how much it’d piqued his interest.

"Why are you going to Osaka?" You asked, eager to change the subject.

There was a subtle wave of seriousness that washed over him. His voice losing its playful edge as he rolled his shoulders with a sigh. "I can't really go into too much detail without making you a liability. The less you know about the shit that goes on around here, the better."

Your mouth open and then closed, the objection you had lined up dying on the tip of your tongue as you quietly nodded back at him. Even if you didn't want to accept his answer, you knew he was right.

"Aw, don't tell me you're actually worried about me?" He tilted his head at you, his stare softening when he caught the sincerity in your eyes as you looked back at him. "I'll be fine. Trust me, compared to the other missions I've had to go on, this is nothin'."

You had no choice but to trust him, you knew he was blunt enough to tell you the truth and if he wasn't stressed about leaving, then you couldn't be either. As easy as it was to forget, he wasn't just another member of Port Mafia, he was an executive. There was no way Mori would send him alone if he didn't think it was something he could handle.

"Honestly, I'm more worried about you." He said, breaking your train of thought by nudging your leg with his foot. "What're you gonna do for two whole weeks while I'm gone?"

You buried the rest of your concern with a shrug, uncrossing your legs as you shot him a small smile. "I don't know. Guess I'll have to start fooling around with Akutagawa to pass the time."

He nearly snorted he laughed so hard.

"What? You don't think I could have him if I wanted to?” It was infuriating how easy it was to banter back and forth with him like this. How effortless it was for you to both volley off one another without missing a beat.

He shook his head, trying not to burst into laughter again from the thought of you and his perpetually flustered coworker. "Nah, you could. Just think you'd be disappointed is all. Akutagawa wouldn't know what the fuck to do with a girl like you."

There was something about the way he said it that made the blood dance in your veins.

"Fine." You pressed, still wearing the same slight smile. "Tachihara then."

It was becoming a real problem, the way you loved toying with him as much as he loved toying with you.

"He wouldn't."

"I bet he would."

He bent down to become eye-level with you, butterflies flooding your stomach as he reached out to rest his hand under your chin, a gentle but firm grasp holding you in place. "You can try," he said, his thumb lightly dragging across your bottom lip. "But I don't think you'll have much luck."

"Why?" It was barely a whisper let alone an actual question.

You knew him well enough to know where this was more than likely going, but there was a depraved part of you that wanted to hear him say it. Needed to hear him say it.

"'Cause," His eyes glazed over as he leaned in, closing the already small gap between you so that you were forced to share the same breath. "Tachihara isn't dumb enough to touch things that belong to me."

Your heart was threatening to beat straight out of your chest. A week's worth of pent-up arousal nearly dripping onto his couch as you looked back at him without the faintest bit of restraint left in you.

All of the reasons why you'd been trying so hard to stay away from him suddenly held no real merit. They were lost to his touch. Completely eviscerated the moment his lips finally caught yours and his tongue swirled against you with the same tender urgency you'd been daydreaming about for the last five days. The future didn’t seem so pressing when the present was this heavenly.

Your legs parted without him having to ask, inviting his body to come between them while your hands travelled to the back of his neck. Desperate fingertips sinking into his skin in a feverish attempt to somehow pull him even closer.

"'Take it you're finally done ignorin' me?"

You nodded as you watched him push your skirt up, briefly pausing to take his gloves off with the same toothy method he’d used the last time you were in his office. You could tell it was a seldom act for him. Something he had to consciously remind himself to do, but only when he was with you.

"Good."

His mouth attentively returned back to yours, calloused but gentle fingers digging into the softness of your thigh while his thumb swiped your underwear to the side, granting him access to your weakest point.

"Fuck," he groaned, drawing light circles against you, reveling in the way your hips thrusted up for more.

As eager for a challenge as he was, he secretly loved how easy you were to please. How little it took to rob you of your composure and have your legs shaking around him. How pitiful you looked from only two of his digits slipping in and out of you. How your pupils would dilate in this delirious way each time he went deeper, but how you were still submissive enough to never break eye contact no matter how much you writhed and squirmed beneath him.

"Chuuya -"

"What is it baby?"

He could feel how close you were. Knew it wouldn't take much more to have you soaking him, but he couldn't leave for two weeks without making you cum on more than just his fingers. He needed to know what your walls felt like wrapped around him. What absolutely fucking dazed out noises you would make once he was inside of you.

He undid his belt with his freehand, not letting up on you as you grabbed onto the collar of his shirt.

"Fuck, yes. P - please." You whimpered, watching him stroke himself as he carefully lined up with your center. "Please, Chuuya, ohmygod, please."

"Jesus Christ." He choked out, reeling in how pretty you sounded begging for him. Almost not being able to stop himself as he watched you come completely undone, still pleading for his dick.

He moaned against you, forehead pressed to yours as he finally found the willpower to pull his fingers out of you. His tip had just barely made it past your entrance when a loud knock brought both of you to an insanely cruel and abrupt pause.

His hand flew over your mouth, fire flickering across his blue eyes as he drew in a sharp breath.

"What?" he called out through gritted teeth.

"Plan's changed." It was Tachihara. "Mori's back. He wants you to leave now instead of tomorrow."

"Now?" The anger in his voice was palpable. "Like, right now?"

"Yeah, he's waiting in the jet."

"You can't be fuckin' serious." He grumbled, a pained expression taking hold of him as he looked back down at you, removing his hand from your mouth.

"Gimme a minute." He yelled, silently trying to ration what he was supposed to do with your body still splayed so beautifully under his.

He wanted to fuck you. God damn, he wanted to ignore everything else in the entire world and fuck you into oblivion at this point, but he knew it wouldn't be fair to either of you to have to rush through it or be stressed about the fact that someone might barge in at any second.

It needed to be the right time because you both deserved it. Especially with how many mutual pent-up emotions there now were between you.

Pulling out of you was torture, but he didn't have a choice.

You could've cried, your heart and pussy both grieving the loss of something they'd never even had.

"I swear," He said, forehead back against yours, "As soon as I get back, it's me and you, okay?"

You nodded, doing your best to swallow down your emotions.

"Okay." You finally agreed, eyes still locked with his, a faint smile poking through your frustration. "But if you're not back in two weeks, don't be surprised when you see me and Akutagawa holding hands in the hallway."

He let out a half-hearted laugh as his lips met yours, kissing you in a way that he hadn't before. Soft, lingering... affectionate.

"Hey," you whispered seriously this time, "Please be safe."

"Promise."

And with that, you began redoing the buttons on your blouse and smoothing down your skirt while you watched him grab a jacket out of his armoire, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket.

"You smoke?"

"Only when I really need one."

He shot you a wink, wrapping his arm around your waist as he walked you out of his office, not caring at all who saw.

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You knew it would be awkward without him around, but you hadn't anticipated just how slow the next week would go by. You were tired. Out of ideas for cross-stitch patterns and nearly positive that your curled fingers weren't capable of creating anything else even if you wanted to.

You read manga to keep yourself busy. Looked up recipes on your phone. Took naps at your desk that left kinks in your neck. Called your friends from back home, trying to keep the conversation going long after there was nothing left to say. You were bored. Grateful to still be here, but ready for a day off that you knew wouldn't come.

The check you received on Friday was enough of a reason to stay though. It made the long days of staring at a wall worth it. You reminded yourself again and again that there would never be another job like this. That you might actually miss it one day.

You had no idea, however, just how quickly that day would actually come until you were rounding the corner back to your office and ran into Kyoto. She was the same peach-haired woman who had recruited you from the bar, only she was standing with a fresh face. A girl who looked to be about your age with big brown eyes, flowy blonde hair, and a skirt that was somehow even shorter than yours.

When you had first started, they'd told you that there would be other 'administrative assistants' coming eventually, but you'd almost forgotten about it until now.

Your eyes drifted from her to Kyoto, thinking there was surely no way you'd both be expected to share the same office with how small it was.

You started to extend a hand out to the blonde, ready to introduce yourself when you were promptly cut off by Kyoto.

"Your time here is up." She said curtly. "If there's anything you need to get out of your workstation, I suggest you do it now."

A vicious mix of anger and embarrassment churned in your stomach. "My time here is up?" You repeated blankly. "Why?"

"Mori's decided you're a distraction." She shot you a pointed look. "Especially to that of Nakahara. Now, get your things before I have you escorted out."

Your ears were ringing, your vision blurred by tears at how cold and sterile this all felt.

You went into your office for the last time, grabbing the thread kit and books out of your drawer as you made your way down the hall, looking back to see your replacement excitedly taking over the spot that was once yours.

Goodbye college, goodbye easy money, goodbye Chuuya.

You were able to hold yourself together on the train ride home and on the walk back, but the minute you made it into your apartment and closed the door behind you, everything all spilled out at once. Your crafts and manga falling from your hands as you sank down to the floor and sobbed.

You thought nothing could've been as mortifying as your first day with Port Mafia, but your last day had proved to be far worse. You were right back at square one and it felt terrible.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The next few days were a blur of filling out online job applications and revamping your resume. You'd hardly eaten. Hardly showered. Hardly done anything that involved getting out of bed.

It was Sunday and rent was due tomorrow. You'd done the math in your head - you had enough money in your savings account to live here comfortably for the next three months without any additional income. If you really pushed yourself and lived uncomfortably, you could probably even skate by for four.

But no matter how much you tried to remind yourself that there was time, you still couldn't shake the feeling of failure that you'd been left with. If you'd been fired for other reasons, it might not have hurt as bad, but the fact that it really was your fault haunted you.

You took a breath, looking over yourself in the bathroom mirror. A combination of three-day old clothes and a knotted side-bun staring back at you. You decided if you were going to continue to sulk, you could at least do it in some fresh pajamas and washed hair.

The hot water felt good beading across your skin as you scrubbed off the grime and regret that had been stuck on you since the day you’d been let go. The air filling with the smell of vanilla as you exfoliated your legs and ran a conditioning treatment through your tangled locks.

You still didn't feel great, but you felt better and that was a start.

You threw on a white tank-top with a pair of oversized grey sweatpants, running a brush through your hair when you heard the buzz of your doorbell. You froze, looking down at your phone to see the time 11:11 flash across your screen.

You hadn't had a visitor since you'd moved here, let alone had someone stop by at almost midnight.

Your footsteps were light as you crept down your hallway, cautiously peeking through the slit in your door watching him impatiently ring the buzzer again, running a hand along the back of his neck while he waited.

"Chuuya?"

"You'd make a terrible doorman, y'know that?"

It was the first time you'd laughed in the last six days, your arms wrapping around him before you even had the chance to think about what you were doing.

He didn't seem to mind though, his hands locking around your waist as you both pulled each other closer. "How did you -" Your thoughts were everywhere. "How did you find my address?"

He let out a slight laugh, his breath fanning across your neck. “I told you it'd be me and you when I got back.”

There was something so sincere about the way he said it. Something so overwhelming about the way he was looking at you. Out of all the things you'd lost recently, you were incredibly thankful he wasn't one of them.

You let him in, locking the door as he followed you down the hall.

“Sorry," you said sheepishly, realizing that you were about to bring him into the messiest part of your apartment. "It's not always like this."

He took a moment to look over your bedroom. The thumb-tacked pictures of you and your friends that decorated the space above your bed. The string lights and cloud-patterned tapestry adorning the walls. The matching baby-pink sheets and comforter set.

It looked like you. It smelled like you. And no matter how many clothes there might've been scattered across the floor or mugs piled up on your nightstand, it was still way cozier than the hotels he'd been staying at over the last two weeks.

"Looks fine to me." He shrugged, taking off his jacket and tossing it onto a velvet chair next to your dresser. "How've things been since I've been gone?" he asked, taking a seat next to you on the bed with a small smirk. "You and Akutagawa official yet?"

Your eyebrows furrowed as you stared back at him, "Mori didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"I, um..." Your gaze was suddenly on the hem of your shirt as you began to fidget with it instead of looking at him. "I got fired."

"Mori fired you?" There was a sobering sharpness to his voice as he repeated it. "For what?"

You knew he'd find out one way or another, but it was still embarrassing having to relive your conversation with Kyoto. "For 'being a distraction.'" you sighed, your eyes hesitantly dragging up to his. "To you."

There was a brief moment of silence and then, a laugh.

“Huh,” he mused. “Well they're gonna be in for a real fuckin' surprise when you come in tomorrow then.”

You shook your head at him in quiet confusion. "Chuuya, I can't just show back up. Kyoto threatened to have me escorted out when I took more than five minutes to get my stuff out of my office."

His brow arched in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Did she?" The question was somehow calm despite the scornful undertone it carried. "Well," he breathed, gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. "She's gonna really hate it when the entire building has to hear me fucking you. Every. Single. Day."

A sudden warmth washed over you, beginning at your cheeks and ending at your core as you blinked back at him cluelessly. "What are you talking about?"

"You're gonna be my personal assistant." The smirk he was wearing was lethal. "And I'll pay you more than that asshole ever did. Weekends off. Full benefits. Alla that."

"Are you -" He'd never lied to you before and you weren't sure why he'd start now, but you were struggling to wrap your mind around the fact that you'd just gone from being unemployed to promoted in a matter of minutes. "Are you serious?"

"Well yeah," He said simply, his grin softening a bit. "I mean, who else is gonna clean my office before I go on trips?"

You both smiled this time before your lips were immediately back on his. Eager, unreserved, bliss.

He fell back into the bed with you on top of him, his hands gliding along your curves while you straddled him. The flimsy straps of your tank-top slipping down your arms as you hovered over him, kissing and nipping at his neck.

He didn't care if you left marks on him. Didn't care if he showed up tomorrow smelling like your perfume with blatantly obvious bites covering his collarbone. He wanted everyone to know if they didn't already. Wanted them to stare and whisper and drop fucking dead at the sight of the two of you walking in together. It made him feral just thinking about it.

Your hips were rocking against him, your center aligned perfectly with his as you moaned at the friction your movements were creating. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, his fingers tugging at the waistband of your sweats.

"Here." he said in-between breaths, helping you out of them and tossing them onto the floor.

You started to pick up where you left off, but he stopped you, swiftly undoing his belt and adding his pants and boxers into the sea of discarded clothing too. You hadn't even been able to see it until now. Hadn't been able to fully appreciate the length and fucking girth of his cock up until this very moment.

You left another kiss on his neck and then on his chest and then on his torso, meticulously leaving them all over while making your descent down to the one place you so desperately wanted to be.

He watched you with wide eyes, your hand wrapping perfectly around him as you looked up and slowly ran your tongue along the side of his base.

"Fuuuck." His voice was heady, his hands tangling into your hair as you made your way up to his tip.

You opened your mouth wider, almost wondering how it was going to fit, but you managed. Taking him inch by inch, going down further each time until you developed a steady rhythm.

You understood why he liked going down on you so much. The noises he was making were gorgeous. Groaning out sweet little nothings the faster you went. "Doin' so fucking good for me, baby." "God, you're so pretty, y'know that?"

You kept one hand on him, gliding him in out of your mouth as the other trailed down to your clit. Feeling your own slick between your fingers only made you all the more blitzed out. You were sucking and moaning and watching him stare down at you like you had put the stars in the sky as you fingered yourself while somehow still staying focused on him.

"C'mere." It was the first coherent thing he'd said since your tongue had so lavishly graced him.

He gave your hair a gentle tug, pulling you back up so that you were almost sitting on top of him.

"I need to feel you so fuckin' bad, you have no idea." he breathed, lining himself up with you, feeling how wet you were before you'd even lowered yourself onto him.

His hands rested on your hips, your grip back around his base as you centered yourself over him.

It’d been so much just to take in your mouth, you were almost afraid of how bad this would hurt, but he was aware of his size. Letting you go at your own pace as he helped keep you steady.

The stretch he provided you with from the first couple of inches alone was noticeable, but heavenly. Your eyebrows knitting together as you looked back at him. A dazed, poutiness taking over you the further down you went.

You took him in deeper and deeper until finally, you were fully riding him.

"There you go, fuck - just like that."

He watched your head lull back, your hand reaching for his as you continued to grind against him. Both of you losing control as he began to thrust into you.

Your eyes went wide, his name echoing across the room while your walls spasmed around him.

"Sucha good girl."

His praises only made you go faster, one of your hands still locked around his and the other now palming at your chest. Squeezing your nipple between your index and ring finger as you looked back down at him. "Chuuya - 'm -"

It was hard to tell where his moans stopped and yours began, the carnal sounds synchronizing the deeper he plunged into you.

He felt another clench, and then, he was suddenly drowning in you. Completely unable to hold himself together anymore as you soaked him.

"Cum inside me." you whimpered, "Please, Chuuya. I wanna feel it. Please, please - fuck, baby, please.”

It didn't take you begging to convince him, but it certainly made it happen faster.

His ocean eyes rolled back as he thrusted into you, absolutely enamored by the sounds you were making. The way you were pleading and pouting as he filled you.

It somehow made every daydream he’d had about you seem lackluster in comparison. You were beautiful you were his.

You both stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath before looking back at each other with the same exhausted smile.

He pulled out of you slowly, letting you collapse onto his chest as he ran light fingers through your hair. "You should probably set an alarm for tomorrow." He exhaled. "I heard your new boss is a real asshole."

"Oh yeah," You mused, leaning up so that your lips were ghosting his. "He's the worst."

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

#chuuya smut #bsd smut #chuuya nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya x reader #bsd chuuya #soukoku #rem writes

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theanimeoftheblackbunnymask · 1 month

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Yandere Fyodor and Dazai Compare and Contrast (How They'd Treat Their Darling)

Links: {Masterlist} {Yandere Fyodor Alphabet}{Yandere Dazai Alphabet} {Yandere PM!Dazai Alphabet}

Fyodor as a yandere is such an interesting concept.

Fyodor is a complex character who I believe is very hard to write and pull off.

He's deceiving in everyway of the sort, and I can see his darling having a hard time trying to figure him out. One day he can calm and quiet, and the next day he's sadistic and a bit more temperamental than yesterday.

I can see him acting like this as a way to keep you on edge. He isn't bipolar by any means, but he enjoys seeing the uncertainty on your face, the constant worry that a single slip up can through him into a frenzy, or he'll not even react and just let you deal with it on your own.

This is kinda where I compare him to Dazai. Dazai is very switchy in the same way, but he's a lot more consistent. Dazai rarely changes his behavior, but he actively changes his reactions, his actions often contradicting his personality. This is where being Dazai's darling become stressful because you'll think you know how he'll act, but in reality he'll react in a way that's completely out of character.

Fyodor and Dazai are full of mind games. Fyodor would rarely hits his darling. He finds it much more satisfying to see you stress your own self out, terrified of what he'll say or do to you, watching as you break down and pathetically try to hide yourself from his presence.

Dazai is sadistic, but not as much as he was when he was in the Port Mafia. He hates the idea of physically hurting his darling, and when he does he sinks into regret.

Now, where would they keep you?

I can actually see Fyodor bringing you along in his endeavors, and maybe even get you involved as a spy if you're powerful enough. I don't see Fyodor keeping you a secret from the ADA, and often uses you as a way to mock them, saying how they can't even save you. You're often viewing all his plans, and if a mission is a little too dangerous for his liking, he'll hide you in a place that you can't escape from.

Now, Dazai is more of an abusive boyfriend type yandere. He let's you like your normal life, go to work, hang out with friends, go to the mall, normal civilian stuff, but, he's watching you the entire time. You slip up once, and you'll deal with it at home. Dazai doesn't want to keep you in doors 24/7, but he also doesn't want you to leave him. You tell anyone about the horrors of your relationship, and you're left crying on the floor of the bathroom, the door locked as Dazai threatens you from the end. I also want to note, Dazai rarely if ever yells at you. The low and coldness in his voice is enough to throw you into tears.

So, who would be the worse to deal with full time?

Fyodor, here's why.

Dazai gives you a lot of freedom, much more than the average yandere, so you can live a mostly normal life. With Fyodor, you're stuck with him 24/7. He won't let you go anywhere by yourself, and has killed a few of your friends and family. So, if you did escape, you wouldn't last very long, and you wouldn't have anyone to support you.

The one good thing about Fyodor is that he's a pretty good balance of giving you false hope, and shutting your dreams down completely.

I do have one idea though. What would happen if you were acting as a spy for Fyodor, not for the ADA, but maybe for a powerful figure Fyodor wants something from, and you end up running into Dazai. It's one of the rare times you're alone, so I wonder how things would go.

#yandere bsd #bsd x reader #bsd x y/n #fyodor x reader #fyodor x you #fyodor x y/n #yandere fyodor #yandere fyodor x reader #osamu dazai x reader #yandere dazai #dazai x reader #yandere osamu dazai #dazai x y/n #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #yandere bungou stray dogs #osamu dazai x you #osamu dazai x y/n

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 months

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The Sheep King and his Demon AU

Aka Bsd except Chuuya doesn't join the Port Mafia.

Not technically canon to this... Butt what if Dazai joined the Sheep.

Basically the whole operation of setting members of the Sheep free, takes a lot longer than anticipated.

And so Dazai is sort of taken hostage by the Sheep until their hostages are released.

I say sort of because Dazai offered himself up as a hostage.

He's curious, he wants to know about this gang of teenagers that causes such havoc for the Port Mafia.

Especially their king.

The Sheep hold a meeting and they agree.

Dazai is suprised by his treatment, sure he and Chuuya argue constantly and he can piss off anyone without even trying.

But they treat him like they treat each other.

At first Dazai assumed they were lax about security because he came willingly. Or they were just that overconfident.

But he realises that's not the case at all.

Sure they keep an eye on him, mostly Chuuya. But he's not restricted to their base, just warned against going further into Suribachi city.

Obviously, Dazai doesn't because that sounds like more trouble than its worth.

But he's not handcuffed or kept in a makeshift cell. He's allowed to roam around the base and the surrounding area with a Sheep member keeping an eye on him.

Their all well aware of who he is, and have procedures and an agreed upon plan if things go south.

But for the most part, Dazai is treated like one of them.

Like, Yuan takes food inventory. She calculates how much they've got, rations the food as fair as she can.

So Dazai is suprised when a can of crab is handed to him every so often.

Because no one else eats crab, he's the only one. And Yuan goes out of her way to get him it so he'll have something to eat.

He wonders if it's to keep him on their good side, but it's not the case. Because Yuan tries to grab the others food that they love, it's not always possible but she tries.

None of the others comment about it, some joke about him eating crab of all things but leave it there.

They never force him to eat with them but the door is always open.

"Thanks for the crab."

"Hm? Oh your welcome."

Shirase is a strategiest, which suprised Dazai given their first meeting.

But apparently when he's not blinded by emotions, he's a lot more calculating and smart.

Dazai's offered to help when he's seen Shirase scheming a heist against a shipment heading into Port Mafia terrority.

"You... Want to help us steal from your people?"

"Why not?"

Shirase just stared at him for a moment before snorting, moving to sit beside him.

Showing his notebook and filling Dazai in what was happening.

They spend the next few hours pouring over ideas.

Tossing plans back and fourth. Sometimes they end up walking in circles and Shirase ends up leaving to patrol but thanks him for his input.

Dazai's never had anyone but Mori to steategise with, but this felt different. Quietly he'll admit that it was fun.

For all of Chuuya's grumbling of not being a king, he's an effective leader.

And so different from Mori.

After becoming Boss, Mori is strictly hands off.

He rules through fear and intimadation. He doesn't have to fight because he had tools that would it for him.

Mori's word was law, you didn't challenge it unless you had a coffin picked out.

Than you had Chuuya who constantly throws himself onto the front lines. He's a team player even if he would jump into danger alone to spare the others.

The Sheep follow Chuuya because they trust him. They need each other to survive and care about each other.

Chuuya doesn't give orders, everything feels like an open ended discussion. They debate and scheme and come up with solutions together.

The Sheep have even benched him when he's injured despite Chuuya saying he was fine.

They know each other's limits and don't use that to exploit it each other. Rather how to help and take care off each other.

It's so different to what Dazai's used too.

It's werid.

But it's not a bad werid.

Dazai starts to dread the idea of going back to the Port Mafia. He makes a throw away comment about it at dinner and everyone goes silent.

Chuuya just looks at him like he's said the dumbest thing he's ever heard.

"Idiot, if you don't wanna go back. Don't."

Dazai wants to laugh and say that it's not that easy. You don't just leave the Port Mafia, he'll be killed or worse and that's before Mori finds out and deals with him personally.

Chuuya rolls his eyes, as if reading his mind. He tilts his head to the others, and Dazai looks around.

And notices the looks on everyone's faces.

No one objects, no one looks annoyed or angry... Infact, they seem to all be in an agreement.

If the Port Mafia tried to take Dazai, they would all rally behind him.

And Dazai... He smiles.

Somewhere deep down he knows he's found where he belongs.

Chuuya gifts him his blue wristband, putting it on his wrist.

Dazai: Werid way to propose Slug.

Chuuya: I'm not proposing?! We're not even dating!

Dazai: Do I have to do everything around here?

Chuuya: You never do shit!

Shirase: Not true! Shirase tell him! Tell him how useful I've been!

Shirase: He's not wrong, Chuuya.

Dazai: Awww thank you hedgehog!

Shirase:... Nevermind he's been lazing around all morning.

Dazai: Gasp betrayal!

Yuan:.. Did he just say gasp?

Dazai:, Fine fine, oh great king Chuuya will you go out with the lowly peasant that is me?

Chuuya:... I will pay you to never call me that... And sure fine I'll go out with you.

Yuan: I win! Pay up scrubs!

Everyone else: groans and pays her their money

Chuuya: You bet on us?!

Shirase: You can't actually be suprised.

Chuuya:...

Yuan: Thought so.

Dazai: Damnit why didn't I think of that?

#Bsd #Bsd the sheep #Sheep Dazai #soukoku #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs #bsd shirase #bsd yuan #The Sheep King and his Demon AU

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thealtoduck · 9 months

Text

My Jolly Sailor Bold

Sam Winchester x Male Reader

Content: Old Timey Sailor AU? (Idk what to call it)

Warnings: Smut, Bottom!Reader, Top!Sam, age gap reader is 18 and Sam is 25, loss of virginity, anal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, spit as lube, missionary position…

Summary: During a walk you meet eyes with a handsome sailor and there is an instant connection…

(A/n: Honestly i’ve only seen like 6 episodes of Supernatural… like 2 years ago, so Sam might be very out of character… just so you know)

——

Your father was a merchant, a merchant who traveled and transported all sorts of goods across the sea to sell and bring home the money to his family. He had taken three of his sons to act as part of the crew of his ship only leaving the 2nd oldest and the youngest sons behind in their hometown.

He left Remus, the second oldest, in charge to take care of business and to care for his wife/Remus mother and the youngest son. And the youngest son is you Y/n L/n…

One summers morning you were walking through the shipping port, you had just seen off your father and your older brothers, they were going on another voyage on the dangerous ocean. Your mother had been crying seeing them leave again, as soon as they boarded she had gotten down on her knees praying for their safe return.

Your older brother Remus decided to escort her home, so he could comfort her over a cup of tea and some biscuits. But you wanted to see the ship leave port and decided to stay a bit longer.

As you walked you watched the different people, some were saying goodbye to loved ones as they were about board the ships, others were unloading the wares from far off places and even some kids just looking for a good spot to fish.

Then your eyes fell on a man, presumably a sailor, he had a very handsome face, he was looking out to the sea. The sailor’s attention had drifted from the sea… and on to you. Your eyes met his as you walked past and it felt as if your heart was pierced by cupid himself when he looked at you. You felt you would get odd glances by the crowds if you continued looking at each other for too long, so you broke eye contact and kept walking.

Once you reached the edge of the pier you sat down on the edge, legs hanging over the water. A while later you saw your father’s ship drift out of port slowly. But you noticed something, the sailor you had seen before was standing portside gazing longingly back at the dock.

Back at you…

You smiled at him, he smiled back.

You waved at him, he waved back.

Then another crew member seemed to call him over, he gave you one last smile and wave and then he turned around and left. And you watched as the ship traveled in to the distance before you left and went home.

A month later…

Your father’s ship should be returning today, so you, Remus and your mother once again traveled down to the port to greet your father and three brothers.

Though you weren’t only there for your father and brothers, their return would mean the unknown sailor would be returning along with them. Which meant you could finally meet him. The smile of the sailor had lingered in your head through the month there was something special about him.

Once you were at the pier you could see the merchant’s ship was approaching. As soon it had docked the gangway was lowered and the crew rushed off the ship to reunite with their loved ones.

Your father and three brothers stepped over the gangway together and greeted you, Remus and your mother lovingly. Your brothers immediately started telling you stories about the journey. But it was hard to keep up because all 3 of them were telling different stories at the same time.

Your father interrupted them saying ”Boys, boys, calm down there’s plenty of time for stories later”. He then turned to you, your mother and Remus and said ”First things first, we’ll have a guest for a couple of days, one of the sailors, he has no family or wife to go home to and i felt bad for the man, so i thought he could stay with us for a couple of days for some company”.

”See now where is he?” your father questioned looking around. ”Oh, there he is. Sam! Over here!” he called over the man. When you saw the sailor coming over it felt as if your breath was knocked out of your body.

It was the handsome sailor you had waved to when they left. He stopped in front of your family with a shy smile. ”This is Sam Winchester”. Your father introduced him first to your mother, then to Remus and lastly you.

”And this Sam, is my youngest son, Y/n” he introduced. You and Sam shook hands and you said ”It’s nice to meet you Mr Winchester”. ”Please, just Sam” he said with a nice smile. The eight of you then traveled back to your family home.

You spent the whole day listening to the never ending stories of your brothers adventures on the voyage. And it became a blessing when it was finally bedtime and you could finally escape them.

Though you couldn’t fall asleep that evening, it was just impossible. Your bed was either too warm or too cold, too soft or too hard, there was just no way to feel comfortable. You decided to get up and get a cup of tea and maybe read a bit.

Though when you walked down stairs in to the sitting room you were suprised to see Sam was up reading a book in candlelight. Sam looked towards you and said ”Oh sorry Y/n, did i wake you?”.

”No, don’t worry about it, i just couldn’t sleep” you explained and then questioned ”How about you?”. ”Couldn’t sleep either” he answered simply with a small smile. ”Would you like some tea?” you asked. ”I’d love some” Sam said.

You went in to the kitchen and lit some more candles for light and then started making some tea. You went back in the sitting room with a tea tray and sat down on the couch beside him.

You tried to think of conversation topics but Sam spoke up first saying ”You know, i remember you from the day the ship left, you were the only one who really saw me off and i wanted to thank you, it meant a lot, it kept me going on the raging sea as if i had someone to come back too”.

You smiled brightly at him. ”That means a lot to hear, i actually thought a lot about you, you seemed so mysterious… so i wondered who you were, what your name was and if i’d ever see you again” you told him, a warm look forming on his face.

”What were you reading?” you then asked looking at the book Sam had been reading. Sam looked at the book and said ”It’s an old tale about a sailor and what he sees during his travels, and at one point he believes he sees people of the sea, mermaids and mermen, he describes them as beautiful and graceful, pure of the sins of man and who’s echoing voices sounds like touching the softest silk”.

”In fact everytime i pictured them all i saw was you waving from that dock, from the way they’re described all i could see was your face” Sam revealed looking deeply in to your eyes. You were at a loss of words. Sam then caught himself saying ”Sorry, got a little-” he tried but you cut him off saying curiously ”Read me a passage, about the sea people”.

Sam smiled picking up the book, flipping a couple pages and read to you ”While passing the foreign lands, sitting on a rock close to the shore sat a young man of otherworldly beauty, the man was bare, his wet skin glistening in the sun. There was an ethereal esscense to him as he waved politely towards me”.

Sam moved closer to you as he countinued reading ”The man looked carefree and untouched by the sins of men, he was glowing as if he was untainted, sent from heaven. It made me want to get closer and touch him, to feel if his skin felt the same as mine, to feel his body pressed to mine to see if he remains as immaculate as when i first saw him”.

Sam finished and looked up from the book at you, meeting your gaze. He had put the book aside and put his hand on the side of your face, stroking it softly. ”That was beautiful” you said in an amazed whisper. ”I know, I was the one who wrote it… I wrote it about you” Sam said and pushed his lips to yours.

You had never been kissed before but Sam’s soft lips guided you. He took your hand in his squeezing it lightly. He then pulled away from the kiss saying ”Come with me” and he started leading you towards the guest room. He lead you inside and closed the door behind the two of you.

He then pulled you back in to a kiss, his arms around your waist pulling you closer to him, your clothed bodies pressed together. Sam led you to the bed making you sit down on it. ”Have you ever done something like this?” he asked in a kind tone.

You shook your head shyly. ”Do you want me to show you?” he asked, his hand lifting you chin ever so slightly. ”Yes” you told him. He then made you stand up again and started slowly undressing you.

You felt aroused as Sam lastly pulled off your night shirt leaving you naked in front of him. He looked you up and down as he stroked your hip trailing his fingers over your soft skin. ”You’re heavenly” he said feeling your body in his hands.

He then started undressing himself until he was fully unclothed too. ”Touch me” Sam instructed and guided your hand to his chiseled chest. You stroked his chest down to his to his belly button. He then took you hand and led it even lower, putting your hand on his manhood.

He squeezed his hand around yours making you stroke his manhood. ”Feel that, that’s what you do to me” he told you. He then led you back to the bed and made you lay down softly on your back and then layed down next to you and once kissing you.

He pulled back from you’re lips. ”You’re so pure, it makes me want to shelter you from all the evils of the world… but it also makes me want to be the one to stain your innocence and make you mine” he said letting his hands drift down to your crotch. His fingers grazing against your length making you let out soft excited moans.

”Make me yours” you told him as you took his hand and pressed it against your crotch. Sam gave you a light smile and moved from your side to towards the foot of the bed, he grabbed your ankles and parted them, speading your legs.

He then moved himself inbetween them, he leaned towards you and said ”Open your mouth”. You did as told and Sam put his middle and index finger in your mouth making you suck on them.

He then pulled them out and brought them to your untouched enterance trailing over it lightly. He then asked ”Ready?”, you nodded. Then you felt the strange feeling as his wet index finger started pushing in to you.

You gasped at the new feeling as he used his finger to pentrate you. It hurt a bit at first as he pushed in but then you started adjusting to him. Soon enough Sam pushed in his middle finger, streching you out even more, as that pain soon turned to pleasure Sam pulled out his fingers.

He then spit in his hand rubbed it over his manhood. Sam once more held your legs spread as he lined himself up with your enterance. He whispered gently ”Ready sweetheart?”. ”Yes” you answered and Sam slowly started pushing himself in to your tight virgin hole.

You threw your head back as you felt his thick length enter you, Sam covered your mouth as to not wake up your parents and have them find him deflowering their youngest son. ”Fuck” Sam swore as he felt your hole clench around his cock as it slowly sunk in to you.

Sam continued pushing all the way until his manhood was planted in you. ”You’re doing so well” Sam praised as he watched you breath deeply as you slowly adjusted to his size. Soon he noticed your pain was turning in to bliss. ”Sam” you moaned deeply.

Once your pained features had turned to ones pleasure Sam slowly started rolling his hips carefully, pushing his length in and out of you as gently as he could. Your arms were wrapped Sam’s back as the foreign sensation of his cock made you uncontrollably moan.

Sam placed kisses along your collarbone as his cock was kneaded by your warmth. ”You’re so beautiful” Sam told the virgin boy beneath him as he watched him be defiled by his manhood, it was a once in a lifetime sight.

Sweat started forming between the two of you and to Sam you looked just like described in his book, your damp skin really was glistening from the moonlight that entered the room. Sam started rolling his hips faster making you wrap your legs around his body.

The two of you had become a wet tangeled mess as Sam thrusted gently in to your ass giving you a sense of euphoria as he hit your prostate, giving you a feeling you could only ever dream off.

”Sam” you moaned as you felt a sudden new feeling as if you were about to erupt. Then your hard cock started shooting cum all over yours and Sam’s abdomens. This made Sam go feral and he shoved his face in the crook of your neck, planting deep kisses as he moaned.

His thrusts became rougher as he searched for his own release while saying animalistically ”I’m gonna fill you with my cum”. And with a last roll of his hip, his cock pushed deep inside you, he burst, filling you up with his seed. He then slowly pulled out of you, sitting on his kness between your legs.

He looked down on the beautiful young man he had deflowered, leaving him leaking with his load. Sam felt proud of himself. He laid down next to you with a gentle smile and said ”You were amazing” and planted a kiss on your lips.

You were close to falling asleep as you were all tuckered out from the experinence. Sam went and got up and got a rag to clean you up with, once he finished he helped you back in to your sleep wear. Then he carried you to your room putting you in bed saying ”Goodnight, beautiful” kissing your cheek one last time before you fell asleep.

Sam went back down to the sitting room and got his book, taking it back to the guest room placing it on the writing table, the next day he would write another chapter in it.

#sam winchester x male reader #sam winchester x male!reader #supernatural x male reader #supernatural x male!reader #sam winchester x male reader smut #x male reader #male reader #x male!reader #x male reader smut

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kaeyx · 2 months

Text

Valentine's day special - Nakahara Chuuya

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: yandere!Chuuya, kidnapping, afab!gn!reader, smut, voyeurism technically?, drugging at the beginning

Notes: happy valentine's day! This is neither edited nor proofread

You sigh and drag a hand down your face, yawning. Another day, another fiscal quarter, another load of budgets you had to go over and compile.

You allow yourself a moment to fantasize, since the box has no note or signature. If only it was from Chuuya, the most gorgeous man in all the Port Mafia. But oh, he'd never notice someone as unimportant as you! He probably didn't even know you exist! Him, the strong and powerful mafia executive and you, some poor sod who made sure everything ran smoothly, it was forbidden! He was just too out of your league..... dejected sigh.

Right, more like he's busy doing actually important things. He knows you exist, you sort of work under him. He's the one that goes through all your reports and comes back with budgets, so you know if you can order more paperclips and radios. And ammunition. And other things. He's just too busy being stupidly gorgeous and doing Important Executive Things to send valentine's day gifts to everyone who works under him.

With a sigh you set your papers down and sink into the chair, grabbing the box. A break wouldn't hurt. You don't recognise the brand, but there's a helpful little chart with the contents of each chocolate on the inside of the lid. Your thoughts drift back to Chuuya, as they often do. You can hope, right? After all, sending a bunch of gifts is exactly the kind of sweet thing he'd do. You've heard that he knows the name of everyone who works for him, and you're inclined to believe it.

Oh damn, these things are good. You pop a second piece into your mouth as soon as you swallow the first, feeling the taste spread across your tongue and burn your throat with its sweetness. Chuuya, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear while he writes. Chuuya, calling you by name whenever you see him. Chuuya, looking cocky and fiery and self satisfied after a job well done. Fuck, you really need to reign yourself in. This is reaching high school crush levels of infatuation, not that anyone can blame you.

Okay, okay, enough moping around, you're going to finish the whole box if you keep this up. Making a mental note to ask Kouyou about the gift later, you close the box and set it aside. Only, your hands feel a little heavy. You yawn, tiredness gathering fast behind your eyes. Shit, you know you hadn't slept well but surely it wasn't this bad? You don't want to take a nap right now.

Another yawn overtakes you and you lean back in your chair, rubbing your forehead. Okay, this never ends well, but you'll just take a 15 minute nap. Or an hour nap. Whatever. It's not like you have to clock out, as long as everything is in order by the deadline you can sleep as much as you want. You'll just.... rest your eyes a little.

✦✦✦

.....This isn't your office. This isn't even an office, it's a bedroom. You're still in your clothes, and your mouth feels pasty. The first thing you notice is the chocolates from before are sitting next to the bed, which is weird because you didn't bring them. The sunlight falling across your face is at a much lower angle than you remember. Your head is pounding terribly, but you're awake enough to realise you don't recognise the room at all. In fact, you don't even recognise the view beyond the gorgeous, floor to ceiling windows. It's a completely different part of Yokohama and, judging by how high up it is, far outside your budget.

The door opens with a smooth click and you turn to look. There's a sharp pulse of pain from your head and you close your eyes with a groan, hearing hurried footsteps coming up to the bedside.

"Are you okay?"

That snaps you out of it. It's Chuuya's voice. And indeed when you look, it's Chuuya's face close to your own, looking at you with concern. Your heart flutters and heat stirs in your gut as several realisations slam into you. Oh god, this is his house. Probably his bed. Had he been the one to find you? Had he carried you all the way here from headquarters?

"..... I'm fine. My head hurts," you answer quickly, realising you've been staring like an idiot.

"Figures," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. You notice he's missing his hat. You feel like you're seeing something you shouldn't. "I ordered those chocolates made pretty strong."

Hang on, what? "What? Those were from you?"

Your heart soars. Holy fuck he'd sent you chocolates on valentine's, and you're lying in his bed. But....

"You had them made pretty strong?"

Chuuya nods, looking a little awkward. "I had to get you here without a fuss, you understand. And I needed time to prepare for when you came."

You blink several times, head still spinning. This makes absolutely no sense.

"I just can't leave you alone out there, it's not safe. You have no idea what risks you take on the daily just working for me, doll. I couldn't bear it any longer, you're too special to lose." He's almost rambling now.

"And you didn't even ask first?" You interrupt him. He pauses, looks back at you with a delicate sort of expression on his face.

"I couldn't have you saying no. Or getting any ideas about leaving."

"But.... but what about my job? My apartment?"

Chuuya reaches a hand out and tentatively rests it on top of yours. It's effective in shutting you up, mostly because the touch makes you lose your train of thought. He's so warm, it's even radiating through the smooth leather of his gloves.

"I've taken care of everything. You don't have to worry about that anymore, okay? I can take care of both of us." He talks so gently, squeezing your hand gently when you don't lean away from him. A little bit like he's soothing a scared animal. That thought shouldn't intrigue you as much as it does.

You stare at him in silence, your sluggish brain trying to process everything through the fog of sleep and drugs. Which is also his fault, you realise. Chuuya is simply kneeling in silence next to the bed, fixing you with a steady gaze, and you can't tell what he's thinking. He seems to be holding his breath.

"You... just want me to stay with you?" You ask him, tentatively.

"You are going to stay with me, darling."

The pet name startles you in the best of ways and a traitorous shiver of heat curls up your spine. Damn, you knew you were desperate but this is just pathetic. You need space, fast.

"Go. Just leave, please. I need to think." If he keeps looking at you like that, so strangely hopeful, while kneeling, you're going to do something you might regret. And you still don't know how you want to feel about this.

You close your eyes and don't open them again until you hear the door click shut, not wanting to risk a look at his expression. There's also the sound of the lock, and the soft tumbling sounds of a deadbolt. You slump backwards onto the ridiculously plush pillows.

Is it bad that you're not angry? Maybe it's the novelty of the situation, or the shock. But, wow. That was intense. Are you really dense enough to miss all those signs, or is Chuuya just really good at acting normal? You know he's not lying. This is undoubtedly unhealthy, but you don't think you want to complain.

Warmth blooms in your chest and you get a little giddy. Is this a fucked up airport romance novel or what? The rich, handsome mafia boss has been secretly pining after you all this time too, even though you're a nobody, and he just can't wait to marry you! Okay, Chuuya isn't the boss and he hasn't said anything about marrying you, but he's gorgeous and he kidnapped you so it's close enough. It almost seems too good to be true. You get to stay in his house and quit your job, presumably to sit around and look pretty since he hasn't mentioned you having chores, and in exchange.... what? He wants to fuck you, like a sugar daddy of sorts? God, you can only hope.

This is so much to process, especially after you've apparently been drugged. You have to talk it out with him obviously, but not now. Later. When you wake up from this next nap you're going to take right now, snuggled up in sheets with a stupidly high thread count that smell like Chuuya.

✦✦✦

Unfortunately, Chuuya seems to have interpreted your initial reaction as a definitive rejection. And even though your situation isn't ideal, mostly because you can't leave, it's not like you have any other complaints. This has lead to easily the most ridiculous month of your life.

You'd had a short, hard think after your second nap of the day, that first day, and decided that this was an absolutely glorious situation to be in. The next time Chuuya had unlocked your door, bringing you food, you'd tried to talk to him about it.

Much to your confusion he'd just looked.... a little heartbroken. Like he didn't believe you at all. And now you want to punch yourself for letting him believe that, because Chuuya is horrifically stubborn and seems convinced you're lying to him to get out.

Sitting in bed, you ponder the absurdity of the situation. Chuuya is out for work, though he always makes a point to come home for at least one meal of the day. After the first week and a lot of begging he'd let you eat with him and also have free reign of the house when he was there, just so you weren't confined to what you now know to be the guest room. He doesn't let you have a phone or an internet connection for obvious reasons, but you have all the TV and books you could ever want, and a record player. Chuuya's taste in music was... more punk than you'd anticipated, but he seems perfectly happy to answer questions about each record when you ask.

So you ask questions, eat with him, ask about his day, you've even tried cleaning up a little while he's home and you're allowed out of the room! You're on your best behaviour to try and get him to touch you, to look at you even, but he just sighs like a kicked puppy and locks you back in the bedroom whenever he has to leave. He won't even give you a hello or goodbye kiss, and it's starting to sour your ideal of a domestic life. You'd be lying if you said it hadn't been an idle fantasy before, but now that it was both within reach and more unattainable than ever you feel like you're going crazy. What the fuck else are you supposed to do?

Flopping backwards onto the sheets, your eyes drift to the corner of your room. There, on the wall mounted lamp by the desk. He's got a camera. An idea begins to form in your mind. It's not like Chuuya had tried to hide the surveillance from you when you'd asked. To keep an eye on you, he'd said, to keep you safe. You know it's because he doesn't trust you to stay without trying to jump out the window or something equally stupid. You know he's got the system hooked up to his phone, that it's a live feed, and that he checks it sometimes. A grin spreads across your face, and you pray silently that he's bored at work.

It doesn't take long to set everything up. A hand towel from the ensuite bathroom, because of course Chuuya is fancy enough that his guest bedroom has an ensuite. A pillow, set on its side and placed in the middle of the bed. You, naked from the waist down except for underwear, straddling it with the towel on top to minimise mess. You'd had to estimate your position relative to the shot since you've never actually seen the camera's view, but it's a good enough job.

Straddling the pillow and bracing yourself on your hands, you close your eyes. Time for a show. You think of him. The soft, copper curls of hair, those gorgeous blue-grey eyes, and how he's taken you. He wants you, he has to want you. Out of everyone he could have he took you, kept you without asking. Like you were his already, like he owns you. Nothing gets you riled up faster than that.

Warmth settles low in your gut and you sigh. No, it's not time to move yet. You hope he's watching. What would that look like? Phone in hand, just taking a quick peek to check on you only to be met with this. You can imagine Chuuya's eyes widening in shock, maybe glancing quickly around him to make sure nobody else can see this. His hands, his gorgeous hands with their long, lithe fingers, squeezing tighter as he zeroes in on you.

Your hands sneak under your shirt, slowly, teasingly. They dance across your stomach before going up, up your chest, quickly pulling the fabric over your head. You're entirely exposed now, the sunlight streaming in through the windows and hitting your skin, lighting you up from behind in the camera's point of view. What if it saves the recordings? Will Chuuya watch the footage back? You hope so. You imagine him looking at the video over and over again while he palms his cock, maybe even at work, and the thought only makes the heat in your belly grow.

Grasping the pillow with one hand you brace yourself with the other, and roll your hips experimentally. A pleasant tingle of stimulation, dampened by your underwear being in the way, just how you wanted it. Your eyes slide shut again as you find a comfortable pace, head bowed. What would he look like while masturbating? His thick hair all messed up as his chest heaves, shirt undone and pants shoved down to his knees. His pants and grunts as his hand moves faster and faster and slick sounds fill the air. Has Chuuya ever thought about you, like you've thought about him? Like you're thinking about him right now?

Your face screws up a little and you whine, a bit louder than necessary. If the camera has a microphone, you want to make sure it catches every sound you make. A low groan reverberates in your chest next and you make no attempt to stop it, your movements speeding up a little as your cunt dampens. The friction is so light and teasing no matter how hard you grind down onto the pillow, it's already beginning to frustrate you.

With a little tug the pillow's seam slots itself perfectly against your clothed slit and you can hear your heavy breaths in your own ears.

"Chuuya...." You moan, quietly, wantonly.

He has to sound so much prettier than you, with that sweet voice that grows rough around the edges when he's excited or annoyed. You imagine his breathless panting and whining in your ear, his voice almost a growl while he fucks you, his hands gripping you like a bear trap. Oh fuck, you want him inside of you so badly. It's been too long, too much of having him right fucking there without being able to touch him. All you want is to reach into his pants, to feel his cock twitch and stiffen under your fingers. Does he like it rough, fast paced? Or slow and romantic? You can't decide, and you don't care. However he decides to take you, you'll go gladly. All you want is to fall apart on his fingers and tongue and cock, over and over again, enough to make up for lost time.

His tongue dancing over your clit, dipping in between your folds, oh how you need that. The pillow isn't enough, you're working yourself into a frenzy trying to get satisfaction from the teasing rubs, every pass of your hips making you lose your mind. You can barely think, except for fragmented fantasies about Chuuya. How you wish it was him below you right now, sucking on your clit and holding you down against his face. Your hands buried in that soft, silky hair of his as you rode out your orgasms. His moans vibrating against your cunt while he sucked and licked and fucked you on his tongue until you cried, and then not stopping until you collapsed over him in a sweaty mess. His already beautiful face stained with your slick even as he licked his lips clean and leaned in to kiss you.

Your head falls back with a cry of his name, all shame abandoning you. Quickly pulling one leg over the pillow you yank your underwear off, not even stopping to look at the pearly string of wetness that connects your soaked cunt to the fabric, tossing them onto the bed behind you and resuming your movements.

The change makes your knees weak and you whimper Chuuya's name again, almost automatically. The rough fabric of the towel feels divine, dragging across your clit over and over and almost burning with a raw ache. You pin the pillow with your legs too free up a hand and use it to pull back the hood, exposing the swollen nub. Your slick quickly leaves a wet patch on the once pristine fabric and the rough texture disappears slightly, leaving you both under and overstimulated.

Damnit, this isn't going to be enough to cum. You want to cum, you want Chuuya to be watching, you want him to break down the door and- and- something, anything. Push your face down and pull your hips into the air, spreading your ass to admire the mess you've made all for him. Lick a greedy stripe up your cunt to taste you before he bottoms out in one thrust, you're wet enough, you can take the sting. Fuck, the pain would feel so good if it came from him. The fast, unforgiving pace as he fucks you into the mattress, putting that insane stamina of his to good use until you're a braindead mess.

"H- Hah- fuck." Your voice shakes, you remember you're supposed to be making noise. "Chuuya, please, please.... Chuuya..." Your head thrown back, back arched, hips grinding mindlessly into the pillow as you beg, you're hopefully the picture of desperation and seduction. God, you need him to come home now.

The knot in your stomach tightens little by little and you concentrate on it, feeling your orgasm grow even as your legs begin to tremble from exertion. There's a sheen of sweat on your bare chest and your knees are beginning to hurt from bearing your weight, but you're so close. Just a little bit more, just-

"Fuck, I knew you'd come around. See? You're safe here, you're mine now."

The voice comes out of nowhere, scaring you so badly you yelp and lose concentration. Your orgasm, so tantalisingly close, slips through your fingers as you whine and look around.

It's two way, of course. Why hadn't you thought of that? The camera, it has a speaker on your end too. Chuuya is talking to you through the camera. Arousal spears through your gut and you turn your head towards where you know the device is, putting on a shaky smile.

"Are you- convinced now?" You pant. Your thighs are burning, badly. Still, your hips start moving again of their own accord.

"Absolutely I am, sweetheart." Oh, that nickname goes straight to your pussy, especially with the ragged, almost desperate tone in his voice.

"Chuuya," you moan shamelessly, "I miss you so bad... Want you to be here, I need you..."

"I'm coming doll, I'll be home soon." His voice crackles a little, but it's still recognisable. "You're the prettiest damn thing I've ever seen, don't stop moving okay? Put on a show for me."

You grin, once again curling over the pillow between your legs and focusing on your movements. It's not hard to find the edge again, you're already so riled up and his words are adding to the fire pooling in your guts.

"Keep talking- fuck, just keep taking to me," you beg.

"You like my voice, baby?" Chuuya sounds so self satisfied, you can picture the smug look on his face as clearly as if he was right in front of you. "You like it when I talk to you? Thought about my voice before?"

You nod frantically, stomach flexing. Just a little more, just a few more seconds...

"Gonna cum?" Chuuya's voice comes out a little breathless, almost awed. "Cum all over yourself just from humping your pillow and listening to me? Not even going to touch yourself, darling? Fuck, do it. I wanna see. Go on, cum for me."

That's all it takes, really. With a noise between a yell and a sob you reach your peak, cunt clenching around nothing while you ride out the high. Dimly you hear Chuuya's voice, rough and satisfied, praising you. You fall onto your face, landing in a sort of all fours position that keeps your back arched and ass in the air. Your poor, oversensitive clit has been rubbed raw against the towel and is still twitching, you must be a sight to see.

You turn your head to the side, looking in the general direction of the camera with a dazed smile.

"'M waiting for you, Chuu."

"I'm coming, doll."

#chuuya.bsd #chuuya x reader #yandere!chuuya #yandere chuuya #yandere!chuuya x reader #chuuya smut #yandere chuuya x reader

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rednotebooksworld · 8 months

Text

Righting a Wrong

male merman/fem!human!reader

SFW oneshot

contains: human misdeeds, cursing and enemies to friends??? Idk

Summary: a young merman gets tangled up in some old fishing line and you decided to help

~***~

“Ow! Watch what you’re doing, human!”

You huffed in annoyance. You were in the middle of help a young merman, who got himself suck in some old fishing line on the shore of Saint Valor, an island that was a port, traded with the mainland.

“If you’d stop moving around maybe I wouldn’t nick you with my blade.” You said, shaking the switchblade you had in your hand.

He frowns as he scoffed. “Whatever.” His tail swished in the water, splashing you a bit as he but his chin in his palm.

“Curb the attitude, man. I’m trying to help you.” You said, going back to cutting the tough fishing line.

“I didn’t ask for your help.” He said.

“Yes you did.” You replied back.

“No, I didn’t. I could’ve gotten out myself!” He exclaimed.

“Right by tangling yourself up even more,” You said. “Look I just thought I could help.”

“You humans are such a bother. From your damn fishing nets to your loitering on the beach and polluting our ocean with your loud boats.” He growled.

“Really? You do realize our boats are our way of life. We need things from the mainland or else people will die.” You said.

“Hmphf, less humans to worry about.” He said nonchalantly.

You scowled at him as you flicked the side of his tail with your fingers.

“Ow! Human! What the hell!” He exclaimed.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that.” You said.

“Well, I’m sorry,” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Why should I have any sort of sympathy for you humans?” He asked.

“Because humans aren’t all in the same box, stupid.” You said.

“Ha! Yeah right,” He said scoffing with a smirk. “The elders never lie. Especially about you humans.”

You frowned as you took your knife away from the fishing net. “Fine then if you think humans are all the same then I’ll leave your sorry ass here and let you die.” You threatened.

The young merman’s eyes widened at this as you stood up, folding your switchblade and putting it back in your pocket. You were about to walk away when he called out to you.

“W-Wait, hold on a second!” He exclaimed.

You stop and turn around to look at him you had an unamused look on your face.

“I’m… I’m sorry… please… don’t leave me here.” He mumbled.

“Are you done being a dick?” You asked.

“Y-Yeah, please get me out of this net.” He said.

He wasn’t looking at you, he was look down at the ground in shame and embarrassment. You, a human were trying to help him and he was just being cruel and mean to you.

“Alright then. I just want to right a wrong. Some fishermen don’t care about the ocean but some of us normal folk do,” You take out your switchblade and started cutting at the fishing net again. “Our whole lives depend on the sea for ships to come into the docks to transport goods and other things that we need. I’m sorry that humans are scum and your eyes but don’t think that we don’t have it rough.” You said.

“I understand…” He said. “I… I never knew that… so do you think my elders are wrong?” He asked looking up at you.

“Somewhat, they need to look at humans individually. Every human isn’t all black and white, you know. We make mistakes, some more then others but the choices we make are our own and the faults of others shouldn’t be casted onto others that haven’t done anything.” You said.

“I see…” He said, he seemed to think about what you said a little. The young merman was dragged out of his thoughts when your voice was heard.

“There. You’re free now.” You said.

He blinks a couple of times then he looks up at you. “Oh, um, thank you.” He said softly.

The two of you say in silence as you put away your switchblade. Then you asked. “Can you make home alright?”

He looked to you then he looked away at the open water of the Saint Valor. He nodded. “Yes, I am.” He said.

“Good. Well, goodbye then.” You said.

You started walking away from the young merman. He whipped his head around and called out to you again. “W-Wait, wait a second!” He exclaimed.

You stopped in your tracks turning around again, looking at him.

He sheepishly looked away then he looked back at you. “Can I see you again?” He asked.

Your eyes widened at his question. Why does he want to see you again? You thought he hated humans. But then again you can see he’s young and looks to around your age if merfolk age like humans do that is. He was probably just believing whatever the elders or his parents told him and never met a human before in his life so you must have changed his perspective.

“Why?” You asked.

“Be…Because… you are so much different then what I perceive humans to be. I want… I want to get know you better.. maybe you can teach me humans aren’t all bad like the elders says.” He said.

He being serious, he’s not being a cocky little bastard. “Okay.” You said bluntly.

“Really?” He responded back as her perked up a bit from his sheepish expression.

“Yes, really. You can visit whenever.” You said.

“How about tomorrow? Same place?” He asked.

This shallow were a nice spot to meet. You nodded with a slight smile. “Okay then tomorrow it is.” You said.

“Great.” The young merman made his way back into the deep parts of the sea, he waved to you before he disappeared back into the depths of Saint Valor.

~***~

a/n: oh btw, I don’t have a name for this boy. So if you have any name suggestions please feel free to put them in the comments or my inbox 😊

#monster #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #red’s oc #tag: mxf #tag: sfw #monster x human #merman #merman x human #merman x reader

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netherfeildren · 4 months

Text

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter XI : Lethe

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Brief reference to sexual assault (none has or will occur); Hurt/Comfort; Extremely soft Din Djarin

A/N: I kinda just winged all of this, if there are any inaccuracies or any canon divergence, a great and many apologies!

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 7.7K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER XI : LETHE

At what point does one say of a man that he has become unreal?

Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red

Between bouts of wakefulness, you tell him of the things they did to you in the dark. A blooming flower in the dead of winter, stunted and slow, and as if you’re pulling your own teeth in some moments, when other words come like vomit, rushed and hot and putrid but necessary, something not to be held back. And you don’t tell him the whole of it, he knows this, he can see, but you tell him the parts you can bear, and for now, it’s enough.

You sit in that bed of comfort he’s so meticulously arranged for you in the dim light of the Razor Crest, overheads shut off, only a single warm snake of glowing light falling over you from the cracked open fresher door, navcom set for the desert planet of Tatooine and the spaceport of Mos Eisley, and the thrum of hyperspace buzzes around the two of you. He sits on the opposite side of the hull, wrapped in his armor and his silence and his wanting, and he watches you ebb and flow out of sleep; soft, slow drooping of your eyes into wakefulness and then back into the depths of rest. You need so much of it, he can tell.

At first, you don’t let him near. No touching, please, you beg in whispers, and although it feels as though his bones are thrashing within the confines of his skin or like his teeth will fall out of his skull from the saccharine sweet flavor of want for you that sits sticky on his tongue, he obeys. So at a distance, with certainly no touching at all, the two of you talk. For hours, and then for days, and although his bones continue to shake, and his teeth continue to ache, he holds himself in temperance and restraint because he knows that to just look upon you is enough, he knows it’s everything.

The trip to Tatooine takes days, the Crest a little worse for wear than what she’d been when you’d previously been aboard. The hits she’d taken over the years, over his and Grogu’s journey had taken their toll, and her hyperdrive was no longer what it had once been. But she ramained faithful and sturdy, like any good mistress, and she’d get the two of you where you needed to be, to Tatooine and to Peli for some much needed maintenance after the long trip to the Core. And Din knew it wouldn’t only be the ship’s routine upkeep the two of you would find there, but some much needed rest in the sand port, as well, and most importantly, time. Buying himself time during the slow going trip, and then there, to figure out how it was he was going to get you to stay with him, force you if necessary.

He’d been telling the truth when he’d said you weren’t going anywhere. He would not be left again.

Din had been a stupid man before. He would not be making the same sorts of mistakes again.

Two days since he’d brought you aboard now, and you’re still not entirely well. Tired and sluggish, but he tells himself you just need rest and the closely monitored interval feedings he’s been coaxing on you. You’re sleeping again now after he’d gently cooed and shushed you into accepting some broth, and he watches the methodical up and down sway of the wing of your shoulder, hypnotizing, listening to the whistle of your open mouthed breathing that sings a song assuring him you’re alive and well. He’s been sitting at the opposite end of the hull from you, as far as he can get while still remaining in your direct vicinity, attempting to give you whatever measure of peace he can bear, silent and still, enshrouded in the dark for hours now. Counting the minutes between the sporadic opening of your eyes, the brief moments when you come to and grant him access to your gaze.

Those eyes of yours, they’d haunted him for two years. When he was trying to forget you, when he was trying to move on, stupid and horrible, insisting he could only take Omera from behind because he couldn’t bear the sight of a face that wasn’t yours. He had been wrong. He had done wrong. He had been bad. And he didn’t want to admit it, or acknowledge it, or look it directly in the face, but it was regret which lived in him. He couldn’t deny it.

He’s been scanning your heat signatures every thirty minutes, your core temperature holding normal, your vitals stable, and he’s full of sick paranoia, ravenous want, singing joy. Too many things churning within him to properly digest, and in a way, he’s grateful for this time you’re affording him to gather himself while you sleep and recover. He needs to be well collected, ready and strong and level headed to give you whatever it is you might need when you’re finally ready to leave your restful unconsciousness and come back to him.

You start to shift as he’s scanning your temperature once again. First the hitching of a knee and the nudge of your hips, and then your leg stretching long and lithe, and he watches the arch of your small foot peek out from beneath your blanket, tiny toes splaying wide, spasming and shivering with the stretch of your muscles. He swallows hard, forces the heat in his body that would like to swell to an inferno to remain cool and serene. All this, just from the sight of one small foot. He’s pathetic and ridiculous, and he doesn’t care because he loves you, and you finally know and really, what could matter after that? Nothing.

His eyes swing back up to your face, and he watches the scrunch of your spikey, dark lashes before you nuzzle your face into the cove of your shoulder, coming awake slowly, slowly, as if you’d not had any real, true and peaceful rest since the last time you’d been on his ship. He watches you with bated breath, the subtle inclination of his body towards you as if he were trying to absorb your presence, and when you finally turn back, eyes blinking open he feels his heart lurch in his chest at the first sight of them. Nothing in the galaxy compares, and he must surely know, he’s seen so much of it.

He says your name, voice low and graveled with disuse. “How do you feel?”

You stretch your arms out in front of you, wriggling beneath the covers and making the most delicious of little noises he forces himself not to fixate on. Oh, you sigh, eyes opening wide, long lashes fanning across high cheekbones, before you finally find him in the shadows he’s sitting in. Nothing but the still gleam of beskar in the dim light to give him away.

“You’re so extra shiny now,” little voice and even tinier nose scrunch, so adorable that something soft inside of him aches and snaps its teeth.

“Yes, well…” he sighs, “new armor.”

You sit up slowly, jaw shifting from side to side as you move with what looks like frightened care, like you’re expecting something to hurt, and then, yes, there it is, tiny and subtle, but a flinch. Infinitesimal scrunch of your brows, your left eye winking shut, the droop of your mouth, all of it happening so fast, but he’s watching so intently, learning forward as if he’d shoot across the space that separates the two of you to take you in hand, fix whatever it is that’s aching, that he catches it all before you can school your features into blankness.

“Your hair’s longer,” he whispers, and you freeze, arms bracing yourself up on locked elbows, they don’t tremble anymore like before, and he takes this as a good sign. You let your head fall forward to hang between your shoulders, long hair, a curtain concealing your face from him, and he wants to snap at you, for one unhinged moment, that you’re not allowed to keep your eyes from him anymore. He’s already gone too long without them, he can’t bear anymore of it. But he swallows his insanity, keeps his mouth shut.

You shake your head down at the blankets, before finally looking back up, sitting up all the way and turning to face him. Silent while you settle with your back against the wall so that now the two of you are face to face, separated by dust motes and memories and desire that snaps like lightning between the two of you. There is frision here, pressurized and boiling, and he has to behave. He won’t push you or ask anything of you you’re not ready to give or tell. You’d already shared bits and pieces with him, over your stunted bouts of consciousness over the past two days. A dark hole in the ground, a thieving Twi’lek, breaking of a kind he can’t bear to think of directly, and I hurt like I’m newly made, Din. And now, the first time you’ve been fully awake and lucid, he isn’t going to ruin this with his desperation.

“Fancy. Looks expensive,” you press about the armor.

“I did a big job.”

He doesn’t know how to handle the subject of him. He’d told you the most important fact you needed to know, that he isn’t his biological son, that he hadn’t betrayed you in that way. But the rest? The whole of it? There was so much to say, so many things, great and small to tell. Din couldn’t fathom where to start.

“Oh? What was it?” You’ve wrapped the blanket up high beneath your chin, hiding yourself away from him swathed as you are. Everything and anything you can do to keep yourself apart and protected.

“Are you hungry? You should eat,” he says instead.

You shake your head no. “What was it? Tell me.”

A sigh, and, “Stole the kid for some Imperial remnants.”

“You did what? Your kid?” You screech, surging forward all tangled up in the blankets as you are.

“Yes. Unknowingly,” he huffs. “I collected payment, and then I– I… I don’t know, changed my mind. I went back for him.” His words come to a stuttered halt, unsure and suddenly, unbearably shy, fucking with a small loose seam coming apart at the knee of his pants he’d been meaning to mend for days. There’s a part of him, irrational or untried or overprotective that doesn’t want to tell you about him, his ad’ika, and he can’t understand why when it’s you. The girl he loves, the girl he’s waited for. But it had been so difficult, so precarious, his journey with Grogu, always on the defensive, always looking over his shoulder, waitting for the worst. He’s unused to sharing him without fear or trepidation. And then his loss… for that’s what it feels like, and he’d never admit it aloud, knows he’s where he’s supposed to be, needs to be, now, but there still lives a small, sour seed within Din that whispers that that it’s wrong, that Grogu’s place had always been, and always will be, with him. And when he looks back up at your face, open and patient and lovely, it all spills out anyways. “He was a foundling, as I was. And he’s– he’s special. And after I went back for him, he was… put in my charge of sorts. We struggled so much, trying to evade the Empire, seeking out his people–”

“You found the Jedi?” You gasp.

Murky waters. “We did. He’s with them now. We traveled to Calodan on the forest planet of Corvus, we met a Jedi there by the name of Ahsoka Tano. I thought she’d take him then, help him. He needed to be with his people, and I knew that, I was prepared for that, but along the way… along the way he became– he became–” he clears his throat, for his voice has gone rough, almost choked. He shakes his head, unable to continue but you nod encouragingly, understanding without words all Grogu means to him. You’re sitting at the edge of the nest of blankets now, as if gravitating towards him, holding yourself back, marooned on an island of your own making.

“I’ve heard of her. A great legend, tragedy…”

“Yes, well… She sensed it in us, in Grogu.”

“That’s his name?” You ask softly. “Grogu?” And Din’s heart, it aches, at the sound of it coming from your mouth, all the gentleness and tenderness his ad’ika needs to be afforded. And unbidden, like flash fire, something he has to look away from immediately for his own self preservation, yours too probably, he thinks: oh, but you’d make the most wonderful mother, cyare.

“Yes,” he breathes, “Grogu.”

“And he– he’s a boy? Where does he come from? How old is he?”

“Not human. No one knows what species he is, but he was born on Coruscant, raised at the Jedi temple before the Great Purge, and then smuggled to safety and hidden away for years before I came to find him. He’s supposed to be about fifty years old.”

“But he’s–” your brow folds in confusion, “He’s a child? You called him–”

“Yes. He’s still young, still a baby. I don’t– I don’t know. He’s special. Green and– and wrinkled, with big eyes and even bigger ears.”

“He sounds… he sounds like someone my– my master spoke to me of, once. Of an unknown species, a great Jedi master. Perhaps the strongest in the galaxy, the strongest that's ever lived. Luke Skywalker was his apprentice.”

“That’s where the kid is now– with Skywalker.”

“You gave him to Luke Skywalker?” And your eyes shutter, your mask slipping briefly, showing your frayed edges.

“Yes.” He says carefully. “Ahsoka, she said she couldn’t take him, that we were too– too connected, that he needed someone more.”

“You seem to have a way with Force users,” you say suddenly, a little bashfully, a small smile spreading across your face in a half moon of laughter. “But it makes sense,” you continue, “That his connection, whatever loyalty to you he may have had,” and the use of the past tense feels like a gut punch, “would be difficult to work around when training someone so young and untried. But if he’s anything like his predecessor, then he has great potential in the Force. He’ll probably grow to unprecedented strength eventually. And from what I’ve heard, the species is very long lived, hundreds and hundreds of years.” Another sucker punch, this one even worse. Grogu would live to be old beyond Din’s years.

He clears his throat, yanks harder on the loose seam so that it splits at the side, revealing a patch of hairy knee. “We found those he belongs to, he’s with his people now. I lost him– or I– I returned him to where he should’ve always been. It’s better like this.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper from your perch at the edge of your self imposed island. “I’m sorry you lost him.”

“Don’t be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. It’s all the way it’s supposed to be.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Only a few weeks. Like I said, he was taken by Imperial remnants led by a Moff Gideon. Skywalker saved us and took him. He has a temple where he plans to train young Jedi. He’ll be with other children like him now. It’s good for him. I know it is.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it, he promises he’s not, or doesn’t mean for it to come out like that.

“I’ve heard of Gideon,” you muse, shifting to lean back, movements still slow, not as smooth as they usually are. The thick mantle of your hair shifts over your shoulder, and Din’s mouth goes dry, desperate to bury his face in all that lush splendor and take in the scent of it, feel the drag of it across his naked chest, over his cock and thighs.

“What do you know of him?”

“Only his name, and the great ambition tied to it. He took part in the siege on Mandalore… didn’t he?”

“He did. He’s in the custody of the New Republic now. Awaiting trial and judgment.”

“Tell me about the saber,” you say then.

“I won it from Gideon in battle.”

“It’s the Darksaber, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

“It’s legend.” And you look at him strangely at that, mercurial look passing through your eyes, memories or something worse. “Many great and terrible hands have wielded that blade. Clan Vizsla, who forged it, the Sith lord Darth Maul, Sabine Wren.”

He’s shocked by the seemingly great well of knowledge you possess on the figures he’s spent the last two years dealing with. “I’m familiar with the Clan. Paz Vizsla. How do you know all this?” He asks.

“He–” You turn away, brows hitching high, and he watches a swallow pass through the delicate column of your throat. “My master, he was a lover of knowledge, information gathered everywhere, always. He made it his business to know things, and my purpose to collect it for him.”

He wishes you’d let him go to you at the mention of that scum. He wishes he could resurrect him from the dead just to send him back to the deepest pit existing, at the look on your face, small and frightened and childlike. Din’s stomach turns, and he changes the subject. “Wren– she… I think I’ve heard of her from my friend Bo, as well.

“Who?” That brings you back to attention, and he’s grateful for the concealment of the helmet for the small smile he can’t help at the look that comes across your face.

“She’s a Mandalorian. Bo-Katan Kryze.”

“Your friend…?”

“She helped me with the kid. When Moff Gideon captured him, her and her followers aided me in his rescue. It got complicated–”

“Between the two of you?” You cut him off with a little huffing scowl.

“Before Skywalker showed up to help us, little one.”

“Oh,” you huff again, turning your nose up at him haughtily. He can’t help the breath of air he lets out at that. Silly, gorgeous thing. He wants to kiss you so badly.

“The saber’s rightfully hers.”

“Oh,” again, and he laughs, again. “Oh, yes. Yes. The–” you frown, “The legend is that whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore. I’ve heard that.”

“And that sure as fuck isn’t me. Her family ruled before the siege, it’s hers.” The entire business of it still scathes and prickles at him.

And you laugh at that, “No?” Head tipping back, that mantle of hair sliding again, provoking him again. “Why not? It could be–”

“No. Definitely not. Never. That isn’t something I’d ever be interested in. I would never suit such a role. And this– this thing…” he motions to the crate where the Darksaber sits discarded. He’d found he hated wearing it on himself for too long. “It doesn't suit me well. It’s difficult to wield, something– something leaden and sucking about it.”

“You wielded it just fine from what I saw.”

“You were doing something.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I could feel you, when you attacked me–”

“I didn’t attack you,” you scoff, affronted. Haughty nose back up in the air, and the soft thing inside Din snaps its teeth together once more.

“Don’t start,” he admonishes, voice deep and rumbling and speaking of all the things he’d like to do to you that he cannot even give thought to right now. You roll your eyes, and he can’t help but smile. Sass is good, sass means you’re feeling better, more yourself.

“I could feel you, almost as if you were feeding your energy into me.”

You turn to look at him sharply at that. Tiny frown marring the space between your fine brows he’d like to smooth away with a kiss. “What? I– I didn’t mean to, or– or I didn’t know I was doing that…” You look away again, pressing fingertips to your mouth in concentration. Everything about you, every movement, gesture, frown and sigh and inflection, mesmerizes him. Din didn’t think it possible he could have been worse off than he was before, but he comes to the sudden, startling realization, that he’d had absolutely no idea how much deeper he could fall. The admission that you love him in return, the sound of it, had done something to him, set something off or opened something within him. Some sort of yawning, hungry maw that would only be satisfied once it’d swallowed you whole.

He needs to bide his time and temper his actions. He won’t scare you off.

“I was out of control…” you continue in a small whisper. “I didn’t know. I didn’t–” And you look nervous, frightened suddenly. Din leans forward, immediately on alert, ready to rush over to you if you need him, just from the look on your face. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” You’re all wide eyed fright and concern and an innocence about you, about the question, your worry that you’d hurt him. His heart thumps and thumps and thumps, the rush of blood through the mass of organ so hot it burns.

“Never, cyar’ika. You could never hurt me. I just feel you.” And it’s the truth, it had merely been an extension of yourself feeding him, strengthening him, emboldening him like nothing he’d ever experienced before. Something euphoric about the feeling he was not keen to experience again for the mere fact of how it’d left you, weak and fragile and exhausted, almost at a breaking point.

The two of you need to be careful, he realizes. There was a connection between the two of you, stronger and more easily traversed than either of you had previously realized, be it fate or love or the Force, but there was something that lived between the two of you and connected you and Din needs to be absolutely sure that whatever it is never becomes a detriment to you in any way.

You tilt your head sideways, some truth he knows he should fear churning behind your eyes. You bring your knees up to fold tightly against your chest, wrapping your arms around your shins, and lay your cheek against the small cap, hiding away from him again. “I want–” you say in a very small voice, “I want to tell you things, but I’m afraid of–” a swallow of breath.

“Afraid of what, cyare?”

At the tremble of your spine as you hitch with nerves, Din wants to go to you so badly. This is the most difficult thing he’s ever endured in his life. “Afraid you won’t see me the same again after I tell them.”

“Didn’t I already tell you there isn’t anything you could ever do that I wouldn’t forgive you for?” He presses forward just a millimeter.

You peer up at him at that, and there are no tears in your eyes which soothes him, in part, but worse, still splintered with so much sadness or hurt or the terror of time, and it’s like he’s bellyful of grief. There is something acutely unfair about the distance sitting between the two of you right now when you’re holding that look in your eyes.

“But what about respect?”

“You could never lose that from me either.” You shake your head, propping your chin on your bent knees and wrapping your hands around your feet to pull them up and rock back and then forward, thinking of what it is you're trying to say.

“Don’t you think there are certain things that a person shouldn’t be forgiven for?”

“Perhaps. But there are certain people the rules don’t apply to. That’s you for me.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“To who?”

“To you!” You say incredulously.

“Why not?”

“You–” And there are tears now, swimming in your eyes, his heart thump, thumping in agitation at the sight of them. He gives a growl of frustration that ends on a choke as you squeeze your eyes shut, a single tear sliding over the slope of your cheekbone. “Maker, Din. This is all wrong.” You sound as full of frustration as he feels, and he wants to say that he’s sure if you’d just let him come to you, you’d find the right way forward within each other. “You want to touch me.” He bites down on his tongue hard enough to taste blood.

“Are you looking in my head?”

You give a soft laugh. “Don’t need to.” He huffs, well, he isn’t going to deny it.

You turn away again, laying your cheek back atop your knee, and he can see the tension in your arms as you squeeze yourself tight, tighter. “I– I can’t– I can’t have sex with you,” you say in a smaller voice than he could’ve imagined possible.

He’s silent for a moment, trying to measure his breathing, and there’s violence thrumming within him at what he’s about to ask, but his voice is nothing but gentleness. “Did they– did they hurt you like that?”

You heave a long sigh, “No, but the feel of skin, I cant– I– I hurt everywhere, Din. Everywhere. Inside and– and–”

“It’s alright. It’s alright, cyar’ika.” He tries to push his voice out in gentle, measured notes. Something that’ll soothe you from afar. And the sight of you, all twisted and squeezed up into a tight little ball like you are– Maker– Din feels afraid, for a moment, of what might become of him, of the sort of violence he feels capable of in your name. “If it hurts, you don’t have to tell me anything now or at all.”

“I want to. Is it–” You look up, brow folding, squinty eyed as if you’re rifling through your head for the words. “How do I– how do I tell you that you deserve to know the full of it, but don’t deserve to carry the burden of it? That I wish I didn’t have to, but that I also want to tell you.”

“Just like that.” He presses another half a millimeter forward, feels like he’s hallucinating the scent of you from over here. “Tell me anything you need just like that. But don’t say it’d be a burden, you could never be anything even close to that to me.”

And still, with your eyes not on him, you say that which he’d already been expecting: “I let them keep me.”

He’d known.

“Are they dead?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“You didn't leave even one for me?” Your cheek rolls against the hill of your knee, eyes swinging up to spark at him, and Maker, as long as he’s still able to pull that look from you there’s hope. He can fix anything if only you continue to look at him like that.

The trip to Tatooine takes about ten days. Bouts of sleeping and eating and his gentle but insistent caring for you. He won’t let you pull away or into yourself; kept at a distance, but not pulling away, and the distinction might not be obvious, but he sees it. That’s enough.

Days later, when you wake again, a little stronger, but still sleepy and soft and beautiful, your hair is even longer. Seeming to grow a yard a day, incredibly. “It’s the Force; healing me, reconnecting with me. It works in strange ways,” you tell him as it pools around your waist. He says nothing, catalogs everything, and later, you come, moving slowly up the ladder into the cockpit to join him in the co-pilot's chair, bundled in a blanket. He’d left some of his socks for you warming on a pipe, just like before, and he sees the thick weave of them droopy over your toes, the part where his heel is supposed to go coming up to your ankle. He swallows and looks away and breathes and breathes and reminds himself he is strong and patient and entirely at your service in any way you might need. Din reminds himself that he must be good.

Your wounds heal slowly over the days, and he gripes and groans that all your energy is funneling into that damn hair and not the more important bits of you. He perches you on a crate, after having urged you into the fresher, pacing outside anxiously, hands on his hips, a huff and a sigh a minute while he listens for any bump or movement from within, making sure you don’t need him. He sticks a bowl of soup in your hands after, kneeling before you, gloves fitted over his hands so that you won’t have to feel his skin and shows you the bacta patches slowly, movements intentional and measured so that you’re not taken by surprise or touched in any way that you might not like. You eye him suspiciously, brow hitched, nose scrunched when you sniff delicately at the broth and then promptly discarding the bowl beside his medical kit, watching for what he plans to do with you next.

“That bit on your elbow isn’t healing.”

You give him a tiny frown, tucking the sore little wing tight into your side protectively. He presents his palms towards you, moves slowly. “It’s fine,” you pout.

“You know it’s not, little one. I’m going to put a single bacta patch over it. That’s it. No fuss, I promise.” Still moving slowly, watching the look in your eyes, opening the packet gently, he reaches for your arm, index finger and thumb taking hold of you first, a barely there cuff of his fingers just above your joint. He gives one slow stroke of his thumb, feeling you lock up, makes a low noise deep in his chest, something to soothe and coax you as he pulls your arm gently forward, untucking it from your side. “It’s alright, cyar’ika. Just a little bacta, nothing scary.” Your eyes go a little glazed, head tilting sideways to look down at him, mass of your hair shifting around you. That hair and those eyes and that face, Maker, but this is where he belongs, this is where he should always be, at his knees before you.

You give a soft sigh verging on a breathy little moan, your eyes fluttering shut as he smooths his thumb against the inner slope of your elbow, just there at the vulnerable dip, but when he slowly starts to lift your arm to get at the back side where the wound is, raw and red, a burned and angry looking thing, you wince, a little screech warbling in your throat, before jerking back trying to get away from him, quick and violent in your incoordination. That damned shoulder you haven’t let him look at yet, he knows it’s bad. You flail, little foot coming up to stub your toes against his stomach plate, bum scooting precariously over the edge of the stool. He reaches for you on instinct, his hand cupping the curve of your bottom to keep you seated, shit, hold on, stop, he grunts, but when you shove him away, loud slap of your palm against the curve of his helmet, he loses his balance, momentum taking the both of you toppling, unintentionally taking you with him. He falls splayed on his back, helmet dinging hollowly where his head knocks against the steel floor with a tangled mass of soft limbs and too long hair and lush tits sprawling over him. You wriggle and flail, an indignant squeak of his name, and then you go tense realizing all the places the two of you are suddenly pressed together. He feels a shudder of painful terror lock your limbs into shivers, the trembling hitch of your chest, and he holds frozen still, waiting for you to make the first move. But Maker, the feel of your weight on top of him. He widens the stance of his legs, slowly brings a knee up, trying to keep the heft of you away from his cock. He dips his chin to watch your face, eyes wide, frantically swinging across his chest, to his hands held up in surrender at your shoulders level, up to the face of his helmet.

You’re full of unsure fear and desire, yes, he can see it just there in the farthest glimmer of your eyes, the one like a scream, bright and hungry. Your brows fold together, confused, a frustrated noise slipping off your tongue before you give one more tense, strained jerk, and then seem to suddenly lose the fight and entirely melt into him. Your temple landing with a soft thump on his chest plate, arms wilting from their tensely held position over the outsides of his arms. Just a melted little thing of a girl, finally letting go of all that anxious strain you’ve held yourself in for two long years.

Din dares not move, not even breathe. He holds so still for so long he’s able to watch the change in the cadence of your breathing, the rickety little patter of nerves into slow and deep sighs, all relaxation and trust. And the bright light-like realization dawns on him while he lays beneath you, feels your chest press into his, the fire of your heart seeming to melt through beskar, the two of you know each other too well, too intimately. The two of you love each other, and he wants to live in it and experience it so badly. He wants to rush madly through the whole thing of it, live the rest of your lives together fast and in the blink of an eye first, and then be able to go back and do it all again slow and precise, taking each lived detail in his hand and learning the shape of it entirely before he’s able to move on to the next moment. He wants it all, the whole of a life with you.

So he doesn’t touch you, but the two of you lay like that, pressed against each other for hours, and the moment is enough.

Days later, he asks because he cannot help himself, because if you have to bear the truth of it all, he will too: “Why did you do it all?” And he doesn’t know precisely what the root of the question is.

Why did you leave me?

Why did you stay gone so long?

Why did you hurt yourself as you did?

You don’t answer immediately, and he wonders if he’s stepped where he shouldn’t have, pushed too far too soon, but then your face goes smooth and serene. Honest. “I didn’t think it would happen as it did. I thought I’d see you again, I thought it would all be sooner. I didn't think I’d be gone,” gone, “for so long. I thought I’d get a chance to make up for my mistakes with you.”

You sit in the co-pilot's chair, slightly behind him, and he doesn’t turn to look back at you, but he can see your reflection in the gleaming curve of the front of the cockpit, the rush of hyperspace zinging around the two of you, it’s quiet and thrumming and he can hear the soft cadence of your breathing. Your tunic is high necked, sitting just below the soft point of your little chin, every square inch of you wrapped away and sealed tightly in dark fabric, little pearlescent buttons that gleam blue crawl up to your throat and seem to strangle you. It’s as if you’d donned your own suit of armor, and he can’t understand how you still look so fucking good after everything. But as if he could peel away the stitching of you to peer beneath, he sees all that is wrong, all that is missing and all that is still echoing hollow. He thinks if he could only fill you with himself, all of everything would be set to rights.

You rest your head on the seat back, rolling it side to side slowly, thinking on what is is you’ll tell him next. “Because in ways, it felt good, better, than the alternative.”

“To be free?”

“Yes.” And the truth of that sits heavy and cloying between the two of you. An animal, hurt, will return to what it knows, no matter how badly it’s treated. It’s in its nature to seek out its familiar habitat. “Because I saw no other recourse, nothing better for me to do. Because I was stupid. Because I wanted to see how long I could last.”

He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes blood, thick and metallic rolling over his tongue. “I don’t want to be selfish. I’ve been trying to– to not be that, to not make this about me.”

“It is about you.” Maker.

And he still doesn’t turn, says through his honest shame: “But I have to tell you that I don’t know how I can live with this, knowing this. I feel like– like I… I don’t know. I feel like if I go to sleep tonight knowing this, I won’t wake up tomorrow. Like it’ll crawl up my throat and strangle me in my sleep. And it shouldn’t– it shouldn’t be about me.”

“It’s not selfish, Din. It is about you,” you say again, and he wonders if your intention is to hurt him or yourself. More of that painful honesty like a blade through a lung.

He finally turns in his seat. “The way you live is the way I live. Do you understand me? The way you live is the way I live and your breath is mine and your hurt is mine.”

Your eyes are heavy lidded, watching him through the thick screen of your dark lashes, one eye seems to glow, the other to swallow him. “That’s why I know it’s about you too now. It started with nothing, with stupidity, and a wanton desire for– I don’t know, for destruction or something. But it ended with the realization that I’d have to tell you of all this one day. That it would be yours too eventually. And I regret it bitterly for that.”

“How am I supposed to move past this? What– what am I supposed to do with it?” He worries he sounds very like a child asking, but he has to anyway.

You shut your eyes, going so still, made of adamant and glass and smoke. He knows a thing like you could do nothing but survive, but at the same time, it seems a miracle you did. That you let yourself. He tracks the slope of your nose, the lush of your mouth, dry, you won’t drink enough water and it pisses him off, little chin and delicate throat, all that hair, the round of your breasts and the dip of your waist. Those little blue glowing pearl-for-buttons. He wants to steal them and swallow them away.

“Do you think,” you start, eyes still closed, face still calm. He leans forward, elbow braced against wide spread knees, and watches closely at the way your mouth forms the shapes of your words. “Do you think that– I don’t know how to say it, I think… but do you think it’s wrong to ask someone you love to just let a thing go? As much as it might’ve hurt them or bothered them or– or I don’t know… ruined everything. But to just ask them, for your sake, to let it go? Forget. Do you think that’s wrong?” Your eyes open. “Or selfish?”

“Is that what you want from me, cyar’ika?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t want to be selfish with you.”

“Neither do I. You said before that you don’t want me to forgive you. You don’t want forgiveness, you want forget.”

“Yes.”

He nods once. “And I have nothing to forgive you for, and asking me for the things you need is never selfish.”

And you say again, once more like before with your face still calm, “You want to touch me.”

If he were a beast made only of flesh and bone and not a man he would snap his teeth. “Yes.”

You stand slowly, hair a cloak around your shoulders, and step to him, between his wide spread thighs. He should beg, but he only stays frozen, and you bring your hand up to the face of his helmet, palm splaying along the side, he wishes you’d rip the thing off of him. He wishes he had never taken a Creed at all. Your palm on his face would fix everything, like him filling the hollow place within you. It would all be well if only the two of you could come together. Din knows it.

You lower yourself to perch primly on one thigh, slow like thaw, bringing your knees up to curl into his chest, little socked toes braced against beskar. One hand smoothing up his stomach and chest plate, other curled over the pauldron of his shoulder, you reach the lip of the helmet, close your eyes, and start to lift the weight of it from his face.

“I’m not going to open my eyes. I’m not going to look.”

The rush of hyperspace reflects off your skin in silvers and blues, makes you more dream than girl, and then his face is uncovered, and he listens to the symbol of who he is supposed to be, who he has been all his life, roll from your fingers discarded on the ground, the loud clang of history ringing in his ears, but all he cares about is, “You kept them.” He brushes a thumb, careful of your skin, against the glowing gem of your earring. The way it twinkles and sparks and exists as a monument to your shared history.

“Something shiny to remind me of my shiny.” A tear slides slow and clear down the slope of your cheek, coming to rest at the corner of your mouth, and he watches it quiver and shake there in anticipation, much like his heart does within his chest. You take his face between your hands, animal sound from his tongue, one hand at the curve of his jaw, cradling him like he’d be something precious and fragile if only the two of you let it be so. Not animal, not man, only loved.Your other hand spreads, glides and cups and soothes, his forehead, his brow, little fingertips pressed to the outside dip of his eye socket, running along the rim of bone beneath hot skin. He watches your face, the tear at the corner of your mouth, and you come towards him very slowly, the fold of your hips, stomach, breasts, and then your mouth on his.

And then your mouth on his.

He takes the tear into his mouth, holds it on the surface of his tongue. He could swallow it like he would the pearls. This is enough.

It’s soft as a whisper and then hard. Your nails digging suddenly, scratching and searching for a crack in his surface where you’d find purchase to pull him closer, burrow your way inside. You press your closed mouth hard against his, shoulders hitched high, and he grips the arms of his chair so hard his fingers ache. A sob in your throat that turns into a broken sort of moan, giving him permission to break too.

He circles your waist in his hands, takes hold of the shape of you, and it’s just like in his memories and dreams and nightmares. Hands sliding up the slope of your back through all of that glorious hair, still growing, right to the edge of your tunic covered nape.

“Din.” He swallows the tear. He touches your skin.

You moan for him, mouth shaky and wet, vibrating into him, the tip of your tongue tasting the edge of his lip, and then he’s swallowing you whole. Shifting you further onto himself, the soft round of your bottom over the thick of his lap, tits pressed against his chest, he needs to taste it all, your nails digging so hard into the skin of his face you’ll surely draw blood, and he will surely thank you for it. “Yes.” He says in return, finally, he draws onto your tongue. Full upper lip slotted between his, and it’s wet tongue and sharp teeth and a very dark place you should have never been, too much time wasted, a promise to forget because that’s what you need of him.

He hitches you higher, tighter, forces himself not to take it further, press you too hard. Groans rough and ragged when you whine soft and small. Sucking on your tongue, tugging at your lip. And your hands move to his hair, little fingers wrapped in his curls, dragging down the front of his face, over his eyes and nose, finding the seam of a scar there. “What’s this?” You follow the faultline of old hurt, and he grips your wrist, directs your hand to the other, thicker weave of scar tissue along the back curve of his skull, wanting to show you all the places he was broken that you were not there to mend. “Din,” on a frightened little gasp he soothes away with his tongue along the back of your teeth and the drag of his palm down the slope of your spine, stopping just shy of the curve of your ass.

“Explosion.”

Din, again, Din. You press your fingers along the rough knit flesh, and he feels your tears slide along his own cheek and perch at the corner of his own mouth now.

“It’s okay, little love. I’m here with you.” Tugs you back close and safe and tightly pressed, seam of him woven into the seam of you, mouth to mouth.

“And I understand.” He cups the back of your head, pulls you back, opens you and tastes and tastes and tastes. “I’ll promise to let it go. But you have to promise too.” Changes the angle, the flavor of you still the same, the sound of you still the same, the feel. “That you’ll never do it again.”

“I promise, Din.” It’s enough.

Chapter XII

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

#TCC fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fic #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian angst #din djarin angst #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #vic fic

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weirdmarioenemies · 4 months

Text

Name: Magnetic Joe

Debut: Magnetic Joe

Well, what do you Magnetic Know! This is my friend Joe. He is magnetic.

Usually, I post about things here that I love so much, some of my favorite creatures in the pretend computer world! Joe... is not one of those. I do like Joe! I'm just not all that passionate about him. I played his game a bit like over ten years ago and that's it. But that's not a bad thing! I still think Magnetic Joe is a neat little fellow. And I will talk about him!

Magnetic Joe is like, sort of a platformer? There are platforms and blocks to navigate around, but Joe cannot jump. Instead he must activate his magnetism to attract himself toward metal plates in the environment, which will affect his direction of movement. These metal plates are everywhere, and I guess it is worldbuilding! They make this world accessible to Magnetic Orbs who can only navigate in this fashion. So I guess it's not a platformer, since you are not platforming. Just sort of Going through the level. Magnetic Joe is a Goer.

Would you do it? Would you magnetize Joe?

Yeah, I don't have much to say about Magnetic Joe. There's not really anywhere to play it these days, and not much more information about it. It's sad. But uhhh LOOK it's Magnetic Joe 2! He did well enough for himself to get a sequel, and he's brought all sorts of friends! Maybe regular Joe isn't your style. Maybe you would prefer Small Joe, or Girl Joe. If you're a mammal, surely you can relate to Hair Joe! I really like this image's perspective of Joe himself, too. He looks more earnest than ever. I would pick him up!

Joe has a secret. It is that he has secret floaty gloved hands! How whimsical of him! He will reveal them for special occasions, like when a thumbs-up is in order. You've earned it! You've also earned one of Joe's one-of-a-kind winks! They are so unique because he is not very good at winking, but he's trying.

Name: Magnetic Jack

Debut: Magnetic Jack: Save Joe

THIS IS NOT MAGNETIC JOE!!! This is an impostor, and not the fun kind! Do not trust him! I really mean that, for all I know this guy will give your device a virus or something. So sad that Magnetic Joe is now inaccessible, and all we have is Magnetic Jack. Magnetic Joe wants you to pick him up so you can give him a new perspective of the beautiful planet we live on. Magnetic Jack wants you to pick him up so he can bite you. Not the same! I'm not convinced he wants to save Joe at all. I bet it was Jack who put Joe in danger in the first place.

I miss Magnetic Joe. I'd like to play it again. I wish it was one of those weird old games that gets ported to everything, like Putty Squad. Have you played Magnetic Joe? I hope I can reach at least one person to whom Joe is a beloved and special little fellow!

What the hell is this thing

#magnetic joe #magnetic joe 2 #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

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elvestoneanzelote1 · 6 months

Note

Hello! I just read your Makima/Nayuta reader and Really like it and I wanna give you my own ideas for Makima/Nayuta reader

For personality reader will of course,be really cunning,smart,and good at manipulate people as this is the biggest trait in Makima which mean reader know something is clearly off with how the agency is treating him but all of those trait are cover with his childish and outgoing personality. Even tho reader is young and mischievous he is charming own his own making other people let down their guard

And now his ability(i'll just take two Makima ability),since reader controlling ability only work when he think he's better than someone on the same person I like to think he'll be quite egoistic and view some people as his dogs Just like Makima.Then we got makima shooting ability,for this reader just need to hold his hand and position his hand to a finger gun and go "bang" then it will shoot through the person who he aimed

Bonus,For the part 2 I like to think that the agency is absolutely in shambles and try to look for reader everywhere meanwhile reader is with the port mafia.Mori probably try to take reader in as he realize how useful his ability is but reader will immeadiately know something is odd about the man and play along with Mori and maybe mess a bit Mori with his ability

Honestly that all,sorry if there is a spelling mistakes as english is not my mother tongue

𝘈:𝘯- 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘺 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘢 𝘵𝘰𝘰.. 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘱𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.. 𝘐𝘴 𝘪𝘵 𝘢 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰? 𝘞𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘰.. 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦.

𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘉𝘚𝘋 𝘹 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 (𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘤)

𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥, 𝘔𝘶𝘳𝘥𝘦𝘳.

Part 1 here

Part 3 here

The first thing of what Chuuya thought was he absolutely find you tolerable and cute (platonically) as you have your own puppy! How can he not be happy to find someone who have the same interest and practically he can handle kids just well.

But.. He was confused on why Mori requested him to take the kid with him to find out about his ability but first company them to shopping trip.

He wonder why but obliged to do so, now he was stuck with you while Moro is busy buying clothes for the children more likely first Elise.

He even told Chuuya to warn if he spot an agency member or sort which confused him yet agreed to do so.

So.. it begins of him babysitting you for the day, While Mori is busy in the mall with Elise as you were with Chuuya who hold your hands every step you take.

"Ne! Ne! Chu-chu-niisan! Can I have the latest edition icecream of Pikachu special?!" You asked with doe eyes as he sweatdropped.

He was about to deny as he doesn't want to leave the boss but your teary eyes make him stop and agreed to quickly buy it for you.

You hugged his leg in joy as he chuckle and take you with him.

The problem was the icecream was selling on the rooftop.

It was just a happy moment until someone try to attack/hostage you as you were just 10-12 year old boy.

The man kept a gun on your head as you snivel in teary eyes.

Chuuya was hesitant as wrong move you can be in danger as he believe you don't truly have an ability or maybe you have but it is useful for agency not Port mafia and perhaps Mori analyse about it is wrong.

"Chuchu-niisan!" You wailed as the man warn Chuuya not to move.

"Don't worry y/n! I will save you" said Chuuya as he try to come up with a plan as the rooftop was empty now.

"Chuchu-ni-" "shut up" as the man beat your head with the gun (bottom) harshly making it bleed.

"You! I will kill you!" Exclaimed Chuuya angrily as the person smirk when you were quiet your head was low as blood drip from your forehead to the ground.

'Is he unconscious'

"Y/n.." Muttered Chuuya who almost try to attack the man until, you started to giggle as the man and Chuuya was confused.

Your eyes stare up and smile at the man while, making a gun finger sign.

"Ne uncle let's play a game.. Who can shoot first me or you"

"Hah? /y/n!" Called Out Chuuya who try to rush to you but before he could.

"Bang!"

The blood splattered his vision as the man body fall to the ground with half of his body splattered into the ground and you, while you hold out your finger gun quickly waving to the dead body.

"Uncle! you were too late!"

"...." Chuuya stood there motionless as he stare at the kid who have no remorse of killing a person.

He gulped as you smile at Chuuya.

"Chuchu-niisan! My clothes are dirty! Can we buy new clothes for me please?"

"..." He slowly nod as he felt you tug his hand dragging him.

'I should call someone to erase evidence' thought Chuuya as he firmly hold your hand while you skipped happily with your clothes and face slightly splattered in blood.

......

Chuuya realise one thing that your ability was dangerous and he hope Yumeno and you doesn't meet.

As Chuuya explain to Mori what he have witnessed earlier today as you and Elise fall asleep on the backseat with Mori seating on other side of the driver seat.

"What shall we do boss?"

"What shall we do? I didn't thought the Agency was keeping a boy this dangerous! His ability is terrifying especially when he just killed without a remorse! We should sent him to jail or sort.."

As Chuuya sneak glance at Mori who smirk after the rant.

"Is what good people said, and Port mafia is something that accept those who have tianted hands don't we..?"

"Yes boss" Chuuya said as his hands on the steering tightens while listening to Mori about dressing you up with Elise with the new clothes he brought.

Chuuya admit he wish he didn't hear those words uttered by Mori.

In the Agency the franticness quiet down.

Kunikida had dark circles as he finally print out a paper as Yosano is sharpening her butcher knife to threaten the person who stole their adorable child.

Atsushi, Jun'chiro and Kyouka eventually come back while shook heads as they couldn't find anything about you.

Kenji was frowning too.

Ranpo didn't have a bite of his sweets as he is busy looking at the papers reading any headline of a murder or sort.

They know your ability can kill.

But they can't blame you as you are just a child and your ability kill when someone harm you in a worse manner like beaten you, stab you or even shoot you or sort. It was eventually reassuring that your ability is strong and protect you from harm but it is concerning if someone use you for wrong deeds!.

As the evidence were laid on the table as they all stare at Ranpo who didn't have a bite of his sweets until he find you.

"Ranpo-san" they all muttered as Ranpo wear his glasses quietly without an ounce of pride or sort simply serious.

His eyes darken as he hold the paper tightly.

"So.. where is he?" Asked Fukuzawa as Ranpo glance up with an darken face.

As the others await his answer and for the first time they look like they can kill anyone who harm you or try to take you away from them after all, You are like their child, their younger brother or sort!

Even Kyouka is ready to kill even if she is in agency she won't hesistate.

Dazai was in deep thought with a dark face in the corner.

For some reason his gut feeling tell something tragic was going to happen.. He hope you will be safe at least.

As Ranpo kept down the paper with a dark expression. As everything went frozen for a moment when Ranpo spoke.

"In port mafia and the boss knows his ability"

...

A:n- that's all good day/night to you all! Hope you all rest well!

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plsdonttakemyname · 1 year

Note

You dont have to feel like you gotta do this, bc i know sm ppl r too out of their comfort zone with it, but would you consider:

Poly!Soukoku? Like Dazai / reader / chuuya?

Fluff HCs?

Ig if you wanted more fun stuff (pls dont do it this is too much!) What do you think would be a good ability for an S/O of them to have?? :0

I have this one idea where their just a sort of puppet master and have strings that they can latch onto ppl and physically move them around, or even mess with memories (the non-passionate/deep seated ones) bc i thought Dazai would like the different ways it could be applied, and Chuuya would think it's badass to watch you just, lower the glowing strings coming out of fingertips attached to like a group of armed enemies and they just like, drop their guns and bow.

Feel free to have fun with this however you want, or delete the request if its too much!

Also the ability i talked abt doesnt have to be readers ability, and these could just be chill headcanons abt their relationship! Whatever works!

Hope youre having a great weekend so far, and I really like your writing!!

Cheers,

Poly Anon ☢️

Poly!Soukoku X G!n Reader

— — — — — — — —

A/n; Hi Anon! Tysm I really appreciate it! I'm glad you like my writing! I hope you're having a great weekend so far too :D

— — — — — — — —

Genre; Fluff, Hcs

Pairings; Chuuya X Dazai X Reader

Warnings; Mentions of Suicide(Dazai), my bad writing, Might has some grammar mistakes 😭

Now how do I start with this chaotic relationship...

Chuuya would try to kill Dazai from time to time and you have to be there to stop them because of it 😭

I feel like s/o would toy with their opponents with the use of their ability

Mori had assigned you three on another mission together even though one was already enough since the three of you were strong enough but who knows why he assigned you three on a mission like this

Chuuya would be surprised and amazed at the same time when he first saw your ability with his own eyes, sure he has heard about this ability before but he’s never actually seen it for himself before.

Chuuya thinks that his s/o is so badass when they puppet the enemies, making them bow down and drop all of the weapons carried to the battle.

Dazai on the other hand would not really get surprised since this is his first time actually seeing this ability with his own eyes and not hearing it from some stupid book, but he still knew from the beginning

But when the three of you are all bored and out of missions to carry out, you'll all hangout in a bar to spend some time with each other

It's either one of yall ended up drunk OR you all ended up drunk and passed out in the bar 😭

The three of you will always go out to the mall or on expensive dinner dates

You all share the same apartment and that's where things are starting to get really wild

When getting into bed, there is never peace...The three of you would be kicking each other off the bed and slapping each other in the middle of the night 💔

"GODDAMN CHUUYA STOP KICKING ME" *SNORES*

Chuuya Is the kicker,Dazai is the pusher and you're the one that's suffering 😢

Just imagine this, suddenly you woke up at an ungodly hour because you felt a hand slapping your face just to find out it was Dazai slapping you in his sleep and Chuuya is almost on the floor still dead asleep after a long day in the Port Mafia.

You had enough one night and decided to kick them both off the bed and acted as if you're still asleep 😭

It's legit 4am and suddenly you just kick them off the bed "OW" "what...the..fuck..." *Y/n fake snoring noises*

Besides that when it's really peaceful it's either they're both on a long mission or they're ACTUALLY not kicking or pushing each other off the bed.

The three of you likes to cuddle and fall asleep in each other's warmth

"Will you,Y/N L/n, Come double suicide with me?" "no." "OI MACKEREL IF YOU WANNA DIE I CAN KILL YOU NOW STOP ASKING Y/N TO SUICIDE WITH YOU JACKASS" "YOU HURT MY FEELINGS CHIBI.." while you're just busy typing up a report and also trying to calm down

When one of you are on a mission alone you all definitely give each other a goodbye and goodluck kiss before heading out

Besides all of those chaotic stuff happening in your relationship, You all are an unbreakable trio

— — — — — — — — —

That's all I hope you like it </3

#bsd comfort #bungou stray dogs imagines #bsd headcanons #bsd fluff #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd fluffs #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya comfort #dazai x chuuya #chuuya x reader #dazai comfort #bsd dazai #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai x you #soukoku #soukoku x reader #Poly Anon ☣️

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the-fiction-witch · 4 months

Text

The Event

Media The Artful Dodger

Character Jack Dawkins

Couple Jack X Reader

Rating Smut

I stood as I frequently did, in the corner of the impressive room doing my best to be a lady observing my etiquette rules while remaining a wallflower not desiring anyone's attention. I avoided people as if they harboured an epidemic, I dodged everyone's gazes in the hope they would reciprocate such a gesture and avoid my own in turn. But people scrutinised me, my hair, my dress, my nails, all of which would be deemed unbecoming of a lady such as myself but I despised everything about how I dressed tonight, and wanted nothing more than to be back in my grungy overalls. I noticed often glares and gossip among themselves at my expense, I loathed being any type of subject and a subject of hypothesis was the worst thing to me. With a look, a smile, and a wrong-placed word everyone commences to make assumptions about you.

They all knew I was getting too old to be unmarried, but I had little intention to do so, I disliked marriage even as a concept, but I knew the talk my dislike would stir in the general people of Port Victory,

I disregarded such whispers and sipped my drink, my one prize for attending this mess, but I heard a voice which caused me to roll my eyes and my very soul hurt, if it had been socially acceptable and not caused a scene chitchatted over the bridge tables for the next year, I would have tossed my crystal glass and its contents into the face that homed that voice maybe the glass makes its way into his skin, I’d like to see him smirk and sweet talk himself out of that one,

"Good evening Miss Y/l/n" He flirtatiously smiled as he joined my wall,

"Good evening Dr Dawkins" I Glared darting for a path to try to escape this exchange,

"Another drink?"

"No thank you,"

“Aww, why not?”

“I don’t trust you.” I snapped,

“You trust anyone here?”

“...No,”

“Then I’m the most trustworthy here,” he winked,

“By a thin grace Doctor,” I answered,

“Fair enough” He chuckled, "Anyway, do exonerate myself for that of my so bolt words miss Y/l/n, despite that It has reached my engagement of yourselves contemporary negligence to chaperone, accompany let alone arrive to particular occurrences well documented on the social calendar.”

I grimaced at him, “You proud of yourself?”

“I admit a little.” He expressed with a cocky smile, “Took me bloody hours to remember that lot.”

“Well, Pray tell, myself potentially desire yourself to maintain determined memorised vocabulary and phrasing, of aforesaid salutations and deteriorations, succeeding pleasantries of the day, as it rightly is the appropriate, reasonable and accurate manner in which we as guests and courtesies conveyed to articulate the manner of our specialities,” I smirked back,

He looked at me like I’d just spoken Aramaic to him, “I ain’t that good.” He laughed as he sipped his drink. “There a translation of all that?”

“You best get good. It’s how we're meant to talk to each other.”

“Meant to doesn’t mean we have to.”

“You wish to supply chatter to the masses?”

“I couldn’t give a toss,” he said,

"Silence is the prevention of all talk, Dr Dawkins" I told him,

"Indeed it is, seldom seen in this day" he laughed, “However, whether we talk or not even just me being stood here is enough to draw talk.”

“You’re correct. So you should go.”

“I think I’ll stay.”

“Why?”

“Give their boring arse’s something to talk about tonight after dinner.”

“I suppose,”

“Accept that we are talked about you and I both, we are both watched like hawks don’t you think bells toll when they see us together.”

“It’s the sort of bells that worry me.”

“As do they worry me.” he said softly he took my hand and kissed it, “But I don’t want that to stop me from talking to a pretty girl like you y/n.”

“That’s sweet Jack, but I do not want to fuel talk,”

"I understand, unmarried girl in conversation with an unmarried man. Unchaperoned, unwatched, alone in a quiet corner, Humm… they’d be rife with theories about us," he smirked,

"Precisely," I nodded, “And such theories are unwanted.”

“But not preventable Y/n.”

“Shouldn’t you be busy Jack?” I asked changing the subject,

“Busy?”

“An Unmarried man such as yourself, attending such an event full of eligible ladies.”

“Eligible ladies? Oh, leave of it y/n.”

“I won’t, you know how they speak of you.”

“Humm Call me a siron, mutton monger…”

“The Bachelor confirmed a thousand times over.”

“Say’s the spinster,” he smirked,

“So? Should one not be at least attempting to be seen as changing it? To be at least faking that you are talking to pretty young things?”

"I am,"

"You need a new wife Jack. They’ll talk forever if you don’t" I told him, “You don’t want them to call you a Bachelor forever do you?”

“I don’t know, I rather like it.” He said, “Then shouldn’t you be doing the rounds? Trying to trap yourself in a husband to make them stop calling you a spinster?”

“I rather like it, a certain pride in… remaining free and uncaptured so long.”

He chuckled, “Yeah, I feel that way too.” He nodded,

“But… don’t you long for some pretty girl to warm your bed?”

“I have no issues in that regard, and we both know it.” He smirked his hand slipping behind my dress to move close and pinch my ass,

“Jack!” I whispered,

“And I know you don’t have any… longing need for some pretty boy to warm your bed.”

“I do not know what you are referring to.” I answered playfully,

“No?” he smirked moving closer to whisper, “Then I beseech you to articulate, whomsoever’s a faultless, flawless, adorable, precious, titillating, salacious, alluring, seductive, salacious, curved ass” He whispered spanking my ass with each adjective that left his lips, “That ensured did myself observe so elegantly, gracefully and exquisitely clambering herself to escape my bed at daylight?”

“Perhaps one of our pretty girls,” I smirked back trying not to give myself away,

“So you're telling me I lift this dress? I won’t see the red sore cheeks, the bruising nail marks, the tender bite I left on… that girl, last night?”

“Well, a man could never lift a lady's dress in such a public social event,” I said,

“Yeah? Try me beautiful,” he smirked, his hand as sneakily as possible finding its way under my dress and he immediately stroked my ass, “Humm, right where I left you.” He smirked running his fingers across his bite mark from last night, even if I had to hide my excitement and my pain as his hand back on my red raw skin. “You wanna be prim and proper you go ahead Y/n, I have something to entertain me.” He smirked his hand giving my ass a firm spank before moving down between my legs, he stroked his fingers across my labia gathering wetness on his fingers, I shot him a glare but he merely smirked back at me, as his index and a middle finger found there way inside me, I gasped but did my best to hide my blushing face, looking across this high social event knowing the sort of trouble we’d be in if anyone saw us like this. The etiquette rules don’t even allow hand-holding and kissing in public let alone him shoving his fingers inside me. And I know him well enough to know this would not be the end of it, and he’d have me bent over the bar table if he could just to make a point. But he was merciless with me not helped by the smirk on his face only growing the longer this went on amused by my flustered reaction and attempts to keep up appearances.

“Uhhh Jack-” I gasped, unable to hold back,

“Humm… think how it would fuel talk Y/n. I can hear it now, young ladies talking over bridge tables of the latest social event, discussing us. Asking one another if they too saw the devilish sight in a dark consorted corner of the party.” He growled in my ear close enough I could feel his breath, “How the charming captivating, ravishing, exquisite, Spinster Miss Y/l/n was attended panting and lamenting in the epicentre of the event, how all those in attendance at the event bore witness to her gagging the name of the bachelor doctor Dawkins, as his appendages where caught inside her most intimate place, pleasuring her, and satisfying her, so considerably that she commenced to trickle down her legs form a puddle on the newly waxed floor.”

“I do hope you mean your fingers Jack.”

“We both know I don’t.” He growled kissing my jaw, “Now, either stand in front of me, bend over and be a good quiet little girl or let’s get out of here and I’ll raw dog you in the carriage instead?”

I forced his hand away quickly before I made more noise, “Carriage. Five minutes.” I demanded, going to fetch my coat.

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