#doesn't excuse it but jeez

[tswwwit]

i have a counter argument to the 'only one person can boop bill' thing, mabel. she's the type of person to slap stickers on people, she would definitely be the type to also boop others occasionally and bill would be no exception. she probably doesn't do it to annoy bill like dipper would, but maybe as a form of a friendly gesture, kind of like those people who will lightly punch friends in the arm when they hang out.

You know what? Good point. Mabel would get away with more than most, as a fun-loving lady! Bill understands those impulses, and being a touchy person! He indulges in similar ones himself.

Though when Bill's not in the mood to be playful and gets booped anyway? The 'sister-in-law' status grants her considerable grace.

[gotalittletoosilly]

if you just looked at the tags for mabel v luffy you'd think that luffy was sweeping

[iceunhie]

latibule.

premise. in which all too many intrusions come in the form of one particular shadow guard. (or, moze always looks to you to patch him up. inexplicably, you let him do so anyway.)

warnings: gn!reader, pining moze but he's too edgy to know, one kimi ni todoke inspired (?) scene, treating injuries, banter (obviously), probably ooc, feixiao cameo, based off of the new quest, kinda mid writing

notes: not proofread i have no excuse i just like him okay???? inspired by @luvether's mozeqiu/reader fic (i love ur works ☹️) ty @lowkeyren for the chinese help!

“You're here again, Moze.”

In the wee hours between 1AM to 3AM, it has become a daily occurence for you to tend to Moze's injuries.

He nods. “I'm here.”

Despite having a perfectly (super) capable healer who attends to even the Lady General personally at her behest, you do not know why Moze always ends up at your window of all things during the ungodly hours of the moon's turn, complete with stupid, easily treatable cuts all across his body.

As General Feixiao's Representative Proxy, such work is not your forte—and rarely do you ever employ your few practiced arts in healing; the result often clumsy and sloppy, just enough to treat the few cuts Moze sports.

Still, it has since become routine to patch Moze up, and despite your insistence that he take care of himself more, the ashy haired man never listens, instead ending up at your home. You wonder if he does this on purpose.

Next time, you think, you're never going to open the windowsill for him again.

You open the windowsill further to let him in. Hypocrite, your mind echoes unhelpfully. Great, you must be losing your mind.

“Got into trouble again, hm?”

His expression tells you that whoever he fought wasn't all that—show-off—internally, you roll your eyes. “...Will you patch me up?”

No, your mind tells you, the words are at the tip of your tongue; you're always sneaking in here at night, and making me go through all this trouble.

(Your actions betray a different tune altogether.)

You don't know when Moze started to make you his personal healer despite Jiaoqiu in the vicinity; a moment of worry led to one thing, and now here you are, Moze's budget Jiaoqiu at home. The thought makes you laugh to yourself. Compared to the foxian, your skills could be described as subpar at best.

(Complaining to your own Lady General was no use. Incredulously, Feixiao believed that it was because—

“You're special.” Feixiao says with a grin. “Is it not obvious that it is because he wishes to see you?”

“What?” Looking at her, your voice is a tired drawl of resignation. “....My Lady, it seems your recent exposure to the Luofu's romance novels have dulled your judgement. Shall I call for Jiaoqiu?”

“Wha- Hey, don't call me senile!” Your Lady General deadpans, “Anyway, I'm telling you, Moze likes you!”)

“Why is it always me?” you grumble under your breath, though it doesn't escape Moze's ears.

It's good that you don't expect an answer; if Moze had to be honest, he doesn't know why he always goes to you either.

“Why wouldn't it be you?” Moze says, not missing a beat.

Your cheeks warm, the heat crawling up your neck from his audacious words. Jeez, he really doesn't know his effect on people, did he?

“...Not to mention, Jiaoqiu is asleep.”

Never mind. “Know the shame.”

“I don't wish to disturb Jiaoqiu as well.”

“Oh, so you see it fit to bother me but don't bother with Jiao-gege?”

“You'll live.” Moze blinks. Frowns. “Wait, did you just call him... gege?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Yes, what about it?”

“Since when were you two so close?”

“Mm, since a certain guard stops by my home at twilight hour?”

“....”

Sighing, your hands are nimble against the bandages, looping the white cloth in your palm and dabbing at the corners of Moze's face, gentle. Up close, his face is all sharp edges and harsh lines. Whether he notices how you gulp when you approach closer, swiping the cloth along his lower lip, he holds his tongue, for fear of disturbing whatever it was, permeating between the two of you like a thick haze, afraid of destroying the peaceful silence.

He watches, instead, as you scrub away the little bit of blood on his cheek.

You're talking; something about him being too reckless, taking care of himself more, yet he finds that he can't catch a word of what you're saying, focusing only on one thing.

Your hands are warm.

Heat creeps up to his neck like coiling vines, twisting his stomach, all because of you. Moze's heart thrums, breath stolen away—you're so close, it's unbearable—and he fights to keep himself even remotely neutral. All because of you.

“Moze?”

What are you doing to him? Why does he always come back to you? Is he sick?

“You're burning up.” You press your hand against his neck; and funnily enough, the thought of leaning into your touch crosses Moze's mind—it's maddening how much he wants to do so.

Blinking once, Moze looks to find you pulling away, and before he can think of it, his fingers wrap around your wrist in an iron grip, carefully maintained distance discarded.

“...?”

“Ah, wait, it's fine— Just—” don't pull away.

What?

Moze coughs. “Just continue.”

The night's breeze flows throughout your home; the chuang kou is wide open, with Moze looking less like General Feixiao's most trusted aide and more akin to an obedient dog. It's humiliation, Moze thinks—but when it was you, his dignity could be in tatters for all he cares.

Your eyes soften, just a bit, “If you say so.”

Inexplicably, relief assaults Moze's senses like a balm to his soul. Because the idea of being perceived, heard—by you—affects him in a dizzying, confounding way, and he knows not how to cure such an ailment whose only cure is your presence.

And maybe, just maybe, it's why he can never stop returning to you. Let you think him a fool, an idiot—so as long as he ends up at your window, by your side, it's a small price to pay.

“Okay.” he affirms, loosening his grip, (never you, though) finally letting you finish patching him up as you plaster what remains of the white bandages upon his face.

Noticeably, he doesn't let go of your hand.

“Okay.” you echo, and finally, you're finished with your work. The sight of Moze all bandaged up perfectly and finally getting to sleep makes you happier than you should be, the prospect of sleep way too enticing.

“There, all done. Take care of yourself better next time, 'kay?”

He hums, “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You sure you will?”

“Yes.” Moze looks at you, and he looks at you like it would be a sin of the greatest kind to take his eyes of off you; holding your presence in his irises, emulating you deeply onto his pupils, his tendons and his limbs. “I will.”

(How could he ever not listen to you?)

You release him, much to Moze's reluctance—opening the closed chuang kou. The night breeze welcomes Moze, kissing his skin, with the colors of the rising sun beginning to rise, vibrancy in the darkness of the inky night.

“...Moze?” you call, in the corner of your eye, seeing him already putting a foot on the rooftop.

“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....” you mumble, glad that your back is turned from him, lest he sees the heat dusting your cheeks. You know Moze has probably left, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

Well, you'll bring it up another time, then. Something tells you he'll listen, this time.

This time, you don't ignore the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(“Jeez, if you wanted to see me that much, just tell me instead of going through all this trouble, really....”

In the darkened corner of shadow, a figure slumps disgracefully with a loud thud. Using a hand to grip the side of the wall, nothing can compare to the burning heat crawling up Moze's skin, positively flushed.

Moze puts a hand to his face, slumping further to a near kneel.

It's warm—just like the ghostly feeling of your hands upon his skin minutes prior.

Maybe he'll take you up on your offer.)

a/n: sorry for the long sporadic activity :,D this is what a chuang kou looks like btw

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE NEVER BEFORE

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: your patience is thinning. despite having a conversation with dazai and being led to believe everything is okay, he's suddenly avoiding you again. luckily, or maybe unluckily, his hand is forced when he realizes that you're not waiting for him this time. whether he likes it or not, this confrontation is happening—except you slowly realize as it goes on that dazai's definition of intimacy is dreadfully different from yours.

{wordcount: 10.4k; ņsfw; fem!reader, pm!reader, i wouldn't say this is angst but it does deal with some references to heavy topics; jealous!dazai, depictions of dissociation (dazai), dazai's on the brink of a mental breakdown for a bit in the beginning, references to abuse (dazai. no actual depictions), references to dubcon (dazai. no actual depictions), dazai is wildly intelligent but not so much when it comes to sex & other forms of intimacy (he is quite uneducated in fact), slight oral (male rec), unprotected sex, sub!dazai, dazai and reader argue for a bit (he calls her a whore - doesn't mean it but still says it)}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: 😒i hope you guys know im sitting here glaring at my computer because i did not want to post this fic. it's been sitting in my google drive for like AGES and im literally having to physically force myself into formatting this post because i wanted to keep it hoarded forever. anyway, read the warnings for this one pretty pls, this fic is a bit loaded—not exactly angst, but it references some heavy topics. let me know if any warnings are missing as always!

“I’m so sick and tired of him.”

You listen as Chuuya lets out another heavy sigh next to you, pointedly taking a sip of his wine, but you don’t even bother to glance at him as you glare down at your phone. Left on read, again, Dazai ignores your message asking him to meet you and Chuuya at the bar. You slam your phone down on the dark wood of the bar top before reaching for your own glass, taking a large gulp of it before opening your mouth to continue complaining, much to Chuuya’s displeasure.

“I thought things would be different after we talked. He moved back into my apartment but he’s still avoiding me like the fucking plague. I mean Christ, I broke up with my boyfriend, came crawling back to him because I knew he was pissed even though he’d rather kill himself—literally—than admit he likes me. Why the fuck can’t he even given an inch? Meet me halfway?” 

“Because he’s Dazai,” Chuuya says dryly. “What did you expect from him, honestly? … And we all know you weren’t going to stick with that civilian.”

“Oh, shut up,” you tell him bitterly. “That’s not the point. The point is I did, and I went right to him, and we talked, and he acted like everything was fine, and now he’s pulling this shit. How is he going to live in my fucking apartment and avoid me at every corner? And whenever I do manage to catch him, he makes up some bullshit excuse about a mission I know he doesn’t have and disappears.”

You lean back in your chair, brows furrowed and fingers curled around your glass. By now, all of the people that had been sitting near the two of you at the bar have dispersed to the dancefloor—if your arrival with Chuuya hadn’t been enough to send them scattering, your foul mood was more than enough to make them give you a wide berth.

“I’m frustrated,” you finally hiss. “I’m just frustrated, am I allowed to be frustrated, Chuuya?”

Chuuya side-eyes you. “Stop fuckin’ complaining to me about it and do something about it, jeez,” he says, hand sliding into his pocket to pull out a cigarette, holding it between his lips as he fumbles for a lighter to light it.

“Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” you ask, becoming increasingly more irritated as you pull out your own lighter to light it for him. “I tried talking to him, now he’s ignoring me.”

Chuuya has the audacity to roll his eyes, looking at you with an unimpressed expression that makes you want to pluck his cigarette out of his mouth and put it out on his skin. As if he can hear your thoughts, he leans back, giving you a suspicious look.

“I’m not talking about that shithead,” Chuuya drawls. “If you’re so frustrated, go find some sorry bastard to fuck it out of you. We both know that’s all it takes to get you to settle down.”

“Fuck you,” you say instantly, not appreciating how he acts like you’re a nympho. But already, your gaze is carding across the room, trying to see if someone catches your eye. When you find yourself disappointed, you look back at him and ask, “You offering yourself up?”

Chuuya barks out a laugh. “Fuck no,” he tells you instantly. “No way. Don’t even say that shit to me.”

You’re almost offended, squinting at him and leaning back in your seat. “Why not? Like old times. You know what I like, I know what you like, we can make a good night out of it,” you propose as you lean your elbow on the bartop and observe him.

“Because shitty Dazai will never let me hear the end of it if he finds out,” Chuuya says pointedly, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “Bastard is annoying as is, if he finds out I’ve slept with you? It’d be the end of the world.”

“You have slept with me though, Chuuya,” you taunt. “Who’s to say I won’t tell him anyway?”

You won’t, but you like the way Chuuya’s lip curls up in irritation around his cigarette.

“Go ahead,” he tells you. “I’ll tell him all about that time in Osaka.”

You gasp, scandalized. “Chuuya,” you hiss. “You would not. You swore.”

“Try me,” Chuuya says, raising his eyebrows at you, looking all too smug as you flounder for a response.

Humbled, and a bit mortified, you return to looking around the club, lowering your standards this time. You spot a blonde standing in the corner of the club, eyes flitting around curiously as he observes the people on the dancefloor, and a redhead laughing wildly as she spins with a drink in hand, teetering off to the edge of the floor. You purse your lips.

“No one is catching my attention,” you complain, sinking back down in your seat.

You decidedly don’t like the smirk that edges onto his lips as he looks at you, and it’s for good reason, because the next words out of his mouth have your eye twitching: “You’re that down bad for him already? Jesus.”

“I am not,” you spit out, glaring at him before pointedly returning to your hunt, looking around more intensely this time. 

But even as you do that, you start to wonder if that’s why no one is standing out to you tonight. How the fuck is anyone supposed to compare to Dazai Osamu? The thought is ridiculous—you don’t want to tug at blonde hair to pull someone down into a kiss, you don’t want a head of tousled red locks buried between your thighs, there’s only one person you actually want in your bed and he’s been avoiding you since you talked things out with him.

You let out a heavy sigh, considering just admitting defeat, but then your eyes drift to a tall, dark haired man entering the club, making his way over to the bar; his hair is a bit too long and a bit too straight, and his eyes aren’t the right shade, but they’re sharp enough and you’re tipsy enough to willfully confuse them for the familiar brown you desire.

“Nevermind,” you breathe out. Chuuya doesn’t even spare you a goodbye as you slip from your seat to make your way over to the man, lifting his hand in a lazy wave. “I found someone.”

Chuuya was right.

You think maybe you should stop doubting him as much as you do. This is not the first time that you’ve fought him tooth and nail about something only for him to be proven right in the end. But you’re not going to tell him that because he has a big enough ego and you’re not going to feed into it.

Dealing with Dazai’s fickleness the past two weeks has been much easier now that you’re fucking out your frustrations with strangers as soon as he’s gone for the night on whatever mission Mori assigns him. You take his aloofness in stride, ignoring the way he blows you off and avoids you in your own home. You think it’s bothering him, actually, because now when you walk past him without a second glance, you can see the way he hesitates from the corner of your eye, an indecipherable expression crossing over his face.

Good, you think. You hope he feels like shit. 

You let out a soft breath as you tilt your head to the side, giving the man you’re with better access. From the corner of your eye, with the tousled brown hair, you can almost pretend it’s him, but you know it’s not. His hair isn’t as soft as Dazai’s, who all but hijacked your expensive shampoos and conditioners, and you can’t feel the bandages that should be tucked beneath the tufts of hair. Your mind starts to drift, comparing how you think Dazai’s touch would be to this man’s. When you first kissed him, he was unsure and hesitant, would he still be now? Or has he grown more confident? You think he must’ve, you’ve seen him with people during events, lips tilted up in a sensual smile, lashes fluttering as he leads them into one of the backrooms. 

Sick and unfair, you think to yourself bitterly.

You let out a heavy, disappointed sigh.

“You good?” the man asks—you don’t remember his name, you don’t even know if you cared to ask. His voice is distinctly different from Dazai’s low hum whenever he teases you, a total immersion-break from your desired reality.

You roll your eyes, irritated. “Don’t speak.”

The man lets out a noise of agreement, fingers biting a bit harder into your waist as he continues kissing down your neck. You don’t really mind, the sting is nice, just enough force to draw your mind away from Dazai. The sigh you let out is more pleased now, eyes slipping shut as his hands slide up your body, kisses trailing down your neck to your collarbone. His lips are too soft; Dazai’s are horribly chapped no matter how much chapstick you force on him.

Dazai is out on another “mission”. You don’t even know if it’s a real mission or if he’s just claiming it’s a mission so he doesn’t have to stick around the apartment while you’re there, lowering the chances of running into you. For all you know, he’s just going back to that shitty shipping container he spent a year in and hanging out there until you leave for one of your own missions or a meeting. He looked particularly sullen as he left earlier, casting looks back to where you’d disappeared into the kitchen, not realizing you could still see him before he finally left your apartment. 

He’s such a pain in the ass, you think, getting irate again as he drifts back into your thoughts. He makes everything so difficult, things would be so much easier he just admitted that he wanted to be with you. You really don’t know how much more of this back and forth, wishy-washy shit you can take from him. You care about Dazai. You do. Probably more than anyone else in your life and you’re sick of him taking it for granted. 

You hum in approval when the man lifts his hands to your button-up, hesitating as he waits for your consent, and your gaze flicks up to the ceiling as he continues kissing down the revealed skin; from the crook of your neck to your collarbone, between your breasts, he unbuttons all the way to your navel.

You find yourself a bit bored, counting the specks on the ceiling, taking note of the crack that you’re sure is somehow Dazai’s fault. You think there must only be two more buttons left for him to undo before you can slide the shirt off of your shoulders but you start to feel uncomfortable under his touch, you feel prickly and his lips trailing down your body makes your skin crawl.

“Off,” you finally say, voice sharp. You press your hand against his shoulder to push him off of you, sitting up straight to sit properly on the couch. You scowl as you fumble through your pants pockets to find a cigarette.

This is Dazai’s fault somehow.

“Did I do something wrong?” the man asks hesitantly, trying to shift closer to you again. “I-”

“No,” you say bluntly, lighting the cigarette and lifting it to your lips. “Get out of my apartment.”

The man hesitates, you can feel his eyes lingering on you and you’re becoming increasingly more irritated, shooting him a glare from the corner of your eye until he finally rises to his feet, buttoning his shirt as he makes his way over to the elevator. You slump back against the couch, sighing as you look up at the ceiling and take a long drag from your cigarette.

Dazai’s fault. As soon as he crossed your mind, your whole demeanor had changed and you try to convince yourself that it’s because you just don’t know what his issue is. You don’t know why he’s avoiding you, you don’t know what changed after you met with him at the bar; you thought things would be good between the two of you. You thought you’d be able to be with him now that nothing’s left in your way but evidently there still is something preventing the two of you from being together and it’s something that Dazai is not sharing with you.

Bastard, you think bitterly, about to pull out your phone to send Chuuya a very irritated and very foul message about Dazai but before you can, the elevator leading up to your floor bings and you look up to watch the man you’d invited over leave.

Except as the doors slide open, you realize that someone is already standing in there.

You sit up straight when you see Dazai standing in the elevator, black gaze trained right on the man leaving your apartment. His movements are almost robotic as he steps out of the elevator, his head twisting to follow the man as he steps in the elevator. He looks distinctly unnerved as Dazai’s soulless gaze tracking him until the elevator doors slide back shut.

It’s only then that Dazai only turns to look at you. His face is eerily void of emotion as he looks at you, gaze dipping down to your unbuttoned shirt and the light bruises blooming on your neck and collarbone. You tilt your head to the side as you observe him, wondering if he’s going to say something, but he only stands there staring at you.

“I thought you had a mission,” you finally say, leaning forward to put your cigarette out on the ashtray on the coffee table to button up your shirt half way so you’re not nearly undressed. When you finish, you pick up your glass of wine and take a sip. “You’re back early.” 

“I finished early,” Dazai replies, monotonic. 

He doesn’t budge from where he’s standing, limbs stiff and face blank. You glance down, noticing that he’s holding something in his right hand—a bag, takeout, maybe? Looks like it’s from that place in Hodogaya-ku that you like. 

“What’s that?” you ask, nodding toward the bag. Dazai follows your gaze down to it, staring at it as if he doesn’t even know what it is. You frown, becoming a bit concerned as you rise to your feet. “Dazai, you good?”

Dazai’s gaze doesn’t leave the bag for a second; after what feels like an eternity, he finally looks back up at you but he doesn’t even seem to be looking at you, rather it feels like he’s looking through you like you’re not even there.

“I got food,” he says blankly.

Your eyes widen a bit, wondering if this is meant to be his apology for being an asshole the past few weeks. Dazai never apologizes—he disappears until he can act like nothing happened or he does something to make up for what he did, but he doesn’t ever acknowledge what he did. It’s frustrating, but you’ve gotten used to his quirks over the years. You’d been wondering why he seemed so melancholic before he left.

You nod at the spot next to you on the couch, accepting the apology and sitting back down. “I’ll put on a movie.”

Dazai looks at the spot like it’s been poisoned, expression finally twisting from the emptiness into one of disgust.

“What?” you demand, offended.

Dazai doesn’t even respond to you; you can only stare in disbelief as he turns on his heel and walks in the direction of the kitchen. You don’t budge for a second, staring in shock to where he disappeared to, but after a few moments, you force yourself up to your feet and follow after him.

Your mind races as you make your way down the short hall into the kitchen, standing in the door frame as you watch him put the bag of takeout on the kitchen counter, pulling the different containers out of the bag and then opening the fridge. His movements are stiff and abrupt, almost robotic, and your irritation slips away when you see the expression on his face.

Closed-off. Withdrawn. Very reminiscent of the look on his face from that time he came back to your apartment after a mission that went wrong post-Dragon’s head Conflict, right before he had his first breakdown in front of you. He’d been trying to hold it all back, desperate to not lose control in front of you, but it was to no avail because it only made it worse.

“Dazai, what’s wrong?” you ask carefully as he stuffs another container into the fridge, so roughly that the plastic almost snaps. “Dazai-”

“Nothing,” Dazai responds sharply, voice cold and cutting but the way he takes in a sharp, shaky breath betrays him. “Nothing is wrong. Nothing.”

“Okay, that’s a lie,” you say flatly, sighing to yourself. “Can you just-”

“You’re the liar,” Dazai cuts you off, voice shrill and defensive in a way you’ve never heard from him before. Something crosses his face: a weird mixture of panic, anger and distress, like he knows he’s losing control of his emotions but he can’t stop himself. You don’t usually have such a hard time reading Dazai—it’s difficult, yes, but not as impossible as it currently is. It’s stressing you out because you don’t know what’s wrong and he’s clearly working himself up more over it. “You’re the liar. You’re the liar.”

Your eye twitches. Three breaths in and three breaths out. Now’s really not the time for you to lose your temper on him considering he’s on the brink of a mental breakdown for whatever reason. But you’re pissed, you don’t know why he’s calling you a liar and you don’t know what is going on, and you don’t want to deal with this especially after he just spent weeks ignoring and avoiding you.

“What did I lie about, Dazai?” you ask tightly, nails digging into your palms as you wait for a response. “Please, enlighten me.”

Dazai doesn’t respond, jaw tightening as he resumes tossing the food into the fridge.

“Dazai, stop,” you tell him, taking a step forward when he finally gets to the bottom of the takeout bag and slams the fridge shut so hard that it rattles. He grabs the empty bag and is about to storm over to the garbage can but before he can, you reach forward and grab his wrist, stopping him. “Will you fucking talk to me?”

“Let go,” Dazai hisses, trying to rip his arm from your hold but your fingers are too tight around his wrist, his bandages rough against the pads of your fingers—you don’t know why he’s still using those old scratchy ones when you stocked up with the softer ones but it only serves to irritate you more because why are you going out of your way to do nice things for him if he’s just going to toss it to the side? “Let go of me.”

“Tell me what your issue is,” you demand. “I’m done playing games with you, Dazai. Grow the fuck up and communicate.”

Dazai’s eye is wide and wild, looking far too much like a cornered animal as he bares his teeth at you and tries to yank out of your hold on him again. “My issue is that you’re a whore,” he spits out. “Let go of me. Now.”

You let go of him.

Instantly, the anger in Dazai’s face fizzles away. His eye is just as wide but his expression is lax, lips parted as if he’s only now just registering what he said. And you know he regrets it, you know that Dazai lashes out when he feels cornered; he becomes cruel and vicious, desperate in his attempts to protect himself when he feels vulnerable and since Dazai is Dazai, he knows how to hurt people. Knows exactly where the chinks in your armor are, drives the dagger in deep and twists it.

But even knowing this, it still hurts hearing that from him of all people.

“Okay.”

Your voice is quiet, you don’t even waste a second before turning on your heel and leaving the kitchen.

“Wait,” Dazai calls after you, voice wavering. “Wait, I didn’t…”

He can’t even finish the sentence because Dazai is Dazai and he doesn’t apologize and he doesn’t admit his wrongs. Doesn’t admit that he lost control and said something he didn’t mean to say. Would rather preserve his false visage of control than do anything like that.

“Where are you going?” Dazai asks and you can hear him trailing after you, words drawn long and shaky. “Hey, wait-”

You don’t know where you’re going. Leaving your apartment, you think, considering your feet are moving right to the elevator, but once you leave the building? You’re not sure. Maybe you’ll head over to Chuuya’s and crash at his apartment for the night, maybe you’ll go get shit-faced at a bar. You don’t really care, you just don’t want to be anywhere near Dazai right now. He’s put you through enough the past few weeks for you to stand here and take this shit from him. 

“I don’t know, Dazai,” you say, voice cold and sharp. “Maybe I’ll go find that guy I kicked out and finish the job if I’m such a whore.”

Dazai inhales sharply from behind you. “What?” he breathes out. “No. No. I didn’t-”

“You didn’t what?” you scoff, not even looking back at him. “Didn’t mean it? You can’t even bring yourself to say it, Dazai. Clearly you did.”

That’s not true, you know it’s only Dazai’s pride that prevents him from forcing those words out, but you know it makes him flinch and you know it makes him hesitate. You also know how to target chinks in armor.

“No,” Dazai tries again, more insistent this time. You can hear him speeding up behind you when he realizes you’re going for the elevator. “No, you don’t need to do that. I don’t-I don’t get you. I don’t get this. I don’t get any of this.”

He sounds confused, borderline distressed—you don’t even know what he’s talking about, what he’s so confused and distressed about. How could you? He never explains anything to you, never communicates.

“You don’t get what?” you demand, reaching out for the button of the elevator but Dazai lunges forward to grab your wrist before you can. You finally turn to look at him, catching the way his jaw is tight and the strange emotion swimming in his eye. “You don’t get what, Dazai? Spit it out.”

“Why are you still sleeping with other people?” he asks, voice hitching. “You have me. You don’t need anyone else.”

You can’t help yourself—you laugh in Dazai’s face.

“No way,” you say immediately.

You don’t mean it in the way it comes out. You know it comes out as if you’re saying you’d never sleep with him, but you’re more so saying no way because you can’t believe he has the audacity to say this to you after he just spent weeks avoiding and ignoring you. 

Is this what his issue is? He doesn’t know how to cope with emotions so he evades and lashes out and just expects you to stick around waiting until he grows up? Fuck him. You deserve better than that, you waited long enough, you thought you were done with these games with him.

You don’t miss the way Dazai’s expression crumbles at your words, the way he stares at you, lips parted in disbelief. You don’t correct yourself, a part of you is happy that you can get your own knife in even if you do know you’ll regret it later. 

“What do you mean no?” Dazai’s voice wobbles a bit before he takes half a step back. His fingers are weak around your wrist but he doesn’t let go, feels a lot like a child clinging to their parent’s shirt. “What-I-I’m here. You want it, you were just going to-”

Not that that’s even the issue anymore, but you’re definitely not in the mood now. Honestly, you just want to go to bed. Your head hurts and Dazai is stressing you out and pissing you off all at the same time, plus you have no interest in fucking him when he seems like he’s on the verge of a mental break anyway.

“No, I don’t. I changed my mind,” you say, frustrated. “I’m tired. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai replies, voice pitched and tinged with something too close to desperation. “No. You want me and I’m here, so you should-”

God, what the fuck is your life? You’re so frustrated that you want to pull your hair out and scream at him.

“Enough, Dazai.” You raise your voice at him. “Enough. I don’t want you. I want to go to bed.”

“No,” Dazai insists and your eyes widen when you feel his grip tighten on your wrist.

“Daz-” You start to say but you can’t even finish his name, cut off by his other hand finding its way to your hip, pressing you back against the closed doors of the elevator as he dips his head down to capture your lips with his own, swallowing your protest before you can even get it out. 

You think absently that you were right earlier when you were letting your thoughts wander to what kissing Dazai would be like. He’s no longer unsure and hesitant with his touches, his lips slide against yours with the expertise of someone who’s spent a lifetime kissing. The hand on your hip slides up your body so that he can hold your jaw, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. And you shouldn’t be indulging this, you know that—Dazai pissed you off, he has some nerve calling you a whore and then whoring himself out to you—but his lips are intoxicating, you can hardly think straight with them pressed against yours. 

He has your right hand pinned to the metal behind you, fingers curled tight around your wrist as he holds you in place. The way he kisses you is familiar, almost, and your brows furrow as you try to figure out why until feel his fingers brush through your hair, slow and lingering, dizzying, right before his tongue darts out to swipe across your bottom lip—a pattern of actions that you usually take to make your partners more malleable. 

Did he teach himself this just by observing the way you act with people at events?

You don’t fall for your own tricks though, so instead, your free hand drops to his waist, fingers slipping through his belt loops as you press into him, pushing off the elevator to walk him backwards down the hall to his bedroom. He lets out a surprised noise in the back of his throat, letting you walk him back; his fingers fall from where they’d been around your wrist and you take the opportunity to hook yours around his other belt loop, keeping his body flush to yours until you have his back pressed against his bedroom door.

You notice, a bit absently, that Dazai is a lot more pliant now with you in control. His hands are loose at his sides as if he doesn’t know what to do with them—much like when you shared his first kiss with him—and he still kisses you back, lips moving slowly against yours, but it’s not with the intensity he had when you were pinned to the elevator door.

Strange.

You think kissing Dazai is a lot like a drug, one that you got your first hit of two years ago when you offered to be his first kiss but then never had another chance to get another taste of. You were bitter when he first started following in yours and Chuuya’s footsteps in taking people to bed to unwittingly ease information out of them—you’d find yourself watching him like a hawk as he drew people into secluded corners, as he pressed his lips against theirs and let their hands explore his body. You’d hardly be able to draw your eyes away once, not until he eventually led them out of the area to a bedroom.

You hated it. Truly. You like to tell yourself that you’re not jealous but you know it’s a blatant lie. As much as people would sell their souls to spend a night with you, they’d be just as desperate for one with Dazai because Dazai is Dazai. He’s untouchable. The Demon Prodigy. The Port Mafia’s Black Wraith. The youngest executive in history. He can be smooth and charming, yes, and he’s undoubtedly handsome. But more than that, he’s dark and unfathomable in a way that piques peoples’ interest in a sick and perverted fashion—they want to know what he’s like behind closed doors, they’re terrified of him but they want him, be it because of morbid curiosity or sheer lust.

And you hated that other people got to be with him in ways you couldn’t. Your only consolation seems to be that he had his eyes on you as much as you had yours on him, seeing how he’s pretty much perfectly mimicking the way you kiss and touch people, but you don’t know if that’s just because he was trying to learn through observing you—as he does with everyone—or if he hated watching you with other people just as much-

Oh.

Oh, you’re so stupid.

“You were jealous,” you realize, understanding what had triggered Dazai’s meltdown with the takeout food and insults toward you. Dazai stiffens against the door and you take the opportunity to trail your lips from his down to his jaw. “You were jealous over the guy I had over.”

“No-”

“You were.” You don’t even let him finish the protest, nipping at the spot beneath his ear gently and watching how he shudders. “How cute.”

“It’s not cute.” Dazai bristles. “You-you weren’t supposed-you’re not supposed to keep seeing people. I thought you were done with that. I thought we were-”

“We were what?” you ask coolly. “You avoided me for weeks after we talked, Dazai. Whatever we may or may not have been after we talked at the bar, it’s nothing when you start actively ignoring me for weeks after that.”

“But-”

You’re getting irritated again. “Dazai, you ignored me for weeks. I was pissed off and frustrated. And when I’m pissed off and frustrated, if I don’t have some way to relieve my stress, I do something stupid. Something stupid like putting a bullet in you the next time you stepped into my apartment after actively going out of your way to avoid me.”

“I was going out to get food,” Dazai says sullenly as if you were supposed to know that. “So we could watch a movie.”

“Last I recall, telepathy isn’t exactly part of my ability, Dazai,” you say dryly, calming yourself down by leaning in to brush your lips against his again.

A drug, you think again as the anger melts away when you feel his breath hitch against your lips. You reach behind him to open his bedroom door, guiding him in as you kiss him slowly. He’s fumbling again, unsure what to do with his fingers, clumsily moving his lips against yours until the back of his knees hits the bed, and he goes flopping down back on it. 

You snort at the surprised look on his face, joining him on the bed as you straddle his hips. You hover over him for a second before leaning down to give him another chaste kiss, enjoying the way he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.

“Tell me why you were avoiding me,” you say quietly as you lift a hand to cup his cheek. 

A foul move, you know. Dazai is always weak to gentle touches as much as he tries to pretend otherwise. You’ve noticed it when you watch movies with him and when he curls into bed with you on nights he can’t sleep. Just as you expect, he leans into your touch, lashes fluttering.

“Dazai,” you urge, “tell me why. What did I do?”

You didn’t do anything, you think bitterly, but you figure taking responsibility will be the easiest way to get him talking. You’ll fight about it later.

Dazai, to your surprise, turns his face away from you and your touch, a faraway look in his eye as he stares at the wall.

“You didn’t do anything,” he says. “I just didn’t-”

He cuts himself as if he can’t even bring himself to say it, and you know you have to do something because he seems to be withdrawing even more into his own head, eyes growing more distant with each passing second. You turn his head so that he’s facing you again and you lean down to press your lips briefly against his.

“You didn’t what?” you ask him.

Dazai still looks like he doesn’t want to answer, conflict spreading across his face as he stares up at you before he sighs and averts his gaze. “I don’t understand any of this. I didn’t want to disappoint,” he says so quietly that you barely hear him.

Your brows furrow. 

“Disappoint?” you question, a bit baffled. Dazai has a complex about failure. You know that too, have known it since you were sixteen. He can’t handle it, nothing makes him spiral quite like the idea of failure—you and he are quite similar in that regard—but you don’t understand what he means in this context. “Disappoint with what?”

Dazai doesn’t answer, doesn’t meet your eyes either, and your mind races to figure out what he might be referring to. You recall how he became hesitant and unsure when you finally took control, fingers twitching at his sides, body pliant as you moved him around, almost like a doll for you to maneuver as you pleased.

“Disappoint with this?” you finally realize, watching as he grimaces, confirming your suspicions. Your chest drops. “You avoided me because… you didn’t want to have sex?”

That makes you feel a bit sick to your stomach because what does he think of you if he went to this length to avoid you just because… Dazai’s entire body jolts at your words as if realizing how they came across.

“No,” he pushes out instantly. His hands dart out to cling to your shirt as if he’s worried you’re going to leave. “No, no. I want to. I do. Not just this… just in general. Everything. Me… This is just one part of it… the easiest to make mistakes with. I don’t like making mistakes.”

It’s only mildly reassuring.

“Dazai…” You start to say, pulling away, but his hands dart up to grab your waist so he can hold you in place on top of him. You think maybe the two of you need to talk. Again. “I just, I don’t understand.”

“I want this,” he repeats again, hands sliding down from your waist to curl his fingers around the hem of your shirt. He sees that you’re not convinced by his words so he pushes out a “Please” that nearly stops you in your tracks because you don’t think Dazai Osamu has ever begged for anything in his life.

You lean down to press your lips against his again. You set the pace this time, lifting your hand to cup his cheek—you pull the same move that he tried with you, nails gently scraping his scalp as you brush your fingers through his hair. Dazai melts into it in a way that you didn’t, lashes fluttering and lips parting instinctively, letting you deepen the kiss. Dazai’s breath catches as you push your tongue into his mouth, shivering when you trace the back of his teeth. 

Too pliant. All of the confidence he had earlier when he had you pinned to the elevator is gone. His breath wavers against your lips, and his fingers tremble as he grips at the hem of your button-up. Not a firm grip like you’d have anticipated, with his fingers digging into the plush skin of your hips as he grinds you down on his cock; instead, his fingers are clinging to the fabric as if he’s too overwhelmed to even think of grabbing your body.

“Tell me what you like,” you say quietly, fingers still absently carding through his dark locks as you kiss down his neck. Your other hand slips beneath his dress shirt, smoothing out over the bandages wrapped around his torso. “I want to know, wanna make you feel good.”

Dazai’s lips part to respond to you, but the only thing that escapes them is a pitched gasp—high and cracking in desperation, grip on your shirt so tight that you think he might rip it. He’s already hard, can feel his cock straining against his black pants, pressed against your thigh.

“I don’t-” Dazai’s voice is ragged; he sounds overwhelmed, almost confused. “I don’t know.”

“Hm?” you prod, nipping his neck and relishing in the way his whole body shudders at the feeling. “C’mon, Dazai, you’ve done this before. Tell me what you like.”

His gasp is choked when your hand tightens on his slim waist, lashes fluttering as his eyes roll back. More pliant and more sensitive, you note curiously, kissing back up his neck to tug at his earlobe with your teeth, a shiver running down your spine at the broken moan Dazai lets out into your ear. He jolts, eyes widening and face flushing—he looks as if he’s startled himself by the noise that escaped his lips, and you start to become a bit suspicious.

“I don’t know,” he tells you, sounding confused and frustrated. “I don’t know. It’s never felt like this before. How are you doing that?”

You pause.

You make a soft noise in the back of your throat, pulling your face back from his ear to look at him carefully because why is he acting like he’s never done this before? You know he’s slept around a lot. He picked it up over half a year ago when he got tired of hearing you and Chuuya brag about how easy it is to get things out of people like this. Made a point of making sure you knew about it when you had your boyfriend.

It’s never felt like this before.

Your chest swirls, and you feel a bit disconcerted as his words finally process. It’s never felt like what? Dazai doesn’t know why you’ve stopped, you can feel him tugging at your shirt, hazy eyes trying to focus on you. You wonder if the gears in his head are turning, realizing something might be wrong but unable to pinpoint what.

You kiss him to distract him, deeper this time. You press his head back against the soft pillow, one hand sliding to cradle the back of it as you try to break all of the quick-moving cogs in his brain so you can think in peace, cursing the fact that his mind has always been quicker and sharper than yours.

Dazai is Dazai. He’s smooth, charming—when he wants to, he could seduce anyone into his bed. You’ve watched him do it at events, sidling up close and leaning in to speak to people, dark eye lidded and voice low, a slow smirk curling at his lip as he brushes his finger lightly against the target’s lower back before guiding them out of the room. Christ, he’s nearly flustered you on more than one account. You want to say that he’s not the same kid who was nervous to kiss you two years ago, but he clearly is with how he’s reacting to your kisses and touches right now. But he shouldn’t be—maybe it’s because it’s you he’s with, maybe he’s just nervous because it’s you and not some random person he’s seducing for information.

But that doesn't explain the comment. Doesn’t explain it’s never felt like this before. 

“Never felt like what?” you ask as you kiss the corner of his lips and down his jaw again, all the way to the line of bandages peeking out from his dress shirt. You undo the first few buttons, watching the way his chest rapidly rises and falls under your touch as you smooth your hands over his chest. “Hm?” 

“I-I don’t know,” Dazai says, voice cracking and another breathy sound spilling from his lips as you kiss the underside of his jaw. “It’s just-it’s usually just-it’s not this.”

That doesn’t help you at all, you think. You’re about to press, but your lips on his skin have evidently made Dazai’s lips looser than they typically are because you don’t even have to voice a clarifying question to get him talking again.

“The way you’re touching me. Kissing me. It’s not like this, doesn’t feel so good,” he continues and you can hear the whine building in the back of his throat as he speaks. “It’s just sex.”

You slide his button-up off of his shoulders, revealing his bandaged body to you. You don’t make any move to remove them, but now you stare down at him, a bit perplexed. “This is sex,” you say, voice a bit stunted because you didn’t expect him to say that.

“No,” Dazai says, seemingly equally perplexed by your words, drawn out of the haze of pleasure into a more confused state. “Sex is sex. It’s penetrative.” 

“... Sex isn’t just penetrative, Dazai,” you say, baffled. “This is sex. It’s foreplay.”

Dazai stares at you like he doesn’t even know what that word means.

Oh, you realize, heart sinking as you realize why Dazai is so thrown off by all of this. How has he had sex without foreplay? Sex without foreplay is… it’s boring, not enjoyable at all. More animalistic than anything, borderline painful half of the time. Is that what he’s been doing with all of the people he seduces for information? The thought is a bit jarring, but the more you think about it, the more you think it might make sense. 

Dazai is prodigious when he’s given something that he can study and mimic; can execute flawless imitations of the behaviors he’s trying to learn. He learned the art of leadership from observing Mori. The art of war from observing the Colonel’s operations before his death. Adaptability from observing Kouyou during missions. Business from observing Ace’s meetings and transactions. Seduction from observing you interacting with people during events. Dazai is as terrifying as he is because he’s a perfect amalgamation of the entire upper echelon’s best skill sets. He’s adopted Mori’s mannerisms, the Colonel's strategic capability, Kouyou’s ability to adapt to any situation, Ace’s shrewdness with yen, and your charisma. 

If there’s something he can observe, he can mirror it to near perfection.

So, is it really that surprising to you that the front he puts up during events is just an imitation of how you act with people? That it doesn’t translate behind closed doors? That he had nothing to study and nothing to mimic once seduction progressed to the bedroom, so he let whoever he was with take the lead to try to learn from them in the moment? 

That maybe someone would use his ignorance on the subject against him?

Dazai is Dazai, you think, for the fifth time tonight. He doesn’t watch porn, he doesn’t ask people for help, and this isn’t something Mori would have ever taught him—you know that better than anyone. Mori sheltered Dazai from everything, even tried to keep you away from him; he didn’t want anything or anyone to taint the control he had over his precious Demon Prodigy. While you and Chuuya have had the chance to live, experiencing life and the outside world, Dazai’s been stuck under the watchful eye of the boss, hardly ever out of arm’s reach, caged like a circus animal to be put on display whenever Mori sees fit.  

Of course, Dazai would only see it as another way to get the job done, disregarding his own comfort and pleasure—because when does Dazai Osamu ever care for his own comfort and pleasure? He lived in a fucking shipping container until you dragged him out of it. It’s not a thought that casually crosses his mind, and he wouldn’t think twice once he thinks he has an idea of what’s going on. He doesn’t see things the way you do, was never given the opportunity to understand, taught by Mori to see things as tools and means to an end, even himself.

Dazai can see your mind racing. You know he’s going to put together that something is wrong soon if you don’t move on from this. But it’s hard—it’s a bit fucking jarring to realize that Dazai’s so overwhelmed by your touch because every other time he’s had sex, he’s probably been uncomfortable or even in pain. 

You lean down to kiss him again, halting his thoughts. You place two chaste kisses on his lips, sucking his bottom lip gently before kissing his cheek down to his jaw.

“What all have you done with people?” you ask him, sitting back on his thighs, lacing your fingers with his as you look down at him.

Instantly, his face is on fire. “What does it matter?” he demands, but you can feel his fingers tightening around yours.

You roll your eyes at his obstinateness. “Humor me,” you say dryly. “Are you usually the one leading, or is your partner? Are you the one penetrating or-”

Dazai’s grip on your hands becomes almost painful, so you quiet down, giving him an amused look. Maybe it's an awkward subject, but you want to have a vague idea of what he’s been doing before you do anything.

“... partner is,” he finally tells you, hardly looking you in the eye. It’s kind of cute. “... and only when it’s a woman, but she still takes the lead.”

“Do you want to take the lead tonight?” you ask him, running your thumb over his knuckles to try to get him to loosen his grip. 

He does, but only barely.

“Not tonight,” he says after a few moments.

“Not tonight,” you agree. “Did you prefer topping or bottoming?” 

Dazai thinks for a moment and then says, “Topping. Bottoming was…”

You force yourself not to wince, suspicions confirmed by the way he trails off.

You hum, sliding your hands up and down his bandaged sides soothingly, enjoying the way he slowly relaxes beneath your touch. “That can feel good, too,” you tell him. “I can show you that one day if you’d like.”

Dazai’s brows furrow, pointedly looking down at your clothed lower half as if trying to see through them. Your lips quirk up as he says, “But you don’t have a-”

“There are ways to work around that,” you snort, hands finally resting at his hips, drawing circles over his protruding hip bones. 

“… Not tonight,” he finally repeats.

“Not tonight,” you agree again.

You lift your hands back to his cheeks, holding his face between them as you kiss him again. You kiss him deeper this time, rolling your hips against his to make his breath hitch. You drag the tip of your tongue against the roof of his mouth—he tastes like cigarettes and faintly of whiskey. Tastes familiar. Like home.

You think you could kiss Dazai forever and never find yourself sick of it. Kissing him is like a drug, you think again. Kissing him gives you butterflies in a way that you’ve only ever experienced with him when you were sixteen, and giving him his first kiss. 

Kissing him is like coming home after being away for years. 

He kisses you back clumsily, all of the finesse he had earlier in the night long gone. His teeth nearly knock against yours, it’s a bit too wet and a bit too messy, but you think it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. You smile against his lips before pulling away to kiss the corner of his lips, nipping his skin when he lets out a shaky breath against your ear.

Your hands slide down his body to the waistband of his pants, fingers slipping beneath before you look up at him questioningly. “Can I?” you ask him, tilting your head to the side.

“How else are we going to do this?” Dazai counters petulantly.

Brat, you think to yourself, a bit fondly. Thoughts race through your mind but you push them away—maybe another night. You don’t respond to him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for a verbal response.

His cheeks dust pink as he says, “Yes.”

You work quickly to unbutton his pants, patting his thigh so he lifts his hips. You trail kisses down his bandaged chest as you slide off his pants. He’s very responsive to your touch, each kiss makes his breath stutter, you can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls and it only makes you want to watch him fall apart more.

“Are the bandages okay?” Dazai asks after a few moments when you kiss down to his navel. You look up at him, brows furrowed, catching the hesitant expression on his face, dark eye trained on you. “Do you want them off?”

“Do you want them off?” you throw back at him, squinting up at him.

Dazai stares at you for a moment before he shakes his head, a strange expression on his face—you wonder if he was worried you’d ask him to take them off, wonder if his other partners made comments about it, pushed him to remove them. 

You wonder if it’s part of the reason why he avoided you for so long: he wasn’t ready for you to see him without them but thought you would ask him to take them off.

You leave it at that though, returning to kissing down to his hip bone, nipping the skin there and watching how his body jerks a bit in surprise. You let out a puff of laughter against his skin before you ease his briefs off, freeing his cock from where it was straining against the cloth—the soft ones you’d bought him when you’d found his rough, tattered ones in your washing machine a few months after he first moved into your apartment. 

You don’t usually find cocks pretty—they all mostly look the same—but Dazai’s is. Long, not too thick, his tip is flushed a pretty pink color and a vein runs along the underside. He’s leaky too, precum drips down from his tip, right along that vein and you want to taste him, so you do.

You lean in to press your lips against his length, sucking gently on the vein before kissing up to his tip. A bit too salty for your taste, probably because of his shitty diet, but you don’t mind because the pitched moan that tumbles from his lips makes up for the taste entirely. You peek up, breath catching at the sight of his head tossed back against the pillow, swollen lips parted in a pretty moan and long lashes fluttering. He looks stunning, you wish you could take a picture—maybe another night.

You think all of his previous partners have severely missed out.

“Ah,” he gasps. “Shit, shit-”

Even with just your lips wrapped around his tip, you can feel Dazai’s cock twitching in your mouth—you wonder if he’s already on the edge. You can see the way his abdomen is spasming beneath the bandages, how his fingers are curling around the soft sheets beneath him. You don’t want him to finish yet, you want him inside you when he cums, so you only spare a few chaste kisses trailing up and down his length before sitting up straight again. 

Immediately, he tosses you an accusing look. Bottom lip pushed out, cheeks flushed the same pretty pink as his tip. “Why-”

You silence him by pressing your lips against his. This kiss is lewder than your last, you push the bit of precum you’d gathered on your tongue into his mouth as you unbutton your own slacks. He makes a noise into your mouth but you don’t pull away until you feel him swallow. You smile against his lips before you pull back to slip off your own pants, watching his face twist.

“Yuck,” he says, wrinkling his nose and sticking out his tongue. “Tastes bad.”

“Have been telling you to start eating more fruits and vegetables,” you tell him, flicking his thigh as you shimmy out of your slacks and toss them to the side. “You don’t listen.”

The smile he tosses up at you is familiar, a welcome change from the distress and confusion that’s been plaguing him most of the night. “You’ve been thinking about what my cum tastes like for that long? Pervert.”

“More like I’ve been thinking about how high your cholesterol must be with how much canned crab and buttered bread you eat,” you say dryly, returning to where you’d been straddling his waist.

You lift your hands up, beckoning him to take them. He does, reaching up to lace his fingers with yours. A smile curves at your lips as you lean over him, pinning his hands to the mattress on either side of his head as you kiss him again. 

Your chest feels light in a way that it hardly ever does when you’re fucking someone, fluttering in the same way it was when you first kissed him two years ago. Usually when you’re sleeping with someone, it’s all about keeping up appearances. Flirty, sensual, seductive, you’re always more focused on the task at hand than you are enjoying yourself, this is… different. You mean, it always feels good—you know how to make sure it feels good for you while getting the job done—but this…

Feels like home, you think again. Being with Dazai feels like home and it scares you a bit because he’s so flighty and unpredictable but you push away the fear to kiss him harder. You have him now, that’s what matters.

“I like canned crab and buttered bread.” Dazai pouts as he mumbles against your lips.

“Shut up,” you tell him.

You feel him smile and you know you’re not going to like what he’s about to say so you cut him off by reaching down to position his cock at your entrance. Instantly, he chokes over a moan and your lashes flutter, feeling him slide between your folds. 

Shit, you hadn’t even realized how wet you were, too caught up in trying to make sure Dazai was feeling good, but now with the feeling of the tip of his cock pressed against your clit and his length firm against your core, your abdomen feels all hot and tight, head fuzzy.

You keep your forehead pressed to his, noses nudging, sharing the same sliver of air as you roll your hips, letting out a soft moan against his lips when his tip presses against your hole. Each breath he lets out hitches into a soft whine at the end, a glassy look to his eye. You don’t sink down on him yet, feeling how his grip on your hands tightens, how his breath becomes shuddered and his gaze becomes lidded.

You wonder maybe if he can cum just from the feeling of his tip pushing inside you—maybe another night.

“Please,” he breathes out for the second time tonight and who are you to deny him?

You don’t kiss him as you sink down on his cock, eyes fluttering shut when you feel how his cock stretches your walls—you want to hear him, hear the way he gasps, the way his breath catches, you want to hear his moans and whimpers. He tries to chase your lips but you keep them just out of reach until he gives up, fingers tightening around yours and hips jerking up.

“‘s so tight,” Dazai gasps as you rock your hips slowly against his. “Feels s’good.”

“Yeah?” you press, breathless. 

You distract yourself from the rapidly spreading heat by kissing his neck, letting go of one of his hands to bring it to his cheek, watching as he instinctively leans into your touch, hardly able to hold his eye open. He presses a sloppy kiss to your palm, hand coming up to hold yours to his face.

“Yeah,” he says shakily, lashes drooping and lips parting in another silent moan. “Feels…”

“Feels what?” you ask him, kissing the other side of his neck before trailing wet kisses up to his opposite cheek, feeling him shudder as you tug his earlobe.

“Right,” Dazai tells you, dark eye glazed over as he looks at you, lips wet and swollen and so entirely kissable that you can’t help yourself from leaning down to steal another from him. “Feels right.”

You wonder if Dazai feels just as at home with you as you do with him and that thought is enough to make you rock your hips. 

The noise that Dazai lets out is obscene and pornographic, pitched and breathy. You can hardly appreciate the lewd expression on his face—his hair matted to his forehead, eyes half-rolled back and lips parted in a pretty ‘o’—because the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls nearly has you tumbling over the edge.

Shit, you think to yourself, desperately trying to rein in the rapidly building pleasure. Shit, what the fuck?

You never cum this quickly—usually you have to slip your hand between the sweat slicked bodies of you and your partner to rub circles around your clit so you can bring yourself over the edge at the same time as him. You don’t think you’ve ever come from penetration alone—but the stretch of Dazai’s cock, the feeling of his tip bullying deep into your cunt, the sound of skin on skin and his pretty moans, it all goes right to your head and to your pussy, the telltale signs of your thighs tensing and your abdomen tightening warning you that you’re close already.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, voice shaky. “You’re so…”

You don’t even know what you're trying to say, mind becoming increasingly more empty of thought as you rock your hips again, setting a steady pace. Dazai chokes over air beneath you, the hand still intertwined with yours squeezing hard while the other one drops from the hand you have on his face to claw the bed sheets.

You feel his cock twitch inside you, the way his moans are becoming louder and lewder, the way his head falls to the side, face half pressed into the pillow, eyes knocked back, body arched. Dazai’s already so gone that you think any second he’ll cum deep inside of you and that thought alone makes your body shudder. 

You grab the hand clawing at the bed sheets, guiding it between your bodies as you bounce on his cock. You can feel his hazy gaze trying to figure out what you’re doing but you’re more focused on guiding his finger to rub circles around your clit.

As soon as the pressure is placed on the sensitive nub, your hips are stuttering and a gasp is tearing from your lips. Dazai’s choking when he feels your walls spasm around him, hips thrusting up erratically to meet each of your rocks, but he’s just barely coherent enough to keep his finger rubbing circles on your clit.

Your breath becomes heavy and shaky, the pace of your hips quickening, fire spreads through you so rapidly that it’s impossible to control.

“I’m gonna-” you gasp when you feel yourself tipping over the edge, eyes trying to focus on Dazai’s face and the sight you’re met with is enough to push you over the edge.

Dazai’s jaw is slack, drool pooling at the corner of his lips, the white of his eye just barely visible, cheeks flushed a deep red. He's babbling out incoherent words: you can just barely make out your name, s’good, too tight, too much, and I’m gonna-

And then you’re choking over your own moan when you feel Dazai finish inside of you, cum warm and heavy as he fucks it deep in your cunt. His lithe body trembles beneath you, tense and arched, holding your hand so tight that you think he might break it, and your vision goes white as you cum on his cock, mind blank when the taut cord snaps within you, nails digging into Dazai’s skin.

Dazai’s cock is still twitching inside of you when you slump onto his chest, tremors still spreading through his body. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips against his jaw before sliding off of him, laying on the bed next to him. You feel empty without him inside you but you distract yourself by lifting your hand to his cheek again, tilting it to the side and forcing him to look at you.

More emotion swims in Dazai’s eye than you’ve seen him express in the entire two years you’ve known him, he looks at you so reverently that you can almost imagine three words spilling from his lips, breathy and adoring. You know he won’t say them, but it’s a nice thought, you think. You lean in to ghost your lips against his briefly, the tips of your fingers carding through his dark curls. You want to say something but you don’t know what.

Well. You do know what but you can’t say it.

“You wanted me soooooo bad,” Dazai finally says, a bit more clarity returning to his eye as his lips curl up. “I knew it, you wanted me so bad.”

“You’re so annoying,” you tell him but your voice is fond and you can’t help yourself from shifting forward to press your lips against his. You feel him smile against your lips and that warm, fluttery feeling returns.

Home. 

“You love it,” Dazai sings, nipping your cheek. 

A bit longingly, you think, I do.

Instead, you roll on top of him to straddle his hips, pressing your lips against his again. 

“You wish.”

[ashwhowrites]

Hi, I just want to say that I adore your writing. I want to ask if you could write a Billy x reader fic, where reader is part of hellfire and Billy develops a crush on the reader to the point where Max is irritated by how lovesick he is. Max tells him to ask her out as it’s obvious that he likes her but Billy makes up an excuse which causes Max to roll her eyes and tell him to grow up. Billy asks the reader out and it turns out that she likes him too and it turns out that they have a lot in common (for example their shared love of metalica). On the Monday following the date during lunch Jason starts picking the hellfire table and calls them all freaks, Billy gets protective over the reader and punches him telling him to stay the hell away from his girl. This probably isn’t the best idea but if you do choose to write it, I can’t wait to read it

I hope this is what you were hoping for and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting and your kind words<3

Not freaks

When Max first wanted to join Hellfire, Billy laughed his ass off. She rolled her eyes and scoffed. She didn't want to tell him or deal with him making fun of her, but she needed to be picked up. She'd seen Eddie drive, and she didn't want any part of that. He made Billy look like a safe driver.

Billy didn't agree, but he didn't have a choice. He knew Neil would lose his head if something happened to Max. He was smacking his steering wheel as he jammed out to Metallica. His speakers were loud and he was smoking his cigarette.

"Bye Max! See you tomorrow, tell your ride a great song" Billy threw out his cigarette, unlocking his door as he looked toward the passenger side. Max slid in as she waved off to a girl. A girl Billy never noticed before. He slightly leaned towards Max to see her but Max shoved him.

"Space! Jeez," Billy rolled his eyes at her comment and watched as the girl walked to her car. Even from the back of her head, she had Billy's attention, in more ways than one.

~~~

Billy couldn't recognize the girl and it was driving him insane, but he'd never ask Max. He didn't need her knowing his business or ruining his chance. He paid more attention in the hallways and his classes, searching around to see if he could spot her. But he never did.

"Hellfire ends at eight, so don't be late!" Max demanded, throwing on her backpack. Billy rolled his eyes and went to make a smart remark when that same girl walked up.

"Hey, Max! Are you ready for tonight? I sense Eddie is preparing to destroy all of us." Billy felt himself smiling as the girl giggled. His blue eyes checked her out, taking in her jeans and black sweater. Her black boots gave her a few inches as she ruffled Max's hair.

"Not like he can. We have the control." Max scoffed, she refused to ever seem weak around boys.

Billy coughed as loud as he could, knocking his knuckles on the car hood. Max rolled her eyes and turned around.

"Yes?" She hissed

Billy tried to signal what he wanted, nodding his head towards the girl. Max glared as she turned back.

"This is my asshole brother, Billy," Max announced with a bored tone. Crossing her arms as she smirked back at Billy.

"Y/N." She said, smiling politely as she nodded to him. Billy smirked and nodded back.

"You're the guy with the good music taste." She said, remembering the song that blasted way too loud through his speakers.

"And you're the pretty girl that recognized good taste." Billy smacked on his charming smile, loving how she smiled to the ground at the compliment.

"Gag," Max said, grabbing Y/N's hand and dragging her into the building.

~~~

"Tell me about Y/N" Billy demanded as he took the spot next to Max at the kitchen table. She looked up from her textbook with an annoyed sigh.

"Senior, hot, edgy, sadly your type, and even worse you are hers," Max said, shivering in fake disgust.

"But she's a hellfire freak?" Billy asked. "She doesn't seem to be freakish."

Max rolled her eyes, as usual. "Hellfire doesn't make you a freak, asshole. She's creative and is a damn good player. If anyone took the time to understand how DnD works, you'd realize it's not a freak show. Plus she'd kick your ass if you ever called her or any of us that."

"Is she single?" Billy asked, Max swore he almost looked nervous.

"If she had a boyfriend I would have said that, dingus." Max hissed, slamming her book shut. "I'd like to study in peace."

~~~

Billy had a sense of pride hearing Max say that he was Y/N's type. He honestly never cared to chase a girl, but he kept wondering about her.

During lunch he looked toward the freak hellfire table, seeing her smile. Billy couldn't help but stare, she was a magnet. She was single, but was she into any of them? Billy's eyes set on Eddie, a guy who had long hair like Billy did. A guy who wore leather like Billy did. Listened to cool bands like Billy did. If Billy was her type, would Eddie be too? He watched as she giggled and smacked Eddie's arm. His arm was thrown over her shoulder as he snacked on her fries. Billy took a mental note to ask Max about it.

~~~

"Dudeeeeee, you've asked about her every single day for the past week. Just ask the damn girl out." Max huffed, another night of Billy asking questions. She hated that he was a player and she had to deal with endless girls in her house. But somehow lovesick Billy was even worse.

"Her and I have barely had an interaction. She's not going to say yes to a stranger, Max!" He argued.

"You're not a stranger. I introduced you."

"In a horrible way might I add." Billy said as he glared down at her.

"Oh, whatever. I'm sure she's heard all about you around the halls." Max said, flipping through the TV. Her words made Billy a tad nervous. What if she was turned off by him because of his asshole and fuck boy act. Max looked over at him as he got silent. Her eyes looked over him. He almost looked nervous again.

"Look, you got a reputation and she might not be into that. But if you do like her and are serious about dating not just fucking. I think she'd hear you out." Max said softly, she stood up and patted his back as a sort of comfort. He smiled at the gesture and her words.

"What's her number?"

~~~

Max stood in Billy's door frame laughing as he raced around his room to find out what to wear. He tore apart his closet and dresser.

"Dude, it's a date. Grab jeans and a shirt that isn't unbuttoned all the way." Max advised.

Billy grabbed a classic T-shirt and his favorite jeans, pushing Max out of his room as he closed the door. He got dressed and covered himself in cologne. He hated that he was nervous.

~~~

"Billy I suck at this!" She groaned as she tossed the tiny ball. Billy laughed next to her, winning her skeeball challenge.

"Then why did you make it a competition?"

"Because I'm usually good at everything!" She huffed. Billy smiled at her pout and came behind her.

"Here, let me help." He tried not to melt when he smelled her sweet perfume. His hand covered hers as he swung her arm back.

"Follow this motion, then let the ball go." He instructed, he moved her arm back and forward. Her hand released the ball and went up the ramp. The ball finally made it in.

"YES!" She cheered, turning around as she hugged Billy. Her excitement was contagious as he spun her around.

Once she landed back on her feet, she realized how close their faces were. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned down. His soft lips pressed against hers.

~~~

Billy was still buzzing from the date. A smile on his face as he walked into school. Even Max could notice how happy he was.

He was reading through a car magazine in the cafeteria. Ignoring the commotion around him. Until he heard her voice.

He snapped his head up to see Jason at their table, running his mouth about the freaks and other names in the book. Billy took a deep breath and stood up. He walked over to the table as Y/N stood up and got in Jason's face.

"What are you gonna do, freak bitch?" Before Y/N could even speak, Billy grabbed Jason's shoulder and turned him around. His right fist connected with Jason's jaw, sending him straight to the floor.

"BILLY!" she gasped, grabbing his arm and moving him away. Teachers rushed to check on Jason.

"Talk about my girl or hellfire again, and I'll make sure you can never get back up." Billy hissed.

The hellfire table sat shocked that Billy Hargrove stood up for them. Y/N smiled at her boyfriend and Eddie gave him an approved nod.

Max smiled as she finally saw Billy in a new light, a happy Billy.

[honeydazai]

୨୧·࣭࣪̇˖ taking care of you when you're sick

feat.: Dazai, Chūya, Ranpo, Fyodor, Nikolai, Sigma

warnings: none!

join my tag list here! 🪻

The moment you fall sick, DAZAI gets all the more annoying, obnoxious to the core as he whines about how unfair it is that you're sick and he's not — translating to “that you don't have to go to work and he does”. He might just use your sickness as an excuse to stay at home himself; after all, when you're in this critical of a condition, he has to be by your side at all times, right? Just in case of an emergency. Surely Kunikida and the President agree.

Taking care of others or even of himself isn't what he's particularly good at, though he will pretend to be absolutely certain about cuddling being a certain cure for any illness. If you threaten to give him the cold shoulder otherwise, he'll also go to the pharmacy and buy you medication, though he will either complain about it, or he'll play it up to be his God-given mission to save his stunning girlfriend's life.

“Hm? What do you mean, bella? Of course I've got the President's 'okay' for staying at home. Taking care of you is most important, after all, don't you agree? .. Don't be mean, I am taking care of you. I made you tea just now, didn't I?"

CHŪYA really doesn't like it whenever you're sick. While he's faced a handful of way more threatening situations before, he can't help but worry when you whine about your head hurting and your throat aching, about your stomach acting up or your vision blurring. It's not his fault that you're on his mind all day — he just wants you to be well. Is that too much to ask for?

Naturally, that translates to him being awfully good when it comes to him nursing you back to health. He wouldn't describe himself as a natural caretaker, but he is, in a way; he's protective and caring by nature, and he makes sure you're relatively well before he leaves for work every day. You don't just get the best medication on the market, but also energising meals made by him with the help of authentic recipes from elderly women he found online. To not fully lose his image, he half-heartedly complains occasionally, though his words are immediately redeemed by his beaming smile when he notices you're faring better.

“Jeez, that's one annoying cold you've got. It's been, what, like two weeks now and it's still not gone. Whatever. I've found this new soup recipe, though. It looks promising enough, doesn't it? I'll try to make it for dinner.”

RANPO admittedly is rather bad at taking care of you. To be blunt, he much prefers it when you coddle and spoil him, not the other way around, though he tries in his own ways — which mostly include sharing his snacks with you and being near you despite the risk of getting infected himself.

Unfortunately, you're not spared from his usual honesty; when you look downright awful, dark circles underneath your eyes, he will tell you just that. If you flake out on any dates the two of you had planned previously, he will whine, but at least he won't hold a grudge. While he's not particularly committed to being a caretaker, he at least stays by your side and brings you medicine and painkillers.

“You should eat more, y'know. Yes, I know you're nauseous. You've said so about twenty times already. You won't feel any better until you eat and drink enough, though. That's common sense.”

Naturally, FYODOR is more than simply good at taking care of you whenever you fall ill. With his age, it's no wonder that he has quite some experience and knows of many ways to heal you, though some of them might include disgusting homebrewed potions. You're best of just not asking what they're made of if you want to have any chance in downing them.

Unfortunately, his approach to helping you regain your health is more clinical than loving. He takes wonderful care of you, but he's not the type to cuddle with you and whisper sweet nothings in your ear while you're sneezing and coughing. If you ask sweetly enough, however, he might just read you a bedtime story or two.

“What is it, dear? I was just going to get you a new glass of water. .. Ah, I see. Do you really want me to stay that badly? Alright, then. Though me remaining by your side won't give you an excuse to skip taking your medication.”

It's no surprise whatsoever that NIKOLAI is not the most caring guy, simply put, and he might just tease you about being sick throughout the whole ordeal. He can't help it; you glaring at him, exhausted and sneezing, makes him giggle. Still, he's not all bad — he revels all the more in your surprised expression when he presents you with homemade soup, a family recipe, or so he tells you, and he smiles, content, when you admit that it tastes rather lovely.

With his ability, it's easy for him to get whatever you might need, whether that's food or a cup of tea or a bucket to throw up in, from the kitchen without moving from your bedside, so be prepared to spend quite a lot of time with him in the next few days — or weeks. Though, luckily, he's there to entertain you, not the other way around; when you say you want to curl up and just sleep the sickness off, he'll just keep watch next to you, silent and calm. After all, he does want you to feel better.

“Hmm, what did you say? You like my cooking? I'm honoured, doll! You're too kind! How about a quiz about what I put in there — poison, carrots, red beet, or all three? Ah, not feeling up for it, are you? What a shame. It's all three, if you're curious. I'm just kidding, of course. Don't you worry your pretty little head.”

SIGMA is the best choice for who to go to when ill. Not only is he kind and caring, he's also responsible and organised and, if you follow every step he tells you — eat his home-cooked soup, drink this medicine, sleep for as much as possible, take hot or cold compresses, inhale water with herbal essences —, you'll be at full health again in no time.

Even though he unfortunately can't stay at home all day to be by your side — duties at the casino call, even though he'd much rather not go —, he tries to spend as much time as possible with you, telling you about what has happened that day and how much he looked forward to being home with you again while your eyes flutter closed. When you've almost fallen asleep, his lips gently press against your forehead, even if that means he risks getting sick himself.

“Are you feeling better yet? No? Well, that's to be expected. It's only been a day, after all. I've brought you some more medicine, as well as some soup. Here, give it a taste, will you?”

@chxrry-doll @irethepotato @beandaifuku, @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @C4xcocoa

@black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter-uwu @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat

@yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646nsfw @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @senpaible @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @4nthonyyliving @brokeniced @nikolaisdove @dxwnstxr @scinclaitnoir @snips18 @flowzel @satohruu @squigglewigglewoo @rainy-dazie @itzashlyn123 @rheeeeeeeesiees @eggcoreloser @mariaace @mello0cat @warriordemigosworld @thescrunkly @ainegueneres @maroj23 @dazaiserectnips @little-miss-chaoss @saeandscaralover @munch3025 @maidenkikyo

[suguru-getos]

| Bully! Gojo Satoru x F!Reader | Part 4 |

Part: 3 / 2 / 1

Summary: You had just transferred schools, and your first day was an encounter with your new bully. He’s mean, terrifically hot & absolutely a menace. Though there’s more to that personna.

Chapter Summary: After the cafeteria incident, Gojo denies to accept your money in halves, and your primal urges of snapping at him come out after suppressing them for weeks. He’s bored of being a bully because it’s not fun anymore. Why would you give him money like that? Jeez… 🙄

Warnings: Reader is mean and Satoru is mean T_T A/N: Can’t do more than 50 mentions in a post 😭 I’m sorry I will be adding the rest of yall in the comments in the next part. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated. 🥰

Taglist: @mc-reborn @tvdumarvelhpsimp @alula394 @getoxmahito @knanamii @he4rts444mi @localginger22 @animeisforkings @ran6ia @creative1writings @lenaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa @nerdiel-has-no-braincells @zoemaelol @shoutascoffeepot @whydohumansss @nyahctrl @a-trashbag @yoontaedotin @tojisworm-5 @mo0nforme @luciledreamz @camilo-uwu @sassyfoxunknown @bitchyinternetinfluencer @bakananya @mizzowizzo @k1y0yo @bl0odycutz @daidaiseam-blog @flirtyjen @jihyuniepark @stupiditystaar @lu-lynds @aymasakusa @creative1writings @roscpctals99 @eravariety @nanananananaiknow @b4tm4nn @milkm4nz @millimacis @bubera974 @ranhanabi777 @bleachisfood @thealphagirl @pinkprincessglitterzombie @tojisslxtt @chilichopsticks @deegausserr @tremendousdinosaurpizza @shittyhair234 @trisharay13 @luvvmae @tremendousdinasourpizza @stuckinaoaktree @ropickle @onlywaytobesane @mayumemehhh @lovernatashaa @rott3npoetry @ilovebattinson @qxdlx2 @herelegancy @megumisthirdog @k-sv @lyah17 @roscpctals99 @polarbvnny @eyes-ofhell @kazuahhh @theitchbbbb @millimacis @victoria1616

To be honest, your guts were excruciatingly high yesterday. You essentially ruined everything there is. All your efforts & hardwork to get rid of Gojo’s clutches in vain because you couldn’t control your mouth. After kicking the guy down in the cafeteria, you were called by Yaga and suspended. What else did you expect really? A freshmen kicking a senior? Nope. When Satoru does it you’re sure it wouldn’t have anyone bat a single eye to the ordeal. Another grumpy reminder that — you & the Honored one, are different. Satoru didn’t need to prove it himself.

Cowardice and your name are rhymes right now. All that classes for Taijutsu paid off to recover your leftover shred of dignity, however, you couldn’t fathom the expression in Gojo's face. He looked amused, impressed… weird. Satoru looks weird. He didn't respond when you told him to shove the money up his ass. Now you have to walk the talk. Staring at the wall, you try your best to think of a believable excuse to ask your mom for the sum of money. You check your savings, only 700 dollars. You should probably kill yourself. You can't really ask your mother about this… what were you thinking?

The thoughts are cut off by Satoru's blade like voice in your head. God you hate him so much. So much… if you were ever forgiven for a murder, it would be his. Your mind was tired with everything happening and you could feel the force in your heavy lids lulling you in bed. School next day…

You take your 700 dollars with you, you will tell the bastard that you will return the rest of the money tomorrow. Once you're outside Tokyo Tech, you take a deep breath. Walking inside and ready to be mauled. There he was, standing at the entrance and waving pathetically cheerfully. He loves making you suffer doesn't he? You grit your jaw, walking towards him. "Good morning, Gojo san." You could almost choke yourself for adding the honorific.

"Morning lil shit." He muses, leaning in closer to you until his breath fans over your face. "We were bein' a little too bratty yesterday." He muses, and your face lacks colour instantly. His eyes were launched at your frame without a care in the world. He likes making you suffer, doesn't he?

"So?" He clicks his tongue, smirking in his usual charming way, looking at you through his glasses. "Kneel down and apologize, and I'll forgive you. We can start again, no biggie. See? I have such a big heart." You bite your lip, he has no regards for your self-respect whatsoever.

You finally meet his eyes, gathering your courage to withstand his insults once again. "I have uhm, seven hundred dollars with me right now." Oh you look pathetic fiddling with your bag and giving him the cash you saved for your new laptop. "I will return the rest tomorrow." You sound determined, at least your mom wouldn't pay the full sum of it. It would be bearable.

"I can't shove it up my ass s' too less." Satoru laughs, clinging on to what you said to him. He almost feels sick now. This was unnecessarily dragged to the point of no return, he thought you would apologize and beg him to leave you alone, and he would. Then you'd see how amazing he is and why everyone is in love with him. Why girls wish they could go on a date with him pft- even if he talks to them, they feel grateful.

Here you were, holding a sum of money for the richest boy in school, in the city even. "I'll pay you the rest tomorrow." You managed to speak, and Satoru HATES this.

There is a difference between bullying and teasing and abuse. He crossed that line, not backing down because he hoped you would. You're the first one not to. He feels his chest tighten and a pinching in his throat as you hold his wrist, bringing it closer to you and putting the sum of money on his palm.

His baby-blues widen at that, and it feels like the money is practically burning his skin. It's a reflex with which he yanks his hand away. As if its burning him.

"I don't take half-payments." He managed to come up with that pathetic lie, growling and enraged, walking away.

What a fucking cunt… but hey; at least he didn't bother you for the rest of the day.

During the lunch time, you almost feel liberated that you don't have to report to him anymore. His problem he didn't accept the money. His fucking problem. You stood on your words, almost… you will give him the rest of the money tomorrow and be free of him for good. How amazing… how beautiful to imagine that.

Everyone fears him, everyone loves him. What kinda dude even. Maybe he doesn't have any real friends because he bought them all with money. Tsk…

You take your food and walk to the area where your classmates stood. You are like a walking marvel to them, someone who stood up to her senior and kicked his ass. What you don't know is Satoru Gojo ended all chances of revenge coming your way. What does it take? A simple: 'You have beef with her you have beef with me'.

Lunch is… peaceful, until you notice Satoru walking in the cafeteria, drinking Cola and with his pathetic group of friends. They can rot too.

You looked down, evading eye contact is the best way to avoid any unwanted conversations after all.

You were eating secluded, your only friend sitting beside you who doesn't mind being judged to be around you sitting next to you. "Uh oh, he's coming here." She hummed, getting nervous. You sighed, looking at her and holding her hand gently. "Thanks for your company, I can handle from here, I promise." You wouldn't let her be stomped by the Prince charming. She's been kind to you. "Are you sure?" She asked, and you nodded, patting her shoulder.

Before she could lift her plate, Satoru sat next to you. "I don't remember allowing anyone to leave? Did I?" he smiles, all childish, feigning a harmless look. "Sit. Down." He warns and she instantly sits down. You could feel her hands shiver. No, you wouldn't let her be dragged into this.

"What is it? Gojo san." You looked at him, making eye contact. "Just came to check if you had a spine." His hand lands on your nape, touching and probing the spine bone peeking out. "You do, no?"

You shudder, leaning away a little only to have him hold your neck and pull you close, whispering gravely, "If you haven't paid me back then you can't run off from your job, Pet."

You snarled at that nickname again. "I told you to take the fucking money today and tomorrow." Struggling gravely and looking at him like a wounded lion. He's wounded your pride, your self-respect.

"And I said, I do not pick up pennies. Until then, you do what I say." He chuckled, "Or you're dumb and lack common sense?"

It's been weeks. Literal weeks and you're at your breaking point. Frustration bubbles in your eyes and they gloss up. You don't want this jerk to see you like this. Fucking hell you don't!

"What did I even do to you I don't understand…" You mumble, watching him lean his hand away.

At this point things have been too rotten, and Satoru hates to admit but he just wants to hang out. He can't admit that now after raining hell on you and he's too prideful to. It's not fun anymore, it stopped being fun the moment he asked you to fetch ice-cream and the moment you looked at him with 'expected' eyes when he pulled that stunt in the cafeteria.

"You've been a bitch that's all." He shrugs, looking away. His tone surprisingly tender. "Maybe if you can apologize for being one instead of all this drama and cryin' and victim bla-"

A loud smack echoed through the hall, and Gojo's cheeks had your handprint crisp and clear. "I'm fucking sorry I wouldn't suck your cock and wag my tail around you pathetically." Oh you're losing all of the carefully supressed rage, your patience waning off to nothing. You've been supressing and supressing and supressing…. and now it's erupting out. Dangerously.

Tears fall from your eyes as you look at him, "I hate you so much I wish you could just fucking die! Not everyone's as rich as you ASSHOLE! MY MOM WOULD FREAK THE FUCK OUT AND CALL ME A USELESS PIECE OF SHIT FOR BORROWING MONEY ON RUINING SOMEONE'S HIGH CLASS SHIRT! Not everyone's born with a silver spoon!" People look at you and Satoru both judgementally. You know things have sprung out of hand. "You fuckin- GO! GO AND ASK MY MOTHER AND MY FATHER AND MY BROTHER AND EVERYONE IN MY LAST NAME TO PAY MISTER GOJO SATORU BACK BECAUSE HIS SHIRT GOT RUINED AND HE DIDN'T GET AN APOLOGETIC COCKSUCKING BITCH IN RETURN!!"

Before your senses could take over, you took your bottle and put it on his hair, drenching him. You can't let Karma take care of him, you are Karma.

Satoru only stays silent and Suguru snorts from the sidelines. In a weird, sadistically twisted way, he likes what happened. You just removed some of his guilt with this.

"R-right.." He hummed, "Okay so…" He stood up, extending an arm. "Now that we're even. I think we are…. let's restart. Nyeh?"

"Gojo Satoru." He extends his hand, as if he is introducing himself for the first time ever. Your eyes will fall off your fucking sockets and you will die of an awkward mouth-agape heart failure.

What the fuck was wrong with this dude?

"ROT IN HELL!"

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

Could you make a proposal with Dehya, Yae Miko, Candence, Navia and Lisa entering the room with your S/O changing clothes? Like, like they wear clothes that don't show off their body and make it look weak, only for them to have a very muscular body.

(Genshin Impact) Dehya, Yae, Candace, Navia, and Lisa walking into their S/O changing clothes

I'm not muscular at all, but my arms are weirdly strong looking thanks to moving a lot of boxes. My clothes make me look like an absolute stick, though.

Dehya opened the door and saw S/O in the middle of removing their shirt.

(Dehya) "Oops. Sorry, didn't know you were in here."

If they were shy or startled, she would not hesitate to give them space and close the door behind her.

But if they didn't mind, she would at least take a moment to see what they looked like.

Their shirt did a good job concealing of how toned their body actually was. Truthfully, she thought they would have almost nothing on them.

(Dehya) "Jeez, how were you able to hide that from me the entire time?"

She certainly appreciates how strong S/O seemed. It wasn't a bad view either.

Yae opens the door pretty much without warning, and simply smiling as she saw S/O changing clothes.

She leans against the door and watches. Yae doesn't budge, regardless if they were shy or not.

(Yae) "My, there's quite nothing left to the imagination now. I will also say, you're better built than I had presumed you'd be."

Her smirk seems to grow at that comment, her eyes taking in the muscles they were hiding.

Now that she knew they were strong, she'd probably have S/O carry a lot of things for her.

There was no excuse, S/O was strong and that meant they could take the labor!

...Among other things.

Candace knew S/O was strong, you had to be if you wanted to survive long in the desert.

What she didn't expect underneath their shirt was for them to be nearly as strong as her.

Candace had accidentally walked into their room too fast as they were changing.

After admiring the view for a few seconds, she has a faint blush to her cheeks as she respectfully turns away.

Regardless of their personality, she doesn't wish to snoop on them, and closes the door just as quickly.

(Candace) "Apologies, I'll come back in when you're finished."

She definitely wants to know where they got their muscles from, since the clothes they wore really only displayed their arms and nothing else.

Navia almost yelps the moment she opens the door to the bathroom and saw that they were changing.

S/O was only changing their shirt, which was both a relief and slightly disappointing to Navia.

But then she realized that, dang, S/O was ripped.

The clothes they normally wore did indicate they were at all!

(Navia) "W-Wow...You look great! AHEM! L-Let me know when you're done!"

If her S/O was on the shyer side, she'd quickly blurt out an apology, while still staring at them for a few more seconds.

She shuts the door and hides her face with her hat.

It wasn't a sight that was going to leave her mind anytime soon.

Not that it was entirely a problem.

Lisa hums in approval of the sight of S/O changing clothes.

(Lisa) "Looking good as always, darling.~"

She is particularly amused if her S/O would get flustered by her coming in, but she has no strong reaction.

Other than eyeing them up and down with a smile.

Lisa wished that S/O had told her sooner that they were so strong. It would have made moving some books in the library far easier.

But hey, now she knew for future reference!

Plus, it'd be an excuse to watch them in action. But she could probably think of better ways to see them without their shirt on than just work.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟸𝚔 || 𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐘 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You assume Luke and Jess are sexist when they say you can't assemble a chair.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: None except loads of fluff

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: Jess Mariano x reader

It was a busy day at Luke’s Diner. The place was packed, and Luke, always a stickler for doing things himself, had accepted a delivery of new chairs that needed to be assembled. Naturally, Lorelai had dragged you in with the promise of coffee and pancakes, which quickly turned into you offering to help.

"Okay, so these are the parts," you said, staring down at the instruction sheet in front of you. "This doesn't look too bad."

Lorelai leaned in, glancing over your shoulder. "You say that now, but just wait until you're drowning in screws and bolts."

"Great, so optimistic," you replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes.

As you started unpacking the parts, Luke wandered over. "Y/N, you sure you got this? These chairs are heavy. I usually handle this kind of thing myself."

You frowned, pausing mid-screw. "What’s that supposed to mean?"

Luke blinked, confused. "I just mean, you know… It’s heavy lifting."

Your frown deepened, and Lorelai was already smirking, sensing the impending storm.

"That’s so sexist of you, Luke!" you said, standing up straighter, putting your hands on your hips. "What? You think just because I’m a woman, I can’t handle it?"

Luke stammered, "No, no! I didn’t say that—"

You cut him off, pointing the screwdriver in his direction. "Yes, you did! You basically just said, 'Y/N, you can’t do it.' So rude."

Just then, Jess strolled in from the storage room, looking as nonchalant as ever, a book tucked under his arm. "What’s going on here?"

You spun around to face him. "Jess! Defend my honor!"

Jess quirked a brow, glancing between you and Luke. "From what?"

"From Luke's blatant sexism!" you exclaimed. "He doesn't think I can assemble these chairs."

Luke muttered something about his words being taken out of context, but you ignored him.

Jess chuckled, leaning against the counter. "Well… to be fair, I don’t think you can do it either."

You stared at him, aghast. "Excuse me? Are you guys just going to assume that a woman can’t do this?"

His lips quirked up into that infuriatingly smug smile he was so good at. "It's not about being a woman or not. A woman can definitely do it," he said, pausing dramatically, "but you? I’m not so sure."

Your jaw dropped, and you grabbed the nearest thing—an old magazine from the table—and swatted him with it. "You're the worst! Take it back!"

Jess dodged the hit with a smirk, not even trying to hide his amusement. "You’re cute when you're mad, you know that?"

"Oh, you think so?" You raised the magazine again, your eyes narrowing. "Well, get ready because I'm about to become fucking adorable."

Jess laughed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! I'm just kidding. Jeez, Cherry."

Lorelai, watching the whole interaction with great interest, nudged Luke. "See? They're made for each other."

Luke grunted. "They're made for driving me crazy."

You crossed your arms, glaring at Jess. "You're gonna help me finish these chairs, Mariano, or I'll make sure you regret it."

Jess shrugged, still grinning. "Sure, whatever you say. Just… try not to break anything."

You shot him a withering look, but inside, you couldn't help the little flutter of excitement you always got when Jess teased you like this. He was impossible, and yet, you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

As you two got to work—Jess actually offering helpful tips here and there—Lorelai sighed dramatically from the booth. "I give it six months before these two are married."

Luke glanced at her, unimpressed. "I give it two weeks before they’re banned from this diner."

You and Jess exchanged a quick look as you muttered, "Fine," giving Jess another playful shove as he handed you the next screw. "But I’m still mad at you."

Jess leaned in, his voice soft and teasing. "You look adorable when you’re mad."

You huffed, trying not to smile. "I hate you."

"Sure you do," he whispered, grinning as he bumped your shoulder, "and I think you're adorable too."

I am having a cherry flavored lollipop right now and I just realized Jess is MADE to say the nickname 'cherry'. 🍒

[percheduphere]

CONSIDER:

Mobius gets shot on the field. The Avengers have apprehended Loki believing he's the reason behind the attack. They place magic-dampening cuffs around his wrists. Loki begs to see Mobius. Thor senses there is something different about Loki. He convinces the Avengers to acquiesce. They agree but only with their supervision. Loki approaches Mobius's bedside in the hospital. He takes Mobius's right hand into both of his, squeezing his fingers. Mobius's eyes flutter. He wakes.

LOKI: Mobius!

MOBIUS: (smiling) Nice to see you, too. Jeez, and I thought pruning felt-- (His eyes drop to their joined hands.) --wait, are those CHAINS?

LOKI: Well ...

MOBIUS: Why does this always happen to you? Why are you always someone's hostage? You wear shackles like candy bracelets! Does it hurt? Are you okay?

LOKI: Am I okay? Mobius. You were shot!

The Avengers' eyes bounce between Loki and Mobius.

MOBIUS: And as you can see, I am already receiving proper medical attention. You on the other hand--

LOKI: Oh, please. This is all for show to make those idiots feel safe. You're the one who's lost over a liter of blood!

MOBIUS: Which is currently being replaced by this handy-dandy IV line! Loki. You've been carrying the multiverse on your back for the last, what? Four, five eons now? When was the last time you felt comfortable?!

LOKI: That is different. I am a--

MOBIUS:--God? Really? I had no idea! Y'know just because you have a high pain tolerance doesn't mean you're supposed to tolerate the pain! (He peeks over Loki's shoulder, making eye contact with Bruce Banner) Excuse me? Hi, hey, you must be Dr. Banner. Pleasure to meet you. Listen, could you do me a favor and remove those, please?

LOKI: You're impossible. I'm calling the nurse.

MOBIUS: While you're at it, ask her to get a goddamn ice pack for your goddamn wrists!

LOKI: URGH! I am good now and I will not be damning anything! (he stomps off)

[raven-dor]

you and i

in which steve and his best friend since 4th grade graduate

PAIRING: steve harrington x reader

WARNINGS: given last name, established relationship, like one swear word, fluff

WORD COUNT: 2,284

AN: 100 followers!! Thank you all so much; I literally could not have done this without you!! Here's a little Steve Imagine I wrote a while ago!! I hope you enjoy it, and here's to 100 more!!

pt.2

"Steve! Hurry up! I can't be late!"

Y/N sat on Steve's bed, waiting impatiently for him to finish his hair. She knew that his literal hours of styling would inevitably get damaged underneath the hideous caps they had to wear, but Steve still insisted.

So there they were, ten minutes before they had to be at the school, and Steve was still doing his hair.

"Jeez! Relax Y/N/N. We still have-" He looked at his clock. "Shit."

Y/N walked into the bathroom and crossed her arms, smirking. "Yeah. Shit."

He turned around and grinned. "Well, well, well. Don't you look like Little Miss Valedictorian."

She smiled shyly at him for a moment. Her white dress peeked out from beneath her dark green robe, which was covered with tassels, each one another achievement that Steve had proudly watched her earn. National Honor Society, Student Government, Music Honors. The list goes on and on.

Y/N scrunched her eyebrows, laughing at her best friend. "You're an odd duck, Harrington."

"That's why you love me."

She glared at him, tapping her wrist, even though she didn't have a watch. "You done?"

He shoved his comb in his drawer, and turned back around, walking past her quickly. "Let's go!"

Y/N grabbed her shoes and cap and followed after her best friend. Mrs.Harrington beamed, and Y/N tried to pretend that the older woman was always this happy for her son.

She couldn't remember the last time she had seen Mrs. Harrington in person; it must have been almost five years ago.

"Look at you two," she walked up to Steve and pinched his cheeks. "I remember when you first started kindergarten."

Steve whined, pulling away. "Mom!"

His mother rolled her eyes. "Stand up straight, and try to look presentable. I want to take a photo."

Steve groaned, and Y/N put her hand on his shoulder, whispering in his ear teasingly. "Do what your mother says, Steven."

He pushed her away, sticking his tongue out.

Y/N stood aside as Mrs.Harrington took several polaroids of her son. She looked at Y/N, ushering her to her son's side. "Get over here."

"Yes ma'am."

She shuffled beside Steve and leaned in.

"Say cheese!"

"Cheese!"

Steve looked down at the last moment, Y/N completely oblivious to the fact that he was looking at her. She was honestly focused on trying not to look like a total disaster.

"Okay, one more, and then you can go."

Steve put his arm around her shoulders, leaning his head on hers.

"Say cheese one more time!"

Steve smirked. "Cheese one more time!"

The King of Hawkins High clapped his hands and grabbed his car keys, pulling Y/N along with him. "See you, Mom!"

"Bye, darling! Bye, Steve!"

Y/N giggled as she got into the passenger's seat. "I'm darling."

"You're a twerp is what you are. Now buckle up. You are not going to be late." He had a weird glint in his eyes. "Not if I can help it."

"It really doesn't matter that much!" But Steve ignored her, going fifteen over the speed limit immediately after pulling out of his driveway.

Thank God for Steve's car. They made it just barely, and Y/N and Steve pushed their way to the front of the line. "Excuse us!"

Steve pushed through. "Move you, shitheads!" Steve shoved another one of his annoying ass peers and then came face to face with horror itself. "Mrs. Click."

"Mr. Harrington." She looked slightly less dismal as she turned to Y/N. "Ms. Wilkins."

She smiled guiltily. "Mrs. Click. We're here."

"So I can see." She handed them two index cards. "Fill out your names phonetically so the announcers don't pronounce them wrong." She walked slightly down the line before turning back around. "Congratulations, you two." She pursed her lips, and they both could have sworn she was smiling. "You weren't the worst students I ever had."

Steve shivered and looked at Y/N. "On that bright side we don't ever have to take a class with her again." He grinned. "Can I borrow your pen?"

She dropped it in his palm and turned to the front, straightening her posture and taking deep breaths. She ran through her speech in her head, how she would smile, how- Pomp and Circumstance began. She clenched her fist, and Steve grabbed her hand, rubbing the back, and slowly her fist fell open. Steve straightened his cap while simultaneously holding her hand tightly, kissing the back. "We got this, Y/N/N."

The walking across the field was fast enough, but the time from that and to her speech felt like an eternity. "And now, our class Valedictorian, Y/N Wilkins."

Steve yelled at the top of his lungs, the crowd giving a polite clapping volume. She could hear two other voices screaming at the top of their lungs and knew exactly who they were. She stood up and walked calmly to the stage. She shook the hand of their principal and took a deep breath, looking down at Steve, who was staring up at her proudly.

"Welcome friends, parents, loved ones, and staff to the graduation of the Class of 1985." There were cheers from the students. "We couldn't have made it here without you." She took a breath. "Hawkins High has been for us all, the best or worst time of our lives." Chuckles echoed throughout the student body. "But even then, our lives have been changed. We've grown, learned, and made lifelong friends. We've had relationships and friendships develop and crumble within minutes."

She smiled. "And for most of my peers, Hawkins has been their home for their whole lives. They've known each other since pre-k, and many interactions you observe show you. But I moved to Hawkins in fourth grade. I used to live in New York City. I loved it there, it was like a giant playground. But after my father passed away, my mother and aunt decided to move back to their hometown, Hawkins Indiana. I have to say, I was upset at first. Who wouldn't be? Being ripped from what you've known your whole life is difficult. But as soon as I sat down at my table in Mrs.Davidson's fourth-grade class, I instantly felt better. I'm sure many of you are very confused right now. Let me set the tone." Y/N laughed. "It's 1976, and this classroom is bustling with noise. Mrs. Davidson is trying to settle her class down, except for two. A girl who was staring sadly down at her desk, and a boy who threw his hand out, waiting for her to shake it. Steve Harrington-" The crowd murmured, some yelling praise for the King of Hawkins.

"Held out his hand, and after that, he never left me alone." Steve scoffed but kept smiling at the stage. "After eight years of school together, he has remained one of my best friends. He's helped me through many of my life's problems. Tests, driving lessons, my mothers..." Her eyes welled up. "Disappearance, and most recently, college." Steve knew what else she wanted to add to this list. Fighting against the Upside Down had made them closer than ever if that was even possible.

"He has helped me more than he could ever know. He's made me braver, faster, in the wittiest sense, and happier. The only thing he hasn't improved is my humor." The crowd laughed. "Sorry, Steve, but I have superior taste in comedy. In my opinion, Steve Harrington is the best example of Hawkins. He's kind, funny, and empathetic. He exemplifies the very best this town has to offer." She smiled at Steve, putting a hand over her heart. "I don't know if I've been changed for the better, but because I met you, I've definitely been changed for good." Steve grinned brightly up at the stage. "Alright, I'm almost done. I want to thank my family. Aunt Claudia, thank you for treating me like one of your own, even when I don't like it. Dustin, my favorite middle schooler. Also my cousin. You are the smartest person I know, and the best confidant." Y/N took a deep breath and smiled lightly, glancing out at the field full of her old classmates, teachers, and friends. "Thank you for your hospitality, Hawkins. You will forever be my home."

They'd finally graduated. Y/N pushed her way through the crowd, Steve holding onto her arm for dear life.

"Dusty!"

She grabbed Dustin and hugged him tightly.

"Y/N/N! I can't breathe."

She let go. "Sorry, bud."

Dustin walked up to Steve and held out his hand. Steve smirked, and then she saw the weirdest shit she had ever seen.

Their handshake.

"What the hell?"

Y/N turned around, fully prepared to scold someone. "Oh hey, guys."

Max, Mike, and Lucas stood behind her.

"Nice speech."

Y/N laughed. "Thanks, Wheeler."

"Congrats, Y/N."

"Thank you, Max."

"You were very cheesy, Y/N/N."

She rolled her eyes lovingly, running up to them with open arms. "Thank you, Lucas." Mike squirmed, Max laughing at him. He yelled out. "Y/N/N, let us go!"

She huffed and let go begrudgingly. "I love you too, Micheal."

Steve cleared his throat, and Y/N turned around. He smiled and put his arm around her shoulders. "Let's get out of here."

"Already ahead of you."

She slipped out of his hold (and her heels) and smiled. "Race ya!"

She ran as fast as she could, Steve catching up to her in no time. Dustin groaned, and Max laughed at her friend's annoyance. "What's wrong, Dusty? Mad that your cousin is falling in love?"

Dusty crossed his arms. "Not at all. She's been in love. I'm just mad that they are both so oblivious."

Max turned back, smiling at the running teenagers. "I bet they're gonna get together this summer." Dustin nodded in agreement.

Lucas and Mike squinted their eyes and looked at their friends like they had three heads.

"They've been doing this for two years..."

Lucas finished his sentence for him. "So who's to say they won't keep doing it?"

Max stared at her boyfriend. "Because I'm not letting them. I'm sick of it, and I've only been here for a year."

Dustin nodded. "Imagine knowing both of them for basically your whole life."

The stars twinkled above the pair as they reminisced over the funniest memories of their times at school. She tried to breathe; she'd laughed so much that her stomach was starting to hurt. "Remember when- when Tommy slipped and fell into Joan's puke?"

Steve started laughing hysterically, the memory evoking a childlike joy he hadn't felt in a while. "And then—then Carol tried to help him, and slipped, pulling him out?"

She took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Staring up, she became entranced by the night sky.  "The stars are really pretty tonight."

Steve smiled at the way her eyes lit up. "They are." He lay beside her, eyes fixed on the moon. "We haven't done this in a while."

Y/N nodded, leaning her head on Steve's shoulder. She didn't want to ruin this moment, but if she didn't tell him now, she'd never tell him.

"I need to tell you something. Something important."

His heart stopped. Was she- No, she wouldn't. He had to be the first to, and besides, he didn't even know if she liked him. He kept his eyes on the sky, too afraid to look at his best friend. "Tell me something."

"I-" Y/N sat up. She decided to look down at her feet so that she wouldn't look at his distracting chocolate eyes and actually get to the point. "I got into NYU."

His heart stuttered and then began pacing normally. He sat up beside her, grinning. "You did?"

She nodded, also grinning. "I did."

"You did!" He stood up, pulling her alongside him. "NYU! That's your dream school, Y/N/N!" He hugged her. "I'm so proud of you."

She sighed, overwhelmed with the smell of his shirt. "I'm really excited! I just..." She let go, still hugging Steve loosely around his waist. "I didn't tell you when I found out because..."

"Because?"

"I was scared of how you'd react."

He scrunched his eyebrows. "Why would you be scared?"

She broke herself out of his embrace and started pacing around the roof. "I don't know. I guess I was afraid that you'd feel like I was leaving you, and I didn't want to make you..."

He interrupted. "You didn't want to make me feel bad, is that it?"

Y/N nodded slowly, and Steve rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand and pulling her to him. "You would never make me feel bad. You deserve this. And you're going to do amazing."

She smiled, burying her face into his chest. "Thank you."

He laughed. "Besides, I'll be fine. I got an interview with an ice cream shop that's opening up in the mall, and their starting pay is 8 dollars an hour."

She looked up. "Are you kidding me? Holy shit Harrington!" It was her turn to jump around, hugging him. "That's awesome! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He rolled his eyes. "Well, why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Touche."

He sat down, and they got comfortable again, staying close underneath their shared blanket. For warmth purposes, of course. Steve sighed, leaning his head on hers.

"You don't need to worry over little old me. I'll be just fine."

She hummed and closed her eyes. "It's my job, Harrington."

She felt like she was in fourth grade again.

[spaghettitm]

I WANNA GIVE YOU SOMETHING FUN! maybe Charlie and Pim both having a crush on the reader? And different routes if the reader chooses one of them or both? (This is kind of an excuse to get Charlie and Pim headcanons 😵)

AHHHHHHH YES OH MY GOD . Excuse the fact that it kind of seems like a shitty Wattpad story from 2020, my sincere apologies

Also pretty sure this is my longest one I've written... lucky you!

——

• You got the job right after Halloween, you had hit it off with Mr. Boss and he offered you a spot at the smiling friends!

• your first day was smooth, everyone was nice. The job was simple, just make people smile! This would become a challenge the more jobs you did, but for now it was easy.

• You got along well with everyone, especially the other two people who went out with you on the job—Pim and Charlie

• They both had their pros and cons; Charlie was funny but could be rude and moody now and then. While Pim was super sweet and fun to be around, he was a bit overwelming at times.

• as the weeks passed you grew closer to the two. But.. they started treating you differently.

• it was painfully obvious that they both caught feelings for you

• Charlie would show up on time just to say good morning first, and Pim would bring you coffee every morning

• at first you thought that it was just them being nice

•after a while of you being blissfully unaware, Alan comes to you at closing hour and explains what's going on.

🪤 : “ I could be wrong, but I'm pre-tty sure that Pim and Charlie are having some sort of crush battle over you. ”

🫵 : “ Oh... that would explain alot... ”

• you weren't upset by any means. It boosted your ego!

• if you where being honest with yourself, you thought they where both pretty cute.

If you chose Pim

• you talk to him after work one day

🫵 : “ Hey, Pim. Are you busy at the moment?”

🩷 : “ Oh? Not at all, no! I'm just heading home! ”

🫵 : “ I was wondering if you wanted to ... Go on a date with me or something? ”

• Pim's face gets bright red, and he doesn't know how to respond. He stared with his big round eyes for a long while.

• he felt as if he was about to puke that's how excited he was. Oh wait. He did puke.

🫵 : “ Oh jeez Pim, are you alright? ”

🩷 : “ Yea!! I'm alright haha!! Um, I would love to go on a date with you!! ”

• he nervously goes to grab some paper towels from the counter

🫵 : “ Is tonight alright? Or is that too early? ”

• he looked as if he was going to pass out

🩷 : “ of course! Let's meet at um. Spaghetti Taco! I'll pay for the whole thing!! ”

🫵 : “ Great, see you there ”

If you chose Charlie

• on the way home from a task Mr. Boss set you and Charlie up for, you started the conversation

🫵 : “Hey, are you busy this Saturday?”

🪓 : “ uhhhh... I don't think so? ”

🫵 : “ oh okay, good. I was wondering if you wanted to go out and eat or something with me. ”

• he looked up from his phone

🪓 : “ Like a date? ”

🫵 : “ Sure, like a date. ”

• He gained a orange blush around his nose and cheeks

🪓 : “ I-I mean, ha. Sure. I'd be down. ”

• he stammered, looking back down at his phone. He was trying to avoid eye contact

🫵 : “ great, do you know any good places? ”

🪓 : “ it's not really fancy or anything but I know this awesome burger place, Salty's

[a-random-weeb]

Bsd men when their S/O is on their period

I'm currently making my monthly blood sacrifice, so why not make headcannons? My emotional stability on my period be like: 📉

I get really angry, pissed at everything, clingy, and sad (mostly angry) while on my period, as well as really bad cramps, and the mood swings are horrible, so that's what I'm writing for.

Also, sorry I haven't been writing, remember how I said I was sick? Yeah well I'm so sick I can barely eat, I'm going to school but I constantly feel like I'm gonna throw up, I feel like shit, and that's why I'm posting as much. I've been trying to post once a day though

Characters: Akutagawa, Chuuya, Dazai

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

Akutagawa:

•he probably doesn't even know what a period is

•When you begin to get mood swings, he's so confused

•When you explain what a period is, he thinks you're dying

•He offers to call an ambulance, and is so confused when you say it's normal

•you have to bleed your guts out every month and there's nothing you can do about it?

•I mean- he knows what a period is from gin, he's not completely ignorant

•Gin probably never talked about it much though

•she was probably one of those girls who was really embarrassed to be on her period, and still kinda is.

•When you try to struggle explain it's physically impossible, he's even more confused

•he thinks periods are so complicated

•He still secretly thinks you're gonna bleed to death, and is really worried 💀

•He also thinks it's kind of gross😭

"Why are you in so much pain?! You're bleeding?! What the hell?! Wdym, you're dying, do I have to call an ambulance?! .... What do you mean by 'period'? Oh wait, Gina told me about them..."

─── ⋆⋅ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ⋅⋆ ──𓂃········╮-`♡´--`♡´-___________༄-

Chuuya:

•Unlike Akutagawa, he's a little more educated

•He doesn't know EVERYTHING, but he knows a bit

•He definitely knows about the mood swings and cramps from the girls in the Mafia (Gin, Higuchi, Kyouka, Kyoyo ←(idk how to spell her name), ect.)

•He's too afraid to ask questions, he has to keep his pride!

•you both probably got in a big fight because of how angry you get and his anger issues, resulting in you crying and clinging to his side.

•He kind of likes it when you're on your period, even though it's not the end of the world, he treats it like it is

•what? Its an excuse to take care of you. Plus he loves how clingy you are

•He buys you pads or tampons while in your period, aswell as those cute animal heating packs

•He also buys you chocolate.

•He cuddles you while you're having cramps, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as you hold the heating pack to your stomach

•other than the mood swings and cramps, it's pretty normal

•I mean, it doesn't change your whole day-to-day schedule (depending on how bad your cramps are)

"You're on your period? Are you good on pads and whatever? Alright, we can buy more? You want chocolate too? Jeez lady... Oh nononononononono, don't cry, we can get chocolate!"

˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦˚‧๑˖˖๑‧˚꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷꒦︶︶₊꒷

Dazai:

•He feels bad for all the cramps you have

•That doesn't stop him from teasing you though

•He's an asshole about it at first

•Until he learns his lesson

•He's scared of your period after you snap at him

•Though, he finds it adorable when you cuddle up to him, all apologetic after snapping at him

•if he teases you about it... well... He's probably too scared to 💀

•He buys you pads, heating packs, and chocolate with Kunikidas black card

•His excuse is "My baby is on her period, you want her to bleed her guts out in pain?" He guilts Kunikida into letting him use it (manipulative bitch- )

"Oh? My belladonna is on her period is she? Aren't you being a little dramatic about it- I TAKE IT BACK I TAKE IT BACK PLEASE DONT HURT ME!" (he's not serious btw, you're not abusing him 😭)

𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.+𐦍༘⋆.𖥔 ݁ ˖*.

[fushiguwu]

enjoying your view? getou suguru

CHAPTER 3 from the Summer Fever's serie!

ft. dilf!getou and gojo’s stepdaughter!reader

warnings: use of alcohol (again,, lol), party, gojo being comic relief, reader finds someone else hot (they're just drunk), jealousy, risky making out, sweat, spit, oral sex (w receiving), breath play, soft!dom suguru but he is just really romantic, use of the names princess, baby, silly bun, love, kind of fluff and a bit crack if you squint.

words: 3.7k

a/n: hope u enjoy it :3

Lucky enough, friday night came like a blink of an eye and you had finally something to do other than mold by your mom’s pool. Gojo almost fainted after hearing you were going to his friend’s daughter's birthday party, as if he wasn’t the one who very much put you in Mimiko’s circle of friends. He, despites, seemed a bit upset for not being invited – and it perhaps was another reason why his dramatic ass almost fainted.

“It’s a young adults party, Gojo. And you are her dad’s friend. Would you want your uncle in nearly forties to get along with you and your twentie’s friends?” You try your best not to sound so rude for him to be more concerned, even though it seemed an impossible mission. Satoru was just so sentimental. “It’s not personal, Satoru. Don’t be such a brat about it”

“You are so cruel with your words, jeez! Could’ve just said I’m not the party’s target group. Now I feel bad AND old” he sits down on the couch with a hand holding his chin, looking absolutely defeated. “In your age, I was an unstoppable party monster, just because I got married doesn't mean I’ve got to become a grimace”. And then he keeps on grumbling by himself while scrolling through the tv channels. Your mom by his side could only laugh at his pityness. Poor woman. 

You’ve seized the chance to go off home and get into your uber, who’s been  parked by your sidewalk for a whole five minutes now, while you had to deal with Gojo’s attitude. You didn’t bother trying to explain the situation for the poor man working so the trip to Mimiko and Nanako’s house was filled with the city sounds outside. 

Their house were huge, and the amount of cars parked made you doubt the party’s surprise factor. The door was wide open and the music as loud as the speaker would allow. A lot of people were dancing in the living room, and it made you question the number of people they knew and how many of them were actually friends — you wouldn’t know that many people for your entire life.

The sisters were nowhere to be found through the crowd. You didn’t know where to leave the present, and the more you got inside, the harder it was to find a space with no couple making out or a young adult drinking like they had two livers. So you go upstairs, hoping to find a safe place for Mimiko's gift — a sweet gold collar with a heart pendant. You open a door to find a bathroom. The next one, an office, smelled like fresh wood and had such beautiful brown furniture. You got too distracted to notice a figure emerging closer and closer right behind you. 

“Excuse me, ma’am” you hear a low voice say next to your ears and immediately jumps out in fright. You quickly get out of the way, without looking back, say a whispered “sorry” and go downstairs as fast as your shoes allow you. Your face probably looked as red as a fresh tomato right now. The man once behind you followed your quickie path with a smirk hidden between his cheeks before getting to his office. Thinking straight after a few seconds in the crowded living room, you’ve realized you actually recognized that voice and perfume. It was his voice. It was his smell. You turn around to seek him on the second floor, but as nothing’s ever happened right in your life, someone brought you to a tight hug and got you back to orbit. 

“Can’t believe you actually came!” Mimiko looked a bit drunk already. Apparently, you missed the surprise. “Is that for me?” she says pointing to the small box in your hands. you don't say anything, just put it on her hands instead. Finally you gave an end to this poor box. She hugs you one more time and says lots of “thank you’s” kissing your cheeks before disappearing again.

You go upstairs again, this time even more anxious than the last. The bathroom was empty, so it just left you with the office: you knocked on the door, no answer. You opened it, empty too. Just the wood smell and fancy furniture. The hallway, empty. The other doors were locked. No one was supposed to go to the second floor, as it seems, and you were looking for someone that obviously wasn’t there — and at this point you doubted yourself and started believing you were frightened by a ghost. so you accept defeat and head to the kitchen to get drunk. It wasn’t him, nor anyone. 

You looked devastated holding your fifth drink sitting by the kitchen counter all by yourself. Perhaps you were too shy to be at a party, you thought. The music playing was trash, you didn't know anyone besides Mimiko and Nanako, and they were nowhere to be found in the crowd. The kitchen seemed to be the loser's spot: there were you, by the counter, alone, a man laid on the ground with a beer bottle in hands, absolutely wasted, his friend by his side trying to get him up, while their other friend threw up in the sink. What a night. 

And you know what? fuck it. You're not going to spend your night sat watching drunk men throwing up. You’re going to honour Gojo’s party rocker memory. You took a long sip from your drink and got up to the living room. Fuck the shitty music, fuck the shyness, fuck the ghost of the man you’re obsessed about. you’re going to enjoy your fucking summer break.

The improvised dancefloor was so hot you wanted to just take off your dress right there. Your hair sticking on your skin, the smell of sweat and vape smoke would have made you sick on any other occasion, but not in this state of mind. A man approached you, he’s blond, not so tall, but what truly got your attention was that he had no shirt on. You shamelessly stared at his abs. 

“Enjoying your view?” he asks you. you nod your head, still not looking at his face. “Yo. I’m up here” he slaps his fingers in front of your face to successfully get your attention.  He, then, grabs you closer enough to meet your lips to his. His hands on your waist as you closed your eyes to let him through —wishing, expecting. Suddenly, when you could finally feel his breath on your nose, he stepped back, and another pair of hands found your waistline, from behind. You opened your eyes and looked back, pissed off. But to your surprise, you are met with both black shirted chest and hair falling down the shoulders. You, then, look up, afraid to be who you thought it was.

“Suguru?” he smiles down at you. Your heart racing to see him again. It’s him, actually him. All flesh and bones — and looking absolutely stunning. “What are you doing here?” you could see him staring down at the dude you were about to kiss. He looked even more surprised. “Sorry, man, didn't know she was with someone. My bad”  he said, frightened by Suguru’s piercing stare and height, and left without looking back. You turned around to match the raven haired man’s embrace. You just looked up at him, not believing he was actually there at all.

“Enjoying your view?” He repeats the strange man’s words, and you smile openly at him. You nod again, but this time looking deeply into Suguru's eyes. He smiles too, and your heart absolutely melts. You were getting even drunker on his perfume, his voice blurring the loud music playing around. You whispered an almost inaudible “yes” to him, completely dazed by his presence and he could see it. “Why’s that everytime I meet you, you’re drunk, princess?”

“I’m not drunk!” you tried to defend yourself. He arched his eyebrows at you.“Then why were you about to kiss that tiny naked man, huh?” his voice was lower than it normally sounded like, and he seemed truly bothered about it.

“You saw him approaching me. Why didn’t you come on first, huh?” you mimic him and arch your eyebrows back. Suguru swallowed dry and looked away, his grip on you loosening.

“Because…” he looks back at you, uncertain. You could see in his eyes that something was going on. You only looked back at him, waiting for an answer. “...Because we shouldn’t do it here. I shouldn’t” he seemed sincere, for your importunity.

“And why’s that? Who says so?” You get his face in your hands, feeling the soft and almost perfectly shaved skin. “It’s a goddamn party! It’s the exact place to do so. Only if you are here with someone else…” and you loose your hands. He quickly puts them back on his face and deeps his gaze.

“No. it’s not that.” he says right after you, laughing a bit — more like a nervous laugh than anything. “It’s just that… I don’t know…” you come closer to his face, standing on tiptoe. You could see him flushing a bit, and it makes you smile.

“You know nothing.” and you kiss him, as you’ve been dreaming for weeks now. And it felt just like the first time: just right, absolutely right. You really don’t know what was making him feel so insecure, but as the kiss deepens, he seems to forget about it more and more. His hand tightens again, and one meets the back of your head, gripping the hair from your skull in a delicious tight. You moan on his lips, your eyes shut, just feeling him over your skin again. His hand on your waist goes down to your ass, squeezing it as hard as you bit his lips. It was starting to get dangerous and you knew it. “Is there… somewhere else…?” you break the kiss to ask, breathless, finally opening your eyes. His lips were red and swollen, his gaze low down at you. He looked as starvelling as you. 

Suguru doesn’t say anything, just takes your hand and leads you away from the crowd, looking all around, afraid to find Mimiko or Nanako on the way, while you had no thoughts in your head at all, absolutely clouded, just following him wherever he takes you. And it is upstairs again. You look back, feeling like breaking some rule for going to the second floor again, but the black haired man didn’t seem to care about it. He opens the door that leads to the office where you first remembered him today. “I’ve been here, and heard someone talking to me with your exact voice” you confessed to him while the door was being closed. 

You watch him coming to you slowly, the anxiety growing at each step he takes. You could feel your heart beating on your mouth. It was finally happening: you’re finally alone with Suguru. You take a step back until you bump into the office desk, a gasp coming out your lips. He meets you, taking your legs up so you could sit on the desk, a few papers and pens falling down on the floor, but neither of you seemed to care. He puts himself between your legs, pulling your dress up your hips, as his face comes closer to your ears. His delicate hands pushing your already dry hair aside. “Yes, silly bun’, ‘cause it was me”  and then kisses your neck slowly, exploring your skin and smells. How silly of you to think it was a ghost, indeed. You could feel him smile between kisses, but you were a bit concerned.

“Don’t…” you try to advise him, for you were all sweaty and sticky just now.  You move away your neck, which he didn’t seem to enjoy. “I’m dirty, Suguru.” He listened to you unpleasantly, and gripped a hand on your throat smoothly, as looked deep into your eyes. His mood suddenly shifted — he was mad at your insecurities.

“I don’t fucking care” your view became blurred. “I want you, I don’t care about a fucking sweat.” you groan to him, trying to pull your legs together, to have a little release, but his own are in the way. It doesn’t pass unnoticed for him, though, as you feel his knees tight in your panties. He never looked away, his gaze seemed to pierce your soul apart, like a devil you gladly let be corrupted by. You wanted more of him, he wanted more of you; your lusts exploding within the walls. No closeness seemed enough. 

 “Open your mouth, princess“ you do as he commands, but he wasn’t satisfied yet, “tongue out” he hards the grip once again. As you show your tongue, he comes closer to you and spits on it, making your eyes widen. “Swallow it.” you pleasurably do, his hot and transparent fluid going all the way down your throat to heat your neglected pussy. He smiles and lets go of your neck, you feel like breathing for the first time of your life again. “Felt good, right?” Suguru glances at you while you nodded at him like a trained puppy. And he kisses you, deeply, almost greedy for it. 

His kisses started to go down your chin, neck, collarbone, and when you blinked again your dress strap was in your elbows and his mouth on your chest. “You’re just so beautiful, princess. So fucking beautiful.” he squeezes your waist, with his face hidden between your tits. “I could stay here forever” He said —more for himself than for you, kissing all the way down to your bellybutton, as getting on his knees, slowly. His hands pulled your panties down and you missed him putting them in his jeans pocket. 

Suguru puts your dress up your hips and sighs at the glance of your naked pussy dripping wet for him, and only him. He really wanted to stay there for eternity: with your knees on his shoulder, his face deep between your legs and your delightful whimpers. He didn’t know why you messed so much with his head, why he got so obsessed with you since the day you first met. Why did his heart race when he saw you again opening the door for his office and it melted when you ran away. He wasn’t supposed to leave the second floor tonight, wished to let his children enjoy their party without a boring parent present. Until he saw you and, then, risked everything just to get to your embrace once more. He knew that if one of his daughters saw you two, would never forgive him. But Suguru knew, too, that you felt the exact same for him: you eagerly, abruptly wanted him close to you. Perhaps it was for your sudden separation previously to blame; the almost that never was in the bar. Your willingness grew immensely, even more for the feeling of never seeing each other again, but now that you did, surprisingly did, it needed to be barbarously released. 

“Hold my hair back, love” Suguru gets your wrist, puts it on top of his head and goes back to work. You try, between groanings and shaking hands, to lock his hair strands in a messy bun. Your grip tightens everytime his tongue pressures harder on your aching clit, and the vibrations of his moans makes your mind clouded by lust. Looking down at Suguru you could see how freaky pussy drunk he actually was: his grip on the fat of your thighs so hard you knew it’d leave a bruise or two, half of his face was wet and spittle ran down his chin. He shaked his tongue like a beast, drank on your floods as if he’s been thirsty his whole life. You felt somewhere else in between him and your pussy. He was clearly doing it because he fucking loved to, not only for yours, but for his pleasure too —and it turned you on like nothing’s ever done. 

“Sugu, please,—fuck, i’m so close, please, please…!” you whined so many ‘please’s’ for him with such a crying voice he just couldn’t stand not giving you what you wanted. He grabs your hips and gets you up from the table, making you choke. You had your elbows holding you on the table and your legs stuck on Suguru’s ears, your hips floating in the air with only his arms to hold. You were starting to actually worry about his breath, though neither did he care. 

For the first time, he distanced himself from your clit. The lack of stimulation made you look down at him breathless, helpless. He looked at you with a smirk, his face red and soaked. “You wanna cum, babe?” you nod at him greedily; his smirk grows and he mimics your nod slowly, saying a “yeah?”  

“Yeah. Ye’Please, Sug’, pleas’ make’m cum, was so close, s’close” you had no breath to speak properly but knew he could understand you. He gathered his saliva and spat right on your swollen clit, then gave your ass a spank. 

“then fucking do it, but I want you cumming looking right into my eyes, you understand, baby?” you nod and get your grip back on his hair, using it to maintain your balance. You felt a wave coming so hard from your tiptoes to your scalp; his twilight eyes looked straight into yours until your vision went blurry, and black, and sparkling, and your body shaked like never before. Mind blank, legs weak, eyes rolling back.  Suguru kept his mouth deepening your orgasm till you pushed him away, trembling, breathless. You had such a dumb face on, he couldn’t help laughing. You looked back as if asking him what was so funny. He kept his laugh and carefully helped you stand still again — though your legs were still shaking, so the raven haired man never left his grip on your waist.

“I’m not laughing at you, baby.” but he still had a smile on. “it’s just that you’ve been fucked so stupid by my tongue, I didn’t know you were going to cum so hard.” your face went red with his words. How could he be just so shameless?

“S-stop saying that! It’s embarrassing.” you cover your burning red ears to protect yourself from his filthiness — not resting long, as he takes your hands within his chest, only making you blush more for the contact with his warmth. You didn’t want to look at his face and Suguru noticed that.

“Look at me, princess. We did nothing wrong, I’m happy that I could make you happy.” he speaks so sweetly, grabs your chin so gently to get closer to your gaze, almost as coercing you to look back at him — and you do. Your cheeks burning as found by his sharp eyes. He’s just so, so gorgeous. All of him, looking back at you so tenderly. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? You did a great job, little one.” his left hand stroking your hair as the right one kept your two hands still on his chest. You loose one up to stroke his silky brunette hair strands too. He smiles genuinely and kisses you, but this time, it felt way more meaningful. Suguru was, indeed, starting to feel something about you. Even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself — like, he’s seen you twice now, how could he feel something, right? Right?

“Suguru…” he left his wonders to the sound of your voice so close to his lips. 

“Yes, love?” you two kept your eyes closed.

A brief silence. A laugh.

“...Your face smells like… vagina…” and you open your eyes nearly together.

“I can’t believe you just fucking said that.”  he said, serious. You thought he was mad at you, until a loud stuck-up laugh escaped his mouth. You laughed too, — in relief. “vagina? oh, my goodness.” he was losing his shit now, holding on his knees, his strength evaporating his body. You didn’t know if kept laughing or helped him up, starting to feel a bit embarrassed again.

“Suguru, stop! But that’s it’s name!”

“I know, I know, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to say that, of all things.” Suguru cleans a tear running down his cheek and standed up again by your side. “of course it does, princess, I just ate the fuck out of your” he pauses, biting his lip not to laugh “...vagina.”  you slap his shoulder. How dare he make fun of you? Damn you, Suguru. You end up laughing with him, though. You didn’t know that side of him yet, he looked really loosened up; perhaps the alcohol in your blood has been passed to him, somehow? You took advantage of his looseness to ask something you’ve been wondering the whole night:

“So, Sugu, where do u know Mimiko from? She’s, like, waay younger than you. Are you a kind of cousin or something?” and there it is, the question Suguru was afraid of the most. He wasn’t ready for you to know about it, he didn’t wish to scare you away; just when you were getting along so nicely. The deep breath he takes after your questioning makes you feel a bit insecure he was, indeed, trying to avoid this subject.

And just when he was about to speak, his phone vibrated inside his pocket and the atmosphere suddenly changed in the room. A deadly silence as soon as he sees who’s calling him — you failed in trying to see it. Suguru murmurs a very low ‘fuck’ to the blue screen and looks back at you, as saying ‘sorry’ with such doggy eyes. You say that it is okay and he kisses your forehead fastly. “It’s from work, I really gotta go, baby. Sorry for that. You know how to go back down there, right?” you nod as he turns around to go. But something stops him just before closing the door behind you: “Please, don’t kiss any other ugly, short and stupid boy while I’m out.” you nod to him for the last time that day, looking upset. “Promise?” he was looking into your eyes, even as you looked away. He knew you were disappointed, but he wasn’t going to leave while you didn't answer him back. 

You look into his eyes from afar, “Yes, I promise, Suguru.” He gives you an honest smile before leaving. 

“Good girl.”

[webslingingslasher]

i’m seated for some sneak peaks of things you have in the drafts hehe

here's a blurb for munch frat!peter:

'hand this card to the last person to eat pussy.'

tarrent has a gleam in his eye as he proudly pushes it into peter's chest. 'drink up, bro.'

you're not watching, the content of your cup is more interesting. but you're listening to see exactly how peter plays this one off because he hasn't even tried- let alone offered to go down on you.

peter hands the card back. 'nah, i don't do that.' he says it like it's a joke and his friends laugh with him, like he's too humble to accept the crown title of carpet muncher.

---

here's a blurb for hockey!peter fighting for his life over a jersey

'hey, can i have a kiss?' the audacity. you cross your arms again and look to the side, 'no.' peter frowns, you lean away when you feel his lips on your cheek.

'no? not even after i just won?'

'you didn't deserve it.' you grumble it from the side of your mouth, peter catches it and feels offended. 'don't get pouty and tell me i deserved to lose.'

you turn to him, your eyes screamed fire at him. 'don't humilate me and demand a kiss then.'

---

here's a blurb for cherry!peter who's doing the best he can to make cherry's sex dream come to life

'i've been so good, haven't i been so good for you?' peter can sense a little bit of a praise kink in you, it's fitting. 'you're always good for me. you're my good girl, aren't you?'

a whimper, it's so much better when it's real. 'i'm your good girl.' a harsh grind, you clutch peter's forearm while you throw your head back. 'yeah? that feels good?'

'call me your pretty baby.' peter doesn't know where the direction is coming from but he likes it. 'does my pretty baby feel good?' an audible moan, he's fucking perfect at this.

---

here's a blurb for bf!frat!peter with a girlfriend who should always come first

peter is totally saving you for last and you're about to go nuts on him. sure, there might be a line of people and sure, you might be the one in the least danger but you're owed some sort of urgency.

'hello?' you call it out, you sound impatient. 'spider-man?' you are impatient. you call for him again, he holds up a hand and you gasp. 'oh you little- spider-man, you better come help me right now or i swear to god i'll...' you have no real threat. 'just don't tempt me!'

peter doesn't come help you, he's still helping an older woman and you're about to throw yourself into a fire for some attention. 'excuse me? i'm looking for my boyfriend, have you seen him?'

---

here's a blurb from that blurb... you know... the one where peter has hooked up with trouble's friend?

if peter was a brat, he'd say that you're not supposed to be talking to him. instead, he extends his hand out and watches heavy footing beat up the staircase. the second his door slams, his best friend is asking what the fuck happened with his eyes.

'she's mad at me.' his door swings open, you shout down to him. 'i'm not mad! we're broken up!' another slam. ethan's expecting a lot more from peter than a shrug. 'no we're not.'

his door hits the wall, another scream, 'yes we are!' a third slam, this time, he's got two friends coming out of their rooms and glancing between his bedroom door and the lower level where peter had crossed arms.

'what's going-' peter flails his arms around, trying to stop the impending question and what he knows is all you need to give him a round two, but worse because now you're no longer in public.

a sheepish grin crosses over a brother's face when his door explodes open, peter thinks there might be a hole behind his door where the handle matches up perfectly.

---

here's a blurb where ethan walks in on sexy time :(

'liar! he saw me from behind!' you know he did, it was all on show. everything's ruined. peter's trying his best to be soothing. 'hey, even if he did, he won't say anything. it's ethan, you know ethan.'

you do. that's why it's so bad. the reminder makes you cry harder, peter connects the dots. 'oh jeez, trouble. here, come give me a hug.' it's a pathetic reach, you want nothing more than to be locked away in his hold, hidden and secret from the outside world.

'he-' you suck in air, curling in even closer to peter as if you weren't on his lap already. 'he saw me having sex.' you pull peter's arms tighter around you, it almost hurts it's so tight. it's what you need.

'i know, baby. i'm so sorry.' at least he's being honest.

'how much did he see?' peter doesn't know either, he was a little busy underneath you. he just knows the second he saw his door open, his instinct was to protect you.

'very little.' you feel kisses over your head, 'please stop crying.'

---

here's a blurb where nerdy!peter has no filter when he's drunk

'hi, honey.' you hold his arm tightly, 'don't lean over.' bending at the waist you reach for the keys, peter groans and shouts an exaggerated 'oh my god!'

you fly up, the metal tucked between your fingers. 'what?' you look around, peter's busy staring down your skirt while his teeth sink into his bottom lip. 'your ass is so nice.'

you suck in a deep breath and ignore the flush of warmth covering your chest. 'thank you, petey.' you ignore the slight shake in your hand when you shove the key in.

peter's door gets stuck a lot and you have to shove your shoulder into it a little. while you're doing your best to raid the door, a hand slides up the back of your thigh and gives you a tight squeeze. you jump and yelp, your hand reaching back to throw his off.

'peter!' he giggles and turns his head like you wouldn't be able to see him anymore. 'i just wanted to touch it a little.' peter's fingertips lightly drag up your thigh, you slap it away again. he giggles harder, the sound bubbles out of him.

'i'm trying to get us inside, leave my butt alone.' you have his promise, and you nudge the door a little, a sharp smack has you wipping around to face him. peter shoots his hands up, 'last one, i promise! that was the last one!'

[ramen8008]

Imagine one day Inej ends up mentioning that Kaz's birthday is coming up soon (because if anyone knows his birthday it's her) to Nina and Nina being Nina decides they HAVE to throw a surprise party even though it would be almost impossible to surprise Kaz.

So all of them plan a surprise birthday party and Kaz is freaking out over why is everyone acting so suspicious because Kaz being Kaz could never suspect a surprise birthday party for him. Hell even he forgot his own birthday.

And then the surprise birthday freaks him out and breaks his facade (only for like 3 seconds) where he is so confused as to what the hell is this and why is everything so colourful and why is everyone smiling and singing? And Nina should really stop singing.

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

Everyone: SURPRISE!!

Kaz: *shook*

Kaz: what the hell is going on?!?

Nina: jeez Kaz could you show some enthusiasm we threw a party for you, be a little grateful.

Kaz: a party?!?

Jesper: it's the thing where people get together and celebrate for something you know like fun-

Kaz: I know what a party is

Wylan: we just thought since it's your birthday we could throw you a surprise party

Kaz: My...what

Inej: It's your birthday. You know? The day you were born? When you came into this world? When the saints for some reason thought that the world needed you so you were born.

Kaz: I know what a birthday is. I ju-

Kaz: ...why

Nina: for food and also wanted to see how you would react to something fun....mostly food tho

Jesper: I mean it's a party I just needed an excuse to party

Wylan: I mean it would be nice to let loose a little and party after everything we went through we never threw a victory party and your birthday just happened to be around.

Inej: We all thought it would be fun to celebrate together. We also wanted to throw you a party to maybe get you to do something fun that doesn't involve crime and hopefully you let yourself relax a little.

Kaz: ...

Wylan: Kaz you good?

Jesper: OMG! He is frozen in shock

Nina: No he isn't. This is Kaz Brekker he isn't startled much less frozen by anything

Inej: *shakes Kaz* Kaz, say something!

Kaz: I am just confused

Wylan: what do you mean?

Jesper: You party like you have never partied before

Nina: I swear to God if we have to explain to you what a birthday party is

Kaz *composes himself*: no I just... Don't know what happens in a party much less a birthday party

Everyone: WHAT!?!

Wylan: have you NEVER had a birthday party?!!? Even I have had one when my father thought I could read

Kaz: I've had a birthday par-

Nina: ABSO-FUCKING-LUTELY NOT! You are SO having the party of your life

Jesper *grabs Kaz and pulls him towards the food*: HELL YEAH YOU ARE GOING TO PARTY AND YOU ARE GOING TO MEAN IT.

Inej just stares and smiles as they all take Kaz.

Nina: INEJ WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE COME JOIN US!

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

Before the heist when only Inej knew about his birthday. Cause like I said if anyone knew his birthday it would be her. She remembered even though Kaz forgot (obviously). And since she knew Kaz would never want a birthday party or gift she decided to do something he would like.

The night of his birthday she crawls up to his rooms and sits on his window sill. Like always they sit in comfortable silence until.

Kaz *lifts his gaze and looks at her*: whatever you want to say just say it

Inej: well there is this one really expensive jewel being auctioned tomorrow...

Kaz: *raises an eyebrow for her to continue*

Inej: I mean what I am trying to say is pretty obvious. I just thought since you weren't exactly busy we could go grab the jewel, it would look good on your table.

Kaz: What value will it have since we won't be able to sell it.

Inej: jeez Kaz not everything is about the money I just thought it'll be a fun adrenaline rush for both of us since there haven't been any challenging jobs lately

Inej: you know what since you don't want to go I'll go by myself.

Kaz: wait-

Kaz: let me grab my cane.

After successful jewel heist.

They are out of breath and finally back in Kaz's room where Inej sits on the window sill and Kaz on his desk.

Inej: here *throws him a cupcake*

Kaz *confused*: what's this?

Inej: I grabbed it from a nearby stall. *takes a bite from her own cupcake*

Kaz: ...

Inej: just eat it it's not like I'll try to poison you.

Kaz: you wouldn't bother trying to kill me with poison since you know it won't work *looks at the cupcakes skeptically"

Inej: *motions him to eat*

Kaz: *rolls his eyes but takes a bite*

They both eat in nice comfortable silence

Inej: oh and Kaz?

Kaz: *looks at Inej* hmm

Inej: Happy Birthday *disappears out the window*

They don't mention it afterwards but it ends up becoming a tradition and now every year for Kaz's birthday they steal something expensive and secure just for the fun of it and then enjoy a cupcake in silence.

(The DeKappel being one of the stolen items from Kaz's birthday tradition.)