#i also didn’t expect that return of my neck my back | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

staryuee · 2 months

Text

NOT SAYING “I LOVE YOU” BACK.

꒰warnings꒱ not proofread pls don’t yell at me *sniffles*

⠀꒲ ` synopsis . . . [char] and you tend to say your i love yous pretty regularly, it’s become a subconscious routine for the both of you; what would happen if either one of you just suddenly didn’t respond?

⠀꒲ ` characters . . . venti, diluc, xiao, tartaglia, kazuha, ayato, alhaitham, wanderer, lyney, neuvillette, wriothesley, arlecchino

⠀꒲ ` notes . . . ദ്ദി(｡•̀ ᗜ^) drabbles vary in length significantly because…i’m a little unwell with astarion brainrot rn and i will not rest till i get to kiss my beautiful vampiric man — also i apologise for making some of these more angsty than intended…i couldn’t help myself haha

VENTI — 温迪

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ venti? of all people? not saying i love you to his beloved windblume whom he’d personally resurrect ancient gods for if they asked with that sweet, melodic voice of theirs?

ʚ the only viable reason for him not replying can most likely be bottled down to him being a brat. a spoiled one at that. you give him so much affection it’s a little scary sometimes to think someone just know all of his ins and out as if they held his heart within the palm of their hand meaninglessly. so how do you expect him to be satisfied with a mere phrase when he wants you so desperately?

“i’m leaving for a commission, i’ll be back in a few hours; love you, honey.” you said per routine, fixing your hair in the mirror that stood perfectly near the doorway under venti’s request (he likes seeing how his braids look after you do them in the morning).

what you expected was a reply, but certainly not the one that followed: “alright, bye bye~” venti tilted his head back as his body slinked on the couch, his eyes scanning yours upside down with that look on his face which suggested he knew exactly what he was doing.

“goodbye, venti, i love you.” you re-enunciate, arms crossing firmly over your chest pridefully to mirror venti’s stubbornness that fell immediately upon sight of your pretty face glancing over at his. oh, he really couldn’t resist you for too long.

“i’ll say it back if you stay with me today!” he giggled, teeth on full display as he grinned widely; fully aware you’d indulge him even if for only a little while.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“windblume…” venti sadly slumped his head on your shoulder, leaving enough space for his eyes to glance at the book in your hands as you continued to read despite his sulking.

“i accidentally packed my schedule full with a flurry of performances…i’m afraid i won’t be able to indulge in your cuddles all day like i wanted to,” he whined, kissing the side of your neck to compensate for the lack of affection he’s going to have to put up with.

really, if he could, he’d pretend all the strings on his lyre magically untuned themselves into havoc if it meant giving an excuse to be back in your warm hold. but as a god of the wind, and one who shared the passions of music no less, it was more or less his duty to share his w with the residents of mondstadt when asked so kindly.

“i promise i’ll return to you soon as i can! no quick stop at angel’s share this time either,” venti managed a chuckle despite the inner thumping of his heart at the mere prospect of returning home to you — an experience he never thought he’d fulfil in his lifetime. “i love you dearly, my darling, i’ll see you soon~”

he leaned over the back of the couch to help reach the side of your face, lips pursing into a fish-like pout as he awaited to hear those beloved words that were always followed by a rewarding kiss. yet you merely hummed in acknowledgement of his presence and his soon departure.

who do you think you are?

venti’s brows immediately knit down together in frustration. “windblume…i said, i love you,” he leaned closer, “sweetheart…come on, say it back!” he finally nuzzled his cheek against yours, trying to elicit some sort of response from you that didn’t border on full on ignoring him. usually that slight uplift of your lips would be enough, but with the additional context that he’d be away from you for so long, venti couldn’t cope with a mere smile!

feeling a little flicker of breeze behind you, goosebumps prickle your skin and a delicate shiver runs down your spine, the little gust of wind disappearing as quick as it came. venti hooked his fingers beneath your chin, delicately forcing your eyes to meet his. “won’t you tell your god you love him?”

those gorgeous and elaborate white wings of his flutter quietly, twitching in anticipation as he excitedly awaits for what he’s been dying to hear. you sigh, leaning towards him to press the most featherlight kiss on the side of his face. “i love you too, now go along already, you’re going to be late.”

R. DILUC — 迪卢克

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ you’ve probably, unfortunately, caught him at a relatively bad time if he had completely ignored your affections. after all, while not necessarily a really active recipient, diluc is more than happy to indulge your carefree “i love yous” and kisses.

ʚ there’s no way he’d ever intentionally ignore or not reply to an “i love you”, especially one that’s so sickly sweet to his ears

“i’m going to bed, luc,” you yawn, arms stretching far out in front of you as you push yourself away from the desk that was littered with several papers stacked on top of each other in various piles that were marked by different pen colours. “you better come join me soon, alright? i love you.”

diluc hums and nods his head, eyes sunken into his skull as his fingers continue flipping the pen within his hand in a sleepy dance as he just barely managed to focus on the words that seemed to squeeze together. none of yours even register in his mind as you sorrowfully close the office door to head to your usually shared bedroom.

it only takes a little while for his brain to catch up to his heart. so that’s why he felt it flutter…

diluc immediately packs away his things to the best of his drowsy ability, hanging up his coat that he honesty forgot he still had draped on himself before he burst into your bedroom rather dramatically. panting from having rushed himself, his arms propping himself up with both sides of the door way, diluc looks away all flushed.

“…i love you as well, i’m sorry for not saying it,” he sighs in comfort as you raise a brow at him, amused at just how quickly he managed to wrap thing ups purely out of guilt that he failed to reciprocate your intentions.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

oh. well…you’ve must’ve had a reason, right?

you wouldn’t just leave right in the morning for a commission, tell him goodbye when he declared his love to you without you repeating the same routine back to him? right?

and yet, you did; and now diluc finds himself in the peculiar position of being overly worried. he has strength, power and stability beyond imagination, but without your affection as fuel, what use are those things?

staring back at the ticking clock continuously, the wet rag in hand helping him clean up some ink that spilled across his hands as a frustrated groan escaped him. what kind of man have you turned him into that he can’t even focus on important tasks merely because you didn’t say a few simple words?

maybe that’s where the problem lies. the words “i love you” always seemed simple to you, something that diluc can admit had found himself jealous of on occasion, so now that he’s absent from something so easy, it’s a little difficult to not overthink the possibilities that the phrase has become harder to swallow for you.

diluc nearly slams his head on his desk at such a thought. he can’t lose his mind over something so silly, it’s fine. you’re both fine.

taking another meandering glance at the clock, diluc’s chair scraped across the wood as he flung on his coat, brushing it clean as he sauntered downstairs with the most grumpy expression dawn winery has seen in a while.

“honey, why do you look so upset?” your sweet voice lured him back into sanity as diluc’s steps immediately calmed down, his eyes widening momentarily as you seemed to return much earlier than expected from your travels. shaking his head, diluc sighs, “it’s nothing, my love — let’s go out for dinner, is that all right?”

XIAO — 魈

not really a surprise, honestly.

xiao isn’t necessarily known for being a fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, super affectionate bunny and as much as he wishes he could just vocalise the song that plays in his heart whenever you meet his eyes, he’s unable to reciprocate your affections in a way that’s satisfactory.

you’ve grown to accept such a fact. xiao, on the other hand, hasn’t. it’s like a little itch for him that he can’t scratch but desperately wants to. doesn’t mean he won’t show his love in other more discreet ways.

there are the subtle things; like the way he ensures your favorite dish is always ready when you come over, how he lingers a bit longer during a goodbye hug almost as if he’s scared to let you go, or the times he’ll simply sit in comfortable silence with you (though, that is common), his presence a quiet yet powerful testament to his feelings.

sometimes, he leaves small tokens for you to find: a flower carefully placed on your doorstep, a hand-written note slipped into your bag that you can tell was written in a hurry due to how sloppy the handwriting looks, a charm he crafted himself hidden among your belongings that he specifically sought the guidance of zhongli from. it's in these gestures that his love for you shines through, even if the words remain unspoken.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

there are times when xiao escapes his shell, and it’s in those quiet moments where you’re both completely alone without even the whistling of the wind to eavesdrop on you atop the comfortable slope of a mountain, that xiao verbally tells you how much he adores you. sometimes a little more poetically than intended, but he hopes his words pass through to you in the form of a flutter.

“…a vow as enduring as the sea and mountains,” xiao mumbled nervously, his hand awkwardly hovering over yours in hesitance before he sucked in a breath and decided to just give in and delicately interlock your fingers. watching as you tilted your head in confusion, xiao looked away and muttered again: “i meant that i love you.”

the silence and the little nod that followed, which was all meant as a little ploy to tease him for being so cute and flustered over a term you didn’t even need to hear on the regular, resulted in xiao’s chest to tighten anxiously. did you not feel the same way anymore? but then again, that devious smile of yours (which xiao could differentiate the style of pretty instinctively) made it certain there was a deeper meaning behind the quiet.

“it's alright," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "you don't have to say anything. i just wanted you to know."

TARTAGLIA — 公子

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ petty petty petty, absolutely done out of pettiness and just being an overall ginger brat.

ʚ you forgot to say good morning immediately after you woke up? haha, what was your name again? aw, you walked passed him on your travels even though he deliberately came over to see you? guess he’s not paying for all your stuff today… (he will, just ask).

one morning, groggy and half-asleep, you stumbled out of bed, forgetting to meekly mumble your usual "good morning, my darling, i love you" as you got up for the day. it was a small and rather insignificant oversight, but not for childe.

later that day, as you wandered through the vibrant streets of fontaine, you spotted his unmistakable ginger hair approaching. waving and smiling at your beloved, expecting some sort of hyper response back, you awaited his towering presence with a hand on your hip. he walked right past you. full on. turning your head with furrowed brows and jaw hung low, you notice that little playful, shit-eating smirk on his lips.

a little confused, you called out to him, "ajax! come back here.”

he turned, feigning surprise despite clearly having seen you (and, unbeknownst to you, having been watching you for the past couple minutes as you checked out several vendors). "oh, it's you. i almost didn't recognize you."

rolling your eyes, you walked up to him. "seriously?” both of you stared at each other in scrutiny, tartaglia fighting back the urge to squeeze you within his arms and whine at you for your negligence while you fought the urge to pull him down by his sunlit strands to coax some sense out of him. “are you mad at me?”

he shrugged nonchalantly, eyes twinkling with mischief you recognised immediately. "hmm, who’s mad? i just forgot who you were for a moment." let’s not mention the fact he has your front, back and side silhouettes memorised to the point he could trace it with his eyes closed expertly.

when you both parted ways, tartaglia making up some excuse that he had to buy some souvenirs for his siblings despite you knowing full well he was just listening to your reprimand from a week ago that he needed respite from being brutalised repeatedly, you found yourself linking pieces of red yarn together internally.

oh he’s just such a little shit isn’t he?

the sun set and bedazzled the sky in golden red hues, you walked back to your shared accommodation and a hefty amount of apologetic snacks filling your bag. normally, when you opened the door, ajax would jump at you. it was obvious from the way he sat leaned back on the couch that he was biting back that urge too.

grinning, you approached him, feeling a mix of amusement and frustration. "you know i love you, right?"

he glanced at you, his expression softening for a moment, god he really missed you so much even if only parted for a few hours at most. "hmm, do you? because i don't recall hearing such a thing in the morning."

you laughed, shaking your head at his childishness. settling yourself next to him, arms encasing around his wounded torso, you muttered a little compromise: "alright, honey. tomorrow, first thing. i promise."

tartaglia finally relented, pulling you into a gentle embrace that led to him exhaling a breath he was holding (probably a subtle way to get his loud heart to stop beating so furiously). "good. i suppose i can forgive you this time.“

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ajax had disobeyed your orders again.

even when being repeatedly asked by friends and his own lover alike, he just couldn’t behave in a way that didn’t result in at the very least, a few scratches and bruises on his freckled skin. it irritated you to no end.

irritation, of course, led to frustration. i mean, when you have to regurgitate the same instructions to someone you adore to death, it becomes exhausting. you didn’t necessarily argue about it, you simply tuned off.

sitting in bed with a book cradled between your fingertips, a mellow tune humming in the background from your vinyl as you soaked in the fantasy you were thoroughly engaged in. none of those things could unfortunately deafen the whines from ajax as he cozied himself up next to you, a silent groan slipping past his lips as he incidentally tore at one of his bandages.

“kochanie…” his nose nuzzled against your clothes as he found himself laying on your warm thighs. “i already apologised for being a dumbass, i swear i love you and i’ll listen to you properly next time.”

he purses his lips into a pout as you ignore him and continue to scan your eyes over the ink. “come on, i love you, sweetheart.” he nudged you, pinching you as delicately as possible but enough to elicit a gasp from you as you finally glance over at him.

“and i love peace and quiet, so if you could, zip it.”

surely you don’t think that was a good enough response for someone as needy for attention as ajax?

“i’m so hurt…” he pitifully grumbled, arms crossing over his firm chest as he continued staring up at you with a gaze that meant “you are not getting out of this”.

“won’t even spare a small kiss for your wounded lover? a hug? a cuddle? even just a whisper of your voice? how am i meant to live—“ you hush childe’s antics by squishing his cheeks together, forcing a fish like pout to form with his lips.

“i love you too, you’re just annoying.”

he’d take that over you fully ignoring him any day.

K. KAZUHA — 枫原万叶

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ not possible, thank you next character.

ʚ the only possible way kazuha would ever not indulge your i love yous is when he’s away to a different nation and he sends you a response letter that takes weeks to come to your hands, or if that same letter somehow gets wet or ruined while in transit and his affections get dampened and smudged

ʚ otherwise? kazuha doesn’t see the point in stubborn behaviour. if there’s a problem, though there hardly ever is, he’s under the pretence a couple should talk about it with a clear mind before making a final decision or statement — or in this case, the retraction of affection.

ʚ you’re his map, with the treasure being your heart. why would he ever choose to not tell you he loves you when he gets the chance? you already lack sufficient time with another, and kazuha prefers using the time he does have with you to show you how much he adores you (whatever way that manifest as).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

kazuha absolutely smothers you in his love. though that usually feels more like you’re resting within the comfort of a sandy beach as soft washes of waves tickle your skin. you’re never short of a supply of affection.

that’s why a devious idea popped into your head. what if you just didn’t reciprocate?

“my heart,” kazuha’s breathy voice popped the bubble that hung over your head. “you’ve been spaced out for a while now, do you need a kiss to help you refocus?” you had to stop yourself from jumping at the opportunity.

“uh, no it’s fine, you don’t have to,” the reply made kazuha raise an eyebrow quizzically. that’s certainly not something he expected to hear especially after not seeing you for a while; but, he’d respect your choice. it’s not like he’s desperate for something so simple, you could just genuinely not be interested.

“hm…alright then, beloved.” he smiled sincerely, head falling to rest on your shoulder as his hand gently rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles that mirrored the shape of the moon that cast a glow on you both. “i love you.”

he could’ve sworn he just said he loved you, so why did the winds bellow a response instead? coughing into his hand to clear his throat, thinking that perhaps you just didn’t hear him, he repeated: “i love you, songbird.”

met with silence again, kazuha simply stays quiet. he doesn’t need a reply, that’s not why he says sweet things to you like he’s writing a lyrical sonnet. he tells you he loves you because it helps write the song in his heart that beats whenever he’s near you in a much more coherent way.

K. AYATO — 神里绫人

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ this man oozes with romantic appeal. even if he’s off voyaging to a whole other nation he’ll find a way to not only say i love you, but also to say his good morning and good nights (accompanied with poorly doodled attempts at kiss marks to make up for the lack of physical touch).

ʚ when he’s upset? gods no. he could be frustrated with you to the point he needs a break, and regardless he’ll leave the room with a reminder he loves you. he doesn’t need you getting second thoughts and therefore won’t ever plant them.

ʚ he’s too busy? so? thoma has two hands i’m sure he can handle giving you letters that are merely love notes while he cleans the abode (assuming you and ayato live together separately from where he works…you can imagine how much thoma despises this errand despite his loyalty).

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“greetings, love,” ayato’s arms slid around your middle, chin coming to rest atop your shoulder as he hums a sweet tune as if he were a bird coming back home to his nest. a rather direct analogy, since that’s exactly the occurrence.

plagued with hours of paperwork and meetings with government issues and secret organisations that god forbid you or ayaka ever found out about, ayato has missed you gravely. if he didn’t know better he’d demand this sort of sin to be classified as a national crime with the sentence being told to stay home with your spouse all day (his literal dream).

now that he’s free for at least a little while, peace alas twinkling within his eyes as they close tightly to enjoy the silence as he clings onto you, ayato does feel like all the pain and ink he went through was totally worth it. if the price he had to pay for holding you oh so tightly is simply meaningless signatures on several documents, he’s willing to waste the entire supply of ink within inazuma — he wants this reward to last as long as possible, after all.

“mm, you smell divine, are you using the flower-scented perfume i sent you the other week? i love it,” he rambled, lips pressing against your nape as you busied yourself with some crocheting, ayato’s eyes opening only to focus on the way your deft hands moved so skilfully. he’d make a comment about how he wished those hands were on him instead, but he had a particular reputation to uphold — and lewd impatient man certainly wasn’t part of it.

“more importantly, sweetheart,” ayato cooed, beginning to trail kisses around your neck and any exposed skin he managed to find, “i love you. so, look at me won’t you?”

merely turning your head to plant a kiss to the side of his jaw in a way of compromise, you otherwise remained silent. “you know,” ayato smiled devilishly, his hand beginning to play with your hair soothingly. “i bought some stuff on my travels recently, a lot of things that are meant for you, of course.”

“i can’t wait to surprise you tonight during dinner.”

that was a threat. maybe not a direct one, but you could recognise the slyness in that man’s voice soon as he mentioned buying “stuff” — things that were definitely substitutes for poison (a little far fetched, but it’s best to assume whatever he conjures up will be the worst thing possible to save yourself the trip to a hospital bed).

“i love you too.” you appeased, and his face immediately lightened, arms returning around you as if finally satiated.

ayato huffs a stifled laugh, quelling your worries with a simple: “i’ll have the staff know you’d like your favourite dish prepared.”

ALHAITHAM — 艾尔海森

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ lowkey, it’s a bit of a 50/50 with him…?

ʚ sometimes, he just genuinely doesn’t hear you. whether it’s because he’s subconsciously disassociating, overstimulated from excessive noise (it’s pretty much canon that he’s autistic, you can’t give me a character that constantly wears headphones and only speaks when spoken to and expect me not to connect the dots) or simply because whatever’s playing in his ears was a little too loud and had managed to drown out your words — these specifics are never intended, and he’s more likely to reply back if you repeat yourself (or give him some time).

ʚ other times though, is simply him teasing you. remember that one scene at the end of the interdarshan festival where alhaitham said, “best things are told thrice” (or whatever the quote was), yeah he commits to that in this scenario too.

ʚ he’ll pretend he can’t hear you just so he can see the sweet frustration in your eyes as you mumble the words “i love you” through gritted teeth. he’ll smirk it off subtly and reciprocate…after a while of course. perhaps when you’re falling asleep on his chest once you’re finally cuddled in bed together, you’ll manage to catch his hushed whisper.

the world was intent on making alhaitham break down today. he woke up without you in bed with him this morning, meaning he couldn’t brush his teeth while next to you as he passed you things that you required to get ready to start the day. from that, none of the foods or snacks he liked were available and the only option were fruits or meals he didn’t like or he weren’t in the mood for.

already feeling irritated and grumpy, him nearly spilling a vase on the books he had perfectly stacked up to binge read as he bumped into the corner of the table could’ve made him bang his head brutally on the wall. this wouldn’t have been a problem if kaveh didn’t place something so fragile and wobbly on something that’s in the way.

alas, when he finally died down for the afternoon, book in hand, a melody passing by his ear as he tried to focus on breathing, all a sudden that irritation just slowly came creeping back. the words on the page squished together like some sort of cartoon from fontaine as they began to make no coherent sense even as he went over every line twice.

to make it worse? you had just come back home.

that sounds bad, but for alhaitham it was a travesty. now he wasn’t able to at the very least embrace you in greeting in fear he’d lash out at the sudden contact. noticing the scrunching of his brows and the way his jaw looked like he’d been clenching it subconsciously for hours, you smiled out of sympathy, knowing from experience that this was most definitely another case of the domino effect of bad shit happening.

“need me to leave you alone for a bit?” you asked as quietly as possible but in an octave he wouldn’t twitch at in frustration.

he shook his head. a little surprising, but you complied with his wish and sat down on the floor next to him as he laid back on the couch as if in an impromptu therapy session. alhaitham held out his hand for you and you gently but surely placed yours on top, a delicate reminder that he was free to express whatever was on his mind when the world finally felt a little more peaceful.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s not like alhaitham really says he loves you verbally, he prefers showing his love to you though actions. after all, actions speak louder than words — what’s the point of telling you he loves you if he doesn’t have the actions to back it up?

but for the sake of the scenario, let’s imagine alhaitham decides to spoil you with one his few vocal affirmations. his hands slowly running up and down the spine of your back, chest rising and falling in slow steady breaths as you burrow yourself into his side. alhaitham was reluctantly reading a romance book that you forcefully recommended him in hopes he’d learn a few things that would make you swoon (despite him doing plenty such things already).

“i love you.” he randomly blurts, his eyes clearly having scanned over the same phrase within the page he was on since he rather quickly skipped past it once your eyes caught glimpse of it. alhaitham is a confident, sometimes arrogant, man — nothing ever truly bothers him when in regards to the words or actions of other people unless they pose a threat to someone he loves.

however, in this case, your lack of words makes his brows scrunch down, bright teal eyes now scrutinising you as you clearly try to hide away a giggle. “don’t you think it’s a little rude to not reply to someone’s confession.” he asks in a monotone voice, attention returning to the words on the page that now seemed irrelevant.

“if you want me to be like the characters in your little romance stories, how about you also commit to that yourself?” a little harsh sounding, but when faced with alhaitham’s pettiness, this is probably the most lenient he’s ever been to anyone.

WANDERER — 流浪者

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ another one that’s not necessarily surprising.

ʚ he likes using the phrase to tease or slander you, if anything. case in point: “oh i love you alright, but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my blanket in the middle of the night.” or “i love you more when you keep completely silent."

“i’m convinced you don’t love me.” ah god, not another one of your little helpless spiels again. this sort of conversation starter would normally set of a warranted number of red flags. in this case, however, both of you understood it was more like the start of a theatrical display of your pettiness.

“right, and why’s that?” scara asked unamused, face not changing from his casual stoicism as he scanned over a possibly illegal book he snuck from the library (and if this conversation goes one way you might just tattle to auntie nahida).

“you slept on the couch yesterday even after i cooked your favourite dish and got you out of that lecture kusanali forced you to attend by pretending we had chores to do,” you list off your good deeds on your fingers, your body sinking next to his on the couch that seemed more like a partner in crime than just a piece of furniture.

scara rolled his eyes. licking the tip of his fingertip to turn the page on his book, he huffed a response absentmindedly: “i do love you, but you just keep pushing me off the bed because of my cooler temperature so i got annoyed — simple as.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

‘oh, so just fuck me i guess?’

it’s already so difficult for him to even admit how much he cares for you, so to have such a hefty phrase leave his lips and be left with silence? he’s a little more than pissed.

scara’s eyebrows crunched together, confusion written all over his face at the sudden change in your demeanor. you’re always the first to jump at the opportunity to coddle him soon as his sour lips turn sweet, so what’s with the sudden negativity? the hostile fire that once flickered in his eyes was now replaced by a mournful sadness, and scara couldn’t help but feel like he was staring at a stranger.

his chest tightened in a way that didn’t feel good, and he found himself swallowing thickly, eyes flicking downward to where your hands swirled an ice-filled glass. guilt nipped at scara’s conscience, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh.

“what did i fucking do wrong now?” he spits out.

scara tends to take even the slightest joke within your relationship as a direct threat or dig at him. not because he doesn’t trust you, not even because he thinks your relationship isn’t at a secure stage — but just because that’s all he knows. he doesn’t know how to respond to something lighthearted when all that he’s felt so far in his life is extremities.

“hm? what do you mean?” you ask, the teasing tone you took on dwindling upon the quick glance at how his bottom lip jutted out nervously. did everything have to be so irrevocably complicated?

scara shook his head, exhaling a small sigh before he just let the matter drop naturally. he didn’t have time for stuff like this. he’d like to think he knows you well enough to recognise when you’re simply teasing him, but that fact alone isn’t enough to make that ache in his heart go away.

he just needs a minute break. and perhaps for you to sneak into bed with him so you can cuddle him from behind.

LYNEY — 林尼

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

it’s a little difficult for lyney to say the words “i love you” to someone who’s not technically part of his family. he trusted and loved you easily, you cared for his siblings as if they were your own and even gave up your own pride to protect him; but something itching within him tells him he has no right to confess his true ardour.

lyney is nothing but a pawn with a jesters hat, using sleight of hand to remove the idea that he’s deceptive from your mind with a few whimsical flower tricks. it’s hard to allow himself to be so vulnerable and open when he knows full well that if his father found out, the disappointment would be greater than the reward.

when he’s coated in that black circus show getup, his smile broad and stance wide with confidence, he’ll reply pretty easily! after all, he had to please his audience. but, you’re not just a stranger in the crowd. you’re his beloved, someone he waits for before one of his grandeur shows as you press a kiss to his cheek as a lucky charm that he finds himself gently touching as he slowly enters the stage.

but when he’s merely lyney, a lonely kid from the house of hearth who trembles in the comfort of the dark, your mumble of: “i love you a lot, lyney,” makes him replywith a mere widened look as if a deer caught in headlights, his pale face blossoming into a rosey pink hue as he tugged down at the front of his hat to cover his eyes.

“me too.” sometimes that reply is easier and much safer for both his heart and yours than the actual words.

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

lyney adores how easily you find yourself saying such a phrase, even a little jealous at time at both the idea of how many people you’ve uttered it to and the fact he finds himself stumbling over his own consciousness at the idea of confessing his affections back.

he’s also a massive trickster! you pull silly and harmless pranks on each other constantly, from something dumb like switching out a singular chocolate chip cookie to a raisin one to see the astounded look on lyney’s face as he bites down to something a little more sweet like lyney throwing out roses to an audience that coincidentally create a heart.

this is certainly a much crueller prank than any of the above.

lyney was a little jumpy backstage, constantly pacing back and forth with a genuine smile on his face that you’ve rarely seen, his arms constantly stretching out in front of him as he played with the leather of his gloves tediously. lady furina was going to be watching him today, it was no wonder he wanted you to help out!

well, lynette did everything, but you’re here for something lyney said he absolutely couldn’t go without. his good luck kiss.

hearing the familiar sound of the staff shuffling around their props, lyney sauntered to you with a smile as his lips tucked behind his arms innocently. “ma moitié,” lyney hums in a chipper, melodic tune, content at simply seeing your face light up once your eyes meet his, “i’m confident in my abilities as a magician, but i think you have the answer to quelling any of my nerves. care to share some of your magic wit me?”

you grin and tilted your head off to the side, giving him an encouraging thumbs up and a much less motivating: “break leg, lyney, i believe in you.” as much as he wished to coax it out of you, he’d have to unfortunately settle for the way you leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

yet, although he preformed flawlessly per usual, his execution even enthralling the ever critical furina who sat up in the crowd with a leg over her knee, you notice a slight hesitation in his movements, a brief moment of distraction that only you, who knows him so well, could catch. the show eventually concludes to thunderous applause, lyney and lynette taking their final bow as he nearly sprints off once the curtains draw closed.

backstage, as the crowd's cheers still echo faintly, lyney cautiously approaches you with a more serious expression. “[name],” he begins, his tone quieter, more introspective, “did I... do something wrong?”

who knew just the slight lower pitch of someone’s voice could make your heartstrings tug unceremoniously. you know it's time to end this silly prank. shaking your head, you take a step closer. “no, lyney. you were incredible, as always — lady furina seemed exceptionally impressed.” his breath catches in his throat — that’s not really what he wanted to hear. but before he could brush it all off, you interrupt his overthinking: “and... I love you too.”

his eyes widen in surprise, then soften with relief and warmth. “you really had me there,” he chuckles, pulling you into a hug. “you're quite the trickster yourself.”

you laugh, hugging him back tightly. “i learned from the best.”

NEUVILLETTE — 那维莱特

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ for neuvillette it’s less about him not saying i love you, but just how convoluted and complicated he can make it seem.

ʚ whether it’s by using outdated poetry and reciting it to you without the knowledge that the terms used completely flew over your head because they’re so old, or doing something that to him is basically more intimate than physical touch like gifting you a piece of jewellery that’s imbedded with a stone most certainly toxic to humans (he got it out of a rift from khaenri’ah when it first emerged and kept it as a little token).

ʚ this man is a dragon, he’s older than the snowy mountains of dragonspine and the deadly primordial sea itself…you can’t blame him for being a little bit over the top and traditional with how he says he loves you.

ʚ it’s all courting tactics! isn’t this what you humans enjoy? no? …maybe he should ask lady furina if she has some plays from the romance genre she’d care to share, perhaps then he could learn a much more modern way of showing his affections.

ʚ he’ll say he loves you if you vocalise you’d just prefer that but…are you sure you don’t also want this embarrassingly cute cup he made to match his dragon form?

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

the more he thinks about it, the sadder he gets. and the sadder he gets, the rainier the heavens become. neuvillette’s pen shifted between several of his fingers as the paragraphs in front of him shifted and blurred continuously.

you didn’t reply to his i love you this morning. straight after waking up he mumbled the sweetest, “i love you,” directly into your ear with that rumbling voice of his, letting his affections linger on your skin as his nose snuggled itself safely against your neck.

and what did he get in response? a small giggle and a, “should we get ready?”

at first, he merely internalised it as a mere misstep on your part. perhaps you merely didn’t hear him, you had just woken up after all you must’ve been feeling a little groggy. that managed to ease his nerves just a little, but soon as you closed the door to his office without a chance for another i love you, he slumped into his seat with defeat.

you humans are tricky creatures and scarily good at making other overthink things that someone should be most confident on.

just the idea that he might’ve done something to upset you enough for you to not want to love him so dearly as you normally do makes the skies weep to match the mourning in his heart. you best come back this instant with your arms wide open unless you want fontaine to flood over.

he may be one of the strongest beings currently alive and awake in the land of teyvat, but his heart is rather fragile when it comes to you.

WRIOTHESLEY — 莱欧斯利

꒰ him not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

much to the dismay of wriothesley, he rarely even gets to say he loves you. between managing the fortress of meropide and his countless responsibilities that range from being a guinea pig for sigewinne’s new test trials that she calls food to ridiculous requests from inmates, expressing his feelings often takes a backseat.

you, of course, understand his position, but it doesn't stop you from sending him love letters whenever you can. your letters are filled with warmth, affection, and little anecdotes about your day, hoping they bring a smile to his face during his busy hours — and they certainly do, he adores tracing your handwriting with the back of his gloved hand.

unfortunately, your letters piled up on his desk without being read. despite him desperately wanting to respond to every little i love you, he found himself way too preoccupied with other immediate matters that required his thorough attention. every time he’d open up his drawer to find a new pen to fill out a document with, he’d shamefully glance at the stack of unread papers that were littered with hearts.

each letter was one a piece of your heart — him stashing it away protectively would be a little romantic and rather ironic given his profession, but currently it felt more like he was actively giving you the sentence of a lifetime by withdrawing his affections.

no reply comes for days.

you understand that his duties are overwhelming, but a part of you yearns for some acknowledgment, a sign that your words are reaching him. however, wriothesley is determined to rectify this, he sat down at his desk after the first calm night in a while, pulls out a sheet of paper, and begins to write.

what you receive the next day isn’t necessarily anything grandiose or swooningly romantic — but it was enough; a large bouquet of your favourite roses with a special heart shaped note attached that when you latched it off simply read: “i love you too, sweetheart.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

alas, wriothesley finally managed to carve out a free day just for you. spending the day together ultimately meant either a completely lazy morning filled with sloppy kisses shared and your warm bodies all tangled within blankets, or a date where you bask in each other’s presence.

this time, you chose the latter. you needed a little bit of a pick me up and what better than having a romantic outing with your beloved? …where you simultaneously wished to entertain yourself with a bit of mischief. who could get away with teasing the mighty duke if not you?

a day of activities left you a little exhausted, which is why wriothesley decided to share the last few setting hours of the sun by sitting on a comfy blanket near an empty, secluded beach far from the usual hustle and bustle of fontaine.

"thank you for being so patient with me," wriothesley said, his voice low and sincere. "i know it's not easy, but you mean a lot to me."

you reached out and squeezed his hand. "aww, i understand, wrio. i’m honestly just happy we get to spend time together like this at all.”

bringing your interlocked hands up to his lips, his calloused and rough ones ridden with scars and marks that told stories of their own holding yours as if made of porcelain, he pressed a few gentle kisses to your knuckles as he mumbled a sincere: “i love you, [name].”

ah the very words you’ve been waiting to drawl from his lips. stifling a chuckle, you simply smiled and nodded, letting your hand wiggle away from his grasp as your focus drifted to stare at the crashing waves cleansing the shore.

wriothesley's brow furrowed slightly, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. "did you hear me?" he asked, trying to keep his tone light. "i said, i love you."

you nodded again, keeping your expression neutral. “i heard you."

his confusion turned into amusement as both his brows raised in disappointment — were you seriously teasing him right now? wriothesley leaned in appetisingly close, searching your face for a clue for your intentions. "and?" he prompted.

swallowing down another fit of giggles, you titled your head at him all coyly, “and what?”

wriothesley puffed out a chuckle before his skilled hand quickly swooped beneath your knees and atop the small of your back to land you on his lap. “do you think you’re funny?” his muscular and scarred arms closed around your middle, keeping you firmly in place to face your trial.

“a little,” you muse before lifting yourself a little within his grasp, moving in to press a more than welcomed kiss on his cheek. “i love you too, wrio.”

“that’s what i thought.”

ARLECCHINO — 阿蕾奇诺

꒰ her not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

ʚ arlecchino loves you, she really does. but unfortunately for you, you’re not the age of the orphaned children she protects and therefore she finds it useless to constantly reassure you of such a fact.

ʚ surely if you want her to prove how much she loves you, you’d be less childish with it and simply ask for a real heart to be displayed in a glass box? she’s kidding (perhaps), but given the nature of your dynamic, she’s sure you’ve said the words “i love you” in this relationship enough to cover her half of the bargain.

“arle, i love you,” you muse, buzzing around her desk like a never satiated mosquito. yet instead of sucking blood you merely made her wish she had the heart to plug her ears to silence your relentless affection spillage. she wouldn’t dare. but for the love of the tsaritsa won’t you be good and just sit on her lap and remain quiet?

“arlechinnoo…” another whine as you carefully sit yourself on her desk, her pen quickly brushing over lines, the ferocity at which she held it made the point look as if she was scabbing the paper.

“yes, bunny?” she looked off to the side at you, her expression holding an air of royalty that was most likely non existent in her blood, but definitely seemed present in the way she held herself. maybe it was just that natural posture of arrogance?

“i love you…won’t you love me back?”

“my dear,” she placed the pen down and got up, a sight that made the two informants that stood opposite of the room with their heads hung low nervously hunch into themselves. she sauntered to you and encased your body against the edge of the desk, hands on either side of you.

“you’re surely irritating our guests with your constant noise,” that crestfallen expression of yours was something she wished she could wipe, but that sinful, pyre of pride burned within her like vengeance, making her merely tap her hand over your cheek to refocus your forlorn attention.

soon as you tilted your head, her hot breathy whisper mumbled against your ear: “stay quiet and i’ll be sure to spoil you.”

꒰ you not saying i love you back ᡣ𐭩.ᐟ ⊹

“i’ve been issued another task within fontaine, do keep yourself out of trouble even though i have little hope you’ll commit,” arlecchino teasingly mused as she nudged your hip with hers while fixing her coat. “i love you, dear — i’ll be sure to send you letters.”

arlecchino is eerily fond of the silence that came after deafening screams. the scarlet stickiness that spreads across her grim face in splatters making her instinctively lick off that sweet residue. but right now, the silence was just a testament to how good she’s been treating you.

if you think you can get away with a silly prank like this as she’s awaiting your response like a puppy begging for a bone, you must’ve forgotten who has the collar and who has the leash.

catching your chin between her thumb and forefinger, she tilts your face upwards to meet her intense stare, stern eyes blazing with naked hunger. "i asked you to not cause trouble while i’m gone, but you’ve already decided to start, have you?”

most people would crumble beneath her shimmering eyes that spoke volumes of violence, yet deeply within your own heart you know she’d carry you over mountains of skulls that crushed beneath her callous heels if it meant getting you across into fairyland.

“admit it - you crave me just as fiercely as i burn for you." she grins before flicking your forehead with her clawed fingertips. “don’t make me repeat myself or you won’t be getting any gifts from me when i return.”

that’s the real threat you were waiting for. leaving a featherlight goodbye kiss atop her lips, you smartly respond: “i love you too, and don’t forget my favourite cake!”

she rolls her eyes, finally letting you go. “wouldn’t dream of it.”

©STARYUEE do not copy, steal or repost ♡ ᴜsᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ɪʜᴇᴀʀᴛɢᴀɴʏᴜ

#genshin x reader #gi x reader #genshin x you #venti x reader #diluc x reader #xiao x reader #tartaglia x reader #ajax x reader #childe x reader #kazuha x reader #ayato x reader #alhaitham x reader #wanderer x reader #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #lyney x reader #wriothesley x reader #neuvillette x reader #arlecchino x reader

2K notes · View notes

eymie · 6 months

Text

PHOTOGRAPHER !

pairing: thomas webb x fem!reader

warnings: smut, nudes?? kinda, alcohol, dry humping, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), thats it i think

summary: you were a new york photoprapher and thomas lived in your apartment. and after one frustrating night you invite him into your room.

a/n: WHERE. IS. THE. MF. CALLUM. TURNER. FICS. i’ve been on this game since fantastic beasts. (ive found a few scrumptious callum fics and yk who u r @willyoubemycherryy) also i have not written in a hot minute and none of you expected this.

You lived on the story above Thomas. Not that you ever really noticed him at first, you were relatively new in the complex too. Sometimes you’d hear him having a conversation on the stairs with the old man from 2B. Mix of words you didn’t bother to put together.

Well, you didn’t care until you saw him for the first time. The old man from 2B liked to talk a lot, often chatting you up when you got home from work. Sometimes bringing up Thomas which you didn’t care for.

"He could use a nice girl like you.”

To which you would’ve scoffed. You heard someone running down the stairs, to which you met eye contact with Thomas. Wavy brown hair, pink cheeks, glasses that sort of turned you on.

The real New York type of guy, to be honest, your type of guy. His lips parted as he looked at you, a small nod and than sliding past you.

“Where you going Thomas,” He called out, to which Thomas turned around laughing.

“I gotta go, meeting up with Mimi.” Thomas turned on his heels to leave until he was stopped again by the man.

“I want you to meet me friend.” The man gestured to you, Thomas smiling at you in return.

“No, it’s alright. I have to get going.” You smiled back, walking to the door where Thomas stood. You brushed past him, your clothes brushing his own.

“Where?” Thomas asked, furrowing his brows.

“Around, I’m a photographer.”

That’s how it started. After that, coincidentally you ran into Thomas a lot more after that. Usually alone, and to that he’d usually greet you and say hi. After a specifically draining day, a frustrating one at that, he ran into you in the front door.

He rubbed his eyes, apologizing and then he started talking. Going off about something you honestly didn’t care much about. You liked hearing him talk. You didn’t mean to say it, but you did.

“Wanna talk about it? In my room.” It came out like word vomit, immediately embarrassed. You watched his eyes for a second, not even processing his nod.

You grabbed his hands pulling him up to your apartment, dragging him close behind you. His hand was big compared to yours, you weren’t surprised you had already noticed he was a lot taller than you.

Your anxiety kicked in when you struggled to unlock the door. Him peering over your neck, watching you struggle with your keys. You felt his lips brush your neck slightly, your panties dampening.

You flung your door open a little too excited, a small laugh leaving his lips. He followed you in, to which you immediately grabbed your alcohol off the shelf.

When you turned around, Thomas caught you off-guard, pressing his lips to yours. It was quick, aggressive a bit, which you assumed was probably from nerves. He was quick to shake his head and apologize.

"Shit, I'm sorry." He mumbles, looking down at his shoes. You examine his face, his expression. You hand him the full bottle of alcohol off your counter, to which he takes from you with ease. "Thanks--"

You pull him back down, pressing your lips harder to his than he had before. You threaded your fingers through his hair, slightly tugging on it making him groan into the kiss. He still held the bottle in his hand, but his free hand slid to your waist.

He had you pressed against your counter, nowhere to move. His tongue slid over your bottom lips, you parted your lips allowing him to slip it in. Pressing and sliding against your own making you moan softly into the kiss.

Thomas pulled away, taking a sip of the alcohol, furrowing his brows at the taste. He placed it back on the counter beside you, who was breathless and needy.

He tilted your chin back up, pulling you back into another heated kiss. Both hands now free, groping whatever he could. You could taste the alcohol on his tongue, his kiss was intoxicating.

His hand slid up your skirt, tracing the apex of your thighs. His fingers slowly slide up to the wet patch of your panties. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

"Thomas," You gasp, pulling away from the kiss. He trails down your jawline and neck, leaving soft wet kisses. He hums into your skin, hands pulling your waist closer to his body. "Wait--"

"What?" He was barely audible, too busy tainting your skin with his marks which you would certainly cover up the next day.

"l don’t know," You gasp, his tongue running over the mark he had just left. You feel him smile into your skin, a small laugh leaving his lips. His fingers sliding over your panties, pressing onto your clothed clit.

"Do you want me to stop?" He pulls away looking at your flustered face. His hand pulling away from the apex of your thighs, sliding up your waist and under your shirt.

“No,” You were too quick to answer, a small laugh leaving his lips. The way Thomas kissed you felt urgent, like he needed you now and he could’ve wait. And if you knew any better you would’ve known why.

You walked backwards to your bedroom, never breaking the hungry kiss. His hands were large, pulling at your waist. Your hand pulled back to push the door open further, backing into your small room. He turned you, pushing you against the white door, shutting it with your body weight.

You let out a soft moan as his knee slotted between your thighs, pressing into your clothed his. His hands travelled down to your hip, pulling your cunt harder onto his rough pants.

“Look at you, getting off on my thigh.” You whined at his words, a wet patch forming on the fabric of his pants.

“Thomas, I want you—“

“I know,” He mumbles against your lips. Thomas was usually quick when it came to sex, at least with the foreplay but he wanted to take it slow so bad. Talk you through it. “Don’t worry, gonna fuck you.”

“Now,” You move your head to the side to give him more room to mark your neck. His hand slides up to cradle your jaw, lips attacking your skin.

“Not yet,” His hot breath against your skin, lips pressing to your neck.

Thomas’ hands slid under your thighs, you jump up wrapped your legs around his waist, His fingers press into your skin, holding you up against him. Your arms wrap around his neck as he tosses you down on the mattress.

“Take off your clothes, okay?” You nod in reply and quickly pull off your skirt and panted as he pulls off his shirt. You pull off your own shirt, tossing it onto the hardwood floor next to his discarded clothes.

You look up to see Thomas, pulling off his pants leaving him in his tented boxers. You suddenly feel yourself getting hotter than before.

It was in a flash, he was on top of you, hot skin against yours. His hands pried your thighs apart then slid up to your bra clad chest. He slid his fingers under your bra while he nipped at your jaw. His glasses were still on and pressed into your skin

Your fingers slid up to pull his glasses off his face, to which he tried to resist. “I can’t see without those.”

“Shut up,” You cut him off with a kiss, fingers tangling in his brown hair. His glasses were held in your free hand, falling against the pillow beside you.

He broke the kiss, still brushing his plump lips against yours before speaking. “Put them on.”

You knew what he meant but you ignored him, pushing him on his back instead. You climbed onto his lap, your hands pushing him down against the mattress.

You placed his glasses on your face, they made your vision blurrier and you wanted to see him. You went to pull them off but he gripped your wrist, pulling your hands away from your face.

His cock twitched through the fabric of his boxers, you slowly grinded your hips in return. A small whimper left his lips, his eyes shut. You slid you hand up his body to his lips, your pointer finger slowly parting his lips.

You watched as his eyebrows furrowed, parting his lips for you. You roll your hips again and you listen as another soft groan leaves his lip. You smiled, leaning down to press your lips to his. Deep in the kiss, your hands slide to slowly his boxers down allowing his cock to spring out.

Your lips parted at the sight of his hard cock, pre-cum drooling down the tip. His large hands slid up your waist and pulled you down onto his cock. Your wet folds sliding across his length .

“Want you inside,” You whined, nails gripping his chest. He bit back any noises, nodding at your request and let go of your hips. You bit your lip, positioning his tip at your entrance.

“What do you want?” He asked with a smirk, a little too amused for your own liking. You tried to sink down but he had a firm grip on yours hips stopping you.

“Please, need it.” You whine, trying against but his grip on your hips stopped you from it. You clenched your jaw in frustration at his lack of sympathy.

“Want me to fuck your pussy?” He asked with a small laugh, you scoffed in return.

“You’re too vulgar.”

“I’m about to be inside you, what type of vulgarity would you prefer?”

“Shut up—“ You didn’t get to finish before his hands were pulling your hips down, his tip pushing past your entrance. Your mouth fell agape and your eyes were shut closed. You whimpered at the slight sting, he was bigger than you expected.

“Yeah, take it like a slut.” He smirked, watching as he bottomed out, stretching your cunt wide open. God, he wished he had his glasses on to see how your cunt looked around him.

You didn’t noticed his hand fumbling onto the night table, grabbing your old camera you retired from taking photos. The flash made you squint through his glasses.

The small photo came up on the screen, your perfect body sitting on his cock, tits full and being held in his free hand. He was saving that for later. He put the camera back on the nightstand, hands trailing up to steal his glasses back but you grabbed his wrist.

“I don’t think so.” You swatted him away, adjusting his glasses on your face. Your vision still just as blurry as his own.

“I wanna see you.” He whined, leaning back on his elbows, squinting back at you.

“The photo for later wasn’t enough?” You tease.

“Come on, give me my glasses so I can fuck you.”

You pushed him back down on the bed, raising your hips before dropping them. A groan slipping from his lips as his head falls back on the pillow, bucking his hips up.

“Fuck me, Thomas.” You whined, grinding your clit into his pelvis. His nails dug into your hips leaving red crescent shaped marks. His lips were parted, head back as you rode him. "Please."

With that he flipped you onto your back, pressing your legs to your chest. The small room was filled with obscene noises and the slapping of skin. He thrusted his length into you harder, pulling you to meet his thrusts.

"Fucking begging for it," He grunted, his tip pressing into your sweet spot. Strained moans left your lips, despite your best effort to keep quiet. New York apartments had thin walls.

Your hand slapped against your mouth to muffle the loud moan that had just left your lips. His hand slid to your wrist, sloppily grabbing it and pinning it above your head.

"Don't hold back," He ordered, lips connecting to yours to swallow your moans and whines. His free hand travelled down from where he pinned your legs to your clit, pressing your sensitive bud.

"Fuck--" You moaned, the knot in your stomach tightening. His thumb rubbed your clit harshly, pressing his thumb hard against it. "So close."

"Come for me, baby." His lips brushed against yours, his saliva coating your kiss-swollen lips.

A gasp left your lips, then a strained whine. Your walls clenched around his cock, the knot coming undone. Your head thrown back against your pillow as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"Yeah baby, just like that. Come for me." His whispered into your skin, your hips bucking against his thrusts. He pressed soft kisses into your skin as you arched off the mattress. His hands travelled to the arch of your back, rubbing your spine. "So good for me."

You fell back to the mattress, soft whimpers leaving you between your pants. His hand left your sensitive clit instead holding your hips as he neared his own orgasm. Pulling out, his hot seed coating your thighs and stomach.

"Give me back my glasses, I wanna see that photo."

#callum turner #callum turner x reader #thomas webb #thomas webb smut #thomas webb x reader #thomas webb imagine #the only living boy in new york #callum turner smut #callum turner imagine

2K notes · View notes

underthetree845 · 1 month

Note

chuuya taking his hat off to hide when he kisses his partner 🤭

Hello saturn lovely! Sorry this took me so long to finish TwT I love the prompt, but as you know writer's block hit me kinda hard the second semester of school so over the summer I've been trying to get back into the swing of posting once in a while!

Hope you enjoy <3 thank you for the request! _

Kiss Me Hard Before You Go

Nakahara Chuuya/Reader (oneshot request)

cws: fem! reader, established relationship, bungou stray dogs s5 spoilers, meursault arc spoilers, fluff, hurt/comfort kinda? there was a little hurt, reuniting, airport reunion, ada dazai, reader cries about 2.5k words summary: Chuuya disappeared on a business trip for three whole days with no explanation- and no one would tell you why. Now he's returned to japan and back in your arms. a/n: This is my last fic for the summer before school starts aaa qwq I'm glad I was able to finish it before the semester starts though! *sigh* am I really incapable of writing something like this without accidentally creating so much plot? Anyways, hope you enjoy! <3 divider credit: (x) (x) ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ Chuuya had never considered himself to be a very possessive man; or a possessive boyfriend, for that matter. Protective, sure, but how could anyone expect him not to be? He understood, probably better than most, the risks that came with even so much as associating with a person in his position. It made Chuuya’s stomach churn unpleasantly to even imagine putting you in any sort of danger, so he used his position (along with the power and assets that came with it) to take certain preventative measures. The penthouse you shared was equipped with state of the art security, a technological system truly fit for an executive of the Port Mafia. Additionally, in case you ever needed to travel long distances without him, Chuuya often kept a trusted chauffeur on call. This individual also happened to be a professionally trained underground bodyguard of his personal selection. Even so, Chuuya knew you had a good head on your shoulders. He trusted that you would try to keep yourself out of trouble, or call for him at the first sign of it. It didn’t matter if he was on the road, halfway through a private meeting, or in the middle of pummeling down an enemy organization. Chuuya had always been a man with his priorities set straight. Not even Mori’s notifications were set to come through on silent mode. Coming home to you at the end of the day, allowing you to soothe away the crease between his brows, your voice uttering sweet nothings against the shell of his ear. You had become his lifeline, irreversibly carved your name into every cell of his body. He’d do anything to erase your pain, and it was making his heart break more than anything to know that he was the cause of the salty tears now streaming over your lash line. Chuuya did his best to hold back an ‘oof’ when you threw your frame into his own, burying your sobs in the crook of his neck. He was immediately overwhelmed with the scent of your perfume, the familiar feeling of your body against his own, the softness of the sweater you wore, and the glimmer that never seemed to escape your eyes. The red colored contacts from earlier had given Chuuya one hell of a headache, which only added to the pressure from taking off and being stuck in one of the mafia’s smallest private jets with the most insufferable jackass he’d ever met and some hair dye obsessed casino manager passed out on one of the couches. Chuuya’s gloved fingers almost trembled as they gripped the fabric of your shirt. He lifted a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other remained planted firmly on your lower back.

Sakaguchi Ango, if Chuuya remembered correctly, stood a few yards away. He simply observed the situation from afar, as if he dared not insert himself into the scene. A government agent whom Dazai used to maintain his connection with the outside world. Ango stood with one hand folded neatly over the other behind his back, the faint ghost of a smile residing behind his glasses as he watched Dazai reunite with his fellow agency members. The brunette walked on a crutch, but the uncharacteristically tired look in his eyes brightened ever so slightly when he was swarmed by his coworkers. Chuuya continued to hold you close, patiently waiting for your sobs to die down enough for you to be able to speak coherently. He loosened his grip slightly, removing one of his leather gloves behind your back and bringing that same hand up to cup your face. A whisper of your name left his lips, and your teary eyes finally refocused to meet the warmth of his own. “Chuuya… how could you just leave?” your voice cracked; he could see the hurt in your eyes. Guilt crept into his chest, eyebrows knitting together as you subconsciously leaned into his palm. This was exactly the sort of thing Chuuya promised himself he’d never do. You were the absolute number one priority in his life. There was no doubt in his mind; he didn’t want there to be any doubt in yours either. “I know, Doll, ‘m sorry, it was never my intention…” he muttered, allowing you to rest your hands on his chest. “I know that’s a shit excuse, but I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” A beat of silence passed, the indistinct chatter of the agency fell on deaf ears as you zoned in on the man in front of you. His breath, the way his eyes searched your expression, how you could once again feel the warmth of his skin against your own. “You’re not hurt, are you?” your voice was pricked with concern, hands gentle as you cupped his jaw and turned his head from side to side. Chuuya let out a breath, fondness flickering in his irises at your concern. “Barely a scratch,” he murmured, and you seemed to accept his answer. “Chuuya,” you started, and his gaze locked onto yours. He voiced your name in response. “I need you to promise me something, please?” “Anything.”

You bit your lip. Your mind told you it was a selfish request. You understood, probably better than most, how unpredictable your boyfriend’s line of work could be. But you had accepted it as an adequate price to pay for his love when the two of you started seeing each other, even more so when you moved in together. He was yours, you believed it with every fiber of your being. Chuuya had told enough stories of his old work partner for you to gather that the two had never exactly been the chummiest of pals. So the fact that they cooperated for this mission must’ve meant that it couldn’t have been a minor dilemma. You understood why Chuuya made the decision he did, and that it was probably just as difficult on him. Albeit, that didn’t make your feelings any less real. Your heart reminded you of the unconditional love and comfort that Chuuya always offered you. You knew he’d never intentionally hurt your feelings, especially not without talking it out and making up for it in some way afterward. “Doll…?” he barely breathed, giving you all the space you needed to voice what was on your mind. You took a deep breath. “Don’t… please don’t scare me like that again,” your voice wavered as you spoke, “Everything on the news is scary. And every time I watch it all I can think about is the fact that you’re out there.” You took a moment to glance at the group of Armed Detective Agency members on the airport runway to your left. One of the so-called terrorists you heard about on the news stood amongst the group about ten feet away from where you watched. The world was confusing, and scary, but there was a certain security in your heart that told you as long as you had Chuuya by your side, everything would be okay. “First you’re leaving before sunrise and staying out late on special missions, and I get it, I really do…” you felt a lump beginning to form in your throat, threatening to make you choke over your words, “but then you just leave on a business trip to Europe without so much as a ‘goodbye, I’ll be home soon’? And I have to find out from a call from your boss? I didn’t- I still don’t understand what’s happening. Do you know how scared I was? That I might not ever see you again?” Chuuya’s thumb swiped away the teardrop that ran down your cheek, his eyes trailing over your expression. “You’re right, it’s not fair… I don’t think I could ever apologize enough,” he began, his hold on you tightening slightly, “All that I can ask is for you to understand. I can explain everything to you when we get home. And I promise, I’ll do my best to not leave you in the dark so suddenly. It was an urgent mission, but it must have been scary. You’ll never have to feel like that again, not if I can help it.” Chuuya’s face softened, the corners of your lips curving up slightly at his sincerity as he cupped your cheek. “Shit… you deserve so much better.” You stood there for a moment, just breathing. Soaking in each other’s presence as your heartbeat gradually fell back to its usual pace.

“My my, Slug, is this the lovely lady you were so eager to get back to?” a voice chimed from your left, and you turned your head to face the man at the same time Chuuya snapped his head in that direction. Your boyfriend clicked his teeth, pressing your body closer to his own. “What’s it to you, huh, Dazai?” Chuuya was clearly trying to suppress his irritation. He was doing especially well, considering the fact that he had been holed up next to Dazai on an airplane for the past fourteen hours. “I’m just trying to acquaint myself,” the man went on, a grin playing on his lips despite Chuuya’s glare, “As a responsible owner, I should at least make sure my dog is in good hands.” You tilted your head slightly, and Chuuya sucked in a breath. “You’re treading on some pretty thin ice, Mackerel,” he growled through gritted teeth, “Watch what you say around my girl.” The taller man only took a step forward, his eyes glittering in amusement, a sharp contrast to the hollowed out, almost dead look he carried earlier. “Oh? Holding back your more vulgar language around the lady?” Dazai hummed with mild intrigue, “Perhaps my dog is being well taken care of.” You simply stood and watched with intrigue, the interaction clearly more complex than distinguishable at first glance. Despite their constant verbal jabs and ostentatious insults toward each other, there was a sense of familiarity between the two that was almost palpable to you. They bounced off each other, knowing exactly which buttons to press and which ones to avoid. It was probably a welcome change of tone in contrast to what they had just been through. Your gaze flickered between the two once more, and you couldn’t help but notice how the tension in Chuuya’s shoulders had been released. “Dazai-san?” your voice was level, and both of the men fell silent to give you their attention. You looked at your beloved, then to his ex-partner, then Chuuya, then Dazai again. Mirth swam in your eyes. “I want to thank you for making sure Chuuya was able to return home safely today. Truly, I cannot thank you enough.” You gave a slight bow of your head, and Chuuya looked like he wanted to protest. For once, Dazai didn’t immediately produce a response; he fell silent at your sentiment. This time, a gentler smile curved onto his lips. “Please spare me, Miss,” Dazai began, “Truth be told, I don’t believe I could have made it out without Chuuya’s help either.” The redhead raised his eyebrows. "I'm passing him into your capable hands now. I trust you’ll take good care of him?” Dazai seemed satisfied with the chuckle that slipped from your throat. “You have nothing to worry about,” you replied, “And I trust that your detective agency will treat you well?” “They always have.” Chuuya let out a breath, sharing a look with his partner before turning to face a black passenger vehicle that had pulled up a short distance away. Tinted windows that prevented anyone outside from peeking in; glass, body, and tires that were all bulletproof. It was one of the mafia’s.

“C’mon Dollface, we should get going. Don’t wanna be here when the press shows up, and the boss is probably dying for me to give him a call,” Chuuya nodded his head in the direction of the car; you brought your hand up to give a small wave to Dazai and the handful of agency members further away who glanced in your direction. You let out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding in, allowing your head to rest on Chuuya’s shoulder as you made your way to the car. You felt like you could finally breathe properly again. The door unlocked with a quiet click. Chuuya swung open the door of the vehicle with his non gloved hand and stepped aside to allow you to enter first. “...Chuu?” you started quietly, taking a step closer to where he stood. “Hm?” he raised an eyebrow. You placed your hands loosely on the back of his neck, fingers intertwined; Chuuya responded by resting his hands on your hips, listening intently. You could have held more of a grudge. He disappeared overnight without a word, and no one would tell you why. You’d been on edge for three days straight. Hardly even sleeping through the night as you kept up with the news almost obsessively, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. To be able to hold Chuuya close again so easily felt almost surreal. A soft smile creeped into your expression, the corners of your eyes crinkling as you tilted your head to the side. Chuuya’s breath stilled. “I’m just…” you paused for a moment, your voice pouring with sincerity, “I’m really glad you’re back, and that you’re safe.” Chuuya paused for another moment, studying you carefully as an equally tender look came to his face. He glanced to the side for a moment, and let out a disgruntled huff upon discovering that Dazai’s head was still tilted in your direction; he kept a curious eye on the situation from several meters away. Your boyfriend pursed his lips for a moment before snaking one of his hands further around your waist. He plucked his pork pie hat off the crown of his head, and before you had the chance to realize what was going on, you were already being gracefully tilted backwards, forcing your hands to grip onto the lapel of Chuuya’s jacket for support. Everything seemed to still the moment he slotted his lips into yours, holding his hat up to act as a shield from certain prying eyes. You didn’t hesitate to pull him in closer, your lashes fluttering shut as you savored what you felt like you had been missing for an eternity. Chuuya’s eyes were shut in concentration, his heart thrumming with delight at the familiar sensation of your lips molded against his own. Chuuya didn’t pull away until you were both light-headed from the lack of air. Cheeks flooded with warmth, looking at each other as if you were the only two people in the entire world. “I missed you so fucking much, you know that?” Chuuya’s voice was low as he brushed his thumb over your cheek. The two of you stood straight, lingering in each other’s embrace for a moment longer. Chuuya lightly tossed his hat inside the car and once more gestured with his arm out for you to enter first. The satisfied smile on his lips morphed into one of slight perplexion when you didn’t show a reaction, raising your fingertips to brush over your lips. “Chuuya?” you questioned, and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He replied with your name, all the more puzzled when you let out an incredulous chuckle. “Since when are your teeth so sharp?”

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹ a/n: Thank you so much for reading! Have a day/night/morning/evening as lovely as yourself. tagging: @judasgot-it (I noticed that I wrote down that I agreed to tag you for chuuya fics but I can't seem to remember why?? TwT please tell me if this is incorrect! Thank you <3)

553 notes · View notes

iluvloganhowlett · 2 months

Text

I HATE YOU .𖥔 ݁ ˖

in which logan leaves for a mission unexpectedly for almost a year and still expects to be welcomed home upon return

warnings: angst, no happy ending (oops!), a little violence, mutant!reader, that’s it fr

reader has same powers as logan bc they were both experiments at the same time

i also switched up the timeline slightly so pretend logan isn’t a grumpy old man and is more so how he was in x-men (2000)

part 2

“why are we here again?” wade questioned, stuffing a handful of cheetos he stole from a vending machine a while back.

logan only glared at him, “because. i left her for 9 months, the least i can do is come home and show her that im alive.”

wade shrugs, “who even is this ‘she?’ is she hot?”

in seconds, wade finds himself pinned against the wall of the hallway, logan’s claws only centimeters from his neck. “she’s my girl, you don’t get to talk about her being hot,” logan growls, retracting his claws and releasing wade.

“well damn wolvie! don’t get your panties in a bunch, im not stealing your girl! unless the charm is just too much for her then-“

“do you ever stop fucking talking outta your ass?”

wade only sighed, halting to a stop as logan did the same. “137,” logan muttered, looking up at the 137 sitting next to your door.

as logan rose his hand to knock, the door was swung open. logan’s eyes widened. he thought he’d gotten himself back into the right headspace to see you again, clearly he’d been mistaken.

the way your low-set brows rose up at the corners in anger, your long lashes drawing his eyes straight to your deep brown ones. your plush lips curled in slightly and your hair flowed down your back smoother than water.

wade whistled, “hey hot stuff-“ before he was cut of with a punch to the nose, dragging him down to the floor.

logan still had yet to say anything, admiring all the parts of you he’d missed.

however he was cut off with a groan, looking down at your claws that had made their way through his abdomen and back out, retracing back into your forearms.

“what the hell are you doing back here? and who’s the red sex-toy lookin’ thing that i j punched?”

as much as logan wanted to laugh at your dig at wade, he knew how to read the room. and frankly, he was still to stunned. “y/n? baby?”

“don’t call me that,” logan’s eyes widened, “you don’t get to call me that after disappearing for 9 months without notice, lo!”

logan couldn’t help but admire your use of his nickname you created even though you’re pissed at him.

“listen. i know, okay? i know and im sorry but if you let me in,” logan stepped closer, “i can expl- ah fuck!”

you’d stabbed him again in the same spot, pushing his body against the hall with your claws. “no you listen to me, logan. and you listen to me good. i’m not letting you come into my- our house after going awol for fucking forever and coming back with some random gay in a red suit,” you pulled your claws out of him but didn’t put them away this time.

your face softens, eyes moving rapidly between logan’s. he knew you better than anyone, he could see the way your eyes shifted from angry to vulnerable and the way your eyebrows lifted; you were a mini him, despite you being the same age.

“i thought you died, lo. i spent the past months thinking the only person i had and loved was fucking dead,” your eyes welled up as you backed away from logan, putting your claws away alas.

“i’m sorry, doll. im so sorry you have no idea,” logan’s calloused hands grazed your forearms, thumbs tracing the spot where your claws rested.

you sighed, holding back the urge to give in and hold onto him as long as you could.

“but you dont understand-“ you looked away, only for logan to lift a hand and cup your face in it, forcing your glossy eyes to meet his.

“you’re right, james! i don’t understand! so jesus fucking christ enlighten me.”

logan was taken back at your use of his real name, lip parting slightly. his heart ached more and more every time he watched your bottom lip quiver. he knew you were trying to keep up your strong facade, but were beginning to fail.

“i had a mission to go on. i had to save the world, baby!” your brows curled back into anger, and logan knew you thought he was bullshitting. “cmon, angel, stay with me. the asshat over there in the red, he dragged me into this. so if you’re gonna kill anyone for this, have it be him. i just- i need you to let me in.”

you shook your head. “lo- just-“ you stuttered, scavenging for words. “but why didn’t you say anything? you couldn’t have called? sent a letter? hell, baby i would’ve been happy with a fucking pigeon!”

“i didn’t have access to that shit.”

“for 9 months?”

he took a deep sigh, “yes, for nine months.” his tone grew louder. “because if i hadn’t left you for those 9 months there would be no more you for me to come back home to!”

“get out of my damn building, logan.”

“what?”

“leave! i want you and that goddamn red thing to get as far away from me as you fucking can and stay there.”

“y/n-“

“bye logan!”

you slammed the door in his face, leaving him standing there in utter disbelief.

logan’s claws retracted, “FUCK!” he screamed through the hall, leaving a giant claw park across your door.

he looked down at wade, who was watching from a safe distance on the floor. he put his claws away, grabbing wade by the fabric of his suit and dragging him onto his feet.

“get up, you heard the girl; let’s get the fuck away from her.”

logan was breathing heavy, more than ever before. it was like his heart couldn’t catch up to everything he was feeling in the moment. the last thing he wanted to be doing right now was walking out of your apartment building and leaving you, but he was weighed down by so much anger and hurt that he wasn’t exactly in control of himself at the moment.

“well,” wade started, “you handled that well.”

and before he knew it, wade was stabbed into a wall. “ow?”

logan growled, “i’m coming back for her.”

wade only let out a long laugh, stopping logan in his tracks.

“what the fuck are you laughing at? you should’ve heard the joke she made about you! she said you look like a sex toy-“

“i’m not laughing at that, you ape. i’m laughing at the fact that you’re coming back to her! look how it turned out the last time you ‘came back.’ “

“you don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. i’m coming back, whether she likes it or not. i’m not losing the love of my life after all i did to make sure i wouldn’t lose her.”

“i-“ “and next time im here, you won’t be.”

so! should i make a part 2 WITH a happy ending when he does come back??? 🫣🫣

♯ taglist! ∿

@spazwayy @oatmilkriver @sseleniaa @mei-simp @wittyjasontodd @wolverinesangel @realsimpbitchshit @pickuptruck01 @keigohawks @thereallchristine @velvrei

#wolverine fic #wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader #hugh jackman x reader #logan howlett #hugh jackman #deadpool #x men #marvel #deadpool 3 #deadpool and wolverine

687 notes · View notes

eczlipse · 1 month

Text

“Is that so?” - C.B.

summary : you show up extremely tired to your hot gamer roommates room, Choi Beomgyu.

pairing : annoyed!beomgyu x fem!reader, dom!beomgyu x sub!reader

genre + warnings : irritated!gyu, very dom beomgyu, use of nicknames (mostly jagiya (baby in korean), baby..), riding, unsafe sex. lmk if i missed any!

wc : 2.2k

You returned in your shared dorm from a long week of work and heard Beomgyu playing video games on his computer. He was playing again, and some other voices were present, too; he was chatting with his friends in a Discord call. However, he noticed you pretty quickly and slid his headphones down, looking in your direction.

"Hey. You look tired," He said with a soft chuckle and paused his game. He murmured to his friends he’d be leaving and continued over to you, “I didn't expect you to return this late. I thought we've talked about this already."

“M’Hey Beomgyu.” You whispered a bit, still feeling overwhelmed from your week’s activities.

He let out a scoff as you came back, clearly exhausted. During the week, you were given multiple shifts and hadn’t had time for yourself. Early shifts and surprising night shifts. Tonight had been friday and your last day of work for the week.

"How many times have I told you to not to overwork so much..?"

You attempted to count on your hands but failed miserably and laughed. You then scoffed and fell onto his bed.

He rolled his eyes at your failure to count, not surprised. Then, stood up from his chair and moved to sit beside you on the bed, gently grabbing your shoulders.

“And are you going to pass out on my bed?”

You chuckled a bit, “Maybe….” He let out a scoff at your bratty response and rolled his eyes. Beomgyu was tempted to push you off the bed so you’d be forced to go to your own bed.

“You’re such a pain,” he muttered softly and flicked your forehead. You let out a slight yelp at his action and slapped his shoulder and rolled your eyes. “Gyu! Why would you-“

Beomgyu chuckled, he found you cute when you were exhausted. “Oh, shut up. You deserve it for passing out on my bed.”

Grabbing your arm, he spoke once more, more irritation in his voice. “I’ll have to carry you to your own bed if you keep this up, you know.”

“I really don’t feel like getting up.”Empathizing on the really part, you pouted, you genuinely didn’t feel like moving.

Beomgyu let his head fall back, knowing that there was no way he would convince you to get up and go to your own bed. He let go of your arm and flopped on the bed beside you.

“You’re the most annoying person ever. you know that, right?”

“Sure.” You said sarcastically.

He stared at you for a moment, his eyes slowly traveled down to your lips for a split second, then back up into your eyes again.

“You must be a masochist or something. You really want to piss me off, huh?”

“Beomgyu i’m tired can I just sleep here.” You whined, you didn’t want to do anything. You were so worn out and wanted to pass out right then and there.

Beomgyu had to hold back a chuckle at your begging. After a moment of considering it, he spoke jokingly. “Hmmm… I guess so. Just don’t drool on my pillow.”

You rolled your eyes and immediately passing out on the bed. You felt comfortable having some sound in the background as you drifted away to your slumber.

You woke up while Beomgyu had been still playing games on his pc. Just then, he looked up from his desk and noticed you stirring in his bed. A smirk immediately formed on his lips and he slid his headphones down to his neck.

"Well, look who's finally awake." He chuckled amusement. You let out a soft grunt as you rubbed your eyes, those vibrant lights on his screen were too much they were almost blinding your newly awaken sight.

You felt light, a bit more awake. One thing was that, you were confused why you had been in Beomgyus room in the first place. You had always found him attractive but he’d also been a bit of a pain in the ass with his constant screaming.

He chuckled at your tired grunts, turning his chair back in your direction. He noticed the confused look on your face as you slowly got more conscious and smirked to himself.

"Still feeling tired, princess?"

He teased and leaned back on his chair, spinning it in your direction.

“Why am I here again?” You asked while attempting to get up.

“You barged into my room worn out as a skunk and begged me to let you sleep in my bed.”

“Doesn’t.. Sound like me..”

He chuckled softly at your response and nodded, amused by your denial. Beomgyu watched you sit up on the bed, and his gaze traveled slowly down your body. He noticed how your shirt was riding up from where it had been tucked into your pants earlier, exposing a small patch of skin. his eyes then glanced over your face.

"Sure…." He said sarcastically, his gaze returning to your face.

“I should uh… Go back to my room. Thanks for letting me nap here.”

Before you could climb off the bed, he spoke again. "You sure you don’t want to stay a little longer? I’m sure my bed is more comfortable than yours."

You fail to attempt a fake chuckle. Trying to be as respectful as possible, you try to reject his proposal.

“No It’s okay, I wouldn’t want to bother you. Plus, where would you sleep?”

He chuckled at your response, finding your attempt at being polite adorable. He couldn't help but toy with you a bit, enjoying the way you were getting flustered around him.

"Oh, don’t worry about that. My bed is big enough for the both of us. I'm sure I would have no problem sharing it with you."

After many back and forths of you trying to be polite and him not accepting it, the man was practically begging. Might as well accept. It’s one night, no biggie.

“Okay, fine. I’m gonna go find some pjs though. Can’t stay in this outfit.”

A satisfied grin appeared on his lips as you finally gave in after his attempts. He nodded in agreement when you mentioned finding different clothes, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Sure, go get changed. I'll be right here waiting for you."

As you walked into your room, of course all your clothes had to have been dirty. “Why didn’t I do the laundry? Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Was what you thought. The only remotely clean pair of pjs you had, had been your summer night gown. It had lace around the chest area and it was meant to be seen by no one but yourself.

After seconds of contemplating wether or not you should wear it, you give in and wear the short gown. Walking into Beomgyu’s room, he still seemed distracted by his pc.

When he heard a few footsteps near him, he looked up from the screen, jaw nearly dropped. He wasn't expecting you to come back wearing that.

Beomgyu's eyes immediately traveled down your body, noticing how small the dress really was. A soft clearing of his throat snapped him out of his stare, and he quickly looked away.

Trying not to make the situation more awkward, you decided it’s better you sparked up a conversation as he played his game. He was doing you a favour after all, your room was dirty, clothes everywhere and you were honestly too burnt out to deal with any of it.

“Soo… What game are you playing?”

“I’m just playing Overwatch. Nothing too interesting.” He hummed trying to contain himself from looking at you.

“Oh I’ve heard of Overwatch- Is it fun?” You spoke back while sitting on the edge of his bed.

He nodded in response to your question. "Yeah, it's a pretty good game. It's a lot better when you have some friends to play with though."

He sighed before speaking again “Do you wanna try?”

“Alright, i’ll try.”

You hummed while getting a bit closer. You noticed that he didn’t have another chair.

He smirked as you got closer, noticing your realization.

"Well, it looks like you'll have to share my chair with me, princess."

He teased jokingly, patting his lap as an invitation for you to sit there.

You let out a quiet gasp, wondering what he was trying to get at. Not only had you been worn out from working all week but you’d also been so needy for some action. Him telling you to sit on his lap might’ve possibly been a mistake.

As thoughts raffled through your mind, you came to the conclusion where, fine, you’d sit on his lap. Reminding yourself constantly not to do anything inappropriate.

Beomgyu had a smug look on his face as you stood there in silence, clearly thinking over your options. He knew that it would be pretty entertaining having you sit on him while he tried to play the game. Beomgyu had already prepared himself for all the things he or even you might do while being in such a compromising position, but he didn't really mind.

"Come here, y/n. I don't have all night."

You sat yourself down on his thigh and took over his mouse and keyboard.

“What do I do—”

His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist as you got situated on his lap, his chest pressed against your back. He chuckled at your question, as his chin rested on your shoulder.

"Well, just try to shoot at the enemies. It doesn't have to be perfect, hun. You can just play around and have fun."

The feeling of his presence under you felt nice. You shifted your body a bit on his lap, then began attempting to ‘Shoot the enemies.’

He tried very hard to resist the urge to tease you about the way you were squirmed on his lap, instead choosing to watch you play the game. He noticed how you shifted on his lap, feeling your body move against his own.

After watching you attempt to shoot the enemies, he let out an amused scoff and muttered near your ear.

"You really suck at this, jagiya. It's almost cute."

You sighed before speaking once more, “Beomgyu, I’ll be better than you in no time.”

"Is that so?" Beomgyu asked, a teasing glint in his eye as he watched you play. He shifted slightly, his hand reaching up to cup your breast, his thumb brushing over your nipple. “Is this okay y/n?” You gasped and nodded, your movements on the controller faltering for a moment.

"Don't let me distract you," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Focus on the game and prove your skills."

He continued to toy with your nipple, rolling it gently between his thumb and index finger. Your hips involuntarily began to move against his thigh, the friction causing a light whimper to escape your lips.

His fingers continued to dance along your nipple, the pressure increased with each passing second. You felt the wetness between your legs growing, the heat radiating from your core as your body began to ache for release.

Slowly, he slid his hand down to your skin tenderly. He went slow, though it felt nice, his prolonged touch. You felt his calloused fingers worshipping your body through the simple act, so soft, so intimate already.

A breath hitched in your throat, though he was going so slowly, it made it hard to concentrate. His calloused fingers came in contact with your soft skin, the background noise of gunshots now distant compared to the simple tension radiating infront of you.

His fingers moved over the hem of your underwear. "Do you think you can concentrate on the game now?" he asked, his voice thick with lust.

You bit your lip, your fingers trembling on the controller as he started to tease your clit. "Fuck," you cursed, your voice breathy and strained.

Beomgyu's fingers continued to circle over your underwear and later found himself teasing your clit. The rhythm increased as he felt your arousal grow. He then began pushing his fingers inside you.

You moaned, your body arching into his touch. "Fuck, Beomgyu," you panted, your eyes fluttering shut as he began to finger you.

You felt his hardened member under you, as he slowly began fumbling his belt to release himself. After having his shaft out, it hardened even more hearing your moans— As one of his hands had still been on your clit, he then pushed your underwear to the side and attempted to set himself into you.

“You’re so tight, y/n”

Beomgyu's thrusts grew harder, his cock filling you completely with each push. He leaned forward, his lips finding your neck, his teeth gently nipping at your skin.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice a low growl.

Your body tightened, your walls clenching around him as you approached the edge. You then cried out, your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave.

Feeling you spasm around him, Beomgyu's hips jerked, his own release following close behind. He groaned, his hold on you tightening as he pulled himself out of you and came.

A couple seconds later, you noticed that the pc screen showed that you had died. You and Beomgyu had probably been too distracted to notice, “Thought you were better than me, hm?” he whispered in your ear.

490 notes · View notes

gaypiece · 6 months

Text

Trafalgar Law + going down on you for the first time

☁︎ it’s 2am and i have earworms for law giving head 🫣 this is my first smut so i apologize in advance if it’s bad

☁︎ pairing: Law x afab!reader

☁︎ word count: 2.3k im sorry

☁︎ cw: 18+ mdni, shy reader, oral (fem receiving), surprisingly experienced law, law is a cocky teasing bastard, afab!reader, gender not specified but contains use of slightly gendered pet names, no plot, all smut

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The topic of experience had never come up between the two of you. You were shy, but still had been with a few people before. You thought from Law’s temperament of being cold and distant that he might be a virgin, but you also knew how sex-crazed boys tended to be during puberty. You wondered occasionally if he had messed around at that age, or ever, but were too shy to inquire about it. Needless to say, you weren’t sure what to expect when your relationship with Law turned physical.

It was a quiet, uneventful day. You laid with Law in his bed that night, holding each other, enjoying each other’s company. It began with playful kisses along his collarbones, your fingers lightly tracing the lines of ink on his shoulders and chest, exposed by the wife beater he wore. He hummed in appreciation before lifting your chin to kiss you fully on the mouth. It was a gentle kiss, the tip of his tongue lightly tracing your bottom lip as his hands navigated familiar territory, trailing over your waist and hips. He seemed to grow hungrier, biting at your lips, squeezing at your already bare thighs, until he had you beneath him. Your legs wrapped around him as he ground into you, both of you letting out breathy sighs. His mouth found your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before nipping at the tender skin beneath the edge of your jaw, making you gasp softly. You and Law had made out before, but this time was so much more intense, and you could feel how hard he was, pressing against you.

Still, it took you by surprise when he murmured against your jaw between kisses, “Can I touch you?”

Immediately, you turned bashful. “Do you. . . want. . . to?”

Law loosed a breathy chuckle, the warm air tickling your neck. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to.” His hand squeezed your hip.

”Y-yeah, you can.” Your voice shook with your nerves. “After, I can take care of you if you w-“

He cut you off with a kiss, his tongue greedily invading your mouth, causing you to whimper. He pulled back to murmur, “Don’t worry about me, doll,” placing another kiss against your jaw. He then brought his lips right to your ear, close enough that they brushed against it as he breathed, “Right now, I’d love nothing more than to eat that pretty pussy until you’re cumming on my face.” The feeling of his breath on your neck, on your ear, gave you goosebumps, your already flushed face burning hotter at his filthy words. It was then that you realized that Law knew exactly what he was doing.

Your body reacted instinctively. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, your legs tightening around his waist at the thought of his head being between them. He responded by grinding into you again, his teeth tugging at your earlobe. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you.

His mouth returned to yours, somehow even more eager. Cold hands slipped beneath your shirt, trailing over your curves, lightly gripping at your soft skin. One hand slipped beneath you, fingers gently following the line of your spine. His other hand roamed higher, until it cupped your breast. Long fingers massaged the supple flesh for a moment before finding the sensitive bud of your nipple, pinching and tugging teasingly.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to be irked with his teasing. You relished every touch he gave you, becoming putty in his hands, just as he intended. Still, your hands wandered over him, just as greedily as his. You gave a slight tug at the shirt that still clung to his chest. He hummed against your lips, understanding what you wanted.

He sat up, kneeling between your legs. You watched in fascination as he removed the tank top, revealing the toned planes of his abdomen. The black ink across his chest was stark against his tan skin. As your eyes wandered further upward, you noticed the sexy, cocky smirk that he gave you as you admired his body. His raven hair was disheveled from your hands running through the thick locks. He mimicked the motion now, golden eyes admiring you back as the matching ink of his fingers combed through the mop. The action mussed his hair even more, and you were taken aback by how breathtakingly gorgeous the man above you was.

”Like what you see?” he teased.

You couldn’t deny it, nor did you feel bold enough to tease back. All you could do was give him a sheepish nod, teeth digging into your lip.

”Me, too.” It was true. He enjoyed seeing you this way, cheeks flushed, lips puffy, pupils blown wide with lust. He had never seen anything more beautiful.

He leaned down to kiss you again, now slow and deep. His hands went to your sides, continuing to ease your shirt upward. The kiss broke momentarily as he pulled your shirt over your head, leaving you in nothing but your panties. You felt the shyness return, being so exposed to him. You didn’t give him a chance to look, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling him down to you for another eager kiss the moment your shirt left his hands.

The feeling of your bare chests touching sent a thrill through you, and your grip on him tightened. Fingers twisted into the hair at the back of Law’s head, you gave a gentle tug. You didn’t expect the low groan that spilled from his mouth to yours. Hearing that, you decided that you were definitely going to return his favor, even if it wasn’t tonight.

His mouth returned to your neck, biting at sensitive muscle and making you gasp. Your gasp turned into a whimper as his tongue eased over the bite. Slowly, he made his way down your neck, trailing kisses in his wake, along with the occasional nip. You couldn’t help but get lost in the feeling of him, admiring the way his lips and breath felt against your skin, the scrape of his teeth, the slight tickle of his goatee. This was bliss.

Law took his time making his way down your body. He seemed to be enjoying you as much as you did him, muttering sweet praises in between kisses. “So pretty. . . so perfect. . .” You were a desperate, whimpering mess by the time his lips found your lower abdomen. He bit down harshly just below your belly button, making you cry out, and surely leaving a mark. He pulled back momentarily to admire his work. When his eyes flicked up to your face, you didn’t miss the smugness in them as he pressed a soothing kiss to the sore spot left by his teeth. His gaze didn’t leave yours as he traveled even lower to mouth over your panties.

You didn’t expect your hips to buck up at the sudden contact. Law, however, simply chuckled at your reaction, “So needy.” By this point, you had had just about enough of his teasing. You threw your arms over your face, letting out a distressed groan.

”Hey, don’t hide from me,” he chided. He reached up to uncover your face, and you yielded, allowing him to move your arms. The smug smile he wore widened as he looked at you. “Are you pouting?”

You hadn’t realized you were. “No,” you denied, abashed. Your pout deepened, along with the flush on your cheeks as you turned away from him.

”You are,” he grinned. He repositioned himself so that your faces were level once more. He placed his hand under your chin, turning your face to look at him. You glowered. “You’re so fuckin’ cute,” he chuckled, capturing your mouth with his before you could argue. As he kissed you, he sucked softly on your pouted bottom lip, immediately making you melt. He always knew the right buttons to push in order to get you exactly where he wanted you. His lips parted from yours just a fraction so he could murmur, “Don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna take good care of you, okay?” Before you could respond, he was kissing you again. You hummed a “yes” against his lips, though it came out sounding like a whimper. “Good,” he praised, giving you another swift peck before reverting his attention to your lower half.

Law didn’t waste another second before removing your panties, leaving you fully exposed. He kissed along your inner thighs, still teasing just a little. You tensed in anticipation when his fingers carefully parted your labia.

His tongue licked a slow line, starting at your entrance, all the way to your clit. There, his tongue swirled around the bundle of nerves before closing his mouth over it with a tender suck.

”Ohh. Fuck,” you breathed, gripping at the sheets.

You whimpered as he hummed against you, sending vibrations through your core. “Delicious,” he mumbled, kissing your clit.

He continued this slow process of gentle licking and sucking, making you whimper and moan. You could swear that his mouth was magical, working over you so well. Combined with the sensation of his goatee brushing against you and his breath between your legs, you were in absolute heaven. Even better, you could tell that Law was enjoying this almost as much as you were. He put so much care into every little gesture, even in the way he gripped your hips and thighs. As you thought about it, the idea of Law enjoying you, enjoying pleasing you, it sent fire through your veins. Your hand found its way into his hair, making him hum against you once more.

Again, your hips bucked of their own accord, and his grip on them tightened. “Stay still for me, princess.”

You bit back a whine, clutching at the sheets and Law’s hair as he continued to slide his tongue over your clit. “I’m close,” you whimpered. One of his hands left your hip, and you didn’t have time to process what that meant before you felt two of his long fingers enter you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He timed the pace of his fingers to match that of his mouth, and it was almost enough to push you to your release. You stayed on the brink until he gave a slightly rougher suck to your clit, partnered with his fingers curling inside you. That was what finally made stars explode behind your eyes.

”Law!” you cried out. “I’m cumming. . .!”

He groaned into you, though you more felt it than heard it, struggling to control your own volume. He kept the same pace as he worked you through your orgasm, but continued even as you came down from the high. Both of your hands were now buried in his hair, weakly clutching at him. His hand that remained on your hip gave you a rub and a squeeze before reaching around your leg to brace his forearm across both of your hips. You didn’t understand why until his mouth and fingers quickened in pace. Sensitive in the afterglow of your orgasm, you couldn’t control the sounds that escaped you, nor the way your body squirmed and writhed with pleasure. His tongue now flicked over your clit repeatedly, relentlessly. His fingers were now knuckle deep in you, curled to continuously stroke that sensitive spot deep within you. He continued in this manner, persisting until another wave of pure bliss washed over you.

”Fuck, Law!” you nearly screamed. “Oh, gods.”

He slowed as he worked you through this orgasm, easing you down from the high. When he finally parted from you, a shiver ran through your body as you tried to catch your breath. You looked at him through lidded eyes. He gazed back with a smug smile, seeming to enjoy the blissed-out look on your face. Eyes locked on yours, he lifted his hand, still glistening with your arousal, and brought it to his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.

”Gods, you’re sexy,” you breathed. You reached a weak hand out to him. “C’mere.” He obeyed, moving to hover over you as he had before. You cupped his cheek, pulling him in for a sweet kiss. “You’re amazing,” you muttered against his lips. You could taste yourself on him. It was so erotic that, if you hadn’t been so spent, you probably would have taken care of him in return anyway. You told him as much, making him chuckle.

”I told you not to worry about me,” he chided, adding, “I did only intend to get you off the one time, but hearing you moan my name like that. . .” He shook his head. “I just had to hear it again.” The flush that had just started to fade returned as you turned away from him. “Oh, don’t be shy now,” he teased, grabbing your chin. “You were making such pretty noises for me.” He brought his lips right to your ear again. “Makes me wonder how pretty you sound while you’re being fucked.”

You grew more flustered with each word he spoke, your face turning redder. “Okay, time for bed!” you announced, pushing him off of you so you could find your clothes. He let out a low chuckle, allowing you to move him to the side. As you put your clothes back on, Law left the room, returning moments later with his face clean, glass of water in hand. He offered it to you, and you took it gratefully, your mouth dry from all of the heavy breathing you just experienced. He took the cup back once you drained it, setting it aside to guide you back to bed. You were so thoroughly worn out that it took only moments for you to fall asleep.

pt 2

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

#one piece #trafalgar law cute #trafalgar law #trafalgar law op #trafalgar d water law #op #trafalgar law one piece #trafalgar d law #trafalgar law fic #trafalgar law smut #trafalgar law fanfiction #traflagar law #trafalgar law x reader

711 notes · View notes

gatorbites-imagines · 11 months

Text

Kinktober day 28

Mike Schmidt + Desperation

I watched the fnaf movie and my love for Josh Hutcherson is revived.

A shorty, as I have about three times more homework this week than normal, expected to be finished in the same amount of time as normal.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Mikes grip was shaky and clammy as he grasped at your shoulders, his brown eyes begging as you pressed your palm against his mouth to keep him quiet. Even as his eyes rolled back and he shuddered as he ground his hips down into you, muffled shaky moans leaving him as his breathing grew even more uneven.

He always got like this when he hadn’t been able to sleep for a while, when his medication had run out and they wouldn’t give him a new prescription until the next month. He needed something to put him to sleep, he had tried anything from different teas to workouts or meditation, but nothing seemed to work as great as your cock.

Mike had a hard time accepting it though, always trying out many other things to put him to sleep before he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He would always hesitate, before throwing his leg over your hips and grab at your chest with a shuddering grasp, exhaustion hanging in his movements and the desperation in his eyes almost unbearable.

He would kiss at your neck, carefully scraping his teeth against the flesh before soothing the area with his tongue, tiny needy huffs and whimpers leaving him as he would start rolling his hips down into you, already hard and aching and so very needy.

If that didn’t wake you up, Mike always found himself leaning over and shuffling through the bedside table for whatever bottle of lube you guys had laying around, kicking off his boxers in the process. His needy noises would only gain a newer level of desperation as he would start opening himself up, his mouth open as he struggled to stay at a manageable level.

This was typically when you would wake up, eyes blinking open to Mike above you, hair ruffled and eyes shiny with tears of desperation as he would move his fingers in and out of himself, his bottom lip red from how much he had been biting at it. Mike would almost keen as you grab his hips of thighs to roll them down into yours once more, so you made sure to shush him in an almost teasing manner.

Tiny breathless begs leave him as you kick off your boxers, slicking yourself up with the lube Mike had been using earlier, his grip returning to your shoulders as you pulled him down onto you. A loud groan almost leaves him, until you clamp a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet, his eyes growing wide and even needier, if that is even possible.

Your hand stays over his mouth, even has he rides you quicker and harder, his pace seeming to grow the more desperate he becomes, his noises and whimpers muffled against your palm. Sometimes you’d even be able to feel drool against your palm as his mouth would crack open, or his tongue would lap at your hand.

It was only when he was like this that he got whiny like this, where his noises would become high pitched in a way you thought was impossible, but here he was, bouncing on your dick and sounding like it was the best feeling in his life.

You know he’s close when his movements start growing uneven, hips grinding down into your as you press against his prostate, before withdrawing maybe halfway before forcing himself down once again to feel the flares of pleasure again. His eyes would also roll back more than usual, at times you would worry he would go blind from how far back his eyes seemed roll.

Especially when he would cum, a flare of pain would flash through your arm as Mike digs his teeth into your palm to muffle his own noises, hips twitching and jolting as the tears that had been gathering in his eyes finally spill over. Mike would whimper and whine, and if you didn’t have to worry about volume, it wouldn’t surprise you if he would have howled.

After cumming, Mike would still keep riding you, though you could tell exhaustion was starting to catch up as his movements grow sluggish, but he would want you to finish inside him like always. So, with a few deep thrusts, you would fill him up with clenched teeth to keep yourself quiet. You can’t even find it in yourself to complain as Mike collapses against your chest, asleep before you can even pull out. You would do your best to clean the two of you up, but you had learned after the first time that you couldn’t get all of it until the next morning.

1K notes · View notes

syoounn · 15 days

Text

Them trying period pain simulator

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Characters: Chuuya, Dazai, Fyodor, Sigma

Chuuya

Chuuya quirks a brow at your random suggestion. It's an odd question for sure. He blinks, raising his head from the crook of your neck.

“A period pain….Simulator…?” He echoes, confusion lacing his voice. He props himself up on his elbows to look at you a little more directly. “Why on earth would you want me to do that, Doll-“

As soon as you explain the purpose of the simulator, He laid there, relaxed, and let you set up this “pain simulator” thing.

"Fine.. I can take it even the highest level anyway.." He said, sounding cool and not fond of the idea.

Chuuya wasn’t exactly sure of what to expect, but he knew it was going to be bad. He just didn’t know HOW bad.

The moment the simulator turned on, Chuuya inhaled sharply, arching his back with a small groan of pain.

“F—-k-“ He cursed, his hands clenching into fists. The simulated pains weren’t at all gentle whatsoever.

Chuuya groaned again, shifting his body a bit to try and get more comfortable, but in return, the pain only intensified. Chuuya tried his best to muffle his pained noises by pressing his hands over his mouth, keeping his gaze up at the ceiling.

Chuuya then heard you giggling as he raised his head, looking at you. He gave you a look that was simultaneously annoyed but also kind of pitiful.

“Y’think this is funny? I feel like I’m dying, Doll.”

Chuuya let out a sound that was a strange mix between a pained whine and a scoff.

“Not fair,” He grumbles, shifting his body onto his side. “This thing is cranked up t-to 10 in intensity… ain’t ya’ gonna turn it down a bit..?”

"What do you mean? it's only level 4.." You said.

Chuuya froze, his body stiffening up a bit from hearing that. He had thought that the simulator was at the highest level of intensity the whole time, but now that he heard you say that… that made it worse.

“T-this is only f-fucking LEVEL 4?!” He asked, turning his head to look at you with an almost frightened expression.

A few minutes later and Chuuya was already a complete mess. He was clinging to you like a lifeline, his face buried in the crook of your neck, and his arms were wrapped tightly around your body. Chuuya was trying his best to suppress the whimpers and the sniffles of pain that he was letting out. He still had a bit of his stubborn dignity, but he was crumbling quickly, slowly losing the battle against trying to look tough.

"I thought you could do it until the highest level.." you said.

Chuuya groans against your skin,

“H-highest level my a—ass-“ He hissed, his voice shaky and breathless.

Chuuya continued to cling to you, pressing himself against you like a small, clingy puppy. His breathing was slowly returning to normal, but he still was trembling slightly. Perhaps this is the only way to get rid of his "coolness"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Dazai

Dazai is just clinging to you as he usually does as he tilts his head up at you, raising an eyebrow in curiosity. He’s heard of those things before, though he isn’t exactly sure what it is. He’ll admit he is curious.

“A period pain simulator, huh? What, you wanna see if I can handle worse than you..?” He teases lightly, letting his arms fall from your body as he sits up, turning to face you.

"You think you can handle it?" You questioned.

He gives you a smirk, crossing his arms and nodding.

“Darling, I’m a grown man; I can handle anything life throws at me. I'm not saying I’m not gonna whine and complain while I’m at it, but I’m sure whatever that thing can dish out, I can handle~”

Dazai grins, his words full of confidence. He figures he’s dealt with far worse things in life, so something that’s just supposed to simulate period cramps shouldn’t be THAT bad… Right?

Dazai watches you in silence as you set the simulator up on him, still wearing a smile as he’s sure he’s able to withstand the feeling. But as soon as you turn it on, his entire demeanour changes.

His eyes widen as unexpected pain courses through his body, his jaw clenches at the uncomfortable feeling, and he lets out an exhale that sounds almost like a gasp.

The room filled with Dazai's sound of whimper and groan as you decided to turn it off.. Chuuya lets out a small sigh of relief as you turn off the simulator. He then shoots you a look, his cheeks a little flushed, and he looks rather needy looking.. is this his plan all along..?

You look at him with suspicious look he just smiles. "Ahh..~ I've been in pain.. don't i deserve to have a-..

You then turn on the simulator again. Dazai's eyes widen in surprise as the simulator simulates the cramps again. He lets out another pained groan, his hands clutching at the bed spread as the pain returns.

“Bella- turn it off- ah-“ He groaned, looking up at you through half lidded eyes.

Looks like you’ll have fun torturing him?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Fyodor

I don't even know how you manage to convince him, and perhaps you can see this other side of him, but anyways... He snickers lightly, seemingly entertained by the idea. A smirk rests on his lips. "You want to see how well I can endure menstrual cramp simulations? How intriguing."

He takes in the sight of the device, his expression neutral, yet his gaze slightly narrowed, as if studying it closely. "I must admit, I am quite interested to see if this simulator will manage to mimic the pain experienced during a woman's menstrual cycle."

"Alright.. I'll start it up, " you said.

A slight wince appears on his face as the simulator begins its work, the first wave of discomfort making itself known. Nevertheless, he remains silent, determined not to let it affect him too, obviously. He does his best to maintain a neutral facade, though his eyes betray a hint of strain.

The simulator's simulated cramps get increasingly more intense with each passing moment, and Fyodor can't help but feel his determination beginning to crack. Sweat beads on his temple, and his pale face flushes with effort.

Yet, he continues to bite back any further sounds of discomfort, refusing to give it the satisfaction. He mutters through clenched teeth, "How much longer...?"

"It's only level 4..." You said.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise, a hint of disbelief flickering in their depths. Level 4? He'd barely endured the first few waves of pain. He grits his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, drawing in a shaky breath. "How many more levels are there?"

"Like 10 levels.." you said.

Fyodor continues to suffer in silence, his eyes squeezed shut, and his teeth clenched tightly together, stubbornly refusing to give the simulator the satisfaction of breaking his composure. The pain is increasing, getting almost unbearable, and he struggles to keep the sounds of strained gasps from spilling past his lips, struggling to push through the immense discomfort that has taken hold of his body.

"Do you want it to stop..?" you asked.

He opens his mouth to respond, then stops, his pride warring with his sense of self-preservation. Admitting defeat is not exactly his style, but the pain is excruciating and nearly unbearable. After a few moments, he grits out, through clenched teeth, "Tch. Very well. Turn it off."

"How was it?" you asked.

He takes a moment to gather his composure, his breathing still somewhat shaky from the ordeal he'd just endured. He runs a hand through his damp hair and shakes head slightly, trying to clear it. When he finally responds, his voice is slightly strained, and he allows just a hint of pain to creep into it. "Quite... intense. I must admit, it was even worse than I'd imagined."

He exhales slowly and lets his gaze drift over to the device, still feeling the aftereffects of the pain. "You certainly chose quite the... interesting way to spend our time together, my dear."

A sly smile twists his lips. "And here I thought you simply desired to see me squirm in pain."

You then got surprised by that.. he totally caught you. He moves a hand to his stomach, rubbing it in a slow, almost comforting gesture. "However, despite the rather... unpleasant experience, I can not help but feel a sense of respect. You have certainly managed to find a way to surprise me, dear."

He chuckles softly, his voice regaining some of its usual calm. "Still, do not expect me to agree to such a thing again anytime soon. That... experience was not exactly how I'd planned to spend my evening."

He lifts his gaze to meet yours, his smirk turning more cheeky. "Now, if you're in the mood for more pleasurable activities, I would be more than happy to oblige, my dear."

Well, i guess good luck to yourself tonight...

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sigma

Sigma thought over it for a moment before responding to you.

“You want me to experience what it feels to have a period?” He asked now, looking at you with a pout, but not saying no.

"You don't have to if you don't want.." you said.

He thought over it again and then finally made a decision.

“Okay, fine, I’ll do it. Just for you, though.” He said before he removed the hair from his eyes and then looked at you with a shy and nervous expression.

You then prepared the simulator he sat down properly on the bed, mentally preparing himself for the pain he’s about the experience, not knowing what he’s gotten himself into.

The pain simulator then started to turn on and Sigma started to feel like something is tightening up inside of him, a burning sensation as the pain started to spread all over his abdomen, he gripped his shirt now as pained groans escaped his lips, looking at you again, wondering if this was worth it.

The pain just started to become worse and worse as time went by, Sigma now started to whimper out quietly, the pain growing more unbearable, he felt like crying now because of the pain, he just didn’t know how you could handle it, the pain and the cramps was awful.

You saw Sigma’s expression as you turned it off and felt bad.. as you spoke.

"Are you okay?"

When the simulation was turned off, Sigma just sat there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before nodding at you.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine..” He said quietly in a shaky voice, still a bit in shock and surprised at how painful it is.

Yes it was unbelievable to him that you actually had to suffer from this every single month, dealing with the pain and the cramps, and yet somehow you can still act like your normal self, it just makes him want to do everything he can to make you feel better whenever you are going through your period, he just wanted to protect you from everything.

He looked back at you, watching the concern in your eyes. He just wanted to comfort you and make you feel better. He wanted to spoil you.

He then opened his arms to you, signalling for you to join him, which you did. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close in his embrace, pulling you to rest on his chest, nuzzling into you, letting out a quiet sigh as he did so.

As then these few days, you notice Sigma become affectionate and spoil you more, ahh.. he's such a sweetie.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

(Sorry for not updating for a long time! i promise I'll update more soon!!) ( =＾ω＾)

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd fluff #chuuya x reader #fyodor x reader #dazai x reader #sigma x reader

367 notes · View notes

vanishingstarrs · 4 months

Text

twenty something

katsuki bakugo x reader, established relationship, just soft and pure vibes, down bad bakugo

( it was my bday on friday and i wanted to write something short and sweet, self indulgent for sure )

You didn’t care for birthdays.

You had never made a huge fuss over your own, anyway.

The last birthday party you remember having was back when you were still obsessed with fairy princesses and only spoke in broken sentences, likely only five.

Since then, it had really only ever been small dinners and hardly any presents. Your family never really had the means to do anything huge and you told yourself you never minded, that all you ever cared for was the acknowledgment of the day. And that was never skipped or glanced over, there was never a lack of love and you always felt grateful for another year.

It was true, you did feel that way and after the war those feelings only grew. You were more appreciative than ever, even more so for all the new friends and loved ones in your life.

Your boyfriend, Katsuki, especially.

And though you weren’t expecting anything, your boyfriend had other ideas. He’d come over the night before to make you dinner and give you a few gifts he’d gotten you. You swooned over his attention to detail, he cooked your favorite meal and got you things he knew you’d love.

“Katsuki…”

“I know.” He sighed,“You might not wanna accept it, I know how you are, you think it’s too much, but I’m not returning it.”

He stood up, walking behind you and pulling the intricately detailed locket from the box you had just opened, he unclasped it and moved your hair aside to secure it onto your neck,“Open it.”

You listened, opening the locket and feeling your heart swell.

Your boyfriend had not only gone through the trouble to get both your initials engraved on the back of the necklace, but he’d already gone ahead and selected two of your favorite pictures. One was just your favorite photo of him and the second was one of you two together from the first date you’d gone on together. It’d taken you so long to convince him to take that picture with you and as a result was now one of your favorites.

“Thank you, my love.” You looked up and kissed his cheek,“I love it very much.”

“Just thought you should have something, just in case…”

You gave him a look,“We don’t think like that, love, but I appreciate the sentiment you were going for and I’ll cherish it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” He gave you a small smile,“Alright, you can open the rest, this was the only major one, don’t worry.”

You smiled and shared another kiss before proceeding to go through the rest of the gifts he’d gotten you. You worked in the hospital and he’d gotten a few things that would be useful; a few cute pens, a new pair of comfy shoes you’d been wanting to try out since your feet were always killing you, and a brand new water bottle (your last one got crushed after you accidentally ran it over with your car) and with it he’d also gotten tons of adorable stickers to decorate it.

You smiled big when you pulled a Hello Kitty plush out of the next bag and he rolled his eyes like he hadn’t been the one to purchase it.

“Don’t think I’m feeding your addiction to that weird ass cat.” He scoffed,“Just thought this one was actually kind of cool.”

Cool was an understatement.

Hello Kitty was known for lots of collabs with many of your favorite shows and characters, but this one? This plush was dressed in your boyfriend’s hero costume and the tag on it had his hero agency’s name on it so it was definitely official and not just some knock off.

“Didn’t even know they made these.” He explained,“Don’t remember approving that shit.”

You blushed,“I might’ve seen the papers on your desk one day and signed for you…”

“What?!” He stood up, shocked.

You shrugged,“I didn’t know they were actually going to go through with it, Sanrio teases lots of collabs so when I never saw it in stores I just guessed they went a different route.”

“When were you even in my office?” He asked, curious instead of upset.

“About a month ago, baby, remember? You were asked to patrol last minute because Eijiro’s wife went into labor and we had planned to have lunch together so I ended up dropping off food just in case you got a chance to stop and eat. I think your assistant, what’s his name, dropped off the papers and since I saw the logo on it… and well, I couldn’t help peeking.” You told him the story, feeling slightly guilty.

He rolled his eyes,“You’re lucky I don’t give a shit about that kinda stuff, otherwise I’d—”

You gasped suddenly,“Oh. My. God! Baby, what if they ask you to do a photo shoot with Hello Kitty, herself?! Wouldn’t that be amazing?”

Your boyfriend couldn’t help chuckle at your excitement,“I suppose it would be, a little bit, and I promise if that happens you’ll be on set with me that day, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” You gave him a big kiss and he handed you one final bag.

“Last one.” He said.

You rose an eyebrow at him as you peeked inside,“A dress? Do we have an occasion?”

“Only the best day of the year.” Katsuki took your hand and pulled you up to give you a hug,“I wanted to celebrate with you today because I’m a selfish bastard and I like having you to myself.” You felt him check his watch,“It’s officially midnight and officially your birthday.”

He pulled away slightly, holding your waist with one arm and placing his other hand on your cheek, making you immediately lean into the warmth of his touch. The kiss he gave you was gentle and full of so much love, you already knew this was your favorite of all birthdays just for the fact that you were spending it with him.

You opened your eyes and his gaze gave you butterflies, you felt like you did on your first date.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

“Thank you, Katsuki.” Your cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much.

“And I lied.�� He said,“I do have one more thing for you, but it won’t be until later. We’ll sleep soon, and I’ll have a few more things to take care of before it, but I’d like you to take my card—”

“Baby, no…” You began to deny, he’d already gotten you enough.

“Yes.” He insisted,“You have a dress, all you need to do is find some accessories. Get some shoes, buy a new purse, hell buy yourself the whole store, baby, go fucking crazy. I’m asking nicely, and I’ll make sure you get something, trust me. And I want you ready by three, got it?”

You knew arguing with your boyfriend was pointless, that was one bad thing about the both of you, you were equally stubborn and fighting only ended when you got tired of it.

“Fine.” You relented.

True to his word, you went to bed soon after the gifts. Your boyfriend brought an overnight bag and you were happy to have him hold you in bed. When you woke up, however, his side of the bed was empty and in its place lay a birthday card.

You picked it up, smiling at the design he’d gone with and pictured him standing in front of the display for a long time before deciding. You opened it and out fell your boyfriend’s credit card, you rolled your eyes and set it aside to read the contents of the note.

Happy birthday, my pretty girl. I know you’re new to celebrating, but I plan to change that soon. You deserve the world and more, and I’ll do my best to make sure you get it.

P.S. Please enjoy this breakfast (see nightstand) and be dressed by 9! Mina will be stopping by to ensure you shop for all your needs.

P.P.S. I love you.

You quickly turned and found the aforementioned breakfast, a cup of hot coffee, and a beautiful bouquet of tulips decorated your nightstand. You smiled and snapped a photo, sending it to your boyfriend along with a thank you.

He must’ve just left to take care of whatever he was planning.

You tried not to think about it or your nerves and overthinking would definitely kick in. You ate your food and sipped your coffee in bed while checking and responding to any birthday messages, picking up immediately when you saw your parents calling. You almost teared up when they started singing happy birthday and laughed along with them, asking if you’ll see them later in the week for your annual dinner. They agreed and you finished the call with ‘I love you’s’.

By the time nine rolled around, you were ready and right on time was Mina’s knocking on your door. You opened it and got greeted with a hug.

“I heard free shopping trip and here I am!” She cheered,“Ready to do some damage?”

“Not quite.” You blushed,“What do you know about his plans?”

She shrugged,“Sworn to secrecy, dude, sorry.”

You scoffed and laughed as you said,“Whatever happened to chicks before dicks?”

You’d met Mina as a result of dating Katsuki and ever since then you’d hit it off with her as much as you had your boyfriend, you never really had too many close girlfriends and she was a very welcome surprise into your life.

“Doing this for my chick.” She elbowed you teasingly,“So grab ya bag, girl, we have places to be and money to spend!”

You listened, grabbing your purse and reluctantly taking your boyfriend’s card as per his request.

It didn’t take long for Mina to decide which stores you should head into. It did, however, take more than a few for you to actually want to buy anything. It wasn’t that you didn’t see things you liked, but it was hard for you to accept your boyfriend was paying for you.

You’d been brought up to be independent and though you knew the importance of being taken care of, it was hard not being the giver for once.

A pair of shoes eventually caught your eye and Mina caught on quick, calling over an associate with a mischievous smile,“My friend would love to see these in a size seven, please.”

“Right away, miss.”

The woman left to find them and you sighed,“I don’t know, Mina.”

“Girl, please, your man literally is begging you to spend some of his money and you’re hesitating? These shoes are to die for and he explicitly stated you should get some to match your dress. We already got a few cute pieces of jewelry, I think these would match perfectly to those.”

In the end, Mina convinced you. Or the saleswoman did, when she revealed the shoes you were trying on would actually go on sale next week and that she’d be happy to adjust the price for your special occasion.

For once, you’d been happy to reveal it was your birthday and you walked away even happier with your bargain made.

“That was so nice of her.” You beamed as you followed Mina around a purse store she liked.

You definitely didn’t need one of those, but your eyes wandered aimlessly to pass the time.

“Mhm.” She agreed before holding up a bag,“And how hot is this bag?! C’mon, Bakugo would want you to have this.”

You regretted turning around as you actually really liked the one she’d been trying to show you,“Nope, got a bag, but thanks.”

“And you have shoes and jewelry, babe, the whole point of this trip was to treat yourself.” Your friend countered. She was right and you hated it.

You sighed,“I know, but I bought stuff already…”

“A few inexpensive sterling silver rings off that lady’s booth outside and a pair of shoes marked way down from the original price, this would be an actual treat.”

“Yes, but… I mean he already got me this nice necklace and the dress and all the other little things, plus he’s planning who knows what, I don’t think I need a new purse, mine may not be designer but it’s held up and it’ll be fine for a while longer.” You explained.

“He has the means to,” Mina walked up to you and pulled your current bag off your shoulder to replace with the one she was trying to convince you on,“Plus no one ever needs a new purse, it’s a want and it’s okay to have those, you know.”

You remembered the birthday card. You deserve the world and more…

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you sighed. Mina walked up behind you and wrapped her arms around you, smiling and raising her eyebrows,“So…? Whatcha gonna do?”

She drove a hard bargain.

“You need to consider you might be in the wrong field.” You pushed her playfully as she looped her arm through yours and led the way to the cash register. Your heart might have actually broken while swiping your boyfriend’s card across and your fingers were definitely shaking as you typed in the pin for it.

You knew your boyfriend received alerts for any purchases, especially big ones, and you were just about ready to turn back around when you heard your phone ping, assuming the worst. He had to be pissed at that one.

my love: Glad to see Mina’s doing her job, don’t you dare feel guilty. You deserve this and more 🧡

You looked up to find Mina glancing at you and smiling,“Told ya.”

The last purchase you made was with your own money as you’d run out of your favorite blush and needed to replace it. You enjoyed lunch with your friend and she drove you back home where she proceeded to stake claim on your bedroom floor to get herself ready with you.

“You’re really not gonna tell me?” You asked your friend as you applied a light layer of foundation.

“I’m sure you could guess…” Mina shrugged as she curled her eyelashes,“But I really can’t say, all he told me was to take you shopping and keep you busy until three. He’s having a car pick us up.”

“You don’t even know?!” You turned around, shock written all over your face.

Mina snorted,“No, I’m trolling you, I totally know.”

“Ugh.”

You got ready in silence, save for some music Mina decided to play from a small portable speaker she brought with her.

Once the clock hit three, you were officially an anxious wreck. Your phone pinged.

my love: Your carriage awaits.

You made sure Mina was ready and that you weren’t forgetting anything before heading out, finding your “carriage” was your boyfriend’s car and he stood by the passenger door, holding the door open for you with a lazy smile. He was wearing nice clothes too and your eyes stuck to him like glue,“Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” He gave you a quick kiss, careful not to smudge your lipstick.

Mina fake gagged,“You two are disgusting.”

“Shut up and get in.” Katsuki told her before turning back to you, eyes soft,“You ready?”

You released a deep breath,“I guess so… I mean what am I even ready for?”

He smiled,“Don’t stress, just go with it. You’re about to find out anyway.”

It was hard not to, and you were sure your palms were sweating more than his as Katsuki always held your hand while driving.

You were quick to recognize the drive back to his house and relaxed a little bit, deciding he was right. Enough was enough, why not just go with it? You had amazing friends and an even better boyfriend, you deserved to get treated nicely. And he would never plan anything you weren’t ready for or wouldn’t like, as proven by the night before and the morning of shopping.

You didn’t see any cars or anything parked outside his house and you narrowed your eyes at him,“What’s going on? Seriously.”

He said nothing as he got out and opened your door for you, extending a hand out and helping you out of the car in your fancy new clothes and accessories. “Close your eyes.”

“For?”

“Please.”

Mina nudged you from behind and you obliged quickly.

He held your hand and led you with one hand on your lower back as you dutifully kept your eyes closed, you heard the jingling of keys and figured Mina must be unlocking the door for you.

“Watch your step.” Katsuki warned you and you felt him help you regardless as you stepped into his house.

Not one second of warning was given before it happened.

“Surprise!”

You opened your eyes immediately, hands going up to your mouth as you found your entire group of friends in your boyfriend’s living room, wearing party hats and blowing noisemakers. Streamers and balloons littered the room and a cake with your name on it sat on a designated dessert table. You almost cried when you spotted your parents and two brothers in one section.

“Happy birthday, baby.” Katsuki whispered in your ear before you were tackled by your family first, then your friends, and even some of your work family had shown up to wish you another happy year.

You felt a little overwhelmed at first, but slowly you relaxed. It hit you how happy you were, how much joy had been brought on by everything your boyfriend had done. You hadn’t experienced this type of celebration in a long time and it was nice to be seen by those who you held dear. Your boyfriend hardly left your side as you spoke and got around to saying hi to everyone. “Don’t let him go.” Your mother even whispered into your hair as she hugged you tight and gave you kisses,“Good ones are hard to come by.”

“He’s the best.” You agreed with a huge smile.

You eventually split up as you spoke with a few of your friends and even some of his, happy to catch up with Kirishima’s wife.

You held her son and spouted baby nonsense to him as she spoke your ear off about how her husband and Katsuki had been thick as thieves planning the day months in advance, and how she’d even been roped into calling people and checking on their availability. You thanked her for being part of it and looked up to where the two men now stood away, somehow still looking mischievous. You didn’t doubt they might even already be planning the next thing.

The night went by in the blink of an eye.

You saw friends you hadn’t seen in a while, learned the hard truth of standing awkwardly in front of a cake while everyone sang happy birthday to you, ate amazing food and cake, had a couple drinks, and lastly opened a few more gifts from those who had brought one. (You may or may not have received a few more Dynamite x Hello Kitty collab items).

Katsuki held you from behind as you watched your and his friends mingle together,“Did I do a good job?”

“I don’t know how I’ll top it for yours.” You said back, turning around in his arms, placing yours around his neck,“You did amazingly, I never thought I would have this one day.”

“For the rest of your life, I promise you will.”

You didn’t know why, but it felt much heavier when he said that. Like he wasn’t just promising you a lifetime of birthday parties, but like he was promising something else. You thought back to the way he smirked at you across the room when you saw him talking to Kirishima and your heart skipped again. There was no way. You’d only been together for a little over a year…

And yet…

Nah.

You pushed those thoughts away and allowed yourself to be happy in the now.

In his arms.

You kissed him,“I love you.”

You really couldn’t have asked for a better day, surrounded by the people who loved you— or for a better boyfriend, who made you feel seen in both little and big ways. Who went out of his way to ensure you were always happy and loved. You might just have a new favorite day of the year and it was all thanks to him.

“Happy birthday, gorgeous.”

Yup, you officially loved birthdays.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #katsuki bakugo x reader #unedited #i love him your honor

687 notes · View notes

luvtak · 4 months

Text

mr. sandman, bring me a dream

✧ pairing 7 dream x reader

✧ genre/tw fluff fluffy fluff fluff, what i think dating them would be like <3 an embarrassing amount of run-on sentences i'm sure.... the dreamies being the most perfect boyfriends to exist, mostly unedited

✧ w/c 2293 (about 300 words each!!)

✧ a/n back to my roots writing for nct... also,,, not the dreamies being my ult group but my last group to do these headcanons for :/ i have so much fun writing these little ideas and dreams about them let me know if you want more!

MARK truly the definition of wrapped around your finger… tells everyone about you every day of his life. Smiles at everything you say and calls you the cutest names. Makes sure everyone knows that you’re taken for life–no ifs about it. Tells you about his whole day, down to the most unimportant details. Kisses you all around your face and gets red seeing you so flustered. Constantly saying the worst pickup lines. Always always makes time for you even with his busy schedule. Talks to your family on the phone and becomes best friends with your siblings. Lets you win during video games and pretends that you’re just so much better than him. Never comes empty-handed–if you invite him over he’s bringing some sort of present he can’t help it. Wraps you up in at least three layers when it looks a little cold outside. Starts bringing up ideas for a Halloween couple’s costume in January. Celebrates your birthdays and accomplishments like his own. Holds you close to him in any moment of rest, the members are around? He’s only bringing you in closer. I’m sorry to say this, but he is definitely one of those people who refer to you as a “we”... “we watched that movie last week!” or “sorry, we can’t come, we have plans.” Would never even think about fighting with you and when it can’t be avoided, he is always the first to apologize. Walks around draped over you, his neck falling onto your shoulder and clumsily shuffling you along. Steals your phone to take silly pictures of himself, and you end up having 500 selfies of Mark making the same five kissy faces. Fixes your clothes/jewelry/hair as the day takes its toll. Kisses your wrist whenever you hold hands. Lovely and forever committed to giving you the sweetest existence possible.

RENJUN My angel boy<3 would be the most loving boyfriend if you’re able to get past him giving you sm attitude. Lovingly scolds you 24/7 365. Pouts if you don’t say you love him back or forget to kiss him before you leave. Steals your sweaters and jewelry. Makes you laugh so hard you cry, then kisses the tears away. Has the worst case of cute aggression when he see’s you like he can’t help but take a bite out of you. Whenever you ask him to do something he’ll roll his eyes and scoff but still gets up to do it anyway. Says your name so sweetly and with so much love it could be a term of endearment. Sings to you when you’re sad. Holds you so tight when you sleep, like he could absorb you into his own skin. Carries a picture of you in his wallet everywhere he goes. Gets genuinely annoyed when other people know something about you that he didn’t–wants to know everything, especially the embarrassing stuff. Acts of service king, does things for you and expects nothing but a kiss in return. Gives you the first bite of his food. Forehead kisses 100% of the time. Extremely tenderhearted, wants to be loved and love in return with nothing holding him back. Knows your schedule down to a T. Shakes his head at every joke you tell, but still grants you a laugh. Kisses you slowly and earnestly even if theres people around. Drops the most earth-shattering confessions of love at random moments and just expects you to move on. Matching accessories are a must!! And he will be ready to break up if your forget it one day (we have seen how he is with the dreamies friendship rings). Wraps himself completely around you when no one is around, and stays that way until one of you has to get up. Loves completely and wholeheartedly and is a perfect perfect boy.

JENO Shy and perpetually flustered, cannot believe he got you fr. Alternates between the cockiest boy you’ve ever met and the most oblivious creature around. Is so in awe of you, cannot get over you choosing him. A big baby of a boyfriend. Body slouched over yours at all times. Tells everyone it isn’t obvious how unbelievably whipped he is for you than giggles when you call him a pet name. Loves when you fawn over him lol, would feel so good about himself when you laugh at his jokes or wear an outfit because he said you looked pretty in it. Definitely the kind of boy who gets you a necklace with his initials on it. Is somehow even more smiley when you’re around. His love language is 100% acts of service–helping you with chores and making dinner, he desperately wants to wash your hair and help take your makeup off. Always takes you home himself and makes you call him before you go to bed. Kisses you all over when you’re sad and squeezes you so tight you can’t breathe. Puts his lips right over your ear and whispers so you can hear him in loud places, sometimes telling terrible jokes to see you laugh. Constantly on the phone with you–will get yelled at by his members and staff to focus on his schedule. Takes you on long drives and lets you have the aux the whole time, smiles even when he hates the song. Snuggles up to you and has you in an iron grip all night; wakes up periodically to tell you to stop wiggling. Literally a broken record of “oh my s/o would like this!” and “you would never believe what my s/o told me…” Tucks you into his sweater when you’re cold and always carries extra clothes because he knows you’ll forget. Could never hide his feelings for you, it’s written all over–hairbands and your favorite snacks in his cabinets. Is so so so in love with you, and would never even think about being embarrassed of it. <3

HAECHAN Sweet as cherry pie. Silly and charming and the kindest boy you know. Lives his life attached to you, hands on your hips and kisses pressed everywhere he can reach. Never goes a day without telling you he loves you in the most sickeningly sweet ways possible. Listens to every word you say, goes as far as telling other people to be quiet so he can hear you better. Serenades you with the most obnoxious renditions of love songs and coos when you make faces at him. Teases you endlessly–tickles and jokes and ridiculous nicknames, but would never let anyone else make a joke at your expense. Sleeps fully on top of you, head pressed under your chin and hands slipped under your sleep shirt. Celebrates you and your relationship with all of him, always the loudest voice singing happy birthday and the prettiest flowers congratulating you for an achievement at work or school. Speaks to you so softly and with so much compassion you almost get whiplash when you see him around the dreamies. Brings home sweet treats and little keepsakes from his day out. Will watch a movie or listen to a new song and note all the parts you’d like so he can play it for you later and speak to you about it. Unbelievably protective, not in a toxic way, but he wants so much to be able to take care of you and keep you safe–hand pressed on your back while you walk through crowds, and his hand protecting you from hitting your head as you get in the car. Has lists of important days in his notes app, cataloging gifts he could get you and your order at all your favorite restaurants. The perfect silly boyfriend, caring and lovely and everything you need

JAEMIN Marry this man. Has been committed and steadfast in his dedication to you since you met. Extremely serious when it comes to your heart and your feelings. The first to say I love you or to apologize after a fight–would never raise his voice at you or say things he didn’t mean. Is always feeding you, either a complete meal that took him an hour to make or the most perfect bowl of ramyeon you’ve ever had. Constantly sending you pictures of the cats. LOVES pda–kisses you in front of everyone and laughs when they groan, cuddles with you on the practice room couch, and rolls his eyes when the dreamies gag. Always kisses you with soft hands on your cheeks and the prettiest smile. Buys you a keepsake from everywhere they go on tour and gives it to you in a huge suitcase and will not feel ashamed in the slightest. Somehow finds out how to bring you up in every conversation, “oh they really like this song” or “thats actually their favorite movie you know…” you would truly never have to worry about anything with this man, he’s gonna take care of everything, a future airport dad if i’ve ever seen one. Sends tiktoks of cute animals and pouts if you don’t like them right away. Buys you silly sweatshirts and phonecases and demands you wear them proudly as a symbol of his everlasting love. Out of all of the boys, I feel like he is the most likely to give you a promise ring, and in my heart, I know he would have his name engraved on the inside–a quiet confession only the two of you know about. Sleeps directly on top of you, I just know it… holds onto you in every crowd. So many conversations between little kisses and I love yous. Always carries your things, whether it be a bag or shoes that got too uncomfortable his hands are open and ready whenever you need them. The most perfect boy in the world, and whose surprised?

CHENLE truly your best friend in the entire world, f2l in its entirety… would roast you every minute of every day but if anyone else even dared he is shutting that shit down right away. His arm has a permanent residence on your waist. Giggles at you when you’re annoyed at him but apologizes anyway. Makes you watch him play basketball at 11 pm and laughs when you say you're cold and sleepy, but takes you home right away. Will kiss you in front of anyone–loves it when you get all shy and flustered. Always trying to give you expensive presents and rolling his eyes when you tell him to reign it in. dog dates with Daegal!!! Talks about you so causally that the dreamies didn’t realize you were his girlfriend until he kissed you goodbye, and they were all so dumbfounded. Will watch anything if you like it and will tell you it sucked with a smile on his face before kissing you as an apology. Huge bouquets for any anniversary or birthday. Wraps his arms around you and rocks you around, whispering sweet words that he’d deny if you told anyone about. Stares at you 24/7 and gives you his 100-watt smile. Goes out of his way to help you–buys your groceries, helps wash your hair, picks you up, and takes you wherever you need to go–but always denies it. Begs you to wear his clothes, bonus points if it’s something that has his name on it, or some nct merch. Has an iron grip on your hand at any given point and giggles when you try to get free. Will listen to literally anything you tell him. Smiles into kisses and sighs when you pull away. Is so domestic and lovely in everything he does, even if sometimes he is the biggest menace.

JISUNG so so so shy, truly does not know how to have a s/o in public lmao. When you’re alone he’s the cutest most confident boy in the world but as soon as there is another person around he does not know you. He makes it obvious that it's just because he’s awkward, but sometimes you definitely do have to tell him to stop being a weirdo and to hold your hand. Constantly makes fun of people with you and is always ready to hear some hot goss. Is always listening to you–even if everyone in the room is talking over you, he will be looking at you with his full attention and urging you to go on. Laughs at everything you say even if it's not funny. Kisses your cheek every morning first thing, and thinks you look so cute cuddled up into the covers. Piggy-backs you everywhere: you drank a little too much or it's too early… up you go! You being comfortable and happy is his priority in any situation, and if anyone including himself is disrupting that he is dealing with it immediately. Whether that means complaining to one of hyungs to help him or going straight to the source of the issue, he’s going to try and help you, even if it’s not like him to speak up for himself–you’re the most important thing to him. Tries to teach you nct dances and gets unbearable secondhand embarrassment when he sees you mess up. Almost exposes your relationship once a month. Is wrapped around you every single moment you’re alone, even if it’s just for a second–someone leaves the room? Jisung is suddenly fully enveloping you. Thinks pda is so embarrassing but would try so hard to be more openly affectionate with you. Blushes to his roots when you sweet talk him no matter how long you’ve been together. Kisses your hands when it’s cold outside and wouldn’t even think about giving you anything of his if you needed it. The sweetest, shyest boy, and so wonderful–loving him and being loved in return would be the loveliest gift.

#k-labels #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct scenarios #nct imagines #nct dream imagines #jeno x reader #mark x reader #jaemin x reader #haechan x reader #chenle x reader #park jisung x reader #nct dream #nct

694 notes · View notes

javiscigarette · 5 months

Text

Emergency Contact

Frankie Morales x f!reader

Summary: Frankie gets in trouble and this is the last time you're helping him. At least that's what you tell yourself.

Warnings: angst, smut, post break up, mentions of drug/alchol use/abuse, military ptsd, frankie on a downward spiral and needs to get his shit together, emotional smut because I had to, fingering, oral (f receiving), creampie, frankie is literally this emoji -> 🥺 the whole time

w/c: 6.8K

a/n: part of @iamasaddie writing challenge 2.0!!! I picked puppy eyes brown and my genre was angst with the prompt: "Tell me how to fix this." And guys listen. I literally never write angst I’m such a softy but I tried my best with this okay! and I obviously had to include some smut I just couldn't resist hehehe. Also thank u to my baby love @undrthelights for finding theses pics and for everything else you do :) enjoy!

my masterlist

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain. But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath. “Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

The vibrations of your phone buzzing on your nightstand pulls you from a deep slumber, your heart is already pounding at the sudden noise, the rest of your body slow and sluggish as you try to gain your bearings.

You paw for your phone, squinting at the brightness of the screen when you find it. A call from a number you don't recognize. You debate letting it go to voicemail but the area code is local and that makes you pick up, a raspy Hello? leaving your mouth as you roll over in bed, glancing at the clock.

2:13 am.

The sound of your name crackles down the line, the immediately recognizable voice causing your heart to plummet to your ass.

"Frankie?" You ask, sleep quickly leaving you as tension takes its place.

"...Yeah, sorry, I…I didn't know who else to call." His voice is frail and pinched.

You don't have to ask him what's wrong, your brain already piecing the puzzle together You've been in this exact position before. The anger is already starting to creep in, your brow furrowed and stomach twisting as a familiar rage blooms in your chest.

"You couldn't have called anyone else?"

You know the answer is no. The rest of the boys are on a mission, leaving him behind after he failed on his promise to stay clean for long enough to get cleared to go. And now, you’ve fallen victim to that decision too,being the only person left to call whenever he finds himself without a leg to stand on. Frankie in trouble, you bailing him out. Just like normal.

"I'm sorry I didn't want to bother you I just..." he takes a deep breath and sighs. "I'm at the station on Oak street. Can you maybe... pick me up?"

You close your eyes and take a moment to compose yourself and reign in the anger at the way he's gotten under your skin already.

"What did you do this time, Frankie?"

He's quiet for a second before he finally says, "DUI. And um, slightly resisting arrest? It’s uh, it’s my first one and I didn’t blow too high so they’re letting me go as long as I show up for court in a few days."

His voice is soft but you can hear him fighting back emotion, his voice cracking and straining under the pressure. the sound eliciting sympathy you desperately wish you didn't feel.

"Jesus, Frankie," you sigh, defeated already.

It shouldn't even faze you at this point. It should be expected given the path he's fallen down since his return home from their last mission 3 months ago. The Frankie you knew before he left had been a steady force. Protective, headstrong but soft in his demeanor, so sweet and full of love. The man now standing in his shoes still holds some traits of that Frankie, but they've all been scarred and tainted with his fall from grace.

Memories of the nights spent tucked in his bed, his arms around you, his hands buried in your hair come flooding back like they usually do. The sound of his laugh, the feel of the downy hairs on his forearm pressed against your skin and the steady thrum of his pulse under his jaw as you placed kisses against his neck. The words you would speak softly to one another in the early hours of the morning, secrets only shared with each other under the protection of black velvet night sky.

All of it traded for bitter resentment and anger towards a version of the man that was ripped away from you.

When he was gone, you’d sleep in his shirts and on his pillow, clinging to the faded scent of his cologne as your brain conjured up ghost touches from his fingertips. Dreaming of the day that he'd come home, how he might touch you, and kiss you, the taste of his lips and the feel of his skin on yours. A reunion so deeply desired that the day after he returned was a sharp double edged sword - a blessing, and a curse. The Frankie that walked back in your life was broken, smothered with the weight of the innocent lives on his hands.

Warmth and tenderness traded for stony silence. Nights now spent at the bar, warming himself up with vodka instead of your embrace. Fights ending in harsh words and raised voices as he stubbornly dug his heels in deep, too ashamed to admit he needed help. Staying out late with no warning and coming back at dawn smelling of smoke, weed, and liquor. You are always wondering where he went, who he was with, if he was safe, or if he’d found someone else to soothe the pain.

Then the coke. An old habit that was kicked to the curb in his earlier years now back with a vengeance. Your ultimatum quickly following.

This or you.

A choice you prayed he'd be strong enough to make, but was clearly not.

And now here you are. Two months since you walked away, trying to convince yourself it was for the best. The majority of the last two months of his life is a mystery to you, which you've accepted is probably for the better.

"I know," he finally replies. "I'm so sorry baby, you know I..."

You can almost hear the way his jaw snaps shut, three words catching on his tongue. You don't need to ask to know what the next words are. Tonight was not the first time he's tried to use them in a vain attempt to patch up a crack in the foundation of your crumbling relationship.

There’s nothing but silence on the line as a war wages within you. Part of you wants to believe that he’s the selfish, careless man that he’s recently proven himself to be. But your heart whispers in your ear a softer notion. He's scared. Fragile. Battered. Embarrassed. Alone.

With a heavy sigh, you run your hand down your face in a feeble attempt to wipe away some of the grogginess clinging to you.

"I'll be there in 20," you say.

There's a pause before he speaks, "Really?"

Always an air of disbelief.

"Yes. But this is the last time I'm doing this Frankie, I mean it,"

"I know, I... thank you."

You don't bother to reply, simply hanging up the phone as the heaviness of this final gesture sets in. The gravity of the situation, of the line you're about to cross, already threatening to consume you.

This will, without a shadow of a doubt, be the last time you show up to save Frankie’s ass.

At least that’s what you tell yourself. Just like you told yourself the last time this happened and the time before that. But this time will be different. You'll set new boundaries. That's it, just ride this storm one final time and be done.

You know it’s a lie, one you desperately want to believe it.

___

He’s standing outside the doors of the small station, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, wisps of smoke rising and dissipating in the still night air. He looks up as he hears the engine of your car approaching, the red glow of his cigarette temporarily highlighting the deep frown on his lips as he takes one last drag before he flicks the butt aside and heads your way.

The anxiety radiating off of him is tangible as he drops into the passenger's seat, gently shutting the door and peering at you with wide puppy dog eyes full of shame. You don't look at him, focusing on backing out of the parking spot before pulling onto the road.

He picks at the skin around his thumb and bounces his leg, his jaw tight. You wonder how long he’s been at the station. How long he’s been sober. You’re still not sure if he entirely is right now.

Most of the ride is silent save for the hum of your engine and the clicks of your turn signal. His eyes never leave you, he can feel him boring a hole in your profile, trying to catch your eye as you watch the road.

"What?" you finally snap.

"Nothing, just...I was wondering if I could stay with you tonight. I can sleep on the couch, I…I don’t really want to be alone right now" he speaks so softly it makes your stomach lurch.

"Absolutely not."

"Please? I'll leave early in the morning, by the time you wake up I'll be long gone."

The rage is back, glowing red hot in your chest, fingernails digging into the leather of the steering wheel, your knuckles white and tense. How fucking dare he ask.

"Absolutely. Fucking. Not," your grit your teeth with each word, biting off the end of the sentence with a sharp finality.

"Right. Okay."

Silence takes over once again, your heart slamming against your chest, heat crawling up your neck as your cheeks grow red and damp. No. No. Absolutely fucking not. Absolutely not.

Frankie leans his head back against the headrest and rolls it to the side to watch you again. You can feel the disappointment radiating off him, hear him sniffling, his eyes, big and glassy, pleading when you glance over at him.

It would be a lie to tell yourself that your “plan” isn't already halfway out the window as your jaw clenches and your gaze ping pongs between the road ahead and the man beside you. Deep in the darkness of your soul you know that with Frankie is where your comfort lies. It’s tucked in the space between his ribs, squished alongside his heart and lungs, running the length of his spine and settling between each vertebrae. You worry you may never be able to completely dislodge it, unsure if it would ever fit anywhere else in any other person.

Maybe it would be easier if Frankie didn't fill up the cracks in your heart with the fractured parts of his. If he didn't take up room in your brain that's not his to own, if he didn’t crawl under your skin and take root into your DNA. Now every cell in your body knows what it feels like to be next to him, now programmed to cry out for his presence when he isn’t near.

And it’s no different now. He’s here, looking so pathetic it’s almost laughable, staring at you with tears sliding down his cheeks that glisten in the glow of the headlights passing you by. Crying over something that’s entirely his fault. You should be the one crying right now. Not him.

So you do.

Hot angry tears spilling over your lash line. Though you can’t decide who you’re more upset with. The man who drank himself out of your life, or yourself for falling for him once again in spite of it all. Either way, it’s not enough to convince yourself to stay firm in your decision.

Fucking pathetic. Both of you.

“You’re out first thing in the morning and then I’m done Frankie. I fucking mean it this time, we can't keep doing this to each other."

“Okay. I promise baby, I will. First thing, I promise." He replies quietly.

Your hand flinches with the urge to reach over and slap him for calling you baby. But instead, you clench your jaw and you shake your head at him.

"Don’t call me that, Frankie."

He quickly nods his head in understanding, his eyes again facing forward as he wipes away the wetness from his cheeks, watching the road the rest of the way to your house.

—

Neither of you move once the car is parked in your driveway. The silence is heavy, cut only by the tick of the engine slowly cooling once you remove the keys from the ignition. You chance a look at him and find him picking at his thumb once more, his face red, his eyes soft and timid when they meet yours.

“Tell me what happened, Frankie?”

You ask even though you don’t really want to know.

Frankie sucks in a breath and scrubs a hand down his face.

"I got into a fight at the bar, got kicked out, made the dumb fucking decision to try and drive home and...now I'm here," he laughs mirthlessly as he waves his hands as a vague gesture to you, your house, his current situation. You can't tell if he's telling you the whole story, his answer simple and devoid of context. The context you’re sure wouldn't be good for you to know.

“You could’ve killed someone, Frankie. yourself included,” you say after a few beats, your voice comes out sharp, frustration bleeding in each syllable.

He slowly nods as huffs out a breath.

"I know... it was stupid, and I was an idiot I...shit I was really careless and not thinking straight I’m sorry. I'm really sorry I-"

"I mean seriously Frankie,” you snap, cutting him off. “Do you ever, I mean ever, think about anyone but yourself? Or has it genuinely never crossed your mind that your shit might possibly affect the people around you?"

Frankie opens his mouth, eyebrows furrowed as he's about to respond. You don’t give him a chance to.

"How many more times are you going to take advantage of me, make me look like a fucking dumbass always showing up to rescue you? Why am I always the one covering for you, taking your crap, cleaning up your messes, only to have you throw it right back in my fucking face, every single time!"

Your voice cracks at the end of your sentence, chest heaving with each word that flies from your mouth. Two months worth of bitterness bubbling up from deep down, spilling over and cascading down your face in the form of frustrated tears.

"When did you become so fucking selfish, Francisco?!"

Hearing his full name fall from your lips spurs Frankie on, the last of his shards of resolve flying away as his walls come down.

"I don't fucking know okay?! I don't fucking know!" You flinch at the rise in his voice and his tone stings. But it's how quickly he follows up with a softer, feeble excuse that adds fuel to the fire, "I'm doing the best I can."

That does it for you. Hot searing molten rage pulses under the skin of your face, the tips of your ears hot with blood.

"Doing the best you can? The best you fucking can, Frankie? Fucking bullshit! Getting into bar fights, spending all your money on booze and blow, losing your fucking pilot license because you were too coked up to see straight? Was losing your driver's license just putting your best foot forward? Throwing your whole life away just because you refuse to get clean? Is that really the best you can do?"

You pause and swallow, giving Frankie a second to take it all in, letting him process the onslaught of scalding truths you've thrown at him, before you quietly continue,

"I can't keep doing this, Frankie. I just can't."

He sniffs and shakes his head in what appears to be defeat, his gaze fixed on his hands folded in his lap.

“I know...fuck. I know I’ve fucked up alright? I know that. I just don't know how to fix this," he admits quietly, his wide eyes watching you helplessly. “Tell me how. Tell me how I can fix this. Please."

You bark out a laugh, sarcastic and cynical.

"Are you serious right now? What do you mean you don’t know what to do? How many times did I help you try to find a therapist, try to get you into a program? How many times did I suggest AA? Don't fucking tell me you don't know what to do because you do."

He nods, shifting around in the seat, sniffling yet again as he looks back at you. "Okay, okay. I get it, okay? But what can I do right now? To fix this at least for tonight?"

You sigh, deep and heavy, your entire body now just exhausted. You half wish he would put up more of a fight, call you a bitch, snap back at you for going off on him. Maybe it’d make it easier for you to let him go. But instead, he looks at you with desperate eyes and you can feel your resolve crumbling once again.

"Just forget it, Frankie.”

But he won’t give up that easily. The man is persistent, you’ll give him that.

"I'm serious. Tell me what I need to do right now to fix this. What can I do to show you how sorry I am?"

You stare back at him, jaw clenched, biting back the next words you were about to speak. They die on the edge of your tongue. You know the answer is.

Not a single damn thing.

"Look, I'll try harder, I fucking promise alright?” His tone becomes more frantic as your silence stretches on. “I’ll fucking try harder, please just...please," Frankie pleads, more tears welling in his eyes.

Your throat is tight, your head spinning and aching as your blood roars in your ears. He's already taken enough, stealing more would simply be the end of you. Giving in now would mean you've swallowed the bait, falling hook line and sinker into his trap, stepping back onto the slippery slope you've fought so hard to escape. And for what? More heartache, more bullshit excuses, more fighting, more pain?

But one glance into his wide-eyed, watery gaze and you know he's got you. Again. Faster than you can tell your mind no, your heart, foolish and hopeful, speaks for you instead.

"Lets just get some sleep, okay? It's late. We can...we can figure it out tomorrow."

"Thank you," he whispers immediately, relief coming off of him in waves. "I really mean it, I-thank you, I promise I’ll—“

“Can we not talk anymore Frankie? I just wanna go to sleep."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, let’s go."

There's nothing left to say, washing over the two of you as you make your way inside. You give him a towel and dig up some of his old clothes that live in the back of your closet from when he was here almost every night. You're back in bed before he’s done with his shower, tucked underneath the covers with your face pressed against your pillow, the silk fabric soaking up your tears of sadness and frustration.

The water shuts off and you can hear him getting settled in the living room. A pillow being fluffed, the creak of the couch when he sits.

And then soft footsteps on the hardwood 5 minutes later, padding their way into your room.

He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t bother speaking either. He just simply creaks open the door and walks over to the other side of the bed, peeling back the covers before slipping into bed beside you.

You should scream at him, yell at him. Tell him to get the fuck out, fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from worming his way back into your heart, to avoid anymore pain.

But then he’s against you, his chest flush against your back, legs tangling together under the blankets. He slips an arm around your waist, the other underneath you, pulling you against him tighter as he nuzzles into your neck, burying his face into your hair and takes a deep breath.

“Just one more night" he whispers. "Please. Just let me have one more night."

You don’t have any fight left in you. Because at the end of the day, a night spent wrapped up in his arms, inhaling his scent, touching his skin and his beating heart is worth a thousand fights. And a million shattered dreams.

You don’t answer him, but you don’t tell him to leave either. Instead, you block out any looming thoughts, the impending worry of where this could go, or how bad the damage will be. For now, you chose to focus on the rise and fall of Frankie's breath against your skin, the way you fit so perfectly into his arms.

One more night.

Frankie presses a kiss into the back of your neck, repeating his previous sentiment in a rough scratchy whisper, "Just one more."

And you listen to it resonate, bouncing around the walls in your head and tickling the space behind your eardrums.

Inhale

Exhale.

You should want to fight.

But instead, your body melts his, molding your bones and flesh against his, fitting into all the creases and gaps that have been carved out and reserved just for you.Trying to forget, to bury this pain as deep as possible,. Just for tonight.

He waits a few more minutes, waiting until your breathing levels out with his before he makes his next move. His fingers trace mindless patterns on the skin of your stomach, goosebumps erupting under his fingertips, rippling outwards like a rock being tossed in a pond. He leans in once more, slowly dragging his nose up the length of your neck and curling his lip to press another kiss behind your ear. Then another.

And then another, this time lingering as he sucks softly on your skin.

Inhale.

You close your eyes, hoping for anything but this, yet feeling the sting of arousal spark below your skin.

And exhale.

You’re better than this. You won’t stoop down to his level, you won’t let him chew you up and spit you out again.

But fuck, his lips are soft and warm, so is the breath as he exhales against your neck, lightly swiping his tongue and soothing the faint red mark he left behind with a small little hum.

“Frankie..." You warn, albeit much more breathless and weak than you would have liked.

“Tell me to stop and I will," he murmurs, his beard gently grazing your sensitive skin, causing your toes to curl.

You take another deep breath, but this one is shaky, as you can't help but tighten your grip around his hand, squeezing his fingers as you lean your neck to the side, exposing more of your soft skin to him.

Dead in his trap. Caught so fucking easily. Pathetic.

But if his teeth and lips and tongue and soft, gentle touches are how you go down, then so fucking be it.

He hums his appreciation against your skin, scraping his teeth down to your shoulder, latching his mouth on a spot and sucking harder. Strong, callused fingers continue exploring, fiddling with the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to give him permission.

He rolls his hips forward against your ass and you bite your lip to stifle the whimper at how hard he is against you, his soft grunts in your ear traveling straight between your legs and fanning the flames building.

Then suddenly, he's sliding his hand up your shirt, squeezing your waist and traipsing over your chest until he’s cradling the weight of your breast in his palm, his thumb slowly brushing over your peaked nipple, and it takes every ounce of willpower not to moan out loud.

A small gasp escapes you instead, your fingernails digging into the back of his hand.

"Frankie."

This time not a warning. It’s a plea. A desperate, burning want that you should be ashamed of.

He murmurs into the shell of your ear then, his tone is deep and scratchy.

“I miss you...I need you, baby. Just tell me to stop if you want. But I... fuck I miss you so much."

You don't tell him to stop.

You roll your hips back instinctively, a warm wave of arousal washing over you at the feeling Frankie's hardened length pressed firmly against your ass. He grunts in satisfaction as his palm slides from your chest and up your throat to your jaw. His grip is gentle as he turns your head to face him, his lips against yours without missing a beat.

It’s too easy to fall right back into him, back into the practiced, very well rehearsed routine. To let him glide his tongue along the seam of your lips and coax them open so he can lick into your mouth, getting the taste of his tongue stuck behind your teeth. Too easy to let him remind you just how easily you fit in the palm of his hand, how tightly you’re wound around his finger.

He kisses you fervently, desperately almost, lips and tongue moving against yours as though he’s trying to devour you whole, just like he used to. He’s been starving for too long.But right now, he's finally found nourishment, the feeling of your body under his hands and the taste of you on his tongue feeding his soul. Wanting more. Always more, entirely unable to help himself.

“Wanna make you feel good,” he murmurs, his mouth half a centimeter away from yours. “Let me make you feel good baby, please.”

As if you could say no.

As if you even wanted to.

He pushes his leg between yours, thick, firm muscle under warm skin pressing against your clothed core and you answer him with a roll of your hips, seeking out any sort of friction you can.

It takes less than half a second for him to have you flipped over on your back. When Frankie truly wants something, he does it quickly and efficiently.

He moves above you, licking and kissing a trail down your neck. He makes his way down your body, greedily nipping at the skin stretched over your collarbones. He swirls his tongue over each nipple, only moving on when he’s satisfied. He presses wet, open mouthed kisses to your ribs and your tummy just above your navel, his beard tickling skin, making it twitch under his mouth.

Your body is cooperating far more than it should, your hips lifting up instinctually when he hooks his fingers into the elastic of your panties, your thighs automatically parting further, and your hands migrating to his head. Your fingers tangle in his soft curl, your nails softly scratching his scalp just like you know he likes.

And when his tongue drags up your thigh you have to sink your teeth into your bottom lip to stop the reactive moan. But your back arches with pleasure anyway, the last bit of your resolve evaporating into thin air as you give into him freely.

His hands burn hot where they smooth over your skin, a comforting weight and a familiar drag of calloused palms fueling the fire and tightening the coil in your stomach.

“Missed you so much,” he whispers, his breath fanning over your pussy before you feel the first stroke of his flat tongue up through your center.

This time, you're not strong enough to hold back the breathless mewl that leaves your mouth. You immediately push down on his head while simultaneously canting your hips upward, needing more friction, dying for more of everything he's willing to offer. He slides his arms underneath you and hooks his hand over your hip bones, holding you down and keeping you in place as he tries to find salvation between your thighs.

Heavy breaths through his nose as he uses his mouth, lips and tongue working in tandem to take you apart. Lapping and sucking at your clit while his fingertips nudge at your entrance, dipping just enough to tease, waiting until he hears the high pitched whimpers that he's after.

And when you've reached that level of desperation he wants from you, whimpering and panting, he slowly dips a finger in.

He moans along with you as though he's the one experiencing the pleasure. He's always gotten off on this almost just as much as you. The warm, slick slide of his fingers in and out of you, how you gush on his tongue, your thighs trembling on either side of his head, the tingle of his scalp when you tug on his hair.

More addictive than any substance he's ever found solace in.

And against your better knowledge, you're more than happy to indulge him, let him chase the high you give him and let yourself drown in it as well.

Your back arches off the bed as he adds another finger, grunting into you and thrusting faster as you tighten and flutter around them. He finds the spot he's looking for with practiced ease, whimpering into you and groaning along with you as he drags his fingers back and forth along the spot that has you bucking your hips into his hand.

He knows how to get you there. Knows how to do it fast. And right now, that's what he wants. He's craved it too long, spent far too many nights with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock your name on the tip of his tongue as he fucked up into his own hand. He wants to hear you fall apart again, feel you coming on his tongue, your walls clenching as they try to suck his fingers in deeper. Wantsto know that he hasn't ruined absolutely everything between the two of you.

"Come on baby, lemme feel you,” he urges, voice deep and rough as he brings you to the edge. His mouth, licking and sucking at your clit, works in perfect rhythm with his fingers, sliding in and out, crooking them at the exact angle and speed he knows will get you there.

"Please, Frankie...need to– fuck, I'm..." Coherent words evade you as he works you towards your peak, your breath stuttering as you struggle to keep air in your lungs. Your grip tightens in his hair, tugging roughly in an effort to ground yourself as the wave of euphoria starts to crest, the undercurrent pulling you down.

Frankie growls in approval as you tighten around his fingers, all your muscles tensing as the sensation crashes into you. Your mind and body shut off and float into that sweet state of oblivion as Frankie's name falls from your lips, mixed in with a litany of profanity and slurs and choked back moans. He doesn't stop, doesn't even slow down until you're yanking on his hair hard enough for it to hurt, trying to wiggle away from his touch.

Frankie raises his head up and locks eyes with you, the tip of his nose, beard, and cheeks shiny with your arousal as he looks up at you through his dark, heavy lidded lashes.

"Want you so bad," he sighs, breathless and needy, crawling up your body and resting his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. He kisses you again, soft and sweet as if he has the right, tasting yourself on his tongue.

You whimper into the kiss and hook a leg over his hip to pull his hips towards you. His cock strains almost painfully in his boxers when he grinds it against you, your warm arousal dampening the front of the fabric.

"Gonna let me baby?" He rasps when he moves to your neck, his teeth scraping sensitive flesh.

You both already know he's won. You're not even putting up a fight at this point, any dignity you thought you had left totally abandoned the moment you picked up the phone. But he asks anyway, needing the verbal affirmation, needing the confirmation that you want him as badly as he needs you.

And you can't lie.You're both equally weak and vulnerable. Two pathetic, heartbroken creatures chasing a temporary relief. A small glimmer of something to make the pain more bearable, something to fill the hole for the briefest amount of time.

You both know. And neither of you care.

No response to his question. Instead, you push up the hem of his shirt up and he does the rest, pulling it over his head and tossing it to the floor before he hooks a thumb underneath the waistband of his boxers and tugs them down his hips and off his legs.

Your hand finds his cock and he hisses at the contact, his hips shuddering as he pushes forward into your grip. You swear he's thicker and longer than before, heavier and hotter where you hold him. Your thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the pearls of pre cum around, coating the rest of his length to ease your glide. Frankie's mouth finds your neck again, tongue and lips tasting and teasing, his shaky breath in your ear.

You try to push up onto your elbows in an effort to roll him over, wanting to take over. But a palm finds your chest, gently pushing you back down until your flat against the bed again.

"Wanna look at you," he says simply, as he pushes his length into the palm of your hand once more before sliding out.

He lets his length rest against your sensitive clit and gently rocks his hips, slicking himself with the mess between your legs, sighing whenever you gasp each time his tip nudges at your clit.

"Please..." you whisper, feeling pathetic and needy, but at this point too desperate to care.

And he’s equally impatient, not waiting another moment before lining himself up and slowly pushing in.

You tense at the initial intrusion, not having been with anyone in far too long and the feeling is almost overwhelming. You're trying to remember how to breathe again as you let your head fall to the side, trying to hide from his intense stare. But Frankie's there, using a gentle finger to tilt your face back up towards him as his hips moving at an agonizingly slow pace to let you adjust.

"That's it baby. Look at me."

And you do, the heat in your belly burning brighter with his eyes boring into yours as he witnesses your surrender to him. Your heart aches, still raw and tender and in pain from all the hurt that's transpired. But you ignore it and tell yourself the tears in your eyes aren't a result of a broken heart, but rather of how full you feel as Frankie's length finally bottoms out in you.

"Fuck..." You both curse under your breath as he stills for a moment, letting you adjust before he starts to move his hips. You cling to his broad shoulders as he pulls out of you, his eyes glued to where you’re joined, his thick cock slick and shiny with your arousal before he slides back in again with a quiet groan. He repeats the motions over and over watching as he pulls out almost completely before pushing back in, stuffing you to the hilt.

"Shit,” he hisses under his breath, his eyelashes fluttering when you clench in response. “You feel so good baby, fuck."

He buries his face into your neck, panting and pressing soft kisses as his pace starts to speed up. The soft grunts in your ear turn into more desperate moans when you lock your legs around his waist, pulling him, trying to get him even deeper than he already is.

Your fingernails dig into the skin of his shoulders, holding on for dear life, hoping that you’ll leave half crescent moon shapes embedded into his flesh. A painful reminder for the morning that you were here and this was real, despite the circumstances.

His hands slide under your ass, angling it upwards to let him hit just that little bit deeper inside, pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust. The muscles in his forearms flex and strain as he tries to hold back, always making sure you finish before he does.

And he doesn't have to wait much longer. Your orgasm is creeping up and taking over your body and Frankie can sense it. He knows exactly what to look for, knows all the signs.

One hand moves to reach between the two of you two fingertips pressed against your pulsing clit, drawing fast, tight circles just like you like it. Your grip on his shoulder tightens, your nails digging into the skin and dragging down his back as his thrusts become more erratic.

"Keep lookin' at me," he grunts and you struggle to keep your eyes open. They sting, the image of him above you starting to blur around the edges as he drives you closer and closer to your release.

"That's it, baby. Lemme see it, lemme see you come on my cock."

He doesn't have to tell you twice.

You come undone again just like that, dizziness spreading and heart hammering in your chest as you sob out, pleasure consuming you from within. He fucks you through it, not giving you a chance to catch your breath, as he curses and rambles in your ear about how he's missed this, how he's missed you.

You've barely started to come down when he grabs one of your legs behind your knee and pushes it into your chest, letting himself sink even deeper into you. The new angle has your head spinning, drowning in an unparalleled amount of pleasure. Your eyes flutter and roll back in your head as you whimper his name, fingers curling into the pillow above your head.

He doesn't last much longer, breathless moans and strangled whimpers into your neck as he gives you the last few sloppy thrusts. He's almost there, and when he tries to pull out, it's the way your leg tightens around his waste and your needy whine that sends him over the edge, groaning and cursing with his face in the crook of your neck as he spills himself into you.

His cock pulses inside you with every wave, his hips chasing his release, tiny jerks as he empties into you. He stills, his heavy breathing in your ear, his weight resting on you, heavy but grounding, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your skin.

Once the room stops spinning and the stars clear from behind your eyes, you drop your legs. With a shaky sigh, Frankie starts to pull out, both of you groaning in protest as he slips out.

His cum leaks out of you, quickly pooling between your thighs no matter how hard you squeeze your legs together. And when he catches sight of it, it makes your face burn. At the mere sight of his sticky, warm release spilling out of you, mixing with your own, Frankie swears he could go another round right then. Something about knowing he marked his territory, his claim on you established once again. He looks up at you, your eyes closed, forehead creased, and he has to dig his nails into his palm to keep from dragging his fingers through the cum leaking out of you and pushing it back in, keeping it where it should be.

But the weight of reality is starting to press on him once again, the fear and shame from earlier taking root again and tugging at his stomach and pulling him out of the euphoria.

He kisses your hip bone once before making his way to the bathroom for a wet washcloth. The room is silent as he cleans you up, wiping gently between your legs, both of you keeping your eyes on anything except each other's.

When he's done, he stands and moves to gather his clothes off the floor, tugging his boxers back on before heading towards the door. But your shaky, watery voice breaks the silence and freezes him where he stands.

"You're leaving?" You ask, voice squeaking at the end as you pull the sheet up to cover yourself, as if it would protect your heart when he ultimately breaks it again.

He turns to look at you, his heart aching in his chest from the innocent way you're looking at him. The way your eyebrows draw together, and your lips pull into a frown, the way your lower lip trembles as your eyes fill with tears.

"Can I stay?"

His voice is quiet, fragile, as if speaking any louder would scare you off, would cause you to start yelling at him again until you ultimately kick him to the curb for good.

He stares at you through the darkness of the room as you chew on your lip and try to grapple with the split decision you’re facing.

The logical part of your brain is screaming at you to say no and end this right here and now. But that part of your brain is buried and silenced underneath the heaviness in your heart. That desperate need to hang onto whatever's left. You swallow the lump in your throat and give in.

"Please," you plead softly. "Don't...don't want to be alone anymore."

A rush of air leaves his lungs as the pressure is released from his chest as he climbs back into bed beside you. Your head finds his chest, curled into his side and letting his arms wrap around you. His embrace is familiar, comforting, your safe space.

You count the steady beats of his heart in your ear as his blunt fingernail scrape lightly up and down your back, knowing it always soothes you. No words are spoken but the air between the two of you is thick, full of the things you both want to say, but neither of you speak.

Sleep wraps its tendrils around you once again, exhaustion settling in your bones. You welcome it fully, even though you know when you wake up, you'll have to face the reality of the situation once again.

You can only hope that he'll still be here in the morning to face it with you.

For now, you let yourself drown in the warmth of his embrace, pushing away all the other things that are gnawing at you and letting yourself relax in the arms of the man who broke your heart.

Just one more night.

Thank you for reading!! :))

#writing challenge 2.0 #frankie morales smut #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales #triple frontier #triple frontier smut #triple frontier fic #pedro pascal characters

841 notes · View notes

kentopedia · 1 year

Text

i miss when we first met

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since he’d killed Mori.

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

“Akutagawa told me what happened yesterday.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I am lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You wanted to quit him. Really, you did.

He was a horrible, loathsome person.

You’d never be able to stop loving him.

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

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

You certainly hadn’t meant that as a compliment.

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

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

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

You didn’t see him again before you left.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chuuya sighed. “Isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Chuuya was silent, still watching you with hesitance.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You took a sharp breath.

Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’d never been able to slip past him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Say it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dazai was silent. You pressed on.

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

“Is that the case?” Dazai laughed humorlessly.

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

Dazai scowled.

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

His finger rested on the trigger.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Of course you would.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Boss—”

Chuuya’s sentence was cut off sharply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2K notes · View notes