#GOD I AM EMOTIONAL OVER THEM. THEY MADE IT. THEY MADE IT. AND WE SAW THEM MAKE IT.

[girlwithadragonheart]

Chapter 4 - Ashes to Ashes

This story contains major spoilers for Dragon Age the Veilguard. Read at your own discretion!!

Rook x Lucanis

Summary: Kalais has to choose to save her city or Lucanis's. Things don't end well.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: Swearing, Mental-emotional breakdown, Kalais snaps a little

A/N: I love when I develop a character that ends up not taking any shit it's so healing

Chapter 3 DATV Masterlist Chapter 4(wip)

We met with Harding’s Warden contacts in the High Anderfels. Antoine and Evka were both very sweet and seemed like they wanted to help. They said they had noticed some things about the Blight that lined up with what we were seeing, everything the First Warden didn’t believe.

They told us about another Warden in the area who was pulled into another mission. Lucanis and I made our way to his last known location. There was a tent and a fire still halfway burning.

“Well, I���d say we found the camp.” Lucanis crouched down on the opposite side of the fire from me. “So did some darkspawn, looks like.”

“They left the fire burning,” Lucanis said.

“Were they ambushed?” Lucanis and I glanced at each other.

We heard a screech, both looking toward the sound. I crossed behind him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He rose from his crouched position behind me as I tried to find the source of the sound.

The creature screeched again, this time louder, and a ball of feathers was fiving at me, about the size of a mabari. I held my hands out, trying to keep the creature from attacking me. By description, it looked like a griffon, but that couldn’t be right. Griffons were extinct.

“Assan!” A deep voice yelled close by. I looked over seeing a handsome, dark skinned elf. The griffon pounced over to him as he walked up to us, sticking close to his side. “Easy boy.” The man smoothed a hand over his feathers.

“I’ll be damned… a griffon,” I said.

“Trouble is, he’s not sure what you are. Neither am I,” the man said.

“Rook,” I said. “Evka and Antoine sent us. We’re looking for Davrin.”

“You found him. Mind telling me why you smell like darkspawn?” He asked. “Griffons hunt darkspawn.”

“We don’t smell that bad. It’s the tent,” I explained.

“Blight? Where are Lancit and Remi?”

“The camp was empty when we got here,” I told him.

We heard a raged cry from somewhere distant. “Assan! To the trees!” Davrin commanded. “Try to keep up!” He told us.

After killing lots of darkspawn, and finding all of the griffons locked up in cages sealed with blood magic, we found what Davrin called the “Gloom Howler”. Some kind of Darkspawn, undead, bitch queen.

She got away and took the griffons with her before we could stop her.

The four of us made our way back through the eluvian and the Caretaker took us between islands in the Crossroads.

Neve, Harding, and Bellara came running toward us, looking panicked. “What’s happened?” I asked with a furrowed brow.

“The Viper just sent word. Minrathous is under attack by a blighted dragon,” Neve said.

“Has to be the one we saw at D’Meta’s Crossing,” I said.

“Well, one of them has to be,” Harding replied.

“What do you mean, “one of them”?” Lucanis questioned.

“Teia also got in touch. Another dragon is attacking Treviso, too,” Harding told him.

“Mierda,” Lucanis cursed.

“You got back just in time,” Harding said to me.

I took a breath, putting my hands on my hips. “Alright. What do we know?”

“Two dragons at once? Has to be the gods behind it,” she said.

“Teviso’s a merchant city. It has no defenses. And the canals run everywhere,” Lucanis told me. “If we don’t stop that dragon, people will die. Innocent people. My people. They either die right away, from the dragon. Or slowly after, from blight in the water. We need to go to Treviso.”

“And leave Minrathous to burn?” Neve questioned. “You’re a Shadow Dragon, Rook. You know the Viper, Tarquin, every damn Shadow… We’ll fight to the end. But people will get hurt. Or worse,” she said. “And if we fail? The Venatori will take advantage. They’ll make a push for the throne. And hand the gods the entire Tevinter Empire.”

“If we decide to—”

“Damn it! There’s no time!” Neve interrupted me. “It’s my city. Our city. I need to be in Minrathous.”

“And I must go to Treviso,” Lucanis said. “Go where you feel you must, Rook. We cannot wait.” 

Without another word, Neve and Lucanis both ran off. “What’s our move, Rook?” Harding asked.

I ran over what I knew for certain in my head. Minrathous had defenses, including the Archon Palace. I was certain that me and two others would not be able to make much of a difference against a dragon. But I did know that Treviso was already under occupation and its people wouldn’t survive without some extra aid. I also knew that as much as Neve said Minrathous was my city, I was its slave long before I was its savior.

I took a breath, my chest feeling tight with the weight of this decision. “We help Lucanis in Treviso. We have to trust that the Shadow Dragons can take care of things in Minrathous. That said… two of you should join Neve there. See if you can help. And we’ll head to Treviso.”

“Understood,” Davrin said.

“Let’s all try to make it through this alive, all right?”

I brought Davrin with me, leaving the other two to go to Minrathous with Neve. I had to trust that they would be alright. I couldn’t afford to be distracted right now, lest I risk my own hide. When we got to Treviso, the city was burning.

Davrin and I made our way through the city, killing Antaam as we went. With the dragon trying to kill everyone, I suppose they saw their chance to really take over. Or, even worse, they were working for the Gods. ‘Cause that’s what we needed. More enemies.

We ran through the courtyard, seeing Lucanis and Teia up ahead. Lucanis looked so relieved to see us. “Rook! You’re just in time. Where the dragon attacks, the Antaam soon follow.”

“It is strong and fast. You must get its attention, then lure it onto the ground,” Teia said, hands on her hips.

“We’ll figure out a way,” I said, mimicking her stance.

“Draw up your courage,” she said. “We will need it.”

We took up position in the field, Davrin on my right and Lucanis on my left. Ghilan’nain, the horrible beast that she now was, all tentacles and no heart, demanded the dagger from me and said that Treviso offered nothing more than a pawn for Elgar’nan. She clearly couldn’t see the beauty it held.

She sent the dragon after us to retrieve the dagger. Most of my time was spent dodging blows as I tried to keep it off the other two, allowing them to actually hit it.

Enough of my panic built up, that I was able to aim some of it back at the dragon in the form of lightning and fire, beamed directly at its heart. Before we could bring it down, Ghilan’nain called it away, saying she had need of it elsewhere.

“You fought it off!” Teia ran over to us.

Lucanis clutched at a wound on his leg as he limped over to us. “If Ghilan’nain hadn’t called it away…”

“It’s more important that it stopped attacking the city,” I told him, casting a worried glance at the blood staining him.

“Everyone with a home that still stands will agree,” Teia said.

“That thing was tough. It’ll be hard to put down for good,” I sighed.

“What happened to Treviso would’ve been worse if you hadn’t arrived when you did. I cannot imagine how much worse,” Lucanis said looking at me gratefully.

“Still have to help with that dragon in Minrathous,” Davrin said.

“Let’s go,” I said.

—-------------------------------------

Minrathous was covered in Blight by the time we reached it. The streets were crawling with darkspawn and buildings were on fire. Even as I knew I made the right choice, it hurt to see this place like this. I had more bad memories here than good ones, but the good ones outweighed the negative. This was where I met Varric, after all.

We found Neve and Tarquin huddled around Ashur who was on a table, looking miserable and wounded.

“We’re here. What’s the situation?” I asked.

“Where were you?” Neve demanded.

“Treviso. The dragon—”

“This is your city! I thought—”

“My city?!” I almost laughed in her face. “You mean the city I was enslaved to? You mean the city that showed me and other people like me no kindness? The city that’s been corrupted since the beginning of Thedas?”

“And because we were busy fighting the bigger evil, the Venatori took large parts of the city!” She yelled. “We lost people. And Ashur…”

“I’m fine,” he grunted. “She’s right.”

“You are not fine,” Tarquin said, standing. “He took a claw to the gut. A claw from a blighted dragon. Think about that,” he said to me.

“The blight’s in his blood. But that means…” All my fire was gone, and I was just exhausted.

“A slow death,” Neve finished. 

“You’ve brought nothing but trouble since you came back,” Tarquin growled.

My brows furrowed, pained and hurt. Dorian led me to them and all I did was fuck everything up. Lucanis stepped closer, almost protectively.

“It’s not Rook’s fault,” Ashur said. “I chose to engage it.”

“Because it was going for a safe house! Because half of us were already dead!” Tarquin shouted.

“Do you honestly think one more fucking person would’ve changed the outcome?” I questioned.

Tarquin spun on me. “No, but maybe you would be dying instead of him.”

I physically recoiled from the hatred in his eyes, my gut twisting with nausea. I bumped into Lucanis, and he steadied me with a hand on my waist.

“Just go. There’s nothing you can do here,” Neve said, looking over at Ashur.

—-------------------------------

I stumbled through the eluvian in the lighthouse, clutching my chest. My stomach churned, and I thought I might throw up.

“Rook!” I heard Bellara behind me, but I didn’t stop, heading straight through the hall and up the stairs. I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t lead, I wasn’t cut out for it.

I let my feet guide me and before I knew it, I was in the infirmary. Varric looked alarmed as I collapsed to my knees beside his bed, tears rolling down my cheeks. “I fucked up,” I whimpered. “I fucked up, Varric.”

“Hey, hey, hey, kid, take a breath.” He shifted, and I felt his warm hand on my shoulder, gripping me just tight enough to bring me back to reality. “What happened?”

“Minrathous---” I started, getting cut off by a sob. “Minrathous is burning. They took it- The gods took it, and Neve…” My body shook, wracked with sobs as I tried to breathe. “She’s so mad. I don’t think she’s coming back, Varric.” I looked up at him with bleary eyes.

He moved, sliding to the edge of the bed until I was between his legs, and he pulled me into his chest. “Easy, kid.” He had one arm tight around my shoulders, his other hand smoothing my hair. “You can’t save everyone. That’s the life.”

“Neve trusted me. She trusted me and Minrathous is burning now,” I whimpered, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to suck up the warmth he was giving me. It was so hard to breathe.

“You made a decision based on what limited knowledge you had,” Varric said. “No one can ask any more of you than that. Neve will come back around. Give her time.”

“We don’t have time, Varric,” I said desperately.

“So keep moving forward. That’s what you do, Rook. That’s what you’ve always done,” he said. “She’ll either come around or she won’t. But you can’t afford to spend what little time you have regretting your choices. Let me ask you something: Do you regret the choice you made? Or just Neve?”

I felt silent in contemplation. “I made the right choice,” I said carefully. “Treviso has no defenses, and it’s under occupation by the Antaam. I couldn’t have changed the outcome in Minrathous.” I had to believe that, if nothing else.

Varric squeezed my shoulder, and I pulled back, looking up at him. He smiled with that softness in his eyes that was just reserved for me. He put his thumb and forefinger under my chin so I looked at him. “Then you did the right thing,” he said simply. Carefully, he used his thumbs to wipe my face of tears. “Cheer up, kid. The night may be long, but it isn’t all dark.”

I heard what he said and what he didn’t. Minrathous was doomed to fall some day. We had been fighting a losing battle regardless, much as I hated to leave behind the people there. Half of them were under Venatori control, and the other half were too helpless to fight against it.

“Chin up, Rook. I think the others need you,” he told me.

I nodded, sniffling and wiping the remainder of my tears from my chin and jaw. “I need to talk to Solas.”

“If Chuckles pisses you off too much, hit him for me,” he said as he slid back up to the wall.

I couldn’t help but laugh a bit, shaking my head as I left.

---------------------------------------

“When last we spoke, you were hunting for followers of Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain in hopes of finding “specifics”. Has your search been successful?” Solas asked.

“You could say that. It looks like both the Venatori and the Antaam are working for Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain,” I told him.

“Unsurprising. The Venatori want magical secrets, and the Antaam want to destroy anyone opposing their brutal expansion. Both will readily bow to anyone who promises them power.”

“It’s more than a promise this time. The Antaam and the Venatori both have dragons doing their bidding.”

“Dragons?” He said surprised. “That is worse than I had feared.”

“Yeah. We drove off the one the Antaam brought to Treviso—barely,” I crossed my arms.

“Have you determined how the dragons are being directed? If it is blood magic, it may be possible to disrupt their control.”

“The dragons are blighted. We think that’s what let the gods control them.”

“The blight. Of course.”

“The blight seems to be the gods’ favored tool right now. We ran into Venatori who could control darkspawn,” I said.

“Elgar’nan would not bestow such power unless the darkspawn were to serve as the main force of his army. And I suspect Ghilan’nain will see the darkspawn as new subjects for her… modifications.”

“We’ve already run into a few darkspawn nobody has seen before. That’s in addition to the blighted dragons.”

“That is the fate Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain plan for this world, then. Corruption and blighted slavery,” Solas said, hands clasped behind his back.

“Right… Everyone should be free and uncorrupted when your demons and raw magic kill them,” I narrowed my eyes at him.

“Do you truly believe my goal was to destroy this world?” He asked.

“I believe you’re ‘goal’, like you said, was to transfer the gods to a better prison—the one you’re stuck in now. And you were willing to tear down the Veil and destroy with world while you did so,” I spat.

“The Veil is a wound I cut into the Fade in a moment of desperation while aking their prison. It should not exist. I had a host of spirits ready to help when the Veil fell. They would have minimized the loss of life.”

“Do you have any idea what you sound like? You could’ve actually saved the world from the blight, but instead you chose to kill thousands of people with your vanity project!” I shouted.

“It is not vanity! I broke this world. I am the only one who can fix it!”

His shouting didn’t faze me with the huge ravine and the Fade between us. “Spoken like a god,” I said with all the contempt I felt.

“I am not a god! I am as I have always been: a man, all too aware of his failings… But equally aware that if he did not act, accepting the judgment it would bring, all would be lost. They called me the Dread Wolf. What will they call you, when this is over?” He wondered.

“I don’t care what they call me. If they’re calling me anything, it means they’re still alive. That’s all that matters.”

“Acceptance. You are willing to face the consequences your actions may one day bring, because the world needs you. I believe I can work with that.” He smiled, though it felt anything but sincere. “If the gods are using dragons, you will wish to find someone trained to fight them. Have you unlocked the lighthouse eluvian?”

“Yes. We found the Crossroads. It’s still confusing, though.”

“I cannot help you from in here. You may need to find an expert in the magic of the Fade. And if the Darkspawn are to be Elgar’nan’s army, you will need Grey Wardens to fight them.”

“I’ve got a few of them. Their leaders don’t trust me right now, though.”

“I have faith in you, Rook,” Solas said. “You seem to have a knack for gaining the cooperation of your adversaries.”

---------------------------------------

I woke up in a cold sweat---as I often did these days---to someone thumping against my door. I moved over to it quickly, brows furrowing. When I opened it, I had to catch Lucanis. He was struggling to stand, but when he spoke, it was Spite coming through his teeth.

“The idiot is still bleeding. Help him.”

“Walk with me,” I supported him with his arm over my shoulders, and I led him to my chaise lounge. When he sat, the purple glow from Lucanis’s eyes was gone, and he slumped, unconscious. “Fenedhis.”

I could see the blood seeping through the bandage on his leg, staining his loungewear dark red.

“Gods dammit, Lucanis,” I grumbled. I looked up at his unconscious form, regretting what I was about to do before I could even do it. I reached for the buttons on his pants, undoing them and pulling them down to his knees, keeping my eyes on the bandaged wound.

My fingers fumbled with the knot before finally getting it undone, unraveling it, lifting his boot onto my knee to pull the bandage from under his leg. When I got to the wound, I looked at it with furrowed brows. It looked like there was a piece of jagged rock stuck in there, which would explain why it didn’t clot properly.

I sighed, hovering my hand over the wound and pulling the piece of shrapnel with my magic. Lucanis winced. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” I whispered, putting just a bit more power until it flew up and smacked my palm. I set it with the bandages next to him. “Nasty little thing.”

Carefully, I held my hand over the wound again, pushing warmth into it and watching it seal closed beneath my magic. When it was healed, I stood, moving to my wardrobe for a fresh cloth to clean the blood up on his leg.

Before I came back around, I heard a startled grunt from Lucanis. His chest seized, staring at the wall of the aquarium across from him. I internally panicked, realizing he spent a year in the bottom of the ocean tortured.

I moved around the chaise with the cloth, putting myself into his direct line of sight. He looked up at me with wide brown eyes. “Rook?”

Slowly, he loosed a breath, looking around. “Hey, it’s alright. We’re in my room. Spite brought you here because of your wound.” I knelt down in front of him again, starting to mop up his blood.

“Of course he did,” he grumbled, looking down at his lap. He cleared his throat. “Isn’t it customary to ask before removing a man’s clothes?”

I rolled my eyes, hitting him with the cloth. “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better. Well enough to clean yourself.” I stood, throwing the cloth at him.

He caught my wrist as I turned away. “Vuelve mi pequeña polilla, I meant nothing by it.”

My cheeks warmed as he crooned in his native language, and I was pulled back to my knees in front of him, resuming to clean his wound. “You had quite a nasty cut. This was keeping it from closing.” I picked up the piece of jagged rock. 

“Mierda,” he cursed, taking it to inspect it. “I wondered.”

“You would be lost without me,” I teased, wiping my hands on the cloth.

“You have no idea,” he muttered.

“I hope the next time we’re like this it’s not because you’re bleeding out,” I grinned, standing and collecting the dirty bandages to dispose of them. I saw Lucanis’s cheeks flush, and I smiled to myself as I left the room to avoid embarrassing him further. I was sure the last thing he wanted was for me to see him indecent and turned on.

❈❈❈

Lucanis pinched the bridge of his nose, looking up at the dancing reflections of water on the ceiling. It was bad enough that he had awoken half naked in a place of his nightmares. But then a complete one-eighty occurred, and he had the woman of his dreams kneeling in front of him with those mismatched eyes and warm smile.

Spite had brought him here, of course he had. And Kalais had just taken care of him like it didn’t take a second thought. And the things she said, mierda, he wished she would stop trailing him like a moth to a flame. It was dangerous, and it wouldn’t end well for either of them. Spite was Lucanis’s only future. To hope for anything else was futile.

Of course that didn’t stop all blood from running southward when she hinted at something more. Something unattainable, something beyond his imagination. Something impossible, and yet all too good for him anyway.

“She. Wants. You!” Spite growled in his ear. “We want. To taste her!” 

“Enough, Spite,” Lucanis said, standing and buttoning his pants. He didn’t look at the demon. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

“We. Want. Rook! Why?” he questioned.

Lucanis sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know why you want Rook. Possibly because she’s the only one who’s kind to you, though I can’t figure out why,” he muttered.

“No! You want her,” he said. “Her touch. Soft. Her hair silk. Her breath warm! Her lips. What do they taste like?”

“Enough!” He snapped. “She is not ours to have.”

❈❈❈

We all met around the fire in the dining hall. I filled everyone in on what Solas had said.

“So this elven god thinks we need a dragon hunter and a Fade expert?” Lucanis asked.

“He’s right about the dragon hunter, at least,” Harding said. “The Shadow Dragons did all the could. The dragon was just too much.” I frowned, staring into the fire. “The moment the dust settled? The Venatori rushed in. Guess they knew it was coming.”

My chest suddenly felt tight again.

“Neve’s staying for now. She said she’ll be back soon, but… At least you took care of yours,” Harding said to me.

“We hurt it, but didn’t kill it. The dragon flew off before we could put it down,” I said.

“Treviso could have used a dragon hunter. That much is true,” Lucanis said.

“Don’t remind me. Fewer people injured, and we wouldn’t have to worry about it coming back.” My brow furrowed, and I crossed my arms over my stomach.

“We shouldn’t forget about Minrathous, either. We need to do what we can to help. Though there’s no telling how long Neve will be helping the Shadow Dragons…” Lucanis added.

“Hey, let’s not get stuck in our regrets, all right?” Varric came hobbling over.

“Hang on a minute,” Davrin interrupted. “Not only have you retained the services of a demon assassin, you’re also taking advice from the elven god who attempted to tear down the Veil.”

“Spite is my problem,” Lucanis said defensively.

“That’s what they always say,” Davrin retorted. “Rook, Lucanis is one thing, but do you really trust this Solas?” He asked.

“Trust is such a strong word, you know?”

“So you don’t trust him.”

“Ehhh.”

“All right then.”

Harding said she would ask around about Dragon Hunters, and Bellara said she would get a message through to a Fade expert immediately.

“See, Rook? Nothing to worry about,” Varric said.

“All right. We all know what to do. Let’s get going,” I said to dismiss them.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list

Have a good day/night!

Tagged: @colombia-chan @bleummie

[usertoxicyaoi]

"I was staring at the road. I was thinking if he hadn't come, I would have been waiting there forever."

HIS MAN 2 (2023). Episode 14.

[ann1eee]

Everyone will leave me behind, right?

You overheard Satoru talking to Yuji. Why did he always feel like he was unloved? You didn’t want to leave him behind, ever. You wanted to be a part of his love and his dreams, but you couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him how you felt. You were his fellow teacher, his confidante, his friend. No way you’d ruin the deepest relationship you’ve had with someone over your feelings, which may or may not be reciprocated.

The battle ended, and the King of Curses had been defeated. Megumi was back, courtesy of Yuji and Nobara. Satoru made it out alive, but just barely.

When you saw the world slash almost hit him, you felt your heart drop to your stomach. There was no way you could accept him being gone, and no way you’d let that happen.

You had launched an attack of your own to divert Sukuna’s slash, which prevented a critical hit for Satoru. This allowed the others to take over, and defeat the King once and for all, whilst you accompanied Satoru out of the battle.

Finally, after all was over, you didn’t waste a single second and spent the whole time by Satoru’s side. You stayed with him at Shoko’s clinic, took care of him and waited for the perfect moment to tell him how you felt.

You waited until he spoke to the students, tossing their letters away since they didn’t need to read them after all. He settled things with the remaining sorcerers, and finally found a moment of peace.

You found him that evening, taking a stroll through the beautiful gardens of Jujutsu Tech. He looked angelic in the soft moonlight, and you felt your heart skip a beat. He beamed ecstatically as he saw you come into view, and walked to you.

You smiled at him and held his hand, leading him to your favourite place in the garden, a secluded spot with a few stone benches and raking vines. You sat close to him and gulped.

“Everything is over now huh?” You whispered.

“We’re all okay. It’s over.” He replied, matching your octave.

“I know what you said to Yuji.” You felt your heart race as you continued.

“I don’t know if what I’m about to say means anything to you, but I want you to know that you’re always going to be a part of my life, Toru. Everytime I picture my future as a sorceress, no matter who else is a part of it, I know for certain you will be. All the uncertainty that we have as sorcerers means nothing to me, because I never considered that you wouldn’t be there. If everyone else thinks of you as ‘The Strongest’, just know that I always think of you as Satoru. I love you, and I always want you to be a part of my life, as I am of yours.”

You stared into his eyes, scanning for any change of emotion, confusion, sadness, maybe even anger. But there was nothing. He turned his head away and looked to the sky.

Confused, and still rattled from your confession, you got up and stood right in front of him.

Your eyes widened as you saw the expression on his face.

Big, fat tears rolling down his temples and into his hair as he stared into the sky. His lips, red with the constant assault of his teeth. My god, you made him cry. You had never seen him cry, and you never would have thought he cried like this.

Your face grew worried as you cupped his cheeks.

“Toru, I’m sorry if that was too much. Please don’t cry?” You tried to console him.

Suddenly, he stood up and wrapped his strong arms around your body. He buried his face into your neck and sobbed quietly. You held him tight, growing more worried by the second.

“Thank you, y/n. You truly don’t know how much that means to me. I want you to be a part of my life as long as I live. You’re my dream.”

You pulled away from him, eyes welling up with tears. You reached out to touch his face, and wiped his beautiful eyes. He smiled at you so softly you could swear he was an angel.

He bent down and kissed you, as if he was waiting his whole life for you. You wrapped your arms around him as you deepened the kiss.

“Let’s go home.”

@kalopsia-flaneur

[cherrieflavouredheadcanons]

Hi can we please have fluff w Aventurine where reader and him reunite after 2. 1 and just fucking elope start a new life etc? Please I need it.

God yes. This is what we all need after 2.1. I'm aware he is in a coma-like state technically now but for the sake of fluff and this headcanon he is awake from that coma and is now reuniting with you. CW: Spoilers for 2.1 and Aventurines actual name, starts angsty but then turns fluffy, Gn reader, pre established relationship hurt/comfort

I am still accepting requests (especially for aven) btw so if you wanna see something send it in!

Back in your arms

You had lost track of how long it was since Aventurine left for his mission in Penacony. Has it been 2 months? No, probably more. It had been months since you last had been able to make contact with him. Your messages no longer went through, unable to be sent.

Looking at your textlog and scrolling up, you came across the last message he had sent you. It had come in while you were asleep, and it simply read “I love you”.

Waking up to that message would have been a sweet message for most people, but for you it had made you immensely worried.

 Aventurine was never someone who professed his love openly, so such messages were quite rare. Receiving such a message, especially unprompted, made you send him a barricade of texts, none of which went through and even now months later none were able to be sent.

If you were honest you were starting to lose hope of ever seeing him again, who knows what happened in Penacony after all? He could be…dead for all you knew, you had no way to verify whether that was true or not after all. 

You tried continuing your life on as you would normally, what else could you do? It was hard though, everyday you missed him more and more. Sometimes you imagined his face in a crowd somewhere but whenever you would take a closer look he would vanish.

Sighing you closed your phone and looked around your apartment, it felt so liveless ever since Aventurine was gone. Tears were falling down your eyes as you wondered how much longer you had to live with the uncertainty of where he was and if he was even alive.

Exhaustion was taking over as you began falling asleep. A common occurrence nowadays, since at night you were restless, unable to fall asleep as you worried. Just as you were beginning to fully doze off, you heard the door to your apartment open, immediately waking up.

No one but you and Aventurine had the key, and with him being absent panic coursed through you thinking someone was breaking and entering. You grabbed the nearest heavy thing to defend yourself with.

“For fucks sake…” You muttered as you made your way to where the noises were coming from. Cursing every entity out there for piling even more shit onto you as if your significant other being possibly dead wasn’t enough.

Readying your weapon (probably a heavy book) you stepped foot into the room where the noise was coming from ready to attack and hit the intruder. But once you saw who it was that was in your appartment, you dropped your makeshift weapon, a sob escaping your mouth.

Before you stood Aventurine, alive and breathing. You rubbed your eyes, making sure that this wasn’t your mind playing a cruel trick on you again. Aventurine watched you with a smirk on his, albeit very exhausted looking, face and his eyes held a new found softness you had never seen before.

You fell into his arms immediately, holding him tightly against your body, feeling his warmth. Desperately you grabbed at his clothes as you held on to him, scared this was all just a dream and you would wake up all alone once again. Tears were falling from your eyes, unable to hold them back, the relief washing over you making you let out all of your emotions.

“Wow you missed me that much?” He asked, in his usual teasing tone. Though there was something in his voice that usually wasn’t there. Desperation and a bit of fear. Was he afraid you wouldn’t have missed him? Or was there a deeper reason for it?

Moving away from the hug you grabbed his face in your hands, the tears still falling from your eyes as you took a good look at him. His face had fallen in, and he seemed exhausted. But there was also something in his eyes, his beautiful eyes you were so sure you would never see again, that you couldn’t recognize, having never seen it on him before.

Before you spoke your first words to him, you pulled his face closer and gently kissed him. The feeling of his lips on yours felt like you were floating in heaven. They may have been more chapped than usual, but fuck was it nice to feel him again.  Breaking the kiss you finally were able to muster up your first words to him.

“Fuck…I was so worried about you…I…When my messages stopped being able to sent I was…so sure you…Please…never worry me like that again Aventurine…”

You leaned your forehead against his, your words jumbled together from the adrenaline coursing through you.

He took in a deep breath, and held it for a moment before letting it out. A gesture you saw in many people before they needed to say something important and heavy, but one you never saw in your lover.

“...Kakavasha…” His voice seemed unsure and meek as he spoke. 

You, of course, had no idea what he was saying, so you looked into his eyes confused.

“Wha-”

“Kakavasha…it is…my given name. The one my mother gave me” He inhaled deeply before he continued.

“It is a long story but the short version is…I am no longer affiliated with the IPC, they probably think I died or something. So I no longer go by Aventurine, and…with how close we are and how much you mean to me. I felt like it was appropriate for you to know my true name...”

His eyes refused to look at you, flickering about unsurely as he spoke. Though he tried to sound confident, his voice wavered, scared that you would not accept him for who he truly was and reject his true self.

You looked at him gently and with all the love you had for him, gently pulling him close again and kissing his nose.

“Well then…It is nice to meet you Kakavasha…” You smiled brightly at him, showing him you accepted him as he was.

He felt relief course through his body and could not help himself but pull you into a passionate kiss. He kissed you like you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive. As if he would die without you.

Breaking the kiss he whispered “Marry me.” It wasn’t a question but a request. One that you were too stunned to answer to, looking at him with wide eyes.

“I mean it. Let’s get married, run away from everything and start a new life just you and me.”

His eyes were pleading with you to agree. He knew that he wanted to start over, but he knew he needed you with him.

“...yes!!” You once again fell into his arms and kissed him. The two of you holding each other so closely it was as if you were one.

Kakavasha knew that he would need to tell you everything that happened in Penacony at one point, even the part where he tried to end his life. But he knew that if he explained everything to you, you would still stay by his side and be with him. 

You were his family after all.

[lxkeee]

MY HEART IS BROKEN SO I NEED TO CRY First of all, I LOVE how you write, and I wanted to make a request about Lucifer breaking reader's heart, it doesn't matter how, I just want a broken heart 😔note: Sorry for the English translator, I don't write it but I understand it, TOTALLY CRAZY

TWO SIDES OF THE SAME COIN

—Part One

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Seraphim Angel! Fem! Reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Genre: angst (for now)

Warnings: none.

Notes: this one is short, 450 ish words but will serve as a foundation for the entire series lolol. Also, it's okayy:) your english is finee^^

PART TWO | NAVIGATION

Life was good in heaven. Having been brought to existence by our creator, we were given a chance at life. The world is still currently in progress, slowly changing to adapt to newer life forms.

We angels were tasked to help this new world grow into such an amazing world. Speaking of worlds, I am very much grateful to be alive as I am given a chance to love. As one of the first few angels created, I was able to befriend Lucifer. God's most beautiful angel and whom I have the honor of calling mine.

Lucifer was such an awkward romantic lover, showing off his affections in his ways. Giving flowers, a pretty stone he managed to pass by while flying around, or perhaps by giving her kisses.

They've been married for some time now, being together for a few decades and recently got married. The wedding was amazing, friends and their creator attended the celebration. It was a very beautiful celebration, the wedding night was awkward yet romantic, two innocent angels experimenting, learning about the art of making love. It was wonderful. Despite being inexperienced, both had a great time being each other's firsts.

Life was truly good, until God announced that he made new creatures, mortals or humans as he calls them.

They looked like angels but without wings. They will be the very foundation of humankind.

Slowly and surely, Lucifer began to act weird. Ever since he visited the garden of Eden, he's been purposely avoiding [y/n]. Making up excuses to not spend time with her.

Rumors started to spread that Lucifer has begun to form ideas that threaten the order of heaven, [y/n] tries to stop him but Lucifer is stubborn. He believes that mankind needed this.

[Y/n] was heartbroken, why is the love of her life acting like this? Why doesn't he look at her with love and passion in his eyes like he usually does.

Why does it look like he doesn't love her anymore?

Deciding to spy on him, she followed him to the garden of Eden. There he saw her husband looking at the mortal woman, named Lilith with so much love and adoration in his eyes.

[Y/n] felt her heart and entire world shatter. Broken hearted, she quickly fled the garden. Returning back home and sobbed into her friend's slap.

She cried the whole night, Lucifer didn't even notice she wasn't home.

Not long after, Lucifer was cast out of heaven along with Lilith. [Y/n] was heartbroken beyond her understanding. She couldn't understand, her emotions all over the place. Her husband doomed humanity and was cast out of heaven with another woman.

[Y/n] didn't even get to tell him she was pregnant with his child.

Happy Valentine's Day:)

Also, guess whose lap she was crying on? His name starts with A;)

[sakura-rose12]

Hello! Firsr of all, I LOVE your Alive Corazon Au (it's my daily morning addiction)

Second, while I was REREADING all your comics, I was wondering after Corazon was shot, how did he survive? How did it go with the governmenr? Like how did the governement (Sengoku espcialy) react when Corazon wanted to be a pirate and not continu as a governement?

We saw the reunion with Law but what happened before?

Sorry for the thousand questions.

Have a nice day!

THANK YOU FOR READING THEM!! ❤️

So I am no doctor, I have no medical knowledge whatsoever BUT let's just say Corazon didn’t die when we thought he did, simply passed out because of blood loss which is how the Calm spell breaks on Law.

Let's say the snow slowed down Corazons blood flow enough that he didn't die as quickly as he should have.

When the report of finding a Donquixote executive found dead on the transponder snail to Sengoku, turns out his pulse was just so damn slow they didn't realise he was clinging to life. And ya know, thank god they had Sengoku on the snail when they realised he was breathing, because now Sengoku can tell them to save him, that he is, in fact, an undercover marine.

I imagine Corazon was in a coma for lonnnng time. His body went through hell that night, probably a case of hypothermia and other things, too. It took him a long time to wake up and an even longer time to recover.

His actions caught up to him as well. He went against orders and stole the devil fruit they were trying to get after all. Sengoku is able to sway the punishment a bit, but Corazon is pretty much not allowed to leave HQ for a long time and not without a supervisor of some kind. Plus, they don't know what will happen if Doflamingo finds out if Corazon didn't die.

He was out of action for so long that he had no hope of locating Law or even knowing if Law was alive.

He talks to Sengoku over the years. About Law, about those six months, the promises he made with Law.

Then Laws wanted poster is released. That's a whole new bunch of emotions for Corazon.

I actually started drawing a scene after the reunion when they're all escaping Dressrosa. But I was making it TOO BIG and stopped hahah. It had Sengoku and Corazon saying their own kind of goodbye. Maybe I'll try and get back to it!

Masterlist

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Running to You

Word count: 725

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: In the midst of a bustling paddock, Y/n, Lando’s biggest supporter, cheers him on with boundless pride, proving that to her, he’s already a champion—no matter the results.

______________________________________________________________

When Lando’s lap time solidified on the board, Y/n’s heart practically exploded with pride. She didn’t care that this was just qualifying — every single session felt monumental because she saw the effort he put in every day. With a laugh that was half a cry, she sprinted toward him, pushing through the paddock crowd until she was within arm’s reach.

“Lando!” she shouted, her voice trembling with excitement. He turned at the sound, and his face softened immediately as he saw her coming, a grin spreading across his face. Y/n didn’t slow down; she flung herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as he caught her effortlessly, pulling her close with a warm laugh.

“Oh my God, Lando, you were amazing!” she cried, her voice full of tears as she clung to him. “I’m so, so proud of you.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he cradled her against him. “Hey, it’s just quali, love,” he murmured softly, but his eyes shone with happiness.

“To me, it’s everything,” she replied, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. Her hands gently cupped his face, and she spoke so only he could hear. “You’re my champion, Lando. Every single lap, every single session, you give your all, and it’s incredible. I don’t need a title to know how amazing you are.”

He gazed at her, speechless for a moment, his eyes glistening with the emotion he didn’t often let himself show. “You make all of this worth it, you know,” he whispered, his voice rough. “Having you here… it’s like having my own little victory every day.”

Y/n’s eyes filled with happy tears, and she was about to reply when she heard a familiar voice call out, breaking into their little bubble.

“Oi, Lando, is your girlfriend crying for you or for your time?” George Russell teased, grinning from a few feet away, arms crossed as he watched them. Around him, a few other drivers had started to gather, each one of them wearing that familiar, playful grin that made Y/n roll her eyes.

She turned, standing a bit taller as she faced them, holding tightly onto Lando’s hand. “Oh, please,” she called out, waving them off. “As if any of you could pull off a lap like that!”

Pierre Gasly chuckled, feigning hurt as he nudged George. “Hey, I put in a pretty decent lap myself!”

“Sure, Pierre, but where’s your biggest fan?” Y/n teased right back, raising an eyebrow. “Unless you’ve got someone who’d sprint across the paddock to scream for you?”

The drivers all laughed, exchanging looks with each other, but Y/n could tell they knew they’d lost this one. Yuki Tsunoda raised his hands in mock surrender, grinning. “Alright, alright. We get it. Lando’s got a personal cheerleader, and the rest of us just have to live with that.”

Y/n grinned, crossing her arms as she leaned into Lando, who was laughing, his face red with both pride and embarrassment. “Exactly,” she replied with a smirk. “And I’ll be cheering louder than any of you guys can handle, so get used to it.”

Carlos Sainz gave a playful shrug, laughing. “Guess we know who’s winning the fan section today.”

As the drivers moved on, still chuckling and throwing each other good-natured teasing glances, Y/n turned back to Lando, feeling the world around them melt away again. She looked up at him, her hands moving to rest on his chest as she took a breath, her smile softening. “They can tease all they want,” she murmured. “But no one will ever understand how proud I am of you.”

He placed his hand over hers, his gaze tender as he looked down at her. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand how I got so lucky,” he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I just know that having you here… it makes me feel like I’ve already won.”

Y/n felt her cheeks heat up, and she bit her lip to keep her emotions in check. “Well, get used to it,” she replied softly, brushing a hand across his cheek. “I’m always going to be here, cheering for you. In every race, every qualifying, every single lap… you’re my champion, Lando.”

“Good,” he whispered, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Because I’m never letting you go.”

[beckyninja]

Comfort

Pairing: Roboute Guilliman x FemReader

Warnings: Some light suggestive content

Description: Lady Guilliman comforts her exhausted husband

Here's my first venture into the world of fanfiction, people. Keep in mind my knowledge of the Warhammer40k universe is mostly second-hand. Details may not exactly line up with canon. Be gentle, please!

By the damned Throne, I am tired.

Roboute Guilliman, Primarch, Lord of Ultramar, Lord Regent of the Imperium of Man, held his head in his hands. The words on the parchment before him blurred. He blinked rapidly, to little effect. His eyes burned.

What time is it, anyway?

The minutes, hours, days even, merged together in his mind. That same mind normally buzzed with a thousand thoughts, plans, theoreticals, and practicals. Not now, though. It seemed exhaustion had finally won. He felt… numb.

Why do I even bother? Why keep fighting?

He rubbed his hands over his face, struggling against the despair that had begun to haunt his waking hours once again. 

Wake up, you fool! Think! There’s too much to do! Too much-

“My Lord?”

Guilliman’s eyes snapped to the tall, armored figure standing before his desk. He hadn’t even noticed the Ultramarine’s approach.

“Yes, Sicarius?”

To anyone else, the Captain’s face would have been a stoic mask. But Guilliman could see the slight twist of the lips that marked his disdain. That was a look he usually reserved for-

He pushed himself upright in his chair. “She’s here.”

Sicarius nodded stiffly. “Lady Guilliman,” he said your title like it tasted sour in his mouth, “has requested an audience.”

Guilliman winced. “Were those her exact words?”

“She requested,” again the look of disdain, “I repeat them verbatim, my Lord.”

Guilliman stifled a sigh. “See her in.”

A few moments later the door slid open and you entered. Guilliman felt his hearts stutter. Nearly a Terran standard year since the wedding, and the sight of your face still made him catch his breath. So small, so soft, so lovely.

And so very annoyed.

“My Lord,” you murmured, dropping into a formal curtsey. 

Oh yes, you were most definitely annoyed.

He spoke your name, loving the way the syllables rolled off his tongue. The irritation in your eyes faded softly as they glided over him.

To anyone else he knew he would appear the image of the semi-divine Primarch. Indomitable and confident. He knew you saw more. You saw the furrows between his brows. You saw the hollows in his cheeks. You saw the weariness in his eyes. From the first moment he’d met you, he’d sensed your uncanny ability to strip away all pretense and see things clearly.

To see the man behind the demi-god.

“Oh, Roboute.”

Throne… 

He could listen to you say his name for hours. He had, in fact. He’d heard you pant it. He’d heard you scream it. He wanted to hear you do so again.

Your eyes widened. Then the annoyance on your face vanished completely and you laughed.

“No, no, Roboute. You’re not distracting me so easily this time.” You approached, circling the desk you could barely see over to stand next to him. “We need to talk.”

“I can guess what about.” With effort, he tore his eyes from you and refocused on the stacks of paperwork littering the desk.

You reached out and laid a hand on his thigh. “You’ve been in here for a week, my love. An entire week. You haven’t eaten. You haven’t slept.” You sniffed, then wrinkled your nose. “You haven’t bathed.”

He felt his cheeks heat. “I have been working.”

You continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “The administrators and officers are concerned. The serfs are whispering. Roboute, look at me please.”

He did, reluctantly.

“Your sons are even starting to notice something’s wrong.”

His eyebrows shot up at that. “They’ve… spoken to you?”

“Lord Calgar himself suggested I might talk to you, Roboute. It’s gotten that bad.”

“Sicarious hasn’t seemed unduly concerned.” 

You rolled your eyes. “That man has all the emotional sensitivity of a hunk of ceramite. Besides, I think he’d rather be fitted for a dreadnought than ask my help on anything.”

Guilliman huffed a short burst of air through his nose. “Still not getting along, I see.”

“I practically had to order him to let me see you. Yes, yes.” You waved a hand. “I know you’ve given me the authority. But I can’t imagine pulling rank on The Cato Sicarius will endear me to him.”

You shook your head. “All that is beside the point. In all the time we’ve been married, you’ve never shut yourself away for this long. You’ve never shut me out for this long. Roboute, what’s wrong?”

He stared back at the never-ending paperwork. Frustration welled within him, momentarily displacing the exhaustion.

“What’s wrong? Void, what isn’t wrong?!” He stood suddenly, causing you to shy back. “Here, a missive from the Ecclesiarchy, pontificating on and on about my lack of ‘enthusiasm’ for their nonsensical rituals. There, another Inquisitor foaming at the mouth about supposed heretics within my own Ultramarines. And there, the damned High Lords of Terra respectfully refusing to put another of my reforms into effect!” He slammed a fist onto the desk, cracking the priceless wood. “And all this while planets are screaming for aid from Tyranid hive fleets, Astartes chapters are stretched to their breaking points, and millions of lives are being snuffed out by the day! Stupidly! Wastefully!”

He only realized he was shouting when he saw the pained look on your face, hands clasped over your ears.

The frustration drained away, suffocated once more under the tide of exhaustion. “I am sorry, my love.” He slumped back into his chair. “I… I am sorry.”

“Stand up.”

“What?”

You smiled gently up at him. “Please, Roboute.”

He stood. 

“Thank you. Excuse me.”

Blinking burning eyes, he watched you scoot past him and clamber onto the seat of his chair. Then, after carefully moving a few stacks of paperwork aside, you climbed onto the desk itself, settling on your knees. Now your head was nearly at the level of his chest.

“Love? What on Terra are you-?”

You shushed him. “Turn the chair around, push it back against the desk, and sit down.”

He was a fool for you, that was the only possible explanation. That, and he was simply too tired for questions. He did as you asked, now facing the great window looking out upon the starry void. He took in the constellations and idly calculated the Macragge’s Honor’s exact position.

“Lean back.”

Something soft cushioned his head. Two somethings in fact. Two somethings he was quite familiar with under different circumstances. Then delicate fingers carded through his hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp. 

Oh. Oh Throne, yes.

You laughed softly at the groan that emanated from his throat. When one of your hands moved to knead the back of his neck, he swore he was melting.

“I cannot halt the Tyranids, or increase the Astartes.” You whispered. “I cannot talk sense into the Ecclesiarcy or the Inquisition. I could possibly chastise the High Lords, if I didn’t know they’d go straight back to being idiots as soon as my back was turned.”

Guilliman closed his eyes and focused on your words, your touch.

“I cannot take care of the Imperium. That is your duty, and no one else could do a better job.” Warm lips pressed against his cheek. “My duty is taking care of you. I knew it from the day I met you.”

“I love you, Roboute.”

“I love you too, my hearts.” He pressed the words past the lump in his throat.

“Then please, please let me do my duty. Let me care for you.”

What did I do to deserve this woman?

The fact that you’d come to him when he was at his lowest was almost enough to make him believe there was some all-knowing force for good in the universe. Almost.  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

You sighed in relief. “Thank you, my love. First, we’ll return to our quarters and you’ll sleep. Then, I’ll have the cooks prepare a meal. A real meal, not that vile sludge you feed your sons. Then, a bath.”

“You’ll join me?” He muttered, already feeling the lure of sleep.

“I will.” Your voice was suddenly right next to his ear, “And, if you're very good, we’ll do more than bathe.”

At that his eyes opened and he craned his head back to look at you. You blushed at the look of hunger on his face.

“Sleep and food first, my husband.”

Suddenly energized, he surged to his feet, turning and sweeping you into his arms. “We’ll see about that, my wife.”

As you gasped and giggled, he smiled, truly smiled, for the first time in weeks. The universe was still on fire. The Imperium was still a cesspit. A million problems still awaited his solutions.

But you were here. His personal symbol of all that was still good in humanity. His one comfort.

He would keep fighting for you.

@lemon-russ @moodymisty @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond @bispecsual @kit-williams @sleepyfan-blog

(I would tag more but I don't want to annoy anyone who didn't specifically ask for it. I'm just going to hope this makes the rounds eventually.)

[kentopedia]

i miss when we first met

FEATURING. dazai osamu x f!reader & f!reader x chuuya nakahara — wc: 15.1k

SUMMARY: you'd always been in love with Dazai, but you started to doubt that he'd ever cared for you in return. chuuya, though, had never shown you anything but true affection.

CONTENTS: nsfw 18+ ONLY, pm!dazai, pm!reader, mostly dazai x reader but…, unhealthy relationship dynamics, voyeurism, cheating, manipulation, smut, degradation, guns, angst, dazai is very bad at expressing emotions, pet names, horrible communication, unrequited (?) love, the list goes on bc they’re in the port mafia just be warned

note: this took me like 4 months to finish & i am so so nervous to post it lmao. i wanted to write something different & this is very outside my comfort zone! :) but it's dazai's birthday so i figured i might as well share it today

You rolled onto your side away from Dazai, still breathing heavily as you came down from your high.

Beside you, he had shifted onto his forearms, moving up against the headboards to sit up straight. The covers fell off of him, revealing the marks that you’d left all over his body, the scars from a life lived in the mafia.

Under the red silk sheets, you were silent, your head settling into the pillow as you stared at him.

He’d deny it, but he was beautiful, a tempting, alluring creature that you couldn’t get enough of.

But you also knew Lucifer had once been God’s most beautiful angel, and it only made sense that Dazai Osamu would hold the same kind of exquisiteness.

Dazai closed his eyes, rolled his neck as he leaned back, stretching out all of the stiff muscles. He didn’t touch you again, kept a distance as he wiped the sweat that had dried on his forehead, the fluids that had stained the sheets between you.

He used to talk to you, after something so intimate. Used to hold you in his arms and trace your skin with a gentleness you didn’t know he possessed. He hadn’t always been cruel when he fucked you, hadn’t always put his own needs before yours.

Of course, Dazai had never loved you. That was something you were certain of in your very core. But he’d held at least some shred of respect for you before becoming the head of the Port Mafia. Now, you didn’t think he saw you as anything more than a means to an end.

It didn’t matter, though. It didn’t matter that Dazai spoke to you minimally when you two weren’t alone, that everyone in the Port Mafia knew you were nothing more than the woman who slept in his bed.

It didn’t matter because you loved him. You’d stood by his side since the beginning, since he’d recruited Chuuya, since he’d lost Oda.

Since he’d killed Mori.

You’d been with him through all of it, seen every horrid side to him, and you’d never once wanted to escape. Dazai had his claws in you, and he had them in deep. The thought of being anywhere but with him had never crossed your mind.

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

You blinked, snapping out of your haze as Dazai regarded you with cool, condescending eyes. He was peering at you from over his shoulder, picking his dark button-up off the floor. The skin on his back was red from scratches, the lines dragging through his taut skin.

“Did he?” you said, looking down at your nails. You hadn’t expected anything less. Akutagawa did everything in his power to get exaltation from Dazai. “I’m sure his report was thorough.”

Dazai’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed, a darkened tint flashing in them. “That’s all you have to say?”

His voice was unamused, icy, and it reminded you that no matter how many times you crawled into his bed, let him use you however he wanted, he was still your boss. He was Dazai Osamu, the man whom everyone in Yokohama feared.

You swallowed. “I’m sorry.” Your gaze twisted away from him, unable to meet his hardened expression completely. “I was distracted. It was my fault entirely.”

Dazai made a noise in the back of his throat as he moved out of the bed. He sauntered across the room, so quietly and cat-like, and you buried yourself deeper into the mattress, wanting to sink into it completely.

“You’re lucky, then, that Akutagawa was able to deflect the bullets.” He began replacing the bandages that had slipped off of his face, covering his cheek with disgust.

He let you see him completely when it was just the two of you. It took every ounce of your self-control not to read into that, to wonder if it was just a habit leftover from when you were younger.

“I am lucky.”

Truthfully, you’d only hesitated for half of a second, momentarily lost in your own loop of suffering, and your opponent had gotten an edge on you. They’d shot at you, then the bomb, nearly prematurely blowing up the building.

“After decades of work, I would’ve thought you’d know better by now.” Dazai sighed wearily, like your presence irritated him. It probably did. “I’ll consider moving you. I’m sure there’s a place for you where you can’t get yourself killed if you fuck up.”

“Dazai—” you swallowed, a horrid tasting stinging your mouth as you remembered your time with him had come to an end. He was back to being Mori’s underling, the man who looked at the city like it was nothing but a chessboard. “Boss,” you remedied quickly, all too used to addressing him differently. It was difficult, sometimes, to recognize where Dazai began, and the Port Mafia’s boss ended. “It was a stupid error. In all the time you’ve known me, have I ever done something like that before?”

Dazai hesitated momentarily, before tensing his shoulders. He didn’t answer your question. “Don’t let it happen again.” A warning was in his eyes when they met yours through the mirror. “I don’t have the patience to find a replacement for you, and Akutagawa’s too valuable an asset to lose to a seasoned professional’s careless mistake.”

You exhaled, looking back down at your hands. The ones that had already been stained in so much blood, wrought with crime and bad intent. “Understood.”

You finally climbed out of the bed, missing the warmth that it gave you, even though Dazai’s cold body always sucked it away. He laid so stiffly next to you most of the time. You remembered when he used to sleep with his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.

As you dressed, Dazai kept his eyes on his work, never paying you any attention. You felt discarded, useless, and you wanted to hate him, wanted to hate yourself for longing to wrap your arms around him, hug him from behind.

“I’ll send you with Chuuya tomorrow,” he said, scanning reports and assignments that he’d thrown aside lazily last night. “An easy assignment outside of Yokohama. Think you can manage that?”

“Just give me the job.” You snatched the paper out of Dazai’s hand, and he didn’t say a word, only watched as you perused it. It was, really, the simplest task he’d given you in the past few weeks. You’d felt like he’d been overworking you just to avoid you. “Fine. I’ll take it.”

Dazai’s smile widened, sinister, and wicked. He brushed his hand delicately over your shoulder, against your neck before patting you on the head. “I trust you won’t let me down.”

Going against every sensible atom in your being, you smiled wearily. His minimal display of affection warmed you, a deep pang settling in your soul. “Have I ever?”

“No.” He held a sort of awed fascination, twisting a part of your hair between his fingers. “How lucky someone must be to be my greatest enemy. To get the kiss of death from an angel is not such a bad way to die.”

He held your cheek in his delicate fingers, and you were putty in his hands, wishing that his eyes would soften, even by a fraction. That his hand would cup around his cheek like he meant it.

Instead, he pulled away, and you felt cold, cold, cold, drowning in your own emptiness.

You scoffed, trying to regain some power in the situation. “I’m no angel.”

“Hm,” Dazai hummed, dropping his head in his hands, resuming a spot behind the desk, the deep red chair much too similar to the one in his office, the one that Mori had inherited from the previous boss. “Perhaps not to others.”

And you grew hot, feeling that, maybe, Dazai was giving you a compliment.

It was at times like these that you saw the semblance of your previous relationship. When you could tease him without feeling the weight of his superior rank looming over you. When you could kiss him without tasting venom. When you didn’t have to wonder if it would be appropriate to touch him, or if you should keep your distance.

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

“I could never be any sort of heavenly creature, Dazai. My spot in hell was sealed the moment I sided with the Devil.”

Dazai laughed, the sound raw and dry, so humorless. “I hope you don’t mean me. Flattery will get you nowhere,” he tsked, the tip of his tongue scratching against the back of his white teeth.  

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

“Should I say goodbye before I leave?” you asked wryly, doubting that he’d even want to see you again. His image burned against the back of your eyelids, and you drank him in, hoping that when you died, his face would be the last thing you saw.

Dazai didn’t grace you with a simple yes or no. Instead, he glanced up briefly, his one eye exposed, mere centimeters of skin uncovered. “Goodbye.”

You nodded; lips pressed tightly together as you accepted the dismissal. With a sigh, you were out of the room, wondering why you hadn’t just showered before you left. Most of your clothes were in Dazai’s closet anyway.

You didn’t see him again before you left.

The assignment Dazai had given you was a few cities over, a task of infiltrating an enemy organization who’d gotten a little too close to the Mafia’s boundaries. It was simple enough, especially with Chuuya at your side, though the whole ordeal had you away from home for a weekend, and far too much time with your own thoughts.

Dazai had set the two of you up in a suite, one with two separate bedrooms and a shared living space. It was much more luxurious than you even needed, with a view overlooking the entire city and an extensive bar in the kitchen. The furniture was a deep, black leather, every accent dark in color.

It was conspicuous, but you’d grown too used to extravagance after being with Dazai. You allowed yourself to indulge in it.

A silly notion, really; the place you slept every night was much more lavish.

You scrubbed the blood off your face, your hands, and stared at yourself in the mirror without recognizing the person before you. The water at the bottom of the shower was a macabre shade, staining the tiles as it swirled down the drain.

Shivering, you tried to reconcile all of the things you’d done, shelve them away before you could wonder if all of it was really worth it. If Dazai was really worth it.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, your skin rubbed raw, Chuuya was sitting at the bar, a freshly cracked bottle of wine before him. His back was tense, muscles strained as he regarded you with weary eyes, the darker shade under them obvious and alarming.

“Took you long enough,” Chuuya snorted, pouring himself a glass. The bottle was aged and dark, the label faded. He must have brought it along with him; it certainly hadn’t come from the hotel. “I was getting bored.”

You made a face, taking the seat beside him. “Well, there was a lot of blood.” You reached over to snatch the bottle, pressing it to your lips before he could protest.

“Help yourself, then,” His expression was sour, but his acerbic tone held a hint of amusement. “Do you know how expensive that is?”

“No.” You shrugged, taking a sip. Money had stopped meaning anything to you a long time ago. “Should I care?” The liquid warmed your throat on the way down.

“Probably not. You’ve surely got enough cash behind you to buy me another one.”

“Right.” You snorted and wondered how much of that stuff you’d have to drink before you’d stop feeling a thing. Thoughts of the crumbling bond that you and Dazai shared wouldn’t leave you alone. “And you don’t?”

Chuuya laughed, twirling the glass in his gloved hand. There was a hardened edge to him that you didn’t like. Opposed to Dazai, Chuuya had always been much more open with you, more willing to share his thoughts. “Well, we can’t all be Dazai’s favorite. You’ve got the keys to the kingdom, my dear. Whatever belongs to the Mafia belongs to you too.”

“Favorite?” You spat out the word, darkening at the mention of Dazai, the man who never seemed to leave your brain. It was always Dazai, Dazai, Dazai. The youngest executive there had ever been, the one who’d become the head of the Port Mafia just a few years later.

You hated him. Wished you could burn the memory of that haunted man entirely.

“Hm?” Chuuya leaned forward like he hadn’t heard you.

A bitter flavor blossomed on your tongue when you thought of saying his name out loud. “I don’t want to talk about Dazai right now.”

You brought the bottle to your lips again; it was starting to feel lighter.

“Why?” Chuuya’s eyes dimmed as he stared at you, looking for something hidden in your irises. A secret that wouldn’t be there. You’d always been too easy to read. “Did something happen?”

“I said I don’t want to talk about Dazai, and you immediately think something’s wrong?”

He blinked. Hesitated. “Well, I spent my teenage years listening to you talk about him like a lovesick fool. The subsequent years watching him stare at you in the same way.” He took the bottle away from you, tipping his head back. “Something must be wrong.”

You felt a flush at your neck, the skin itching with sweat. It was cruel of Chuuya to allude to any emotions from Dazai, when you knew they weren’t there. “That’s not true.”

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

Although his temper had always been much worse than yours, you felt the same sort of anger claw at your back. The urge to scream at him became almost insuppressible. “Dazai doesn’t care about me like that.” You flopped down on the bar, alcohol fuzzing the edges of your senses. It felt nice, warm.

Maybe being away from the Port Mafia was better for you than you thought.

“Don’t be stupid.” Chuuya’s eyes had narrowed when your head fell forward, his fist clenching around the bottle.

“Stupid?” You immediately sat up, blood rushing straight to your head. Who was Chuuya to come and tell you everything he thought he knew? It was laughable, really. “He doesn’t care, and I think I’d know. Fuck you, Chuuya.”

You slammed your fist down on the table, hurt. You didn’t understand why Chuuya would side with Dazai when he knew how much the situation troubled you. How often had you bared your soul to him, told him how Dazai’s aloofness had hurt you over and over again?

His eyes softened, an apology immediately leaving his lips. “I’m sorry—”

“Are you?” The words were vehement. Chuuya was shamelessly against your relationship with Dazai, always coming up with one reason or another to get you out of it. Now, it seemed, he was trying to defend it. “Dazai cares or he doesn’t. You can’t keep changing your mind based on the situation.”

“Dazai does care.” Chuuya said the words like they pained him to leave his mouth, each one dragging a dagger against his chin. “You think he’d keep you around if he didn’t?”

You did. You knew that you had use outside of Dazai’s feelings, just like Chuuya, just like Akutagawa. Just like every menial grunt who had a shred of value for the Mafia.

“He cares that I have value to him.” A sigh left your lips, and you sunk your chin onto your palm, feeling like nothing more than the dramatic woman in a Shakesperian tragedy. Really, you couldn’t remember when you’d become so pathetic. “What will become of me when I can’t sink a bullet into the skull of his enemies anymore?”

Chuuya frowned, the wrinkles deepening on his forehead. “No one can predict what Dazai will do.” He let you steal his half-full glass of wine, keeping the bottle safely tucked away from you. “Would it make much difference to you if we could?”

“I suppose not.” You’d grown tired, the subtle buzz of alcohol coming in quick on your empty stomach. “Nothing matters much anymore. I’ll never leave the Port Mafia.” Saying the words out loud made it more real than you’d intended, even though it was a fact that had sunk deep into your bones the day you’d met the dark-haired, suicidal bastard. “Why do I have to love him, Chuuya? Why can’t I love a good man?”

You thought, why can’t I love you instead, and left it unsaid. The words might have been too cruel. You knew the pain of unrequited emotions.

“Because you’re in the Port Mafia. Good men would know to stay away.” Chuuya drummed his fingers against the countertop before reaching out, contemplative. Though you remained unmoving in your seat, his hand still retracted before he touched you, as if burned. There was caution in his movements, every action calculated—Chuuya was usually the opposite, as intelligent as he was. “Besides. You’ve never tried to let Dazai go. You don’t want to.”

“I want to,” you said defensively, though even to your own ears, the statement was weak. Dazai was an addiction, and you’d go back to him time and time again. Even when, sometimes, you weren’t so sure there was anything good about him. “I just don’t know how. What would I do out there in the world without Dazai?” You laughed, amused. A normal life didn’t seem possible—you’d have no idea where to start.

Chuuya’s face pinched in disgust. “Take over the Port Mafia. Kill him and run it yourself.” He huffed, running a hand over his eyes, exhausted. “There’s a solution. If you really want to get rid of him.”

You blinked back at him. A moment passed; you’d forgotten he was looking for a response.

“I suspected as much.” His shoulders slumped, defeated, as you drew back in shame. “How long will you talk yourself into this endless cycle of torment? Dazai isn’t the same man that you fell in love with, and he never will be again.” He met your eyes, cold and guarded. “There’s nothing to be done about that. If you want Dazai so badly, put up with every single part of him. I’m tired of listening to the same grievances, time and time again.” 

Chuuya made to stand, but you stopped him, grabbing his wrist lightly. He glared at you from over his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you said, trying to convey your apology sincerely. “You’re completely right. I’ve never tried to let Dazai go, and maybe I can.”

You didn’t give Chuuya time to formulate a response. Before he could understand what was happening, you leaned forward, catching him off guard, and planted your lips on his.

For one singular moment, Chuuya had kissed you back, tasting your mouth in its entirety, before he shoved you away, scrubbing his skin like he’d been burned.

“Don’t do that.” He had a hand in your face, scolding you like a child. “Don’t ever fucking do that again.”

You stared at him; his dark eyes were full of an emotion you had never seen before. “Why not? You said I should try to let him go.”

“Not by kissing me, fucking hell.” Chuuya hissed, his voice just above a whisper like someone else was listening in. Something vile had been unleashed in him as he gesticulated around wildly. “You’re Dazai’s.” He scoffed. “Do you think any smart man would do anything with you, knowing you sleep in that monster’s bed every night?”

You sniffed, sticking your jaw out. Maybe, you’d been wrong all this time. Chuuya was like everyone else, wasn’t he? Holding you at a distance because you cared for the wrong person.

“I’m not leaving the Mafia. I’m not leaving Dazai.” You reached across the table, grabbing one of his cold hands. “I just want to be someone else for once. To know what it’s like for someone to care about me so completely.”

“It’s not going to be with me.” Chuuya yanked his hand away, laughing mirthlessly. “I never thought you’d try to manipulate me like this. “You’ve been spending too much time with him.”

Your eyes flashed, infuriated. Chuuya looked at you with some kind of betrayal, like he wasn’t the exact same way, like he wasn’t the same kind of vile person that you were. “I know you’re in love with me, Chuuya. I know you’ve looked at me since we were sixteen years old, wished so badly I would look at you the same way.”

His jaw clenched, the anger giving way to something else. “Don’t start.”

“You’ve wanted me all this time, haven’t you?” It was a genuine question; one you’d always been too scared to voice. Chuuya was the only person you considered to be a friend and knowing that he felt that way about you would ruin your friendship completely.

Though you had one sip too much of alcohol running through your veins, and you’d spent two days wondering how you could stop feeling a single thing for Dazai. Rationality had left you entirely.

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

“You’re the only person in the Mafia who really cares about me, aren’t you?” you said, softer, wondering if you could lure him in. Spring him into a trap you’d both be certain to regret in the morning. “You’re the one who talks to me about everything, who watches out for my well-being. Who’s never looked at me like I was anything but the prettiest girl in the world.”

And though Chuuya still didn’t trust your actions, his eyes had softened just a hair, his body releasing the tension. “You are.”

You smiled, but his compliment made you feel nothing but guilt. “Then why won’t you let me kiss you, Chuuya?”

“Because.” He scraped a hand over his face, breathing heavily like it was taking every ounce of his willpower to resist you “Dazai will kill me, you understand? He’ll kill you.”

“Wouldn’t you at least like to know?” You invaded his personal space. Each word you spoke cracked him a little bit more. “I know you’ve imagined me spread out before you, entirely exposed to you. How I’d look with my hips arching off the bed, crying out your name—”

“Stop it.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” You felt like you were losing your mind. Something had cracked in you, and you couldn’t come back from it. Things would never go back to the way they were after those careless words had been tossed into the world. “You’ve always wanted me, so why, when I’m giving myself to you completely, won’t you accept?”

Chuuya swallowed. His voice had grown thick with desire. He raked his eyes over you cautiously. “You’re asking a lot from me, baby.” He held your cheek, grazing the bone in the gentle way that Dazai had forgotten. “Believe me, I want to. But you’ve had a lot to drink.”

“I haven’t,” you said, grabbing his wrist before he could pull away. The touch of another person felt so nice against your icy skin. “I’m okay. I’m not drunk.” You weren’t—the alcohol had just made you brave enough to ask. “Please, Chuuya.”

He swallowed thickly. “He’ll kill me.”

“And he’ll kill me. Just as you said.” You met his eyes completely, wondering why you couldn’t care for this man in the same way, why his lips weren’t as alluring as Dazai’s, why his voice didn’t set a blaze deep in your stomach. “Do you really care whether Dazai thinks of me as his?”

His cheeks were flushed, eyebrows pinched, and you spotted the moment he began to draw back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t.”

Then, you panicked, eyes becoming glassy as he released you, turning to retreat back to his bedroom, and you scrambled for another way, a way to bring him back to you.

“Chuuya, please,” you said, desperation in every syllable, and when he turned around, you knew you had him wrapped around your finger. “I just want to know what it’s like with a person who loves me. Can’t you give me that?”

That was it. That was all you had to say. When Chuuya bowed his head, you knew he’d given in.

“Why do you think I can give you what he can’t?” Chuuya’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. “I’m not that kind of man. I’m not the kind of man you’re looking for.”

“No,” you said. “You’re not that kind of man. You’re Chuuya. The only person that’s always been there for me.”

He hesitated, momentarily, before sweeping you into his arms, his touch the softest you’d ever felt. “Are you certain that you want this?”

“Yes.”

“Then it doesn’t matter if Dazai kills me.” Chuuya spoke into your mouth, carving the words into your aching heart. “You were always going to be the death of me, anyway.”

His lips were upon you again, kissing you with the hunger of a starved man, and you gave him back as much as you could, which was the despair of a lonely woman. His touch was one of loving hands as guided you back into the bedroom tenderly.

When your back hit the bed, he asked if you were okay, asked if everything was comfortable. The concern in his eyes had rarely been seen in Dazai’s own—you couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken care of you first.

“I’m fine, Chuuya,” you promised again and again, and you smiled, caressing the soft skin of his jaw.

His lips pulled back in return, and then your shirt was thrown over your head, carelessly tossed towards the corner of the room. Though, no matter how many articles of clothing you lost, the necklace that Dazai had given you still rested against your collarbone.

You cupped your palm around it, trying to avert Chuuya’s gaze as he stared down at the precious metal, something conflicting in his cool irises.

“It’s okay,” you said, doing your best to distract him. You wouldn’t take the necklace off. It didn’t matter how much Dazai had hurt you; you needed the reminder of the absolute infidelity you were committing. “Keep going.”

Feeling more anxious than you had before, you kissed Chuuya, trying to dispel the bile that gathered in the back of your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” Chuuya said, kissing every inch of your face, his hands hovering over your chest. “I could look at you forever, and it wouldn’t be long enough.”

Chuuya’s sentiments warmed you, but words weren’t enough. You pulled his vest off, then the buttoned-shirt and every other intricate article of clothing he wore.

It felt wrong. His height was wrong. His skin felt too warm under your palm.

“When did you fall in love with me?” you asked, breathing heavily. Desire pooled in your abdomen against your will, your own heart betraying you. Still, it was nothing more than the most basic reaction of human nature, raw and primal, unaffected by the organ that was jailed within your ribcage.

Chuuya was surprised by the question, and he paused, his face just inches above your stomach. “I think I realized when I was seventeen.” He huffed out a laugh, inhaling your perfume. “It was the first time I saw Dazai kiss you. I thought I was going to be sick.” He continued kissing down your body, sliding your pants past your hips. “I’d always wanted you. I guess I just didn’t realize until then.”

You exhaled, feeling tears spring to the corners of your eyes, ones you suppressed.

Dazai had given you flowers that day. You remembered how they smelled, the rainy spring breeze. The way the sun reflected in his brown irises, melting them into candied honey that brightened his entire complexion.

“Then take me, Chuuya. If you’ve wanted me for so long, then fuck me like you mean it.”

His dark eyes flashed, but his gentle caresses never turned rough, never sped through a single moment you had together. You smiled, your expression peaceful and open when he finally slid your panties off, your cunt throbbing as his finger brushed against your swollen clit.

Chuuya took his time with you, singing praises that you hadn’t heard in a long time, and you came once around his slender fingers, the ones that were much less skilled at knowing every place you enjoyed being touched.

When he finally sunk inside you, you still felt empty, unfulfilled. You tried to lose yourself in his mouth, in the taste of wine and Chuuya, and dug your fingers into his back.

“Feel so good around me, baby.” Chuuya whispered into your skin, imprinting the words into your neck. He was careful not to leave any marks, though he wanted to, wanted to claim you as his own. “Taking me so well.”

You tugged on his hair as he kissed down your collarbone, between your breasts, his breath hot and heavy. Though you cried out, you kept your voice quiet, still fearful that someone might hear, might know exactly what kind of betrayal you’d committed.

Chuuya thrust into you slowly, so much gentler than Dazai, hitting the spot deep inside of you that had you arching off the bed. “Fuck,” he said, choking on his own breath. “You have no idea how you make me feel.” He was full of desperation, his hands digging into your hips.

“Chuuya,” you said, holding his head between your palms.

He gave you the brightest smile in return, sad and meaningful. “I know. I can feel you squeezing me tighter. Let go for me, doll.”

His hair was just as soft, but it wasn’t dark enough, wasn’t short enough. His kiss didn’t feel the same, and you felt tears blurring your vision as you realized you’d never wanted him, you only wanted Dazai, and this was all wrong.

Still, you came around him, as he was buried deep inside you, but his name never left your lips, not even as a breathy whisper, because the one that was sitting there was Osamu.

And when he pulled out of you, you stroked him with practiced laziness, moving your hands in the way you knew Dazai liked, even though Chuuya felt so much different in your palm.

Chuuya kissed you as warmth flooded into your hand, and then he was breathing heavily, collapsing onto the bed next to you. He kissed you over and over, holding you tight, and you smiled, satisfied, because at the least, you knew this was what love felt like.

You’d never get it from the man you wanted, so you’d take it from Chuuya, even if it made you feel rotten inside.

The room smelled like sex and betrayal, and Chuuya took care of you, carried you out of the bed for a bath, and gently rinsed away the sweat and grime.

You were silent for most of the time, only reassuring him when he asked if you were alright.

For the first time, maybe you were. You imagined a future where you could learn to love Chuuya, a future where you were finally able to rid yourself of Dazai and start over again.

But it was nothing more than a delusion, a dream that would never happen. Dazai was a part of your soul. You knew that and Chuuya knew that, even as he closed his eyes next to you, the woman that would never give her love to anyone else. Your heart beat and bled for Dazai Osamu, every inch of your being meant for him. It would kill you to let him go, and if he died, you’d die right alongside him.

You turned away from Chuuya, burying your face in your hands, completely unaware that he’d left the bed to sleep in the other room.

You didn’t talk to Chuuya the next morning, not when you took a private car back to Yokohama, not when you stepped foot back onto the Mafia headquarters. Things between you had soured, just as you’d suspected, and you didn’t know how to fix it, didn’t think there was any way to go back from what had happened.

Higuchi was waiting for the two of you when you walked in the door, her blazer perfectly pressed, and her shirt tucked. She greeted you with a half-smile—gesturing towards the stairs. “The boss wants to see all of us for a meeting. He said you two would be arriving at this time.”

You nodded, and Chuuya scoffed, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand his superhuman ability to know what���s happening all of the time.”

Swallowing, you followed Higuchi, trying not to hear the foreboding nature of Chuuya’s statement.

Most high-ranking Mafia members were in attendance, with Dazai at the head of the table, the dark wooden chair beside him eerily empty and welcoming. You took a seat, and Dazai’s eyes ran over you, smoothly and hastily, before a small smile appeared on his features. “No injuries?” he said, and though his tone was professional, you could hear the slightest bit of concern.

“None,” you said, and something in your voice cracked, ever so slightly.

You were such a fool. You’d never be able to hide something like this from Dazai.

He eyed you suspiciously, before sliding his glance over to Chuuya, who was as cool as usual. His face was shadowed by his hat, hiding any evidence of a sleepless night.

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, tucking his palm into his hand. “Debrief.”

Your partner gave Dazai every last detail, summarizing as best he could, and sliding in the occasional sarcastic remark as he leaned back casually in the chair. Dazai listened with boredom in his expression, drumming his fingers against the table until Chuuya’s monologue was complete.

He turned to Akutagawa, who bowed his head an immediately launched into his own assignment.

You blinked—you hadn’t realized that Akutagawa’s squad had been sent elsewhere. It made no sense for Dazai to send you with Chuuya when your own division had a separate mission.

The meeting wrapped up quickly, and the members scattered, going their own separate ways for the afternoon. Chuuya refused to meet your eye as he got up from the table, one of the last to leave the room.

As you stood, Dazai closed a hand around your wrist, his thumb brushing your pulse.

“Was the hotel alright?” he asked, his head titled curiously. “You look tired.”

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

“It was fine, Osamu,” you said, and when his name slipped easily from your tongue, something in him changed. He loosened the hand on your wrist before releasing it entirely, the bandaged palm falling into his lap. “Thank you.”

Dazai nodded, turning away from you, and you’d forgotten that there were still other people in the room. Akutagawa, who lingered with morbid curiosity, and his sister, who had always sort of pitied you for your tumultuous relationship, bore witness to the brief interaction.

Behind them, Chuuya stood tense, his back straight as he crossed the threshold, sparing you only a glimpse before exiting into the darkened hallway.  

“Alright,” Dazai said in a hushed voice, his face schooled back into the usual, guarded expression. “I’ll see you later.”

It wasn’t much of a response, and he didn’t elaborate, keeping his steely eyes ahead as some low-ranking members trudged in for a meeting with their boss. He’d be busy all afternoon, it seemed.

You swallowed, and left, knowing that it was fruitless to try and keep a secret from him.

Chuuya waited for you outside, his arms crossed as he regarded you with a contempt that hadn’t been there before, such a contrast to the loving man you had seen last night. “This changes everything, you know?”

“I know,” you said, your voice thick with unshed tears. “I’m sorry, Chuuya.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he scoffed. “I was the fool. I made my choice.” Chuuya sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I meant what I said, though. Yesterday. It was all true, and if you need anything, I’ll be here.”

You felt a chasm open in your chest, and you wished the floor would’ve swallowed you whole. You were losing everyone, it seemed, and maybe, Dazai really did have a point with his talk about suicide.

When you stepped into the bedroom, Dazai was sitting on the edge of the bed, the setting sun casting a shadow of his own reflection. He was twirling a pistol around his pointed finger, staring at the wall with blank eyes.

You shut the door quietly, your hands shaking against the golden knob.

Though you hadn’t made a sound when you walked through the door, Dazai’s gaze was on you immediately, sensing your entrance.

You’d never been able to slip past him.

“You’re back early.” Those were the first words that came to your mind, your voice breaking the uncomfortable silence. He was regarding you with disdain, his jaw set coolly. His hair turned bronze in the evening rays, loose strands scraping against the bandages.

“I am.” His jaw clenched, examining you with a singular, dark eye. You felt exposed under his gaze, laid bare for him to see no matter how much you shrouded yourself with. “You sound like you’re unhappy to see me.”

Dazai ran his finger along the trigger like he’d never held such a weapon before, the gun becoming an object of morbid fascination. 

You exhaled. There was so much space between you, a distance you weren’t sure you’d ever cross again. Though you thought you knew Dazai better than anyone, in that moment, he was unreadable—a chapter of pages that had been torn out.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you said, standing tall. Despite your nerves, you were fixated on Dazai, always drawn to him like a moth to a flame, desperate to uncover the very thing that could kill you. “I miss you every time we’re apart. You’re no stranger to my feelings.”

You could offer him that, at the very least. An undeniable truth before everything between you shattered.

Dazai stood, his dark coat billowing out behind him as he finally came to face you, suddenly seeming much taller than you remembered. And with one look, you knew that he knew. He’d always been too smart for his own good.

“I’m not certain of that any longer,” he laughed, though it was a bitter sound that clawed its way up his throat. “Why don’t you tell me the truth, instead.” Dazai stood before you with a smile that was so sweet it was almost sinister. “Aren’t you going to tell me what you did?”

You weren’t sure which one of you would blink first, caught in some deadly staring contest. Most people would’ve surrendered to him by now.

 “Why?” you jutted your chin out, refusing to give in to him in any way. If you were going to die, and you were, you would make sure Dazai knew everything you’d never told him. “You already know.”

“No.” He poked the gun into your cheek, right beneath the sharp bone. He’d clicked the safety off moments before. “I want to hear you say it. You betrayed me.”

When you refused to say a word, Dazai hissed and cocked the gun. He pressed it to your temple, the metal cold against your delicate skin.

“Say it.”

You sniffed. He wasn’t giving in, and instead, stood there silently, unmoving until you finally caved. There was something about the color of his eyes. No matter how much they hardened, you still remembered the young man he used to be. The one who wasn’t quite so cold, who picked you flowers, even with blood dripping down his arm.

“Fine.” You narrowed your eyes. “I fucked Chuuya.”

Dazai blinked. Then, he started laughing. Crazily, maniacally. You saw too much of your old boss in him that it made you sick.

“Shameless.” Dazai took a step back and dropped the gun to his side.

“What?” you sneered, pressing yourself up against him, refusing to be intimidated by the man that had been yours for years. “Should I be ashamed?”

Dazai’s eyes flashed, his jaw clenching. “Yes,” he said, fists curling at his sides. “After everything I’ve done for you.” Dazai grew quieter, flicking a strand of hair out of your face. “Do you feel no remorse?”

“You can’t be serious. What have you done for me, Dazai?” You grew still, grabbing his wrist before he could touch you again. “You’re not upset I was with another man; you’re just upset that it was Chuuya.”

You poked him in the chest, a hot stream of air exhaling through your nose.

“I gave you everything, didn’t I?” The two of you spoke at each other, avoiding the answers, never acknowledging what the other had to say. Around and around you went, an endless circle until one of you finally conceded. “I’ve given you the world, and you still wanted more.” Dazai finally broke free of your loose grasp, stroking your cheek. “What can Chuuya give you that I can’t? I ask for nothing but honesty.”

There was no jealousy in the tone, no sorrow; it was the most genuine question he’d asked you in months. The inquiry of a man who’d lost sight of himself in the past few years, and who’d somehow, over time, forgotten what it meant to care for another.

“You gave me nothing,” you said, but somewhere along the way, your cheeks had grown wet. You’d been struck by the sudden affection in his voice, the softness harsher than a slap to the face.

He was a horrible man, the worst kind of man. Yet, you couldn’t imagine a life without him, a world where you existed alone.

The truth rested at the edge of your tongue. It wouldn’t solve much, your affection for him never had solved much, but at least he would understand.

“This was never about wanting more. I never wanted Chuuya. You’re a fool if you think that.”

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

“I wanted you. I’ve only ever wanted you. I’ve devoted my entire life to you. I do everything you ask.” You were breathing heavily, big gulping breaths that contained minimal oxygen. “I asked for nothing in return. Nothing but for you to care about me, and you never did.”

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

You ignored him, your confession leaving on one heavy breath, a string of words incomprehensible to your ears. “But Chuuya loves me. He always has, and he made certain I knew that.” You paused, averting your eyes. The entire city could be seen from the window over his shoulder. “He told me all of that, and you know what I thought the whole time?”

Dazai scowled.

“I wished that he was you instead. I wanted it to be you so badly, I wanted it to be you saying those things to me, kissing me like I was the most important thing in the world.” You took his wrist again, pressing the gun back to your temple. The cool metal was almost soothing against your skin. “Please, Dazai. Give me this one last thing. I’m begging you to kill me. I can’t take this any longer.”

His finger rested on the trigger.

“I want it to be you. I’ve never wanted to die at anyone’s hands but your own.” His hand felt just as it always had in your palm, his fingers much longer, but his skin so soft. It was almost comforting, how familiar he was, and you longed to be a part of him, to bury yourself deep within him and wear his skin as your own.

Dazai’s expression twitched, and you smiled at him, the taste of salty tears spilling into your mouth.

As you closed your eyes, you prepared for the noise, hoping your blood splattered on Dazai’s coat and stained it, the proof of your existence inerasable. You hoped that Dazai would grow to regret it, would realize that your love for him was close to unconditional.

But the violence never came. The cool metal fell away from your skin, and when you opened your eyes again, Dazai’s shoulders had slumped, the very image of defeat.

“Do you honestly think I can bring myself to kill you?”

“What’s the matter?” you asked, blinking your eyes open. You reached for the gun again, but he drew back, as if stung. “Afraid to lose your best assassin?”

“No.” Dazai’s eyes were hard, his frown set deep into his face. “I’m afraid to lose the woman I love. The most important person in the world to me.”

You stared. Blinked. Then, the worst kind of emotion washed over you.

You swallowed over and over, trying to get the bile out of your throat. You’d wanted to be done, wanted to escape. And yet—

“Don’t say that.” you shook your head, backing away as Dazai inched closer, too close and you felt yourself getting sucked back in, remembering that you’d loved him for years, and you’d never love anyone else. “Fuck you, Dazai. Stop toying with me, and just kill me."

“I love you. I thought you knew that my darling angel.”

You were crying harder, shaking your head. “I don’t believe you. You don’t care about me.”

“No?” Dazai had grabbed your wrist again, but it was so soft. “I thought you were smarter than that. Did you think you were partnered with Akutagawa at random, and not for the sole reason that I knew he’d do everything in his power to protect you? Did you think I moved your seat next to me at meetings because you were nothing more than my stupid whore? Bought you everything you ever wanted because I couldn’t stand you?”

“Yes,” you said, sniffing, feeling yourself melt where he touched you, itching to reach up and pull the bandages off his face, see the beautiful features beneath them that he hid from the world. “You don’t care about me."

“I do care,” he said, fingers grazing your chin. “I’ve killed for you. I took over the Port Mafia so I could give you everything you wanted. Why wasn’t that enough?”

“Because I never wanted that. I never wanted any of this. I wanted you, Dazai Osamu. That was all.”

Dazai frowned, and then he bowed his head, kissed your neck, then around your earlobe, and it was the softest you’d ever felt in your entire life, a gentleness you hadn’t known he was capable of. When his hands snaked around your stomach, pulling you back against him, you were lost in his adoration.

“You never said anything,” he said, kissing your shoulder, breaking the tension in the muscles. You were his, in every lifetime, you’d be his. “I thought you were… happy?”

“How could you think that? I’m not happy, Dazai. I’ve never been less happy.”

“Not even when I tell you that I love you?” he kissed your knuckles.

“Do you love me enough to be a better man? Do you love me enough to let me sleep in your bed and see your whole heart instead of the fragmented pieces that you sliced up just to hide?”

“Yes.” The word was resounding, resolute. “I love you enough to forgive you.”

You held him at a distance, lips falling apart easily. “But I don’t want to forgive you.”

“You will.” Dazai smiled, that irritatingly knowing smile of his that you’d fallen for in the first place. “You will because I mean it this time.”

“You never apologized,” you looked away, trying to find the strength to move. You were enraptured, in every fiber of his being. “You never will. You never do.”

“I never knew anything was wrong,” he frowned, and it wasn’t the truth, but it wasn’t a lie, and you had him so close that you just wanted to forget anything had ever changed. “How was I to fix it if you never told me?”

His words were full of poison, but his voice was so soft you couldn’t help but fall back into him. Perhaps, you should’ve said something. Maybe your actions had never been enough.

“How long have I been at your side, spent hours listening to your every word, even when they didn’t make sense to me? You should’ve known, Dazai. I shouldn’t have to tell you something like that.” Your words were losing their bite, and his lips quirked up, knowing that you were slowly coming back to him, clearing you of the sins you had committed.

He was hesitant, thoughtful, before pressing a kiss to your forehead. And perhaps, that was the final straw in your resistance, his gentle kiss enough to set your soul on fire.

“I’m sorry, my love,” Dazai said, his lips ghosting over yours, handing over the apology like a gift. “Won’t you give me a chance to fix it now?” It felt like a bad idea. Dazai wasn’t deserving of any more chances; you’d already given him years of second chances, had always given him the benefit of the doubt.

“You expect me to believe you’ll let us off scot-free?” you said, your face deadly close to Dazai’s. “What about Chuuya? Will you kill him in my place.”

“You’ve got me in your hand, love. If you want me to punish Chuuya, just say the word. I’ll kill him if that’s what you want.”

It wasn’t. That was the farthest thing from what you wanted, but you worried that if you sounded too enthusiastic, he might just follow through with it.

Instead, you pulled him to you, grabbing the dark tie that he wore around his neck. He grinned into your lips, his saccharine smile seeming much too deadly to be all that sweet. “Do you honestly think I believe a word that you’re saying?”

“You want to,” Dazai said, curling his hand around your jaw, his fingers brushing your ear. “That’s what matters the most.” He kissed your lips, and you could taste the difference, all the love he poured into it this time. It wasn’t like kissing a statue. “It’s all true, anyway.”

You broke away, breathing. “I won’t do this anymore, Dazai.” You finally had his hand in your own, placing the gun back to your temple. “You’re not the man you once were, and you’ll never be him again.” The smile that graced your lips was sad, though it was knowing. Things were always going to end this way.

Dazai’s face wrinkled as he tried to decipher all the words you’d never spoken. “I’m not the same man, that’s true, but my affection for you has never died.” He cupped his other hand around your cheek, hesitantly keeping the gun to your temple, squinting with his head bent.

“You’re the leader of the Port Mafia, and such a ruthless man wouldn’t let a betrayal go unscathed.”

There was a wave of silence while the two of you stared at one another, sifting through the situation with hardness in your jaws, the tension palpable within the air. Dazai straightened, clarity in his irises as a smooth smile burned onto his lips.

“Is that what you want?” he said innocently. “You want to be punished for your insurrections?”

Your mouth grew dry, but you held your ground firmly, swallowing back all the uncertainty. Perhaps you didn’t want to die. Perhaps you did. You just hated the gaping hole inside of you that never seemed to leave. “I want you to kill me.”

“Kill you?” Dazai laughed, then the hilt of the gun was against your temple once more. He held your chin steady between his forefinger and thumb, regarding you with thinly veiled disgust. “You’ve never wanted that before. Not when I asked you to die alongside me, to follow me far into the afterlife.” He sighed, releasing your chin before cocking the gun. “This isn’t about death at all.”

“What—”

“You want me to claim you, is that it?” He clicked his tongue before leaning forward, sneering. “Perhaps it’s that other way around. You want everyone in the Mafia to know I belong to you, hm?’

You blinked, though you began to feel weak in the knees, the eyes that you knew so well suddenly intimidating. “I never said—” but even then, your voice wavered, unsteady and uncertain of the immediate heat that had swirled under your skin.

Dazai’s mouth curled, a gruesome smile there. “I know you better than anyone. I’ve always known exactly what you want. Even though I shouldn’t forgive you, I can’t help myself.”

You swallowed, and Dazai had taken a step forward, pushing you with him, the gun still swaying at your temple, even when the backs of your thighs hit the bed. You fell onto the mattress, and he was on top of you, his finger caressing the trigger as he collapsed.

Dazai had never scared you, not even when he was a child you’d barely known, the teenager shaped in Mori’s image. Though, now, the unreadable expression on his face was alarming you, and you wondered if all this time, you should’ve been fearful.

Still, even with your underlying hesitance, you felt a wave of desire crash over you at the sheer need in his eyes. It wasn’t something you were unfamiliar with, but there was something else there. Maybe it was the love you’d just never noticed.

“Osamu,” you said in a quiet voice, not afraid, but not confident either. Your finger brushed the point on his wrist—it was the same heartbeat you’d always recognized.

“What?” he said, taunting you menacingly as he towered above you. “You were so bold just a second ago? What happened, darling?”

Unable to do anything but blink back at him, Dazai brought his thumb to your lips, brushing it across the plump skin before dipping it into your mouth.

Unprepared, you nearly choked, eyes blown wide as you stared back at him. Though, there was a command within his eyes, and you obliged, sucking as you watched the saliva drip down to his palm. Dazai pulled it away from your mouth with an obscene pop, giving you a sweet smile from his position above you.

Despite your humiliation, you shifted your hips on the bed, bringing your thighs together to provide you with a fraction of relief. Dazai’s eyes flashed at the movement, his smirk widening with an amusement.

“You’re nothing more than a dumb slut, aren’t you?” Dazai’s hand ghosted of your stomach, settling on the inside of your thigh momentarily. You ached with need, swallowing your pride and any demands that you could make of him. “Had Chuuya all to yourself this weekend, and still expect me to fuck you senseless.”

Your brow furrowed, and you opened your mouth before shutting it, lips still covered in your own spit. “Osamu,” you began, attempting to diffuse the situation, to explain that what had transpired between you and Chuuya meant nothing, but he never gave you the opportunity. “It wasn’t—”

Dazai’s gaze hardened, the adoration disappearing the moment you dared to speak. His fingers deftly wrapped around your throat, thrusting you into the mattress with enough force to quiet you entirely. “Shut up. If I want to hear you speak, I’ll ask. Understand?”

You could do nothing but nod, hating yourself for the ache that had grown more and more intense in your core, desperate for some sort of contact. Dazai, distracted with his own task of tearing your top off, had failed to notice the breathing that had grown heavier, the flush of heat that spread on every inch of your body.

His slender fingers finally removed the confining pants, a task he did skillfully with one hand still wrapped around your throat. Then, his fingers were against your aching cunt, and you twitched, letting out a heavy sound from the singular movement. You could feel yourself pulsing against nothing, desperate for his fingers between your legs.

“Pathetic,” he said, his fingers lazily dipping through your folds over your underwear. “I’ve barely touched you. How can you be this fucking wet?”

“Please,” you said quietly, your own hand aching to take over, if only to provide yourself that relief that he refused to give you. Every time you shifted into his hand, he brought it away, taunting you with the release you so craved.

“Please?” Dazai was mocking, cruel, every bit of the person people expected him to be. The one he never had been with you, not until recently. “You’re nothing more than a greedy little whore. Must have been why you fucked Chuuya without a second thought, huh?”

You were silent, staring him down with a clenched jaw. Your brain was twisting, betraying you, turning into empty cells within your skull, and you weren’t sure how to handle the accumulation of emotions that you felt for the man before you, the one who’s love had always been purposeful and merciless.

“Well?” he said, tightening a hand to close off the air to your lungs, trapping you with his strength. “Answer me.”

“No,” you gasped, and when your words sounded choked, when you clawed at his wrist, he loosened his grip just a hair, the only indication that the man you loved was in there at all. Still, your hips acted of their own accord, shifting further into his hand. “I’m sorry, Osamu, I am.” You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes as he finally slipped his fingers under your panties, rubbing your aching clit. “I wanted you; I needed you and you were never there, but Chuuya was, and—”

You were a stammering mess of desperation and regret, feeling unglued under Dazai’s hands, like the words you’d been meaning to say could finally come out. He was the only one who’d ever listened to you completely, who you’d felt comfortable enough to be vulnerable with. Yet, it had been so long since you’d let yourself be open with him, and now that the opportunity arose, you were too weak to deny it.

“I was always here,” Dazai said harshly, and you were almost certain that his anger was genuine, the tone breaking in his voice a result of true sadness. “You never came to me, and I thought that’s how you wanted it to be.” His fingers sunk into you, and you threw your head back into the pillow, moaning sinfully with the lewd sound of him sinking in and out of you, the wetness collecting with every movement.

“You never showed me you cared,” you cried out, certain that there were tears streaming down your cheeks, and you should’ve been humiliated. It was humiliating—the way you were clothed in nothing, crying as Dazai laughed at you, taking full control over your body. How he could’ve done anything to you in that moment, and you would’ve let him, because that was just how much you wanted him.

“And Chuuya was the solution?” He grabbed your cheeks with the hand that had once been around your throat, pinching them to make you look at him. “You going to pass yourself around the rest of the Mafia, sweetheart? Who’ll get a taste of you next? I’m not so certain even Akutagawa would pass up the opportunity.”

His words were senseless, meant to hurt you, and you still couldn’t stand the anguish that was in his eyes.

“No,” you said, and you leaned up, wanting so badly for his lips to be on yours, to feel some semblance of the connection that you’d always had with him. “I wouldn’t, Dazai, I’m yours.” You choked on the sounds of your own moans, your thighs shaking with every change in pressure. “I’m yours. Please, I need you.”

You were certain there were marks on your neck from his fingertips, and Dazai ghosted his mouth along the delicate skin there, biting at the soreness from before. You jerked, digging your nails into his back as you drew closer and closer to your climax.

“Don’t make demands.” Dazai leaned back, and you missed the closeness, the sharp scent of him lingering in your space. “Chuuya hasn’t been a part of this conversation yet. Should we get him up here? I hadn’t considered what to do with him, but this might suffice.”

Dazed and drunk on the feeling of his hands all over you, it took you a moment to process what he was saying. His hand was already swiping through his phone, picking the number of the man that you least wanted to see.

“No, Osamu, don’t—” you cried out, and yet, you made no move to stop him. Instead, you remained pliant on the bed as he sunk another finger into you, his thumb moving in agonizing circles against your clit.  He tucked the cellphone under his chin, smiling at you maliciously, controlling you with every blink of his lashes.

You had always had trouble resisting him. Now was no different.

Chuuya answered as you released another moan, and Dazai was grinning wickedly, as if some larger scheme had finally come together, the culmination of everything he was plotting. “Boss?”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said, and you flinched, locking gazes with his deep brown irises, the color so alluring and beautiful, a shade that had darkened with each misfortune you’d endured together. You hated him, you did, but there was a fine line between the two, and your love for him would die with you, would transcend whatever simple rules the afterlife placed on Earth. “How quickly can you make it up here?”

You could hear the hesitation on the other side; Chuuya didn’t say anything for a moment.

“A couple minutes, I think. I haven’t left the building.”

“I’ll give you a couple minutes then.” Dazai’s words were clipped as he hung up the phone, throwing it to the arm chair a few feet away from the bed.

His attention was back on you completely as you let out a shaky breath, trying to regain some semblance of composure before Chuuya came into the room. Though it was so hard when the pools in his irises were pulling you deeper, locking you into a heaven that you’d never been able to reach.

Dazai pulled away briefly, his soaking fingers leaving your body to alleviate his cock from the confines of his dark pants, hovering before you.

You swallowed, not able to remember the last time your desire for him ached this badly. Your eyes trained on the very part of him that you wanted inside of you, the tip flushed so beautifully. There was nothing on your mind but him, how you wanted every part of him, even if it meant enduring misery after misery, and Chuuya was right—if you were to love Dazai, you needed to love every part of him, even when it seemed impossible.

A whine escaped you and you were reaching out to him, knowing he’d never let you live down your humiliation, but the future was not a part of your logical thinking, not now. “Want you inside me.”

“Surely you can hold off for a few minutes,” Dazai said, though the way his toned chest pressed to your own, and how he kissed your face with a tenderness you’d forgotten made it nearly impossible for you to refrain. “So desperate for my cock.”

You wanted to touch yourself—you would’ve, had you not been so nervous of the fact that Chuuya could come in at any minute.

“Tell him to leave,” you said, dragging your fingers through his hair, finally kissing him like you’d been wanting to, and the sound was sinful, heavy with lust as you forced a taste into his mouth, wishing every part of him was a part of you too. “I don’t want him or anyone else, just you, I promise—” 

Dazai cut you off and ignored your pleas; he smiled against your lips, though it was anything but kind. “I think he’ll enjoy seeing you like this, won’t he? You’ve got such a filthy mouth on you when you’re fucked properly.” He kissed his way down your chest, resting his face just above your breasts. “I bet Chuuya didn’t see this side of you, did he?” Dazai licked a circle around your nipple, tugging it between his teeth. “I’ve done nothing but call you names and you’re dripping all over the sheets.”

You shook your head, feeling pained by how badly you wanted release.

“Of course not.” Dazai sat back up like he could sense Chuuya approaching from the other side of the door, his presence bold and detectible. “He’s forgotten what’s mine, after all.” He smiled at you once more, kissing you with a kind of love that only he could portray, the kind that was nowhere close to innocent. “Don’t cum until I tell you to. Be good for me, okay?”

Dazai had always known what to say to you, even when your relationship was falling apart, even when you hated him more than you loved him. His words could be so tender, the praise melted in with the unkind quips of his tongue. It was the gentlest tone he’d used since your clothes had come off, and you couldn’t help but melt under him, nodding like you’d give him anything he asked of you.

Of course you would.

Dazai traced your features delicately, grinning maniacally, ears attuned to the quiet that broke from the footsteps approaching. His cock was lined up against your dripping hole, and it took every ounce of restraint not to plant yourself on it, trying so hard to please him, the sinful man who held too much power over you.

“You’re so pretty like this, aren’t you? My beautiful little whore, always willing to take whatever I give you.”

“’Samu,” you babbled, blinking away the tears as you latched onto him, wishing you could spare yourself the humiliation, but too drunk on him to care. He shifted you forward, taking your thighs in his hands and placing them around his waist. “I can’t take it all at once—”

“You’ve done it before. Do it again.” He growled, squeezing your throat once more in one smooth motion, thrusting into you. And though you had doubted how prepared you were, he slid into you easily, already so loose and pliant from his fingers. “See? Never forgot the shape of me, sweetheart. Even after you’ve been with another man.”

You let out a choked moan as Chuuya walked into the room, lost in the ache and the burn and the pleasure that came with loving and fucking Dazai.

There was one singular pass of silence before Chuuya spoke, letting the door shut with a quiet click on the hinge. “Boss—” Chuuya was hesitant, though his eyes were immediately drawn to you, raking over your blissed-out form. “You said to—” His hand was still on the knob, though he was distracted, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, ashamed but so full of want that it ached.

“Come in, Chuuya,” Dazai said sharply, his words solid and commanding, and you couldn’t help it when you clenched around him, drawing him further into you with nails scraping down his back. “We should discuss something.”

“Well, can we talk about it when you’re not in the middle of fucking your girl?” Chuuya asked, swallowing down the desire he hid so poorly. His cheeks had flushed, words just on the edge of stumbling and slurring together. “Another time, maybe.”

“This is the perfect time, actually,” Dazai stopped moving, already breathing heavily above you as you stared, whined, needing so badly for him to stop teasing you. “Besides,” his eyes drifted knowingly to Chuuya’s obvious erection as he laughed darkly. “I don’t think you mind so much.”

Dazai pulled back painfully slowly before sinking into you with a quicker thrust, your back arching off the mattress to catch even more of him inside of you. A barely noticeable sweat had broken against his hairline, and you stared at him, mouth slightly agape in awe at the boss of the Port Mafia, the one you somehow had wrapped around your little finger.

Your breathing had grown unsteady as his cock got deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting where you’d never been quite able to get with your fingers, the thickness of him catching on every sensitive part inside of you. His hand was back between your legs, rubbing circles on your clit, and you weren’t sure you could last much longer, not as he carried on a conversation with Chuuya, who watched you with darkened eyes, barely holding himself back.

“Please, Osamu,” you were practically begging now, your cheeks glistening with wetness as you clawed at the muscles between his shoulder blades, surely leaving bruises all down his spine. “Please, please, let me cum.”

Dazai made a tsk noise in the back of his throat. “Not yet. I don’t think you deserve it quite yet, does she, Chuuya?”

Chuuya sniffed, shifting uncomfortably as his pants grew tighter. “Gonna punish her all day, boss? Such a pretty thing should get what she wants, shouldn’t she?”

Dazai dropped his chest closer to you, going deeper into you, and you cried out his name, though your eyes were still locked with Chuuya, as if he were going to be your savior. You remembered how gently he’d touched you, how careful he was, and you wondered why you’d ever wanted that at all.

“Chuuya thinks he can fuck you better than me, darling, but you know that’s not true, don’t you? He’d spoil you too much, but this is what you want, right? You want to be called a stupid fucking cockslut.” Dazai grinned against your lips, whispering in a breath that only you could hear. “Just so that at the end of it all, you’ll be my good girl.”

You whimpered, soaking him as you clenched harder. Your brain had gone numb from the feeling of him. Dazai was smiling viciously, but you could see the underlying tenderness.

“She looks so pretty right now, doesn’t she Chuuya? Not a single thought in that beautiful little head of hers.” He smiled at him knowingly, dark hair flopping into his eyes as the rest of the loose tendrils stuck to his forehead. “You’re lucky. You’ve gotten two chances to see her now. Twice as many as most men who fantasize about fucking a woman that sleeps in another man’s bed.”

Chuuya’s voice was raw, his words cracked. “You’re sick, Dazai,” he said, clenching his hands into fists. “Putting on a show like this just to punish me.”

“You and I both know you’re enjoying this.” Dazai traced your cheeks sweetly, kissing your lips deeply. You let out a strangled breath into his mouth, something on the precipice of a moan. “Can you do one thing for me, pretty girl? One more, then I’ll let you cum, how’s that?”

You nodded, desperately, as Dazai’s fingers finally dipped back down, rubbing agonizingly light circles.

“Tell Chuuya who’s making you feel this way,” Dazai said, pushing your face away from him to stare straight into Chuuya’s dark eyes. “Tell him who you love the most.”

“You,” you gasped out, clenching tighter around him. What an easy request to make—you’d never loved anyone else. “I’m in love with you.”

Dazai sniffed, though he was patient, slowing his thrusts almost to a stop. “Not good enough. I need you to be more specific.”

You cried out, locking your ankles onto his hips, trying to force him back into you. But Dazai didn’t budge, watching you until you provided the answer that he so desired. “I love you, Dazai.”

He frowned, shaking his head once more. “My name. Say it. It sounds so sweet from your lips.”

“Osamu,” you choked out. “I love you, Osamu. I love you. I love you.”

Dazai finally smiled above you, gently tracing your cheeks with his thumb as he slowed down the pace of his hips. “I love you too, darling.” His words were soft, whispered into your lips before he turned away, meeting eyes with Chuuya across the room. “See?”

Chuuya was glowering, stiff as a board, his face pink, and his legs shaky. “I got it, Boss.” He choked out, though his eyes were on you, unable to leave your body, even as he tried so hard to be polite. His aching cock strained against his pants, and he breathed sharply, swallowing over and over. “Do I need to be here any longer?”

Dazai laughed, and you thought he looked so pretty when he did that, his smile flashing wide and alluring, the corners of his eyes crinkling marginally. “Never said you had to stay. I figured you’d want to watch her come undone one last time.”

Chuuya, for as noble as he wanted himself to be, made no move to leave, glued to the spot on the floor beyond your bed. He was just across the room, but you couldn’t focus on anyone but Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, Dazai, the man who you’d killed and bled and committed horrible acts for.

You said his name again, scrambling to bring his attention back to you, hands on his face with a desperation you didn’t realize you’d possessed.

And Dazai, with the kindness of a man he wasn’t, placed his hands just above your stomach, leaving kisses across your chin as he thrust into you, sweetly, menacingly, one last time. “You did so good, my love. You can cum now. Make a mess all over my cock, beautiful.”

You jerked, squeezing around him as you felt the pressure in you finally release, the colors shifting and changing between your high as Dazai brought you in and out of an orgasm, his words reaching your muddled brain with soothing noises. Your body twitched as your muscles spasmed, sweat gathering in the space under your knees. There was little in your mind, save for the dark-haired man that had quickly become your whole world.

You smiled lazily, lacing your fingers with Dazai as you slowly began to come back to yourself. The world around you was empty. Chuuya had all but disappeared into a block of nothingness as you stared into the world itself. If there was no Dazai, there was no you, and it was as simple as that. He was everything you’d ever wanted—you’d be a fool to ever left him go.

As you regained your breathing, still sensitive all over, Dazai came inside you, spilling hot release into you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to care, too busy being satisfied with the feeling of him all over you.  His hands never left you—he was delicate, caring, pressing loving touches into your skin as you recovered from your high.

“I’m yours, Osamu,” you said, closing your eyes as you basked against the bed, wanting nothing more than to curl up against him, bury yourself in the warmth of another body. 

He smiled against your cheeks, lips flushed and bruised. “I know you are,” he said to you only, before pulling away. You shivered, but opened your eyes, and he’d already held the gun out to you, presenting it as an offering. “That’s why you’ll be the one to kill him.”

It took you all of ten seconds to remember who him was, and that the man who had borne witness to your most intimate moments with Dazai had not disappeared and was still gawking at you from the corner of the room.

“What?” you asked stupidly, your jaw falling open.

“You heard me.” Dazai pressed the pistol into your palm, curling your fingers around the handle. It was like ice against your hot body, and though it’d been years since your first time firing such a weapon, you suddenly felt like you were there again, uncertain, and afraid of the dangerous firearm. “Kill him.”

You stared at Chuuya, the honest man who, even despite his rough exterior, had been there for you since you were kids. You remembered how the three of you had been so close, for such a long time, until Dazai had gone and killed Mori and fucked it all up.

It felt wrong. The entire situation was wrong, and it never should’ve come to this.

“It’s Chuuya,” you said with tired eyes, something in your voice pleading and desperate.  

Dazai shrugged, holding you close against him as you struggled to sit up in the bed. Your muscles ached and you were still so sensitive, but reality was coming back to you. This was all a mess, and you wanted so badly to feel shame at everything you had done, but you were trying so hard just to–

“You’d think I’d let him live after what he did?”

“Osamu.” You weren’t sure you could bear it. You’d always sworn to kill whatever adversary Dazai and the Port Mafia faced, but Chuuya would always be an exception. You wanted him in your life as much as you wanted Dazai, someone you could trust without fail, who would listen to you complain even when it hurt him. “I won’t do it. He’s my friend. I thought he was yours too.”

Dark eyes full of disdain met your own, and he pinched your jaw once more, a mixture of devastating anger. “I can’t allow a traitor to live. I’ll kill him if you won’t. Then, I’ll kill you. Then myself.”

You shoved him away, suddenly wishing you weren’t so exposed, on display in the middle of the room. “Then fucking do it already, Dazai. What are you waiting for?” A tear broke free from your eye, and you wiped it furiously, not giving him a chance to mock you.

“Stop.” Chuuya finally spoke, his voice drawing your attention like a commandment, and you fell silent, refocusing on him as he bowed before you, dropping to his knees. Eyes locked onto your own without a single fear, cruel acceptance surrounding dark pupils. “It’s alright. I deserve to die. I’ve broken your trust, boss. I might as well be a traitor to the Mafia.” He swallowed, though he was unwavering. “I don’t want to live with this feeling any longer.”

“Don’t say that.” you spat, hating that such a strong man was giving himself over, exposing every weary weakness that he’d come to carry. “You don’t mean it.”

“I do.” He sighed, straightening his spine as he leaned forward towards your hand, much as you had done before, and you realized that this was such a sick, twisted change of fate. That the affection you’d always doubted was real after all, but Chuuya was still left playing the fool.

Perhaps, you were of the same vein, wanting desperately to die in the heavenly hand of the one you loved most. You could understand him for that. You could grant him one final wish.

“Do you regret any of it?” Dazai asked, as the wheels in your head spun, the decision dawning upon you, handed over from the ancient tragedies, rival even to the gloomy romances of Shakespeare.

Chuuya shifted towards the other man, looking into his cold, distant eyes. “No,” he said honestly, his jaw set. “I don’t regret it because now I know she’ll never love me. She’s all yours Dazai. Always has been. Always will be. Does that satisfy you?”

There wasn’t an ounce of fury in his expression when Dazai smiled back.

“You heard him,” Dazai said, lifting your limp arm by the elbow, pointing it like a skilled tutor. The gun was on Chuuya’s forehead, between his eyebrows, and your finger was on the trigger. Dazai’s whisper was like the Devil on your shoulder, and you were falling fast, your last shred of morality burnt from papery resolve. His hand supported your weakened muscles, guiding you along like you’d never before committed such an act. “You’re an assassin, aren’t you?”

You stiffened, narrowing your eyes before cocking the gun, mustering up the last bit of strength you had left. Chuuya couldn’t have looked more prepared for death, and you basked in Dazai’s prideful smile as he branded it into the crook of your neck.

“You’re certain?” you said to Chuuya, once more, hand no longer shaking despite your guilt.

The man, nothing more than a victim, nodded, and he had the audacity to smile, to look peaceful about his release from this life.

“I’m sorry, Chuuya. You shouldn’t have to bear the weight of my sin.” “It’s mine to carry, just as it is yours,” he scoffed, eyes hard with resolve. “Of all the things that would land me in Hell, I hardly believe this is the worst.”

You nodded, regrettably, and took a steely breath, erasing the heat the stung behind your eyes.

Then, you pulled the trigger. You waited for Chuuya’s brains to stain your floors, for the remnants of his skull to shatter all across the wall behind him. For the life to slowly drain from his stunningly bright eyes, leaving you with nothing but a corpse that would rot away wherever Dazai chose to toss his body.

Though, none of those things happened, and you stared at each other with fierce incredulity, knowing that you’d unwillingly become puppets in Dazai’s dramatic play, a show put on for no one’s entertainment but his own.

You’d been completely senseless, an idiot, really. The gun had felt lighter than usual, and you’d ignored it, even when you should’ve known it housed no bullets.

“Dazai?” you said in a low voice, dangerously, twisting to look at him from over your shoulder. An anger you’d never felt before had bubbled up inside of you, your heart thundering with a fierceness you hadn’t realized was a part of you. “There’s no bullets.”

“Obviously,” he scoffed, taking the gun away like it was but a toy, throwing it onto the armchair in the corner. “I’d never kill the strongest ability-user in the Mafia. You both should know me better by now.”

You scowled, the ugly expression marring your face, and Dazai frowned, leaning forward to appease you. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“You played me for a fool. Was all of this an act?” you cried, wondering if maybe Dazai had been lying this entire time. Maybe all those sweet words he said had never been true, and you had fallen for them anyway, like the mindless pawn you were.

“Which part?” Dazai asked, but you could tell that he knew what answer you sought, what lies you wanted to unveil.

“You know which part,” you said, moving away from him, not sure what emotion to grant control. You felt an intense amount of fury, misery, and pity for yourself, who’d never asked Dazai for anything but to be on your side, and he still couldn’t give you that. “Fuck you, Dazai.”

Your lip quivered, but if you’d begun to cry, shame would swallow you up and drown you in the dark abyss of misery. You would have no other choice but to throw yourself out the window, where everyone in the Port Mafia could bear witness to all the ways that Dazai had ruined you.

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

You’d tried to climb out of the bed, but Dazai had grabbed your wrist, stopping you before you could escape from him once and for all. Though he spoke to Chuuya, his eyes were hard on you, never leaving the set he stared into as you swallowed over and over, trying to think of anything but the sick feeling in your chest.

“You can leave now, Chuuya. Consider this your lucky day.” His voice was icy, threatening, and though Chuuya lingered a moment before climbing to his feet, he spared you nothing but a small glance in return.

You inhaled, then exhaled, trying to stop the simmering of blood within your veins, feeling the heavy weight of his hand on your wrist. As you sat there in silence, waiting for him to be the one to break it, you started to wonder how much of this was really Dazai’s fault, and how much you were the one to blame.

“It was a test.” Dazai tried to bring your attention back to him, letting only a fragment of emotion drain into his voice, though it was enough to slowly, slowly pique your fascination once more. “That was all.”

You wet your lips, though your tongue was just as papery. “So none of it was real.”

“What do you mean?” Dazai came to sit in front of you, his skin pale in the dark lighting, and you could see the cracks in his facade, and maybe this splinter in your failing relationship would slowly begin to heal itself. “Everything I said was very much real.”

His soft fingertips traveled up your arm, curling around your shoulder, across your collarbone, before settling in that delicate space between your jaw and your ear. There was a starry look in his eyes, the twin pair that had been exposed.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” you said, scrunching your face in remorse, wanting to slither away from him, even as he drew you closer, close enough to smell the expensive cologne he wore, the liquor that he favored when you were away. His hair had been freshly washed, and the smell of shampoo still lingered, even under the thin layer of sweat.

“Why would you do something like that to me?” Dazai countered, the hurt not veiled in the slightest this time, and it didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. Heat flooded to your cheeks, and you were looking away, wondering why he was pulling you close to his chest when he should be hating you with the passion of a thousand fiends. “How could I trust you after that?”

You parted your lips to speak, but your jaw was locked, and the inside of your mouth tasted like cotton.

“I’m not a good man,” Dazai said, kissing the shell of your ear, your temple, and you squeezed your eyes shut, clinging to his bicep. “You’ve always known this. Yet, for as often as you talk about me with disgust dripping from your words, I’ve never sought to bring you pain.” He breathed in deeply, and you buried your face into his chest, wondering how much longer it’d be before you wept. “You’ve caused me pain.”

You tried to cry out, to tell him that you never thought it would hurt him, but he’d seen the very same in you, hadn’t he? You’d never given him any indication that the coldness in his words was bothering you, that the blurred lines of your relationship were getting confusing and hurtful, and he had done the same.

“We’re not good for each other, Osamu,” you whispered quietly, your lip quivering. The weight of your voice shattered against your vocal cords.

He let out a breathy laugh, smiling against your forehead. “On the contrary, I think we’re the perfect fit.”

For what reason he believed that, you weren’t sure.

You clenched your jaw tight, but it didn’t stop the feeling of tears from overwhelming you, hot droplets that spilled heavy from your eyes, running off your chin to Dazai’s chest. Your hands shook, clenched around his arms so tightly you were sure you were breaking the skin.

Dazai pulled away, monitoring your face with concern. You hated the way he looked at you with such pity when he was the reason for such pain. Yet, you couldn’t help but curl into him, warm, never wanting to escape from his reverence. “Why are you crying, my sweet angel?”

Nausea soured your mouth, and the regret that tinged you, tainted you, was vastly overwhelming. It was horrible in a way that you’d never felt.

It struck you, then, that you’d been blind to Dazai’s every affection, too ignorant to notice the ways that they had shifted as his life did. He no longer held your hand over the table during meetings, but the chair beside his was just as grandiose, and he greeted you with something of a smile when you walked into each room. He no longer accompanied you on assignments, but you were always taken care of, in a hotel most people couldn’t afford with a partner that could singlehandedly take out a hundred men. He no longer picked you flowers from a wild field as he’d done as a boy, but the vase on the table always held a beautiful bouquet of deep, red roses, without a single wilting flower.  

Chuuya, all this time, all these years had been right. There was no use in loving Dazai if you couldn’t stand him in his darkest hour, the bitter ugly side of him that no one wanted to see.

You’d never thought about it, really, but you’d changed just as he had. Everyone in the Mafia had blood on their hands, was ruined in more ways than one, and you were no exception. If loving Dazai meant loving those parts of him, then loving you meant just the same.

The tears fell harder, and Dazai seemed panicked, stricken, always so oblivious when it came to the affairs of your heart, and sometimes he tried, but you couldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” you said pitifully, knowing from the spoiled heart in your very chest had ruined everything. “I’m sorry.” You said it again and again until Dazai was shushing you, running a large, cool palm down your back, the only way he knew to soothe you.

“I wish I’d never done it. I wish I’d just spoken to you, asked you, anything—” you wiped your face, heavy breaths stuttering before Dazai took your hands away, and erased the tears for you. “I just thought you hated me. It was the only thing that made sense.”

Dazai smiled sadly, because no one had taught him to love. How was he to know that he’d been doing it wrong all this time. “I wish I’d seen it before. I didn’t mean to push you away.” He sighed, dropping his head to your shoulder with a weariness that he’d been born with. “I’m sorry.”

A tingling sensation began under your skin, and you were warm all over, realizing just how much that apology had meant to you. For some reason, it felt like coming home.

The strong grip that nostalgia had on you gradually began to melt away.

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Confessing to a FWB that they caught feelings and want something more, and the FWB rejecting them and saying they dont feel the same way TW: AFAB Reader, 18+ MDNI, ANGST, Verbal Assult, Emotional Abuse

Adam

When you two first started hooking up, it was right after Eve left Adam, and you had lost your long-time partner to another angel.

It was a win-win. You both could hate fuck the old emotions out of yourselves till everything was fine again.

Sometimes, you two would go on 'dates,' but they were always precursors to what would come later that night.

You wouldn't lie. The dick was divine, and Adam was great at making you scream and cum in ways your ex never did. However, it was just that sex, nothing more.

Till it was more, and you knew you were fucked. Adam would choose specific food he knew you liked, or please you extra in bed by eating you out longer, or even he would stay a bit later and cuddle for an hour after sex.

You saw these as clear signs that he wanted more than just Freinds with Benefits, so you were reasonably hurt when you saw him flirting with Lute and feeling her up.

Was he doing all this for you just to make you feel okay while he was all up touching another woman? Were you even unique to him anymore, or had your pussy not been good enough.

That next night while you two fucked he could tell you weren't in it like you used to be and asked what was wrong. That is when everything went downhill.

"Bitch I am not into you like that; I will fuck who I want when I want. What the fuck do you mean I was treating you nicely? I just wanted good pussy."

You were heartbroken, not only were you destroyed by your ex but now Adam was destroyign you again.

"We are nothing more than fuck buddies. If you can't get that through your skull, you are no better than the bitches I fuck beside you."

Hearing he fucked others behind your back was painful, you had been souly fucking him but he kept true to his word sleeping with many others.

Alastor

He only wanted sex when it benefited his animalistic urges, and you wanted sex to get over someone. Pretty much a good way to establish a powerful allyship.

Alastor had the joy of no one seeing him weak, while you had the pleasure of fucking yourself silly to forget the pain an ex caused you.

The only downside was that Alastor was obscenely nice in bed, probably stemming from his upbringing, but it made you care more than you wanted to.

He was rough when you needed him to be, but he had these really soft sweet moments where he would hold you close and fuck you gently.

Eventually, what was a sound deal of him fucking you to relieve stress and you to relieve pain became you needing him like a fish needs water.

You tried to play it cool and see if he might be interested in something more. He took care of you after sex and cleaned you up, brought you food, and held you till you passed out.

You knew only of lovers doing that, not whatever you classified yourselves as.

One night, you finally found the courage to discuss it, and boy, you should've kept all your thoughts to yourself.

"I find it obsured you even remotely think this is possible, I fuck you out of necessity to keep face not because there is any feelings for you."

You could only sit there, wide eyes and mouth hung open as he yelled at you for stupidity.

"I already hate fucking you I think it is repulsive this primal need to mate and be with something, I don't even consider us friends."

That one stung the worst, you thought at least even if this conversation went to shit you could still be friends but hell that's even out the window.

As soon as he said his peace, he stormed off to god knows where. When you went looking for him to apologize, you heard it outside his door, the moans and begs of another.

He found someone else to complete his deal, and that someone was no longer you anymore.

Lucifer

He was a desperate and lonely man after Lilith, and you were a desperate good-looking sinner that didn't want to fall into Valentino's hands or be killed for not screwing someone.

It was an easy deal. He would fuck you to get over Lilith, and you would be safe from danger while here in hell.

Lucifer, though, was a lover, even if he was just fucking to forget, and you couldn't lie. You were attached.

You had many conversations and open communication about how this will never go anywhere and that when he was ready for a partner, it wouldn't be you solely because of the whole using your sex for healing thing.

You held on to hope, though, that time and chemicals from sex would change things.

One particular night you thought you had struck gold as Lucifer held you closer after a long passionate fuck session. Instead of chasing you out, he kept you beside him and even let you sleep in his room for a week.

However, you shouldn't have been so naive and shouldn't have opened your mouth and lost your protection.

"I told you I will not stay with you; you are a toy to help me get over my ex-wife. Why would I love a sinner like you where there are thousands to choose from."

You held your arms close to your body as you cried. All you wanted to know was if there was indeed no chance, and this must have been the straw that broke the camel's back as it lashed out at you.

"I will never love you; you are not something to be loved. You are simply a toy, that is all. I protect you so I can feel better about myself, nothing more, nothing less."

The fight was long and primarily grueling, and he said hateful and hurtful things from his hurt place. This leads you to believe that you should have never done this and just worked for Valentino.

Husk

When Angel was released from Valentino, Husk and Angel planned to fight for his freedom from Alastor. However, Angel had other plans for his freedom, leaving Husk high and dry.

You had just become a new soul of Alastors, and Husk was your guide through all the fucked up horrors that were Alastor and his shitty contracts.

With that said, there were many nights where you and Husk would end up drunk and between the sheets dancing through the moonlight.

It was a silent agreement that you two would do this once a week to ease the tension and pain of being under Alastors' thumb. However, it also became hard for you to understand your own feelings.

One day, Husk was worshiping you; the next day, he made you feel used and like a toy. Yet, one week, he treated you like royalty in every session you two had.

You almost thought he had a change of heart about your relationship, just like you had months prior, and that excited you to feel loved and no longer lonely.

However, when you broached the topic, you didn't expect the thrown glass bottles and the yelling that followed —enough yelling that Alastor and his other souls were alerted to watch you crumble.

"You really think I give two shits about you, kid? You are just a desperate nutcase who, like everyone else, fell for the radio demons' stupid tricks."

You held your breath and tried to ignore the laugh tracks and claps from the radio demon watching Husk berate you for your sex life.

"You are nothing more than a cheap discount whore; at least Angel was fucking wanted by someone other than a washed-up alcoholic."

You didn't know what to say. You wanted to fight back, but everything hurt, so you just ran—it's all you could do. Things had been tense for a long time, and Alastor used that to his advantage to torment you both.

Vox

All he had wanted was Alastor; every time he could get close, it was like walking five steps backward. You were the closest he could get to the radio demon without getting burned.

You were born and killed in the same period, though instead of having deer or doe-like characteristics, you had a bear motif.

Shy, timid, and easily malleable, Vox quickly seduced you to use you to his advantage.

The nights would be long and passionate or brutal and rough, depending on what Alastor did that day to piss the man off.

You knew your place, that you were just a replacement Alastor and a knockoff made to please Vox when he was too overwhelmed to discuss his issues with Val.

When things began to shift, though, and Vox started to target Charlie over Alastor, you had hope. Vox was sensual and sweet in bed, showing his faithful, fifties husband's lifestyle.

He was almost domestic with you, tenderly touching you, hugging you from behind, helping you cook meals.

However, you allowed a false sense of security to overtake you and lull you into believing that he would love you as you had grown to love him.

"You are worthless, have no powers, and are barely above a speck of dirt. What makes you think I will or would ever love you? I already have Val and Vel. I just use you to get my fill when they can't scratch my itch."

You should have know this was where it was going, it was only fairytale dreams where the contract owner loved the contracted. You kept your head down, allowing the assault to continue.

"You would be better off dying in the next extermination so I could have more useful information about the angels than living here next to me saying this idiotic bullshit."

You tried not to let his words hurt you, but you knew you loved him and that this would only hurt you more and more the longer you held on.

Prompt assistance: @literallurker

[luna-loveboop]

Wait...

It's November. It's November first. Yesterday was October 31st, so October is over. ...it's over. Is it over?

Inktober, artober, whumptober, flufftober, linktober, every tag ending with -tober that's been circulating for the past month... is it over? I don't know why it's just hit me but...

This matters. So I will try to get the message across, even though I'm not the best at it sometimes

Fanartists, fan writers, artists, fic writers, people making comics, every single one of you that has created art for the past month...

Thank you

This is my first October on tumblr. When I started seeing the "tober" tags, seeing the posts from artists with wips, saying they were going to make something every day to a prompt, making masterposts to update with each day, I thought "cool"

But every day this month, I have gotten on here and smiled.

And I don't mean smiled. I mean I smiled at least 20 times every time I got on the app because I saw all the art and fics. I got to see artists/writers connect stories through different day prompts. I saw people having the most brilliant ideas and creativity, flowing from their hands into their posts. I saw artists responding to continuous asks, telling them how amazing they are. I saw artists getting behind, and keeping going.

I saw Free. Beautiful. Emotional. Amazing. Original. Creative. Art.

Every day

I haven't committed to anything of this before, so I can't directly relate to what you guys were thinking and feeling. But I'm willing to guess; I think you probably enjoyed it, because most won't do such a huge project unless they enjoy it. I think you probably saw it as a challenge you were willing to fulfill, and an opportunity to grow and develop your skills.

... but I'm also willing to bet you did it for us. For people like me, who love art, but don't do this specific type, who are in fandoms, who love tracking and watching you art and sending you compliments, who take joy in your work. For the other artists (and writers!) who admire each others styles and love to learn from each other.

If anyone ever tries to tell me that humans are inherently evil again, I will strap them to a chair, pull up these posts and say look. Look at what these people did. Look me in the eyes and tell me these sorts of actions don't come from the most loving hearts. Tell me these people don't want to make others happy, that they aren't inherently good. And I will tell you you're wrong.

I have so much going on, yet somehow it slipped into my life that I was constantly looking at your art for the joy of it without me even noticing.

And how is it possible. That we have such a beautiful community of people here that we will share. And communicate. And exchange compliments. And literally do things and send asks solely for the purpose of making someone smile.

I'm almost crying by now. God I can't express it well enough! But I am so. So. Grateful

You guys brought me a month of joy! You gave headcanons, and art, and stories!

Even yesterday, Halloween, I was blown away. Because I had expected... I didn't expect anything. And then I log on and see people sending happy halloween asks, exchanging doodles of candy, and headcanons and gifs.

And some are still catching up to the schedule or whatever, and that's ok! But at the beginning of this post, when I was simply realizing it was November, I asked myself "is it over?"

Is it over?

... I don't think so. I've seen artists say they're going to continue and expand on a piece they made and especially liked this month. Some people are still continuing, catching up to a voluntary deadline. All those masterposts with your whump/fluff/link/ink tober art? I know many as well as myself will be going through, looking over your posts with smiles, catching up on some things they missed this month... it will continue in the people and artists I didn't know existed before, but now follow. In the skills and growth in creativity! In the community we've grown, and art you've made, and the art to come, at a normal rate like every other month, even if it's not October anymore!

But my artists, writers... thank you so much. I don't know if you guys know how valuable and amazing you are. How incredible it is that you exist! People say it's amazing we exist under a sky of such stars, but how incredible is it that you made a stranger on the internet smile every day! Your life is so. So. Valuable. I can't even express how grateful I am that you exist, that you somehow are selfless enough to share the most beautiful parts of yourself simply to create, and to create joy. Thank you so so much.

(And this applies to all artists, in any fandoms, not just mine. And I'm just as grateful to people who couldn't do something every day, or only one day! You still share your art, you're just as... incredible. You are incredible.)

Okay.

So I'm gonna do this, and if others want to do it in the reblogs that's great! I do not care at all about reblogging or likes, but I want to make the people that have brought me such joy some appreciation- I hope I can bring you even a smidgen of the light you have brought into my life. So I'm gonna tag all the artists/writers I know of/can think of that have done any sort of October challenge, all of you creators that have made me smile. If people wanna want to tag others in the reblogs or replies to spread love that's cool.

(Basically I don't know social customs or anything at all, so if you don't want me to tag or if I was supposed to do something different or something let me know I have no idea what I'm supposed to do)(if I like accidentally tagged someone who isn't an artist/writer or forgot someone I follow... sorry)

@skyward-floored @kikker-oma @adrift-in-thyme @blueskittlesart @zeldaseyebrows @smilesrobotlover @bahbahhh @soso-dedeck @lennsart @arecaceae175 @illcamp @breannasfluff @solarfire-art @26kabeuchi @cathianemelian @truffeart @scribbly-z-raid @uniquevoidflowers

To all the artists and writers out there: thank you so much!!! You are amazing and I'm glad you exist. Your life is precious, and you matter. Thank you so much for sharing your beauty with us, we love you too!!!!!

... yeah. Just want yall to feel loved... because you are. Again, thank you. Thank you so so much to my beautiful creators who create joy as well as art, who keep storytelling alive. Just... thank you.

:)

[malum-forev]

If you still have Receiving/ giving a gift available, could you please write about Avenger Bucky receiving a gift from reader, for Christmas or his birthday? But he totally doesn’t expect it and gets all emotional cause he hasn’t received a gift in decades and doesn’t know what to do with the whole thing.

Yes yes yeeesss this is such a great ideaaa <3

*

“This is stupid.” Bucky grumbled.

“What’s stupid is that you waited until December 24th to buy your Secret Santa a gift!” Sam said, dodging the thousands of people roaming the streets of New York. 

“I didn’t think the gift exchange would actually amount to anything.” Bucky groaned. “I thought we would be sent away on a mission!”

“I don’t care what your excuse for procrastination is! I just want you to buy your Secret Santa something.”

“How the hell am I supposed to know what-“

Sam covered his ears. “La, la, la, la. I’m not listening, don’t want any spoilers.”

“I want to be put back in the cryostasis chamber.” Bucky sighed dramatically.

-- 

Bucky stretched the neck of the uncomfortable wool sweater someone on the team had forced them to wear. The itchy fabric made his skin red. Whoever started the ugly sweater tradition should be sentenced to life in jail. Bucky thought. 

“Will you stop acting like a toddler, we’re supposed to be the adults here.” Sam spoke from the edge of his mouth to not attract any more attention. 

“I’m not acting like a child, I’m acting like a senile old man. This is the appropriate way for me to act seeing as I’m over a hundred years old.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, immediately regretting the action as he pressed the disgusting fabric against his chest. 

“Okay! Bucky’s turn!” Sam yelled, not wanting to bare another second of his friend’s complaining, pushing Bucky to the middle of the circle. All of the agents’ eyes were on him. 

Bucky never really celebrated Christmas, back in the 40’s it was common for families to celebrate it but ever since he got out of the ice he- well let’s just say The Winter Soldier didn’t really have time for holiday shopping. 

“I got-“ Bucky cleared his throat nervously. “Ryan as my Secret Santa so, here’s a knife.”

The room got eerily silent as they all watched Bucky take out an unpackaged knife from one of his pockets. 

Sam facepalmed himself. 

“Thanks Sarge.” Ryan awkwardly smiled. 

“I sharpened that myself.” Bucky said proudly. 

“Let’s move on!” Sam said, this was more painful than he’d ever imagined. “Who got the cyborg as Secret Santa?”

Again, silence met everyone. The agents looked at each other but no one stepped up.

“It’s fine,” Bucky forced a small smile. “I withdrew my name from the bowl. I didn’t need anything.”

Scattered chatter was whispered before they continued with the gifts. 

Bucky looked down at his watch an hour later, how much longer would he have to put up with this?

The double doors opened loudly and in you came. You quickly said your hello’s to a couple of your friends and walked straight towards Bucky. With a big smile on your face and a small bag in your hand. 

Bucky gulped as you approached him. 

“Merry Christmas Sarge.” You beamed, his brain was trying to process your words. Bucky felt like he’d never heard someone call him that, and no one should ever try to top it because it would never compare to how the word Sarge sounded coming out of your lips. 

“Me-Merry Christmas.” Bucky stuttered. 

“I’m your Secret Santa.” His eyes widened but it seemed like his reaction only made you happier. “I saw you pulling your name out  when everyone left so, I decided to pick it up for myself. I hope you like your gift.”

You were truly the human form of sunshine. He thought.

“C’mon, open it. I need to know if you liked it.” You pushed the bag closer to him. 

Bucky took it by the handles and peeked inside. It was a book.

He saw how you nervously fidgeted. 

“When I got recruited, I researched about you- well both of you, Sam and yourself. God this is embarrassing.” You fumbled with your words. “Anyways, I read that your favorite book was The Hobbit so, I tracked down a first edition copy since well, it’s been edited since it came out and I thought it would be nice for you to have something from back when you first were alive- not alive because well- Oh god, it was stupid right? Giving you a book? You probably don’t even have time to read-“

Bucky cut you off by wrapping his strong arms against your frame. 

“This is the most amazing gift I’ve ever received.” He mumbled against your hair. “Thank you.”

“Welcome.” You squeaked.

“This is incredible.” Bucky whispered, not knowing if he could get any other words out without his voice cracking. No one had ever done something as special as this for him.

“You made Barnes smile!” Sam laughed, patting Bucky on the back. “You should get a medal for things like that.”

This one's short and sweet! Hope you like it!

Hi hiiii This is part of my 1k Celebration, if you like this please be sure to look at the Bingo Card and ask for a prompt! Love y'all <;33

And you can find the Bingo master list and what prompts are still available here!

*Any gifs posted are not my own and I give the artist full credit.

[theemporium]

idk if you’ve seen it but there’s a trend on TikTok of playing a voicemail of a creepy guy in front of your boyfriend and I feel like brothers bff!reader would have to literally console quinn after trying that prank on him. boy would be murderous.

thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

It was just meant to be a prank. 

A friend had sent you it, laughing at the compilation of reactions the video included to the fake voicemail. It was entertaining seeing how these men reacted differently, or seeing how many of them instantly became protective of the woman in their life who played the fake voicemail. 

You thought it looked fun to try out. 

It was some random week in October when you decided to fly out and spend some time with Quinn. It was reading week back in college and you had worked pretty well at staying on top of your classes, so you deserved the treat to fly out and spend some time with your boy. 

And other than the practices Quinn had to attend, he was practically glued to your side the rest of the week which made it easy to pull off the prank on a Thursday morning when you were sitting on the counter as Quinn made you both coffee. 

“Oh god.” 

“What’s wrong?” Quinn asked, his back still facing you but the disgusted scoff gave him a clear understanding that you weren’t happy. 

“Nothing, just an annoying lab partner,” you murmured, pressing your lips together to try and hold back your giggles. “I think he left me a voicemail.”

Quinn didn’t get much of a chance to say anything before the voicemail started. You watched him closely, the way his actions paused as he began to listen. 

“This is the final chance I am giving you. You are being ridiculous, and like most women, not thinking logically. Consider this your last chance to put your emotions aside and think with your brain.”

The coffee was abandoned in seconds as Quinn whirled around, looking at you with an expression mixed between shock and disgust. He placed his hands on the counter, stepping towards you as he continued to listen to the voicemail. 

“I am a good guy, one of the best you are going to find. So, I suggest you stop playing this hard-to-get game because nobody is believing you. You won’t find anyone better than me, not at college and not in bed. I have reservations for Friday night at the Italian place off campus. I expect you there and—”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Quinn gritted out between clenched teeth, a disgruntled scoff leaving his lips as he reached for his phone. “Give me a name.”

You blinked, almost surprised by the expression on his face. You didn’t think you had ever seen Quinn so angry before, not even on the ice. 

“A name,” Quinn repeated as he looked over towards you, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. “That is…he’s a fucking pervert. And a creep. I don’t want him near you. I don’t want him in the fucking college.” 

“Quinn—” you started, but he was lost to his own anger now.

“I’m gonna make sure he’s kicked out and sent somewhere far fucking away from you. Better yet, we can get a restraining order,” he continued as he scrolled through his phone, his eyebrows furrowed together as he searched for something. “I don’t want you going back with him just walking around. Does Luke even know? Does anyone—”

“Quinn,” you said again, a little louder this time as you rounded the counter to gently take ahold of his hands. You slowly pried the phone from his hands, a sheepish expression on your face. “He isn’t real.”

He frowned. “What? Babe, you don’t have to protect him—”

“I’m not protecting anyone, Quinn, I—” You took a deep breath before you continued. “It was a prank I saw on Tiktok. People were posting their partner’s reactions and I thought it would be funny.”

“Oh,” was all Quinn seemed to say.

“I’m sorry—” But you cut yourself off when he launched towards you, wrapping you in a tight hug as he clung onto you. Your arms automatically wrapped around his torso, nuzzling yourself further into his chest.

“You’d tell me if something like that was really happening, right?” Quinn murmured against the top of your head. 

“Of course,” you answered honestly.

“Good,” he said with a small sigh, his arms tightening around you. “I’d kill any fucker that makes you uncomfortable.”

You snorted. “It was kinda hot seeing you get all protective.”

“I’m glad you think as much because even though I know it’s fake, my body hasn’t caught on yet so I am not letting you go for the next hour,” Quinn murmured, though you could hear the smile in his voice.

“I have no issue with that,” you replied honestly, biting back your own grin as he placed a kiss to your forehead.

.

[whitejays-galaxy]

Designing the entire disaster lineage as cats🐱(Reupload)

I accidentally made some design errors, so I had to redo them... To make up for my mistake, there's a small surprise in the end ^^

The disaster lineage:

This is their actual size chart

My favorite trio:

Dooky and Quiggs becuz they deserve more love:

Ref sheets:

Horizonstar/step(Yoda): 

Name Meaning:

"Horizon" carried the meaning of him being the leader of his clan, a beacon of light in the distance, "Step" meant he was always one step ahead of his clanmates, thus using his knowledge and power to help his cats.

Frostshard(Dooku): 

Name Meaning:

I chose "Frost" because of his cold, collected, haughty demeanor, and "Shard", his presence being able to hurt others, like when you touch a broken shard of glass. It also represents his sharpness.

Sagepelt(Qui-Gon-Jinn):

Name Meaning:

"Sage" symbolizes his wisdom of the living Force, spiritual sanctity, vice, and virtue, which some knights thought he was delusional, while others respected his high moral standards.

If you look at a sage plant, the leaves are fuzzy, and they often grow in large swishing bushels, hence the suffix "Pelt"

Hazeldusk(Obi-Wan-Kenobi):

Pls ignore his traumatized face

Anyway

Name Meaning:

I chose "Hazel" because of his pelt color and warm/comforting personality. "Dusk" has a deeper meaning; Hazel trains Skyfire, who turns to the dark side and brings Dawnclan's legacy to an end; therefore, Hazel teaches the one who brought the "Dusk" of Dawnclan's era.

Skyfire(Anakin Skywalker): 

Name Meaning:

I chose "Sky" because of his godlike abilities, for in many countries and religions, the sky was where the gods lived, "Fire" because of him being ferocious yet warm/loving like a small bit of flame in a hearth. It also foreshadows how he would fall, consumed into flames.

Tawnyrain(Ahsoka-Tano):

Name Meaning:

I chose "Tawny" because of her pelt color, and "Rain", symbolizes her abandoning the teachings of Dawnclan when she goes into exile, like the rain washing over dust and grime, the corruption of Dawnclan ways, coated over her innocence and pure heart. 

Long yap incoming...

<Lore>

<Dawnclan/ The Jedi Order>

Dawnclan was created over a thousand years ago by four Force-sensitive cats: Sunspirit(Cala Brin), Tigerblaze(Rajivari), Valorsoul(Garon Jard), and Eclipseshadow(Ters Sendon). 

"True justice cannot be driven by emotion. We knights can set our passions aside, and seek the truth without fear or favor." - Sunspirit

"When Dawnclan's order began, I saw we must be dedicated to peace. To calm our emotions, and end war across the galaxy. If we fought, it should only be in self-defense. That is the founding principle of civilization." - Valorsoul

"So much is fleeting. But I remain. And I remain the cat I was." - Tigerblaze

"I am Eclipseshadow, keeper of the histories. A founder, and chronicler, of Dawnclan." - Eclipseshadow

<About Dawnclan>

-They walk the dreams of their ancestors in Starclan, a clan created by the light side of the Force.

-A Force-Sensitive kit is taken to the temple at a very young age, training in the basic forms of dueling.

-Padawans(apprentices) train for approximately two years with their assigned Master, the names usually ending with a 'Paw'(a universal suffix meaning apprentice or student)

-Knights must at least have trained an apprentice before they can be selected for the Dawnclan Council, a group of the most talented cats.

-A Dawnclan knight is forbidden to take a mate or have kits.

<The Dawnclan Code>

There is no Emotion, there is Peace

There is no Ignorance, there is Knowledge

There is no Passion, there is Serenity

There is no Chaos, there is Harmony

There is no Death, there is the Force

<Darkhaven/ The Sith Order>

It is hard to know the birth of Darkhaven, yet one thing is for sure, evil has lurked since no beginning nor end.

The official name of these dark warriors was created by Hellfire, a soulless she-cat whom many say was the embodiment of evil itself.

The Fate Wars, the first great war in the Galaxy, led to the victory of the knights of Dawnclan, who built their main camp on the ruins of Darkhaven.

After the events of the Fate Wars, two more happened during the history of the Galaxy: 

The first was the Cold War: in which former Darkhavener Corvidheart(Darth Revan) challenged the Emperor Vortexvoid(Emperor Vitalle) to reclaim balance on both sides.

The second was the Grey Wars: Darkhaven leader Stormcutter(Darth Malgus) brought the Dawnclan order to its knees and took over for a long time. This caused a rebellion act against the Darkhaven Empire by normal citizens, and as a result, the Republic was born - an invisible group that consisted of various clans and tribes to discuss peace and to help each other in crisis.

Many years passed after the Grey Wars, and one by one, the warriors of Darkhaven were hunted down by the knights of Dawnclan.

Nightshade(Darth Bane), the last known leader of Darkhaven, and the maker of the Rule of Two, swore revenge. They will always lurk in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike. 

Her apprentice Plagueshadow(Darth Plagueis) continued her work in silence, training the dreaded Lightningstrike(Darth Sidious), who would create the most feared and powerful Darkhavener of all time: Lord Deadsoul(Darth Vader)

<About Darkhaveners>

When a Dawnclan knight falls to the Dark side, their features grow haughty and sharp because of the Dark Forest water.

Only Darkhaveners have orange eyes.

They usually have red crystals on their foreheads but in rare circumstances, purple or black could be seen also.

They communicate with the Dark Forest, an everlasting place of the Dark side of the Force, with murky water and wizened trees.

They have the Rule of Two, only allowing a Master and an Apprentice to live.

<The Darkhaven Code>

Peace is a lie, there is only Passion

Through Passion, I gain Strength

Through Strength, I gain Power

Through Power, I gain Victory

Through Victory, My Chains Are Broken

The Force shall set me Free

About Kyberclaws:

They glow red hot at the tip when unsheathed at battle mode. But they can't use them for long, or the heat would kill them(Yoda/Horizonstar has a record of using them for a full thirty minutes)

They are functioned by the Kyber Crystals on their foreheads and could cut through anything except Beskar Wood( a tree known for its silvery wood and toughness, used by the Mandalorian cats)

A Dawnclan cat develops this ability once they are 6 moons old, as their bodies mature enough to withstand the claw tip's deadly heat.

About crystals on foreheads:

The Crystals are the main source of the Kyberclaw's power, and when forcefully taken, it would cripple the owner for eternity(like a bird without wings)

When a Dawnclan cat dies, the Crystals turn a dead-looking grey, devoid of all power.

About Droids in the Au:

They are animals that are neither living nor dead(such as rats, foxes, shrews, badgers...etc)

Their commander controls them with the Smoke Crystals(used like comlinks)

About Starships in the Au: 

They are huge birds of prey tamed by the cats.

Alright... the surprise... I'm actually astonished you scrolled all the way down here.

Cuddle Pile!!!

This is one of my oldest Aus that I'm working on; it's a mix of my two favorite fandoms: StarWars and Warriors(cats)

Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this👍

[melodic-haze]

hear me out brat!chiori x service top!reader where she teases you all the time both in public and private until you just cant take it anymore and finally snap and fuck her until shes sobbing from overstimulation and cant think or speak at all and only begging for you to breed her over and over again

☆ — DEMO TRACK: power bottom!Chiori x service top!gp!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: fem reader with a dick, overstim and.....tbf it's all up in the asks actually

☆ — NOTES: I really shouldn't have been given the ability to read and write idk but anyway I love mean lesbians 🫶 even though ik I'd be scared of them irl (I AM a mean lesbian idk what I'm on about)

Oh my god she's be an INSUFFERABLE brat though???? Not cuz she's cheeky and sly as hell, not like for example Miko, but bc she KNOWS she can easily tease and making you want what you Cannot Have

She'd drop her scissors on accident and bending down in a way that showcases her own specially made lingerie (mostly made with you in mind, though she reserves said special designs for your eyes only—she'd never admit it but designs for YOU and her customers are two completely different things 🤷‍♀️) or make you help her with something and then 'accidentally' grazing skin one way or another (nothing too disastrous, she can't jeopardise her work for ANYONE)

Chiori wouldn't outright say stuff plainly though cuz that's crass and she's much more classier than that, who do you think she is??? She WOULD outright make innuendos and double entendres with a glint in her eye and a mocking tone, however 💀 just to piss you off a bit

"Hold these steady for me, would you? You're capable of that much."

As you scrambled to pin down two bits of fabric on the mannequin, she pulls away with a light smirk. Your eyebrows furrowed slightly at the remark, "I'd like to think I'm a lot more capable than what you've been insinuating the entire day."

"Are you?" She turns away to head to her worktop, "I suppose that with my direction, you can.. well, satisfy basic needs."

"You say that like I'm not capable of directing myself."

"You would lack the necessary finesse to please me."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes, "Thanks for the faith. But we both know you're downplaying what I can do."

"But do we?" The designer turns back to you, sewing equipment in hand and a nonchalant look in her gaze, "Perhaps I've been unimpressed with your performance thus far."

"Then you'd be complaining about me in every waking moment."

"Don't I already?"

"True. Someone really needs to shut you up every once in a while."

"Oh?" She approaches you.. and the mannequin, you supposed, "Mind supplying an example?"

"Uh, me? I think I'm in the best position to do so."

And your lover scoffs mockingly, "You're rather confident in thinking that you could force me down."

"I'm confident that I can put you in whatever position I want."

Perhaps there was something she saw in your eyes, a brief flash of something dark that flickered through for a second, but you see a light flush coat her cheeks as she lets out a shaky exhale.

"..Do tell yourself whatever helps you sleep at night," she airily responded as her hands pressed back onto the fabric, to which you took the action as a sign of a dismissal, "Archons know I'm not going to sing you praises or tuck you in at night."

"Hmm."

Ofc it's not limited to your outside interaction, cuz you're hashtag lucky to see it inside too!!!! Yippee!!!!!!!! Get your dose of irritation 🫶🫶 if you're a patient bitch as well then that's even worse cuz she may actually up the ante just for the sake of it in bed. In public she actually appreciates you being understanding with her bluntnese but in private? Lol have fun

It's not that she does it just cuz either, I think she'd do it for the sake of seeing just how much you can take until you snap. She seems like a believer of the whole "raw emotions = raw capability" thing, and she'd definitely test you more than once just to see how much you can take before you flip out

She doesn't say anything about how there's that hidden desire to see you turn things against her and actually put her in her place after she's being such a brat the entire day though

"Ngh..! I said to go-- sssslowER--"

"I.. don't think.. I'll listen to you right now," you managed to force out as you pinned her on the mattress, hammering the brat underneath you with your length as if desperate to paint her insides white.

At some point, your patience had eventually run out. She had this constantly challenging look in her eyes that followed her all the way to the bedroom, and her words had reflected on that too.

You wanted to please her, to satisfy her the way you knew you could, you swore.. but it always wasn't enough for her, or maybe you got it all wrong, or her demands were so unbearably contrasting despite the fact that you could have sworn that her reactions indicated that you were on the right track. Really, you just had no choice but to take matters in your own hands the same way you took this insatiable designer's hair, now loose from its usual style; hard and forceful.

Chiori's hands practically clawed the sheets, her small build helpless as you moved her like some sort of ragdoll—whyever would she fight it, though?

And as if used to obeying your commands, she does. She looks at the vanity mirror just a short distance away from the bed, looks at her ruined makeup smudged on her face, looks at the apex of her thighs that drip and glisten with a mix of her transparent essence and the backwash of your cum.

"This was what you've been aiming for, isn't it? I'm doing what-- fffuuck.. what you demanded of.. of me." You lifted her up without hesitation, with your other hand on her lower abdomen as you continued your relentless pace, "May as well.. mmf.. watch."

Perhaps there was something to the sight that snapped the last of her fighting composure in half—maybe it was the way you forced her to look at your live methods of discipline, maybe it was the way your dick hit a certain spot inside her due to the change in angle, or maybe it was the way you had looked at her in the mirror with a dark, heady mixture of lust and frustration.

Either way, it had her hips practically stuttering as she opened her mouth to scream.. only for nothing to come out save for a broken, cut-off start of such a sound. Her body for a brief moment before going limp and leaning back into you.

You also see—and feel—a deluge of hot liquid squirt out a certain distance and onto your still-moving cock.

Really, nothing about the situation or the reactions you're recieving is deterring you from overwhelming her more than enough to render her quiet and satisfied.

Even as her hands struggled to grip onto your own that's pushing into where her womb is located, where you're hitting her at your deepest, you didn't stop. Even as she sobbed and actually threw her sharp pride aside to plead for you to spare her from further overstimulation, you didn't stop.

Again, why would you? You're going to make sure she comes out of this sated.. even if that did mean fucking a few braincells out of your lover.

(Though with the way she was smiling whorishly, you have more than a feeling that she wanted you to do so.)

(..Not like you'd ever use such language aimed at her outside private walls, lest you want to experience her ire rather than her desire.)

Get it?? Cuz. Cuz like. Desire??? Des-ire?????? Haahahhahahahahah oh my god I think I'm gonna go ballistic one day

She loves being treated like a classy lady, she loves being treated like a queen, but she ALSO loves being roughhoused and railed to the moon and back—she's not a delicate bitch she can handle it 🤷‍♀️ just like how she Knows you can handle a bit of a bratty personality (though really such a thing should probably be guaranteed anyway to be with her without getting all ratty)

She'd call you a fuckign brute, she'd call you names, but at the end of the day all she'd want is for you to fill her and fuck her until nooooo coherent thought is left 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

It's satisfying at the end when you're done when Chiori's simply laying there, eyes completely glazed over as she struggles to get back to reality as you've painted her insides (and outsides tbh) white. Maybe this is your own artform, with Chiori's being clothing design AHAHAHA anyway 🫶

"So how'd I.. ugh," you unceremoniously flopped onto the bed, grimacing at the very wet sheets and the inevitable cleanup you're dreading of doing later, "how'd I do?"

"..."

"Chiori? Babe?"

"..Give me a minute, would you?" She groaned out hoarsely, her usual grace to her movements and edge to her voice gone and replaced with a much more.. relaxed, casual tone, you supposed, "Asking a girl to rate your performance after using her like a feral beast is in poor taste."

"Okay, but you more than asked for it, really."

"I don't recall doing such a thing."

"You're only especially difficult when you want that sort of treatment."

"I'm never difficult for no good reason."

You raised an eyebrow and said nothing.

Your girlfriend stares you down with a tired glare.. before relenting shortly after with an affectionate eyeroll, "I told no lie, I needed the break from..."

"Thinking?"

"Yes. Perhaps."

"Bad week?"

"Annoying clients."

"I can ward them away for you," you suggest as you opened your arms to her.

"No need—I can do so myself." You half expected her to keep you hanging until you decide to drop your arms.. but then she moves closer to you, eventually letting herself be enclosed in a hug, "..But thank you for the offer."

Any form of initial surprise from the acceptance in affection easily melts into that warm buzz that never fails to make you happy every time Chiori indulges in something remotely affectionate, "You're welcome."

..Perhaps clean-up can wait later.

The surprising thing would never be how bratty she is or how depraved she becomes with enough of a push tbh, but rather her showing blatant affection for you at any given time. Post-coital afterglow doesn't necessarily give her much of an extra urge to cuddle—if anything she's usually averse considering how sweaty and gross it'd feel to her after........but surprise affections are a very VERY welcome surprise :3

Tbh even then idk if sex is a common thing that happens between you, even when you're in a relationship 🤔 but it'd still be juicy either way. Something about how absence makes the heart grow fonder, except it just makes your cock go harder idfk LMAO

It's like 2 am rn guys this is my only explanation for all this

[jazeswhbhaven]

Falalalala, Michael is Sold~ (Christmas Miracle Card Spoilers|Summary)

Howdy there lovelies, sorry it took me fucking forever to drop this, I've been distracted with Amy and Sitri (which I still need to finish out the last parts of that lmao) But, alas here we go with seeing how things play out with this bratty, brother-complex angel being sold at an auction... To view the prologue parts for the card I already went over HERE YA GO <3

If you've already saw all of that, I'm jumping right in. Same format as Raphael's Summary. As a reminder since the angels are paid banner only per PB's warning I am only allowed to really just paraphrase and heavily summarize his card story instead of the usual reacts I do.

Enough of the boring yapfest let's go lol

First I would like to thank my friend for continuously sharing card content with me. I wouldn't be able to do these things without such blessing, ;w;

Second, I would like to let the public know Michael was my fave at first due to aesthetics only. The pretty black hair, the one wing on the side of his head, but goodness doesn't he have some demons in him. (I want this to be a joke and a literal thing because..)

Anyways

We lead in with Michael being pissed off that he's having his body shown, and everyone is infauted with his skin describing it as porcelian white. So marks show up very easily.

I like the continued theme that every seraph does not show their body to anyone but God.

The bid was high, like 55 million. Makes sense Tarataros is rollin' in dough.

Some important things to note for Michael's card is that unlike his brother Raphael, he made a lot of expressions each time he was touched.

Instead of cursing and vocally trying to say anything, his body is simply reacting as he's thinking about how he shouldn't be showing ANYONE this and that MC needed to be stopped.

We still have the elements of "non-consent" but it seems it's different with Michael. He's wordlessly threatening everyone's demise but he doesn't put up as much of a fight.

MC ofc is getting turned on by everything he's doing

The guests have started masturbating in their seats (imagine being that one person just wanting to be there for the auction and your neighbor just starts jackin' it/flicking the bean. lmao)

Oop. We're punching them in the stomach again. I think that's going to be a reoccurring thing for Gabriel too.

This is interesting...Michael slumped forward? I don't even think Raphael did that. I wonder without his powers poor Mike is possibly the weakest? He seemed to be the most powerful aside from Lucifer.

Michael is and has been getting turned on by the way since MC started touching him. He doesn't understand, but I'm like...my guy you almost came when your brother plucked out your eye I know what you are....

Now I don't remember if Raphael was branded, but Michael is branded for the auction. His halo starts glowing around this time too. Again I know what you are.

Also, Michael is so pissed off and horny random objects are shattering and he's basically crying buckets. Also his emotions are affecting the weather too. Neat.

Alright so now he's really upset. He doesn't want MC to touch his cock because it's only for God to see and touch. He was not doing much before but he's definitely putting up a fight now.

Even auctioneer was like "Uh head for the decks folks he may cave the walls in on us" and everyone was like "Nah, stfu" like damn ya'll really want that angel bussy.

So as common theme of sounding continues...as you guessed Michael gets a metal rod stuck in his pee hole and well he's losing his mind ya'll.

I bet he would like being called a good boy by his favorite person...

Anyways, after all the poking and probing from MC it appears that he only needs the rod stroking the inside of his cock for him to get to his climax. Nothing anally is being done to him for his story.

So after he cums he basically leaves in a beam of light. The other devils came on him too. They say though that he left wordlessly he stared at MC as if he wanted to say something. Interesting.

Though that's over and done with, basically the end of the story are the devil's bidding on MC's tormenting as if that's something to bid on lmao but Mammon was like yah 10 billion and it's being donated for the end of the year party in MC's name. What's cute though is that MC is referred to as His/Her Majesty along with Mammon. It's like his citizens shipped them already.

ANDDDD that's all folks. That's Michael's Christmas Story. If you want my blunt opinion????

5/10

I'm sorry ya'll, this card story wasn't really worth the money for Michael fans. It falls short in terms of what's done to him, he kinda just sat there for the majority of it until his cock was touched, and he just kinda poofs back home without confirming any feelings whether negative or positive towards MC like how we see in Raphael's card.

However, I did like the elements of Michael being able to withstand being touched and stayed still for the most part. This has me believe something that I will explain in my theories below. Also in adore mode you can play with his tiny head wing, like pulling on it and such. Wings are sensitive I imagine so it's a fun element.

THEORY TIME

I want to say that I think Michael didn't put up much of a fight because to him any other part of his body being touched, though it hasn't been touched by anyone before...is not that big of a deal to him and perhaps he's had these feelings faintly but just didn't push himself to explore that any further.

Now also, we note that his chastity belt was not removed by MC. I feel that the reason this did not happen is because Michael has 0 feelings for MC and thus the miracle didn't extend to that possibility. Now to compare with Rara's card...maybe during the event he started feeling things for MC, curiosity, and some kind of need for them, in that moment perhaps he felt as if this is what God wanted for him so he gave in 110%.

Michael resisted feeling that way for MC, because he simply did not want those feelings. He just wanted to experience being in pleasure only. Because perhaps...those feelings are deep for "someone else" that keeps getting implied ._. But anyways. That's more for those who ship that to go about, I personally do not lol (brother complex is brother complex)

I also think that perhaps the relationship between MC and Rara is meant to build more than the other two seraph angels. I'll just have to see Gabe's card and see what we're working with. I do not have a prologue for him because he was in the Nightmare Pass only last time....I wonder how they will pan out his story and what differences I will notice.

As always thank you lovelies for tuning in ^^ see you in the next react <3