#i probably could write notes for each of these but i wanted to keep it short and sfw. too much text makes the tierlist harder to parse

[azaleax-x]

if you’re taking requests for said X reader, you’ll NEVER guess which Housewarden I want <3.

Riddle. RIDDLERIDDLERIDDLERIDDLE BARKBARKABRKABRK. Ahem… tangled AU, please, for the love of god.

(I would also settle for Azul or Epel <3. I have a type LOL)

ALSO I WAS ON YOUR CHARACTER AI AND I MISREAD THE RIDDLE BOT AS ‘impregnated’ INSTEAD OF INTERROGATED

MY BRAIN IMMEDIATELY WENT TO THE KINGDOM DANCE!! It's so iconic. I have the song in my playlist. TOO GOATED. I know people probably want the lantern scene but erm... maybe part 2 guys.. part 2...

I know Rapunzel is the one who starts the whole dance, but I ERMM didn't know how in character that would be for Riddle. So, reader is the one initiating it!! Sorry guys!!

ALSO HELLO??? LFMAOAO NOT IMPREGNATED?? IM CRYING YOU'RE SO SMART LMAOO /LH

Notes: Reader is GN, not proofread, might write part 2 with the lanterns, first time writing a real fanfiction after a billion years

Kingdom Dance (Rapunzel! Riddle Rosehearts x Flynn Rider! Reader)

or, at least, my twist of the Kingdom Dance...

Loud laughter can be heard from miles away. Shoes clack against the concrete to go with the rhythm of the music. The people who are not dancing are clapping, echoing the beat of the music. The atmosphere is lively, even the elderly are having a fun time.

And then there's Riddle.

He takes a step back as a couple whirl past him, catching a glimpse of their joyful faces.

How overstimulating... He thinks.

His hand subconsciously goes to rake through his hair, a habit he does to keep his nerves still, but he is reminded that the local kids braided it for him. A feat that he never knew was possible. How was he even dragged into this..?

He looks back at the bustling dance floor, his eyes immediately finding you, the culprit of his rebellious behavior.

You're laughing in glee as you twirl with a stranger, somehow not losing the rhythm of the dance. You had managed to create this whole phenomenon by yourself, a sight that would give his mother a heart attack! Just at the thought of his mother makes him take another step back, wanting to be away from the *horrible crime scene*.

Then you make eye contact with him, causing him to freeze up. Riddle watches as you stop dancing, giving him a grin that he has learned to -adore- hate. You make a hand motion for him to come over, but he just furrows his eyebrows. He was hoping you would give up at his stubbornness, but his heart could only beat faster as you sighed in defeat and walked *toward* him. It's just the nerves, he tells himself. Why would he be excited at the idea of you inviting him to dance? With you??

"Riddle! Why don't you come and join me?" You ask loudly over the music, to which he just scoffs at the question. You already knew the answer, and yet, you waited for him to speak.

"Why should I? This is just... wrong! My mother would be disappointed in me," Riddle responds, voice dripping with annoyance. He tries to stand his ground, but the urge to join you gets stronger each second, and he feels like you could see through him.

"You helped me escape the guards. At a pub." You retort, "I'm pretty sure dancing is the least of your concerns."

"...." His face turns red as he clenches his hand in offense. Riddle hates the shit-eating grin on your face, wanting to wipe it off.

"Well-!" Before he could snap at you, you go to grab both of his hands, dragging him to the middle. In a way, he's thankful that you did so since he would most likely spew out something embarrassing to defend himself.

"Exactly! So, come on! Don't be a bum," you laugh, and he hates himself for perking his head up at the sound of your laughter.

You can't help but find his mindset a bit hilarious. He snuck out of the tower, *willingly*, too! According to your calculations, that might be a bigger offense. "Worst case scenario is that we get chased by guards, but we can be discreet."

"As if! Anybody is going to recognize you from your wanted poster. You're literally posing in it! Are you even listening? Stop dragging me-!" He stammers his usual complaints, stumbling as he tries to keep up with you, accidentally bumping into a few people. He doesn't even have time to apologize since you're a little too excited dragging him to the middle. Somehow, he doesn't have the heart to pull away, not wanting to see the dejected look on your face.

"I would ask if anyone taught you manners..." He trails off with a disappointed look, averting his eyes to look at a wanted poster with your face on it. It looks like you're posing for a photoshoot...

"And did anyone teach you not to trust strangers? Not everyone is truthful like me!" You bite back playfully, trying to withhold your giggles since he would most likely hit you with his pan again.

Despite his irk at your snide remarks, his eyes are always on your face, admiring the playful gleam in your eyes. He knew you were a criminal, someone he shouldn't even be talking to, but he can't help that he desires to be closer to you.

You quickly take the initiative, putting a hand on his hip and taking his left hand in yours. Riddle becomes red at the proximity, but your warmth allows him to slowly ease up. With defeat upon knowing that he won't be able to leave, he finally allows his lips to form a small but soft smile at your childlike glee.

"It's really simple, okay? We just twirl and jump around with the rhythm of the music! Try not to step on my feet, though," you lightly tease him, starting with slow movements for his sake.

"Those are rather vague instructions. Is there a rulebook? What if I mess up?" He worries, a little too much in your opinion. You watch him stumble for a moment, often having to hold him up with your arm around his waist.

"It's called following the flow, silly." You can only lightly tease him for now since the poor soul is nervous as hell.

With every small mistake he makes, you squeeze his hand reassuringly, encouraging him to keep going. You're patient with him as he tries to keep up with your steps, gradually increasing the pace. He keeps his eyes on you, slowly joining your small laughing fit as he gets the hang of it. His hesitance has faded, and for the first time in his life, he feels at genuine ease. He isn't living in fear of his mother seeing him. He isn't worried about completing a textbook full of complicated problem. He's only worried about staying with you, not wanting to let you go just yet.

To your surprise, he starts taking the lead. He spins both of your around with a childish laugh, making *you* the one stumbling around. His long braid flows with the breeze, the flowers somehow staying on with all the movement.

"Who would think you would be the one stumbling now?" Riddle teases you with a smug expression, a rare sight for you. You were used to the scowls and sneers, but this? You huff to distract yourself from your reddening cheeks.

You want to form a retort since you hated to be beaten in your own game of banter, but the music comes to an end, which didn't even realize until now. Riddle, with his sudden boldness and wanting to end strong, he pulls you closer to him, chest to chest. You guys look at each other for a moment, your eyes widening. Riddle's lips are in a soft smile, his hair now having stray aways from dancing so vigorously. To notice his eyes glancing down at your lips, causing you to tighten them into a line as the sudden wave of nervousness hits you.

The moment is interrupted when the crowd cheers and claps for you both. This is where Riddle comes back to reality, quickly pulling away. You guys didn't even know you were the star of the show! He quickly tucks a small strand of hair behind his ear, not knowing what to do with all of the attention. To his surprise (not really), you burst out laughing.

"WOW! Talk about being discreet, huh?" You giggling heartily, not looking away from him. He can only mentally roll his eyes, but your giggling is contagious as he soon joins you.

"Yeah..." His laughter dies on as he goes back to focusing on you.

As much as he hates to pretend otherwise, he has grown fond of you, the sole person who is willing to show him what life has to offer. Maybe in the end, even after the lanterns, you're willing to stay by his side.

----

I think what I struggle with is focusing on the reader 💔

As a c.ai bot creator, I'm used to focusing only on the character. So, THIS IS DIFFERENT. I TRIED GUYS... PLEASE DON'T BULLY ME

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 4 here

Chapter 5

Summary : You and Eric take turns taking care of each other. You let out a secret.

Warning: 18+, dirty sexual thoughts, smut in later chapters, Description of self harm, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

The next morning when Eric woke up, you were still asleep in his arms so he placed you on the bed as gently as he could before he propped himself on his elbow and looked at you. Admiring you would have been a more befitting term though. Your boobs were about to slip out of your tank top so he closed his eyes and fixed the strap before he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

Good god he could definitely get used to this.

He looked down and the lower half of your body was so completely pressed up against him, your legs tangled around his own while your thigh clung to his waist.

He was hard, so hard for you.

His cock ached and throbbed uncomfortably. You just looked so beautiful like this with your body wrapped around him, his hands itched to run between the valley of your breasts but he controlled himself, he didn't want to ruin this but he wondered how you'd look if he took you in this position, his cock pumping in and out of you slowly while you'd moan and writhe and look at him with those pretty, soft eyes of yours, chanting his name like a mantra.

The way you said his name so tenderly always got him but he couldn't even imagine how sensuous his name would sound when you're saying it amidst the throes of passion.

Before you'd wake up to witness his rock and hard embarrassment he untangled himself from you begrudgingly. He then slowly began pulling you in the center of the bed as he got up, he was afraid you'd fall down on the floor in your sleep.

“Mmmmm” you let out a cat like noise as he moved you so he stopped for a moment and just caressed your head.

“Shhhhhh shhh.. go back to sleep” he held you like that so you'd drift off again, you still had time in your shift and he didn't want your sleep disrupted because of him again.

As he got off the bed he pulled the duvet over you, wrote a small note and placed it on the side table next to the lamp so you'd not think he just upped and left after you had been so impossibly precious to him last night.

An hour later when you woke up, you woke up with a smile on your face, you had a dream about him, a naughty dream that had you dripping, you were lucky he wasn't there anymore, you probably would have touched him so inappropriately if he was next to you right now. You wanted to do more than just touch him, you wanted to lick every inch of his tatted skin if he'd let you.

“Ughhh” you groaned as the tingling sensation between your legs began to bother you.

You weren't really expecting to find a note but you were starting to pick up on the fact that he loved writing them. So old school, you weren't sure he even had a cell phone and that was something that mystified you.

'Thanks for everything. I mean it. Really. I do. Didn't want to disrupt your sleep again so I'm leaving this here as I'd be gone all day. See you at dinner tonight? Be safe out there, don't forget to take the taser. Leaving the breakfast on the kitchen counter. Waffles with extra whipped cream. Eat it before you go?

Eric :)'

You couldn't stop smiling after that, you read his little scribbled writing at least ten more times before you got out of bed to get ready for the day. He never really told you where he was going, who he was meeting, who he was beating up today or worse. He wanted to keep you out of that part of his life and you didn't want to push him again, he had been opening up to you and you were content with it.

At least for now.

Later that night when Eric returned drenched in blood again, he was excited to just shower and then knock on your door like he usually did, he was expecting to smell your delicious cooking from the elevator itself but he got none of that. As he approached his door he found a note so he picked it up immediately.

'Rain check on the dinner tonight? Cheryl got a promotion so she wants to celebrate, will be back soon.

P.s You need a phone. Eat something healthy.. see you soon <3'

He gulped as he read the note, he looked at the time and it was 9:30 at night, you were a grown woman, you had survived so far on your own but he couldn't stop worrying about your safety especially after that incident. You didn't even tell him where you were going, if he knew he would have gone there to keep a safe watch from a distance.

As he entered his apartment, he couldn't stop pacing back and forth in worry, he had that nightmare last night and now you were out at such late hours and he didn't know where you were and what if something happened to you? He'd never be able to forgive himself for this, he didn't even think he was even capable of losing you anymore, losing one more person who despite his numerous flaws wanted to be around him.

As the clock hit 11, he opened his door to go look for you, wherever you were in this big city, he was going to find you but then he heard the sound of the elevator whirring and he halted on his doorstep.

As you stepped out of the elevator you saw him, standing on his doorway, the blood splatters were all over his face and clothes, not as bad as the other times but they were there.

“Hey did you just return?” You asked him as you walked towards him but he didn't answer you, he was just staring at you, as if trying to make sure that you were perfectly safe from head to toe, that there wasn't one single scratch on your precious body, the black flowy dress you had worn made you look so gorgeous and he'd have admired it more if he wasn't so wrecked at the moment.

“Eric?” You mumbled as you walked closer, for once he didn't smell perfect, he had a long day and he had spent the past two hours sweating profusely in stress and anxiety.

“You know you could have just mentioned where you were going” he said as he crossed his arms so you nodded before you stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his forearm but he pulled away like a petulant child throwing a tantrum

“Eric-” you spoke again but he interrupted you.

“I was so..it's ..fuck .. it's 11 at night..it's not safe out there you know that, there are awful people just waiting to-”

“Eric” you interrupted his train of thoughts but he kept going..he was going to freak out, this was a sign that you had come to recognise in the past four months.

That's what started the downfall of his relationship with Melody, he was always so paranoid and afraid of her being hurt again, so much so that every time she went out without him he spent every half hour calling and texting her, making sure whether she needed him to be there for her or if she was in danger. It had gotten so bad that she broke his phone in anger once after he picked an argument over her not responding to his calls. He didn't blame her for feeling so suffocated with him, she had a bright future, big dreams and he was just holding her back.

“Did your friends even drop you home or they just left you outside somewhere-” he continued so you said his name a little louder this time.

“Eric?” You walked closer and cupped his cheeks, your fingers rubbed over the dried blood on his skin as you made him look you in the eyes.

“Look at me okay? I'm safe, I'm okay, I'm here” you mumbled, your voice gentle as you pulled him closer and embraced him, it took him a few moments before he wrapped his arms around your waist in a tight grip. You were safe, you were safe and in his arms and he could feel you and touch you.

After a while you pulled away from the hug but didn't step away completely. You knew he spent the last few hours worrying his mind over you and he must not have eaten so you really wanted to feed him.

“Take a shower, I will fix you a sandwich, okay? You want something to drink?” You asked him so he shook his head before he lowered his neck to place his head down on your shoulder. He breathed in your scent for a moment before he cupped your cheeks, his thumbs ran over your skin gently

“Don't go anywhere now okay?” He said to you so you nodded in response. The way he was being so protective of you made your heart flutter so fast you feared it would burst out of your chest. Nobody has made you feel so important before, nobody cared enough to treat you as if you were someone they needed to protect so fiercely.

“I'll be back, I smell like a sewer rat”

Well at least he was aware.

You chuckled as he turned around to go into his apartment but he kept his door open for you, you had to make that sandwich and you knew you'd find nothing in his kitchen so you entered your apartment, quickly fixed him two chicken sandwiches and then you made your way into his apartment.

When he came out of his bedroom next he seemed clean and he smelled divine like always. You tapped the spot next to you on the couch so he sat down and turned his head to look at you, he then flicked his fingers over your cheek.

“You look beautiful”

So did he you thought.

“Thank you”

As he picked up the sandwich he offered you a bite so you took it even though you were full to the brim from the dinner you had with your friends. As you placed your head down on his shoulder he turned his neck to look at you,

“Tired?”

“Mmm i just hate that i have to work tomorrow again” you groaned and he couldn't help but smile at the whiny tone of your voice.

“Take a day off”

“Mm no I'm saving it for my periods”

Well it was something men didn't have to worry about, like ever.

Once he was done eating he got up and grabbed a heavy chained metal lock before stepping out of his apartment so you followed behind him to see what he was up to, he was locking the grill door of the elevator.

When he saw you looking at him he spoke to clarify “Just for the nights, there's no security in this shitty building..you want a key?”

He asked you, even though he was hoping you'd not use the key to sneak out at nights and even if you did he hoped you'd tell him where exactly you were going. God he sounded absolutely manic as he heard his own thoughts.

“Mmm no..I'll come to you if I need it” your voice was soft, almost seductive as you said it, even though he knew you didn't know the S of Seduction.

He looked at you a bit surprised, you were going to feed into his paranoia weren't you? Instead of making him feel so fucking deranged about it you were going to massage his borderline creepy behavior with you and take pleasure in it.

As he walked past you he grabbed your arm and dragged you back into his apartment before he closed the door behind him.

“Eric, why don't you have a phone?” You asked him as you got into his bed as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world for you.

“Don't need it” he answered as he looked at you, the sight of you flailing out in his bed rushed the blood to his cock, you were in his bed, in that dress, he could just climb on top of you, kiss you and then run his hands all over you, touching you in places he desperately wanted to and he had a feeling you won't stop him either, you seemed so eager and desperate to him, he felt it, the way you touched him, the way you couldn't keep your hands off him when he was close to you, you were as eager and as desperate as he was for you.

To hide the evidence of his arousal he approached the bed and quickly laid down next to you.

“You don't need it? How do your ..ummm work folks contact you for the.. assignments you get?” you asked softly. He had no one he wanted to speak with? That saddened you to the core, not one person, no friends, no distant family members, Not even an ex or something.

“Don't need a phone for that..I'll get one tomorrow though, just for you, learned a lesson tonight”

You smiled as he said that. Well it wouldn't hurt to be able to chat with him and hear his voice whenever you wanted.

“Need to sleep?” He asked you so you turned on your side and hummed in response before your arm flung around his waist.

“Eric?”

He turned his head to look at you and hummed as you called out his name, your eyes were closed so he stared at your face as much as he wanted, you were so close to him.

“Something bad and weird happened to me a few months ago”

You mumbled and his smile faded, he knew exactly what had happened and he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it just yet.

He didn't want you to know he was the one to bring you back home that night.

“What happened?” He asked as he turned to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to face you so you opened your eyes.

You sighed before you told him everything that had happened that night, all from the moment when those men had cornered you to the fact that you had given up and how you were back home when you had regained consciousness.

“I don't know if that even happened or it was a dream or I made it all up, I feel crazy when I think about that night” he ran his fingers through your hair to comfort you, the way you often did for him.

He didn't want you to feel so confused about that night but he wasn't ready to tell you the truth either, he didn't want you to think he had done any sort of favour to you or perhaps you'd think he was a creep for not taking an unconscious woman to the hospital.

He went through your purse afterall which took him a while, it was a mess, he looked for id, and address and your keys before he lifted you up tarzan style and brought you home and put you down on your bed. It was just shock from fear and exhaustion so he wasn't worried about your health being in imminent danger.

He should have disappeared out of your life after that but as soon as he saw the list of vacancies for the 11th floor he couldn't help himself, he wanted to be around you and keep you safe from all the bad things in this world. He felt a rush that night he hadn't felt in years, a sense of purpose in his vacant existence so he latched onto you like a leech.

But you didn't need to know that.

“You're not crazy sweetheart, I'm just glad you're safe and I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you again alright?” he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, the gesture made your heart flutter again, god you just wanted to keep touching him when he was around you.

“Okay” your arm curled around his waist as you scooted closer to him with your nose pressed up into the crook of his neck. His scent was comforting as always, comforting and arousing at the same time.

“Eric?” you mumbled, your voice sounded muffled and it made him gulp.

“Yeah?”

“Can you unclasp my bra, I can't sleep with it on”

Now how was he supposed to do that?

“Yeah uh..sure”

He mumbled as he flung his arm around your back and pulled the zipper down a little so he could reach the clasp. You had your eyes closed so he glanced at your beautiful face for a moment, you breathed in deeply as your chest was finally released from the confinement.

“Thank you” you mumbled as you clapped his cheek lightly twice. He was starting to see how effortlessly sexy you were, so naturally sexy, you didn't have to pout or use a seductive fake voice, you just did things in your usual manner and that always stirred the arousal in the deepest pit of his stomach.

He laid down on his back and his breath hitched as you proceeded to place your thigh over his waist, right over his crotch.

Did you want him to flip you underneath him and take you? He couldn't really tell, he enjoyed the proximity and if this was all you wanted to give him he'd take it.

“Good night” you murmured softly so he hummed in response.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

In the middle of the night you woke up suddenly as you felt that familiar churning in your stomach and slight wetness in your underwear..Eric rubbed his eyes as he looked at you.

“What's wrong?”

“Gotta go” you said as you climbed on top of him before jumping out of his bed, he was shocked for a moment but then followed you into your apartment and then your bedroom.

He watched as you grabbed something from your closet and he put two and two together.

It's been a while since he has been around a …menstruating woman. Melody often liked being alone when she had her cramps, she didn't enjoy being touched or taken care of, she just wanted him to leave her alone especially during the last few months they had spent together.

As you came out of the bathroom your face was contorted in grimacing pain.

“Hey. I'll go get it for you okay? Do you need anything else?” He asked so you shook your head.

“Do you have any ibuprofen? I ran out, i should have bought it” you asked him so he shook his head, he didn't really require any types of pills anymore. “Oh god I'm going to die” you mumbled as you crawled into your bed, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“No.. I don't want you to go at such late hours” he chuckled again at the concern. Gods you were adorable to him.

“I promise I can take care of myself..now do you need something else?” He asked you again so you sighed.

“Just pass me my hot bag please..it's in the closet..right drawer” he nodded as you said that before he reached into your closet and opened the drawer, he saw the drawing he had given you that night to apologize and it made him smile.

“I'll be back soon..use this until then” he said as he charged the bag and gave it to you as it was hot enough to offer some semblance of comfort. He truly wished he was able to take away your pain, he would trade places with you immediately but it wasn't possible.

“Well at least you don't have to work tomorrow” he said as he leaned down to kiss your temple and it made you smile even though the cramp was progressively getting worse.

Yeah well that was a positive side to having your periods.

“Thank you Eric.. love you” you mumbled under your breath but he heard you, it wasn't what you said that made him giddy but how you said it so casually..

Fifteen minutes later he was back with your pain killer, as you sat up he placed the pill in your mouth and made you drink water before he placed the glass on the side table. When he looked in your eyes they were teary so he cupped your cheeks.

“That bad huh? You'll feel better soon, okay? What else can I do? Tell me”

He thought you were tearing up because of pain? No, not right now at least, it was him that made you so emotional, you had never been treated so gently before.

“It's not the pain..I'm just happy you're here” he let out a breath as you said that, he wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of haptic communication in his life it seemed, you had no one either, no boyfriend, no best friend and you have never spoken much of your family either. Besides he was more than willing to be here with you, he just wanted to take care of you, give you something in return for all the ways you took care of him.

“You need a bigger bed sweetheart” he said as he climbed in and pulled you in his arms.

“Mmm bigger and longer since you're so long” He smiled as he caressed your back in the hope that you'd fall asleep as the medicine would kick in and you almost did as well but then you said something that kept him up all night.

“Eric?”

“Mmm”

“I have a secret” he chuckled as you said that.

“What is it?”

“Promise me you won't judge me?" You asked him.

“Never”

He didn't judge you, ofcourse not but your answer made him want to distance himself from you, not because he wanted to but because he felt as if he had to, or he'd end up ruining you completely, he feared he'd taint your pure perfect self with his ugliness.

“I'm a virgin”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97

[retiredteabag]

sorry for informality but i was stalking reading your pinned post and you’re in grad school at twenty!??!!!

unless i’m tripping or misunderstanding something, academic weapon tips please because holy shit that’s insane! what’s ur field of study if you want to talk about it/don’t mind me asking? any application tips/things you wished you knew before getting there/habits you wished you’d formed sooner? independent research has always been difficult for me because of how much i depend on structure (adhd imposter syndrome anxiety lets go) so if you’re working on a thesis/something similar, how has the process been in your experience?

i’m in undergrad atm and heavily debating going further, so i’d love to hear from someone my age who’s actually doing it! also unrelated, but i’m a certified notion/goodnotes girlie if you vibe with those as study resources!

🎸 tagging with an emoji in case i pop back around, yk?

I'm sorry to say, but my tips might come off as sort of typical... but I hope they're at least a little helpful!

I am currently in a masters program within the analytics field. Research/independent studies vary widely depending on the area of specialization, however, my program has an intensive practicum that is similar in nature. I have not started it yet, but what I can say for sure when it comes to research: make sure you are picking a topic that you could speak about for hours/answer argumentative questions about.

For applications, I would say to narrow your options down as much as possible and look into each program before applying. Know the curriculum and standard outline and what stands out to you as you decide.

^ on this same note, you will likely need at least one interview in the application process. Speak slowly and enunciate. Taking a moment to think of the proper words will always be better than speaking quickly without much thought. Most people say to use "down-speak" in these interviews, but in my experience, matching the examiners tone and energy makes the whole thing much more comfortable.

For study tips, I have a large notebook that I keep on my desk where I write down every assignment and the date that it is due. This is just for organization purposes, I find a physical copy helpful for a few reasons but also because crossing them off feels rewarding :]

Time managment is incredibly important. Everyone says this because it is true. Prep everything, organizing your day into chunks. Since you also like structure, this probably wont be an issue. I would also get comfortable with being self-aware of your priorities. There will come a time when you will need to choose between academics/work and other areas of your life.

Keep your spaces clean. Dedicate a day or so to just organizing/doing a deep clean. It will help you stay focused and minimize external anxiety. It’s also much easier to keep a place clean if you have put in such an effort.

Participate in class. I cannot make this clear enough. I promise it is not embarrassing to ask questions or "try". You will learn far easier if you put effort into the classroom/lecture setting.

It is a pretty typical "tip" is to just ask questions. Even if you feel like you might understand, just ask to make sure. And in this same vein, go to office hours if you need to.

Prioritize sleep lol, that and mental rest. You can't always be studying. For me, it is a real challenge to work and be full time in school so it's important to carve out those sections of "you time".

Try not to be on your phone tooooooooo much, I know it’s hard but I make an effort to not be on my phone while eating. Don’t use entertainment as a distraction, I find that it just delays anxiety :(

Lastly, apply for scholarships and know that you absolutely can appeal for more money.

I hope this was useful. Do know that it REALLY depends on your area of study and 5-year-plan. I would recommend not going to grad school unless you're absolutely sure it is worth it.

Good luck!

[jichanxo]

made a tierlist of my kuwagami fics for funsies (+ notes for a few) ↓

(everything listed in the same tier are equals, so the order they're listed in has no meaning)

[arminsumi]

tattoartist!suguru losing nonchalance when reader flirts with him?

im down bad for him holy hell

Oh, he's falling to pieces, got it bad for the girl he just met 'n he's gonna make a drunk little bet — y'think he's crazy enough to get your name tattooed on him? Or crazy enough to ink his name into your skin?

ㅤ★ wc; ~3k

ㅤ★ note; continuation of tattoo artist Suguru Geto!

ㅤ★ an; aaa!! you got my brain whirring like a laptop... tysm and i hope this makes u blush and kick ur feet as much as i did while writing!! 🍰✨

ㅤ★ tagz; @ohimsummer 💗@fairiesthrum💗 @heartofjasmina 💗 @kwonan 💗 @ghost-buddies 💗 @madamecorbie 💗 @mima0127 💗 @moggleatlife 💗 @natasaa13 💗 @yemmuishomeforthementallyunwell 💗 @wakashudou 💗 @khaothick 💗 @candy-s72 💗 @creamflix 💗 @starriesworlds

ㅤ★ warnings; sum alcohol/drunkenness

“So, was she joking, or am I your type?” Suguru asks, black eyes staring right into your soul.

“Mm, well…” you hum, giving his form a look-over – god, if only you could feel how hard his heart’s beating when you do this. “Maybe.” You reply teasingly.

“Aw, just ‘maybe’?” he groans, now leaning his hip against the edge of the display case that housed the studs and gauge earrings.

“Yeah, just ‘maybe’ – I’m teasing. No, she wasn’t joking; I’ve always had a thing for the black hair, black nails, bad boy look…”

“The ‘bad boy’ look…?” he questions, recalling what your friend had said earlier about bad boys being just your type.

“Yeah, the ‘bad boy’ look.” You giggle.

His heart beats even harder, muttering a naughty little “Well, lucky me.”

“Nah, not so fast – I’m a smart woman.” You warn.

“Oh, are you?” he clicks his tongue in defeat, “Damn, would you believe that my type is smart women? No, no I’m serious… I’ve got a thing for smart women.”

Your cheeks grow hot, the heat spreading to your ears.

“I can assure you that the ‘bad boy’ look is just an aesthetic; I’m really an artsy dork making a living off doodling on people’s bodies.” He shrugs.

“Hm… maybe, maybe not.”

You rub your lips together. He briefly licks his bottom lip. You look him up and down. He looks you up and down. Body language open and alive with attraction, the both of you stand in this air of electric tension that Shoko spies from the other end of the room.

She watches as the two of you giggle like little flirts, observing how totally absorbed the two of you are in each other’s company. When you catch her eye, Shoko gives you a wink and points at her wrist, mouthing “five more” – fair enough, the two of you have promised to get pizza.

Pizza first, boys later, right?

Five minutes more go by – adding to the total of four hours spent at the tattoo & piercing parlor. But despite her discomfort and need for a change of scenery, Shoko decides to linger around just a little longer so that the two of you can indulge in each other just a little more.

But now you're getting nervous – Suguru has you breathless, holding you in a battle of who can flirt harder? which you're starting to lose.

He's captivated by you. This 6’3, tattooed, goth-grunge, slightly dorky man chuckles and smiles like he hasn’t had this much fun talking flirting with someone in years.

It's going well, then your smile trips him up. I know, it’s always the smile, huh? If you see enough of it, you slip… and that’s exactly what's happened to Suguru. He quickly grows obsessed with the way your cheeks look when you smile – the image burns into his memory without him even realizing it in the moment.

No, in the moment he doesn't realize the magnitude of your effect on him. He's just thinking about himself, about you, about —

“I’ve gotta go,” you say goodbye finally, “I don’t want to keep my friend waiting. But you’ll probably see my face here again… she loves dragging me along for these kinds of things.”

He stutters, “Oh! Oh… yeah – yes. Of course. Looking forward to it… maybe next time, you’ll be the one getting ink in your skin.”

“Yeah right.” You smile.

It’s your French exit that makes his heart throb in need.

No, don’t leave yet… I like you – don’t you ever wonder how many acquaintances in your life have thought this when leaving your company? And you’ll never even know.

Oh, Suguru was thinking so hard about asking you to exchange numbers or to meet up for coffee, but he didn’t want to come off as too forward – no, no… he had to maintain his mysteriousness. Or at least, he had to cling to whatever was left of it after revealing his inner dorkiness to you.

*****

After you leave, he wanders in and out of his studio, has small interactions with his co-workers, and doodles ideas for tattoos down.

Throughout all of these things, your face is at the forefront of his mind. Your voice echoes in his head as he recalls every detail of the conversation you two shared. Then he starts smiling softly as he applauds himself for being so gutsily flirty with you… a stranger, just someone, who he probably won’t see again…

A girl with no name.

God, why was he so slow? He didn’t even ask for your name. Suguru groans.

Yes, he probably won’t see you again… not unless your friend brings you along for her next visit. How long does he have to wait? Weeks? Months? That’s insane.

Suguru stops doodling, stares at the scrap of paper, and then looks up at the wall displaying his works. He rubs his fingers back and forth across his mouth.

I gotta.

He looks over to his phone. He reaches for it, takes it into his veiny hand, unlocks it, and scrolls through his list of contacts.

And then he dials his client’s number. Shoko Ieri.

*****

Now, it’s been just under an hour since you and Shoko left the tattoo parlour. She’s complained three times about the pain because exactly three times she has leaned back on the seat – squishing the fresh ink wound against her chair. You just cruelly laugh at how her eyes twitch in pain and each time.

The two of you sit eating pizza.

“He liked you. Why don’t we go back and you ask him for his number?” she teases.

“No way… he’ll think I’m too forward.” You shake your head.

Then three minutes later, Shoko's phone goes off. She reaches into her backpack. She looks at the caller ID, then at you, then at the caller ID, then –

“… is that him?”

“It’s him.”

“What’s he calling for! Me?”

“Absolutely he’s calling for you – I can bet gold on that.”

It stops ringing. She tells you she’ll text him back but guess what? She doesn’t even need to, because he calls again.

“Relentless.” She giggles. “I’m answering.”

“Pretend I’m not here!”

She winks at you and answers, “Hey, Suguru, what’s up?”

The two of you lean in until your foreheads press together – it’s still hard to make out every word.

“Yo.” You hear his smooth voice coming from the other side, “Sorry to bother you… (muffled)… your friend (muffled)… so embarrassed, so don’t tell her that I’m calling… (muffled)… what was her name?”

You clap your hand over your mouth when you hear those snippets.

She gives you a devious look before saying, “Oh! Well, she’s right here with me, actually, so you can ask her yourself.”

Mouth full of pizza, you freak out and X your arms to signal a fat NO WAY SHOKO! and fall to pieces all with the taste of pepperoni on your tongue.

But she just hands the phone over to you anyways, then proceeds to silently laugh as you spit out your pizza before talking.

“Hehlooo?”

“H-hey.”

You get right to the point. “My name’s Yn…”

“Oh… I like that… I’m Suguru.”

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Suguru. Suguru Geto.” He raises his voice.

Cheek hot against the screen of his phone, Suguru is silently freaking out at the tense silence. He can feel his stomach starting to flip. His mind blanks.

“Anyways! Um, that’s all.”

No. That’s not all. He has a novel’s length worth of things to talk about with you.

At this point, Shoko rolls her eyes at the two of you being so awkward on the phone and decides that she needs to take matters into her own hands.

So she snatches the phone from you.

“ – Suguru? Say, you wouldn’t be free on Saturday, would ya? Yeah, I’m going on a date with this guy… and I’d love to make it a double date with you and Yn if you’d like to –”

You hear him stutter out a yes, absolutely before Shoko can even finish her sentence. She grins.

Suguru can sense that the two of you are smiling and giggling. He can predict that the two of you are probably going to gossip about him being the 'dork from the tattoo parlor that called not once, but twice for the name of a girl he just met' – but he doesn’t care. He’s been presented an opportunity and taken it.

To hell with seeming too eager.

When the call ends, Suguru blows out a breath through his lips. Then he promptly texts his best friend. Dark strands of hair slip out of his sloppy bun as he puts his face over the screen, thumbs swift and eager.

Toru 🤞😜 lol bravo... but i thought u said she was out of ur league??

Sugu i mean... yes. she's way too pretty and smart for me. but i'm not gonna pass up this opportunity

Toru 🤞😜 still can't believe u called ur client just to get her friend’s name... lol

Sugu you would understand if you met her ok

Toru 🤞😜 damn she must be something else

Yes, yes you are something else — Suguru can’t even begin to describe why. Translating his thoughts into words isn’t his thing; he translates them into art.

****

It's later in the day. You're lazing around Shoko's apartment.

She confirms the time and place of the double date, and cackles on her couch while kicking her feet, teasing you for being so crazy about a guy you just met – her tattoo artist.

You just couldn’t stop talking about Geto Suguru.

“Shiiit, should I even let you and a bad boy like him be alone in a room together?”

“I can control myself.” you assure her.

She slowly shakes her head at you.

“Yeah right… but can he? I don't trust neither of you... miss crazy and mister crazy... you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

You giggle to yourself, biting your thumb. “Maybe…”

“Oh girl…” she groans, causing you to giggle into yourself, “You’re gonna be licking the tail of his dragon tattoo by the end of the date tomorrow.”

“H-h-he has a what? And where?” you stuttered, lashes quivering.

She shakes her head at you. “God, you’re screwed…”

*****

It's Saturday night. The bar's more alive than ever.

You've learned that Geto Suguru does, in fact, have a dragon tattoo inked up his toned arm – and a tight-fitting black tank top that shows it off along with his martial artist’s physique, too.

He’s got a glint of the devil in his black eyes. Softly-delivered dirty jokes ready to roll off his pierced tongue. A habit of tilting his head and looking hungrily at your lips and neck.

“Martial arts, huh?” you ask with stars in your eyes.

“Mhm, I could teach you a few things.” He purrs in reply.

Your stomach starts squeezing and flipping – that’s got to be the flirtiest 'mhm' that you’ve ever heard in your whole life.

“You think so?” you purr back.

Now it’s his turn to feel that squeezy, flippy feeling in his stomach.

Fuckfuckfuck is all he could think when he looks into your eyes.

I’m gonna fall to pieces. You’re gonna be the death of me.

“Uh…  do you two need some privacy?” Shoko teases.

Oh. It’s a double date. How could you forget? Shoko is literally sitting beside you at the bar with her date. But for a second there, it really felt like it was just you 'n this deliciously tattooed bad boy.

“Maybe.” Suguru chuckles coyly.

“There’s a hotel just next door…”

“Shoko!” you scold, playfully shoving her arm.

She giggles into herself, sipping down her cocktail innocently as if she didn’t just electrify the air between you and Suguru. His throat’s tensing, foot’s tapping up and down on the bar stool – boy’s got long spider-legs, huh?

Now after that, Suguru grins wider – showing off his pretty canines – his posture assuming something self-soothing; he holds his elbows, arms squished against his ribcage, which just makes his biceps more pronounced. Oh why, why did he have to wear a tank top like that? Surely he’s aware of the effect it has on girls. Or maybe he’s oblivious…

Nah. He's not.

*****

“Did it hurt?” you ask, trying to blink out the tipsiness from your love-drunk eyes but you’ve got three cosmopolitans surging through your veins.

“Not really… I’ve got great pain tolerance.” Suguru replies.

“Oh really?” you blink up at him again and his mind goes blank.

“Look at that...” He murmurs softly, not breaking eye contact with you. Where’s your friend and her date? Who knows. It’s just you and him now – and that’s all he wanted.

“Hm?”

“Not every day I see eyes like that…”

You widen your lips into a smile, “You’re laying it on thick.”

“Am I? Sorry – see, this is what happens after you feed Suguru too much rum. I just can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“That’s terrible… need someone to shut ya up?” you flirt.

He tilts his head at you, loose strands of hair shifting across his cheek. His left brow quirks up – he’s so taken aback by your forwardness but he falls right into it.

You just giggle flirtatiously after making that comment and pull the straw of your drink between your lips, sucking the remnants of a cosmopolitan into your mouth as sensually as you dare to in front of a bad boy who’s got bedroom eyes on you.

“I think I could do with some shutting up…” he admits.

“Mm,” you hum, “y’think by our third date you’re gonna snap and kiss me hard like we’re in a movie?”

Suguru smiles bashfully and looks down into his drink, swirling the melting ice cubes with a straw – slowly, round and round, they clink. Then he draws his gaze back to you, catching you with a sultry side-eye, and now it’s not just the ice cubes that are melting.

“Nah-uh…”

“Nah-uh?” you question.

“… I think it’s you who’s gonna snap first.” He says.

“Wanna bet?” you tease.

“Sure. What’ll be at stake?” he asks.

He keeps his sultry gaze on you as you look off to the side in thought for a moment. Your friend’s joke echoes in your mind.

“… you might just wake up with his name in your skin.”

Then you look back to him – his heart throbs but he’s trying to keep it together here, pulling his straw to his lips to get a sip of whatever rum still exists in his glass.

“Loser gets a regrettable tattoo?” you suggest.

He looks at you with a little bit of disbelief at your boldness.

“How regrettable?” he questions, one eye squinting shut in suspicion. He's wondering just how wild you actually are.

“Like my name on you? Or vice versa.”

He covers his mouth and lets out a chuckle hearing this. “You want me to tattoo my name on ya skin?” he teases. “Sure, I’ll bet on that.”

You can’t believe that he’s matching your crazy.

You stutter, replying only after a lingering moment of hot eye contact, “… there’s no way I’m gonna snap first…” you say boldly, proceeding to pop the cherry of your drink into your mouth and eating it right in front of the poor boy’s eyes. “ ‘m gonna have you walkin’ around with my name on you.”

Eyes glued on your lips, his breath catches in his throat.

“Yeah?”

Ooh, there it was. That feeling. That body singing electric songs feeling… that tummy-tightening, blood-rushing, skin-flushing feeling – it hit him all at once. He knows that if he were standing, his knees would have buckled now for sure, or at least he would have felt the tremor of your words under his feet.

He’s unsteady – smiling uncontrollably, looking dishevelled and softly drunk. Those rouge lips are begging to be kissed.

The bar grows quieter and quieter.

You’re hardly able to call each other anything more than strangers, and yet you’re leaning into him, closing the distance.

The tips of your noses are just inches apart now. You’re in each other’s air. He eyes out your lips, feels your hot, liquor-scented breath tickle his face.

But when you try and close the distance, he raises his hand and presses his thumb against your soft lips, stopping you.

“What happened to that bold statement, huh? Keep it together, baby; the bet’s on.” He feathers against your face.

*****

Tumbling into Shoko’s apartment after a night out drinking, you smile and giggle into the pillows of her bed.

She’s letting her hair down and swapping out her tight dress for jammies when she looks at you in your gleeful state.

“Someone’s in love.” She teases, coming over to tickle you.

“I’m not in love!”

“Oh, quit the act; I saw how the two of you said goodbye – you could barely hold yourself together. Drunk or not, I ain’t seen two adults giggling like that before.”

“Sh!” you swat her, “Not! In! Love!”

She takes a look into your eyes and observes your smile, then shakes her head. You're drowsy, so you make a dive into her bed and fall asleep almost instantly.

Shoko pulls a blanket over you, affectionately ruffling your hair.

“Madly in love, at the very least.”

[tbaluver]

Hi hii how are you doing?? I've been thinking about mc catching the lads men masturbating to the thoughts of mc, do you think you could write something like that?

Imagine probably fits this more but obviously do whatever you feel like with this! If you want to write just headcannons that's obviously up to you! ^^

I love your work a lot, you're doing great <33

caught white handed!- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings: xavier x fem! reader, zayne x fem! reader, rafayel x fem! reader, sylus x fem! reader summary: you caught them touching themselves! warnings/ tags: MDNI, male masturbation, p in v, a/n: hihi izzyy !! i hope you enjoy reading ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ rest of my notes will be below <3 did you guys see what i did there in the title (˵ ¬ᴗ¬˵) any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

it was a cold night yet xavier felt so hot. he softly groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes slowly flutter open. his eyes travel down his body, his dick straining against his grey sweats.

his eyes flicker over to your peacefully sleeping form. he can’t wake you, not when you have an important mission tomorrow. you need your rest and he knows he needs all of your stamina.

he sighs, tugging his grey sweats and boxers down. his cock springs free, begging to get a release. he lifts the hem of his shirt, biting down onto it so it suppresses any sound he can make.

he flutters his eyes closed, trying to grasp the wet dream he had. ah yes. his were lips grazed on every surface of you he can touch, his mouth leaving wet trails all over your body. he remembers trying to fight the urge to roll on top of you, to see your tits bounce every time he thrust into you.

his eyes flutter open again, watching his fist drag up and down his shaft slowly. he wishes his hand on his cock would be your cunt around him right now. he lets his head fall back further into the plush of the pillow as he tries to visualize more of your naked figure.

how he wishes you didn’t get assigned to that mission and how the plush of your walls would welcome his cock. how he would pound into you from behind and watch your ass jiggle, his hands leaving marks from how hard he’s gripping your hips. how your delicate hands would desperately be holding on the sheets of the bed as you moan his name in pleasure.

his eyes flicker to your sleeping form again, licking his lips when he sees your tit slipping out of your tank top. he increases the pace of his hand as he continues staring, how he wishes he can suck and lick them right now.

he visualizes pinning you down with his large form towering over you as he drills his dick deep inside of you. he clenches his eyes as he tries to suppress the groan, his pace picking up.your tits bouncing with each thrust, your mouth parted slightly, making drool drip down to your chin. your eyes half-lidded, drunk off of his cock. how he wishes he could shoot his thick loads of cum into you instead of wiping it away.

he can hear you moaning and chanting his name, “xavier, xavier”, unaware that it was actually you calling right beside him. xavier’s movement slows, his gaze locking onto yours with pleading eyes. “help” he whimpers, releasing the hem of his shirt from his teeth.

Zayne:

pages and pages of patient records and nursing notes were scattered across zayne’s desk. leaning slightly, he observes the new notes from the nursing staff. a few of the updates regarding the patient's conditions and status changes were incorrect, requiring his attention to make corrections. he couldn’t help but feel frustrated. this wasn’t the kind of work he’d hope to take home after a long day in the operating room.

he shifts his focus between the reports and his computer but his gaze keeps wandering to the framed pictures and trinkets on his desk. it was very unlike zayne to be so easily distracted, yet the little memories seemed to pull his attention away.

he could already hear your voice teasing him “you’re always telling me to take breaks, maybe you should listen to your own advice zayne!” and he would glance down at you, imagining the playful pout on your face as you drag him out of the room.

your soft hands would guide him to the couch, away from the stress that had been weighing down on him. you must have made him something sweet as you reach for the cup, bending purposely low enough for him to catch a glimpse of your ass. you would settle comfortably on his lap, letting him take the first sip while never breaking eye contact with you. once he finishes, you take a small sip, a small dribble of the drink slips down your chin lower and lower.

a playful smile would tug at the corner of your lips as you nuzzle in closer to him. he could feel your boobs pressing against him while your delicate hands trace the buttons of his shirt as you ask him with pleading eyes, “what’s on your mind zayne?”

he could’ve easily told you about his frustrations right now but both of you knew the answer was simple, it was you. zayne was quite strong and patient but when it came to you, you were the sun to his snow, melting and leaving him completely vulnerable just by your touch.

he momentarily loses his train of thought, his cock straining hard against his pants. he hesitates, feeling guilty for thinking about the possibilities of what could’ve happened in the scenario he imagined. but when his palm drags slowly against his clothed length, he feels relief spreading through his body. 

he tries to fight back these images of you, he has to go back and finish his work but how can he when small mementos of you are all over his desk? his desk, where he’s taken you over and under many times. the way he would have you bent over his desk, his cock rubbing against your weeping cunt before slowly sinking in. your cunt fluttering as it envelops his length completely.

he groans as he feels himself grow harder, the outline of his cock pressing against his trousers, begging to be free. he unbuckles his belt before lifting his hips up to pull down his pants and boxers, his cock springing free. his palm drags slowly along his length, the relief he once felt spreading through his body again.

he imagines it’s your soft warm hands that drag along his shaft. he visualizes you sitting here with your legs spread wide on his desk instead of these papers scattered all over. he lets his head fall back on his office chair, his eyes half- lidded as he imagines your weeping cunt. your beautiful eyes staring up at him as you take him fully as he kneads your pretty boobs.

your pretty moans, your walls fluttering around his dick was driving his mind insane. he squeezes his cock harder at the thought, feeling his orgasm nearing. soft groans as he thinks of his name falling from your lips. he pumps faster and faster until those beautiful eyes of yours are standing right in front of his door, holding his box from his favorite bakery.

zayne’s ears are bright red and you can’t tell whether it’s from rubbing his length or you finding him the act. he breathes in deeply, trying to sit up until you close the door and set the box aside.

“do you need any help doc-tor?”

Rafayel:

thomas had assigned him another art piece for an upcoming event but unfortunately the art block had plagued him for days. the deadline was approaching soon and surely thomas would nag him nonstop if he didn’t come up with anything. so in the last attempt, he found himself swimming in his bathtub, a pencil balanced over his nose as he stared blankly at the canvas in front of him.

he absentmindedly paddled his feet in the water, boredom creeping in. he missed you. thomas had banished you ( errands to help with the event ) so he could focus on the project, but how was he supposed to concentrate when his greatest inspiration isn’t by his side?

he pouts, sitting up to grab a towel to dry off the water on his skin before it smudges the canvas. pulling the canvas closer, he begins sketching. he starts with your cute little head, the one he loves to kiss so much. he captures the strands of your hair that contain the scent he adores, the one that always smells like home. and he adds your bright smile, the one that lights up his entire day.

he lowers to your chest, the one where he loves to lick and squeeze that makes you throw your head back. then down to your tummy, the place he loves to tease you with trails of wet kisses because he knows he’s getting closer. and your legs, the legs that would be pressed together whenever you were so shy to show him your soaking cunt.

he lets out a deep breath, his eyes travel down his body, his dick already hard and throbbing. he sinks back into the tub, taking his cock into his hand, stroking lazily up and down. his studio was empty so doesn’t bother suppressing his whimpers.

he licks his lips as he imagines your naked figure, water trickling down your wet breasts, your nipples hard and perky. your pretty little hand and eyes admiring his toned chest. he watches his fist drag up and down his shaft, pre-cum already leaking from his slit. those pretty eyes, the ones that look up at him pleadingly as your lips wrap around the head of his cock.

how he loved to imagine hearing you beg as he sits you down on his cock in the water, begging for friction, for movement. impatient girl

he imagines bending you over the cold surface of the tub, slowly sinking into you. how wet your body would be and the sounds you two would create once he was fully in. plap! plap! plap! wet and slippery skins against each other as his other hand slides up your sides to grab your ass or thighs. 

he pumps faster and faster into his swollen tip, unaware that you dropped the art supplies the moment you walked into the door. he was wrapped in his own world that he didn’t even hear you pick up and spill a million apologies.

he pants heavily, snapping out of his daze. his half-lidded eyes meet yours as he extends his hand towards you. “well? a performance always deserves some kind of reward.”

Sylus:

your boss let you go home early once there were no signs of energy fluctuations in any nearby areas and that everything seemed to be running smoothly. as you made your way to the bathroom, you figured a hot shower would hit the spot once you heard the water running.

your breath catches in your throat once you cracked the door open enough, catching a glimpse of sylus through the foggy glass of the shower doors. 

even through the foggy glass, you could tell from the position he was in and what he was doing. one hand pressed against the foggy glass while the other wrapped tightly around his flushed cock. he watched his hand drag along his length, filled with nothing but thoughts of you. 

you couldn’t help but watch, completely captivated by the way his white wet hair frames his sharp features, how water drips down to his toned muscles. you stood by the door completely frozen, lost in a daze until his voice broke through the silence of your thoughts.

“y/n” a moan escaping his lips as he imagines you being there with him in the shower. droplets of water run down his muscular nude body. the water was warm but yet he felt burning hot.

it was an addictive image of you where his cock was nestled between your lips, his fingers tangling in your hair. he can imagine your lips around the head of his cock, sucking lightly and hollowing out your cheeks before pulling back with a lewd and wet sound.

you’d repeat your motions, swirling your tongue along his tip, relaxing your jaw to take his cock once more. he sees your body below him, your wet hair framing your face beautifully as your eyes looked at him as he carefully works his cock down the tight tunnel of your throat.

but it doesn’t stop there.

he visualizes pinning you against the foggy glass of the shower doors, sinking his thick cock into your soaking hole. your legs would wrap around his waist, a moan escaping your lips as he pushes all the way in. his hips slap against your own while your wet tits bounce as his cock drills into your pussy.

he pumps faster into his swollen tip, thrusting into his fast. you can hear him spill curses and praises for you as he continues to think of the way how your cunt clenched around his length.

you squeeze your legs together as you look away from the door, your panties wet from watching your lover get off to you. you were lost in your own world as you debated on joining him or handling things with your own hands, that you didn’t even notice the sounds that slip off his lips had come to a halt. it wasn’t until the door opened that snapped you back to reality.

a towel hung loosely around his waist, his damp hair sticking to his skin while water trickles down the outlines of his muscles. he tilts his head slightly, a small smirk curling at the corners of his lips. “i hope you enjoyed my show. you’re more than welcome to join.”

a/n: ahhhh hihi again izzy ! im doing well since im finally in my winter break i hope you're doing great luv lmk <3 i apologize this took me forever to write i was busy with school so i kept going back and forth with the rough draft and school (╥﹏╥) i wanted to make sure at least all of them were in diff scenarios :o i hope you enjoyed reading ! thank you for supporting and reading my works it truly means so much to me !! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ i hope to see you again soon (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

special thank yous to my beta readers mwah; @ilovemitsuya , @justwinginglife ₊˚⊹ ᰔ

[sxcret-garden]

Ateez Reaction ღ Asking them to teach you how to fuck [M]

ღ Ateez all members x fem-bodied!reader ღ genre: smut reaction (best friend!Ateez x inexperienced reader), (implied) friends to fwb/friends to lovers in one part ღ warnings: mentions of alcohol consumption

Author’s note: This is definitely not what I had planned to write today but oh well :’) I hope you guys enjoy~

Edit: This is labelled as having a fem-bodied!reader, but Yeosang's, San's, Mingi's and Jongho's parts also work with a gn!reader (I changed the wording slightly for two of those parts to make them gn, cause the original versions weren't very far away from that) - Yunho's part is technically gn too, but i think one line of it makes no sense if reader is imagined to be male bodied!

Hongjoong:

when one day you somewhat shyly ask him if he would teach you how to please a guy he’s definitely surprised

but it’s also not like he sees a problem with friends hooking up? i mean - y’all know each other well and trust each other, so having sex shouldn’t be an issue

teaches you everything you wanted to know and then some more, until suddenly you can barely even remember that other guy who made you feel like you needed to practice so much anymore

he’ll be gentle with you, seeing how you don’t have much experience yet, and somehow he’ll end up pleasuring you first to help you relax

only when you’re about to cum on his fingers does he stop for a second to consider whether it’s really okay to go this far with you

but you’re enjoying yourself, and now you’re whining for him to keep going, so that’s what he does

makes you cum and then lets you rest for a bit, before he starts guiding your hands down his body

praises you for everything you do and gently nudges you in the right direction, until you have him cumming into your fist - but he won’t stop there

there’s just something insanely hot to him about having full control over what you do to him as he gives you instructions, and this is definitely also awakening some kind of corruption kink deep inside him

eventually you end up on top of him as he guides you down his cock and into a steady rhythm, having you ride him

and of course this becomes a regular thing between the two of you, both keeping up the pretense that you’re still just “practicing”, when really there’s a carnal need growing inside both of you that makes you always come back to each other for more

Seonghwa:

the first time you bring it up to him that you’ve been wondering if he could help you practice having sex he feels conflicted to say the least

of course he wants to help you!! but this is about having sex with one of his best friends, and he doesn’t know if he wants to cross that line with you

but at the same time it’s also apparent that your question is affecting him when you can see his ears turn red, and eventually he has to get out of there for a second to get himself a glass of water sakdfjlks

“So is that a yes?” you ask him when he comes back, and he almost spits the water back out aksdljfkjsd

“I-I’ll have to think about it, Y/N…” he somehow manages to stutter, before he forcibly changes topic

he needs a few days to calm down about this, but once some time has passed he figures it’s probably not a big issue if he helped you out a bit, right?

you agree on a few rules like no kissing, no actual intercourse, but he’s willing to let you touch him otherwise

and so you decide to start slow, with a simple handjob, and he actually finds himself enjoying the way he can tell you what to do, gently push you in the right direction, plus the sight of having your hands wrapped around his cock just does something very sinful to him - so it’s no surprise that you don’t have any trouble making him cum

but now he feels the need to pay you back, and so you let him finger you, and his skillful touches throw you over the edge in no time

you do this a few times, until eventually you find yourselves growing more needy, and you end up sucking him off while he eats you out, quietly turning it into a game of who can make the other cum faster in your mind

needless to say, now that you started casually hooking up you won’t be stopping anytime soon

Yunho:

he is SOSO flustered when you first ask him about whether he could teach you a bit about sex the first time and immediately says no aksjdklfsk

“Y/N, we’re just friends… shouldn’t you do that with an actual boyfriend?”

but you insist, admitting that you feel embarrassed about how inexperienced you are, and of course this guy reassures you that you’re fine the way you are, and once the right guy comes along he will surely be understanding with you

and as much as you want to believe his words, your insecurities prevail, until eventually you find an agreement that you can at least come ask him about stuff if you feel unsure about something so he could give you a verbal explanation

and you take him up on that offer pretty soon, simply because you’re curious kasjflkasdj

so when one day you ask him out of the blue whether guys prefer getting handjobs or blowjobs he’s a blushing mess first of all

“W-well, it depends on the guy…?” - so you ask him what he prefers and now he’s visibly uncomfortable

but he figures you’re just curious, so he tells you about how both is nice, it really depends on his mood, but he probably prefers a simple handjob most of the time

he loosens up a bit eventually, and as you continue talking about the topic and you ask him all kinds of questions, neither of you can deny that it’s affecting you

except nothing really happens afterwards, because you know he wouldn’t want to overstep that boundary

it’s only until a little later, when you’re both drunk at a party and he suddenly pulls you aside to tell you that he hasn’t been able to think about anything but what it would be like to have sex with you

and well, you pressing your body up against his does nothing to deflate that situation, and so you disappear in the nearest room where it’s just the two of you, and in no time clothes are flying off and your hands are all over each other

but despite the desperation that the both of you are feeling, he’s still careful with you, taking the lead as you spend the rest of the night fucking in that room

Yeosang:

he has no idea how to react when you ask him to teach you how to fuck, so it’s just awkward silence for a few moments

until he offers to treat you to a few hours with a sex worker instead ksajdflkjs

and well, that’s not exactly what you had in mind, because the point of you asking him was that he’s someone who’s known you for a long time and who knows you well

“Ahhh, I see… then sorry that I can’t be who you want me to be, but no.” (why does he have to say it so dramatically fksdjkfas)

you’re of course a bit disappointed, but it’s not like you don’t understand him - not everyone would want to cross that line with a friend - so you leave it at that for now

until one evening you’re together at your place, and you can tell something’s off about him - he seems fidgety and like he’s anxious about something, so eventually you decide to ask what’s up

and he doesn’t really want to give you an answer at first, but eventually he manages to force out an explanation

“Just… what you said to me a few days ago… I thought about it again… and maybe we can try it after all?” - you two talk a lot so it takes you a while to understand what he’s hinting at, but once you do, you’re immediately by his side

you reach for his hand as you’re sitting side by side, and somehow both your nerves are making it hard to do anything

“S-so… how do we start? Do we kiss?” he asks, and you agree that that might be a good idea, and weirdly enough as soon as your lips meet his and you fall into an unhurried pace, both your anxieties seem to be washed away

you get into his lap, and somehow you both just end up following your instincts, only breaking the kiss to tell each other what feels good, and then eventually in order to moan at the way you dry humping him is about to get the both of you off

you’re taking this very slow, but it becomes a regular thing for you to meet up in order to have sex from then on, both exploring and learning about each other’s body as you go

San:

another one who feels very conflicted the first time you bring it up to him

he doesn’t think mere friends should be doing this kind of thing with each other, but at the same time he can’t say he isn’t tempted

he says no at first, but the days after he just can’t stop thinking about you naked, on top of him, underneath him, you name it

until these thoughts start to haunt him in his dreams too, and he knows he can’t possibly be normal around you anymore if he doesn’t do anything about this

so he decides to help you out after all, under the premise that you won’t have any actual intercourse

instead, he teaches you how he likes to be touched with hands only, and eventually he also lets you suck him off

tells you exactly what to do that would drive any guy insane, gives you advice in between moans and at some point he will start rambling, until his high is coming so close that his train of thought just cuts off

and once he sees the state he put you in after cumming in your mouth - your glazed over eyes, his seed dripping down your lips before you lick it all up and swallow - he just can’t help himself anymore

“Shit, Y/N, let me fuck you, please,” he mutters, desperation in his voice

and as soon as you give him the okay this guy will be all over you, being rougher than you’d have expected him to be, fucking you as he’s led only by his instincts and his need to feel the warmth of being inside you

Mingi:

he’s another one who isn’t opposed to having sex with a good friend

actually, he feels a weird sense of relief when you ask him if you could practice with him, because he feels very comfortable with you and so he knows he too will be able to let go quickly

you start slow anyway, because he doesn’t want to overwhelm you - seeing how you don’t have much experience yet - and so he’s even more surprised when you reach for his dick pretty quickly

you ask if what you’re doing is good, and as you’re giving him a few strokes this guy is hard in no time

will put his hand onto yours to guide you into the pace he likes, but very soon he’ll simply leave it up to you, wanting to know exactly what you would do to him if he doesn’t interfere

and soon enough his sanity will start to slip away, and when he starts bucking his hips into your hand the dynamic shifts ever so slightly, because suddenly you don’t seem so inexperienced anymore at all as you dare to tease him about how needy he is

lets you make him cum onto his stomach, before you call it quits for the day, but you’ll be sure to come back for more soon

he’ll let you get him off in all kinds of ways, until eventually you two start experimenting with anything and everything you’re curious about, all under the premise of “practice”

and soon he too will feel the need to return the favour and get you off too, learning all about how your body reacts to his touch, and figuring out together what feels best for you

you’re gonna spend whole weekends at his place just fucking, and in no time you basically know each other’s bodies like the back of your own hand

and it’s more than likely that in the process this guy actually falls in love with you, and even though it’s still a whiiiile until he actually finds the courage to tell you that, he will make damn sure you won’t even think about wandering off to someone else

“You’re mine, Y/N,” - the words will repeatedly slip past his lips as he’s fucking you, and surely enough they do something to you too

Wooyoung:

you two tend to be very touchy to begin with - even though you’re definitely not in love he gives you kisses on the cheeks or your neck all the time, and when you’re having a sleepover you can be sure it will include a good amount of cuddling

so when one day he’s spooning you, focused on drawing random patterns on the skin on your arm, and you tell him that you’ve been thinking whether he would be okay with showing you how to properly please a guy he isn’t put off by the idea at all - though he is a little surprised, both because he was of the impression you had a lot more experience than you do, and because he didn’t think you’d ever consider him the right person to come to with a favour like this (like????? who else would be a better person??????)

and this guy is so gentle and respectful with you - he’ll ask exactly what you want him to show you, what you want him to do, will ask before whatever he does whether you’re okay with it or not,...

you just end up having really sweet sex as you help each other out of your clothes and you both get a little distracted worshipping each other’s body

there will be a lot of giggling as you slowly figure out what the other likes and what not, until you end up flat on your back, with his head between your legs, and suddenly all that light-hearted curiousity turns into a deep passion

he eats you out and makes you cum on his tongue multiple times, eager to please you and to see how many more of those sinful moans and whimpers he can draw out of you

until finally you grab him by the hair and pull him away so he would give you a break to catch your breath and to remind him that he was supposed to teach you how to do this stuff

“You asked me how to please a guy,” he replies. “This is how you please this guy right here.” - at this point he is absolutely pussy drunk, there’s no going back for him

will offer to get you off every single time you have a sleepover from now on (and mysteriously the amount of sleepovers you have is suddenly increasing drastically), but he will also exert some amount of self control beforehand and let you get him off too, before he makes you feel good

Jongho:

the first time you very awkwardly hint at him that you’ve been wondering if he’d be willing to teach you how to fuck he simply laughs

until he realizes you weren’t joking

panics internally as all the times he’s gotten off while thinking of you flash him by and he somehow manages to tell you that you’re just friends and you should really reconsider this!!!

he never actually gives you a proper answer on that day, and neither of you bring it up until like two weeks later

you’re both chilling with your phones in your hands, having made yourselves comfortable on his bed as you often do when you’re at his place, when he suddenly speaks up

“So… do you still want me to… teach you a few things?” he asks, not taking his eyes off his phone, and you can feel the nervousness radiating off of him - but as soon as you say yes that mood instantly gets replaced with confidence

“Then come here.” - he goes slow to figure out what you’re okay with and what not, but when you throw your arms around him once he starts scattering kisses in your neck as he hovers above you, he knows he can’t hold back anymore

gets you off with his hand first, before he guides yours to his cock and shows you exactly how he wants you to return the favour

“Wanna go all the way? Cause I’ve been thinking about this…” he admits, and when you say yes he doesn’t spare you any details

tells you about what he wants to do to you, and lets you decide which of his fantasies you want to recreate, until you end up in all kinds of positions, having him fucking one orgasm after the other out of you, until it becomes clear you’re getting tired and you really can’t take any more

you’re both very awkward after this, to the point you act weird around each other even in front of your other friends, who start wondering whether you had a fight

but as things calm down between the two of you, you meet up again at his place

you decided prior to that that what happened several days ago was a one time thing, and you wouldn’t do it again

or so you thought, because as soon as you find yourselves side by side on his bed again, neither of you can deny that the only thing you’re thinking about is continuing where you had left off last time

[snowballseal]

Hi! I really adore your writing. You have really caught each guys essences.

If your requests are open, I was thinking of something like how each guy would carry you and in what type of scenario. I thought Zayne would do bridal style and Sylus over the shoulder, but if you see it differently, feel free to do it as you see fit 😊

How they would carry you (LaDS)

Note: This was such a cute request!! I had fun writing it, though I definitely rewrote Rafayel's like three times cause I couldn't make up my mind on the scenario. I went with a different idea for Zayne, but I think you'll like it ;)

I really hope you enjoy this! And I hope I wrote them all well. Thank you for the request.

Also, I'm incredibly sleep-deprived, so I apologize for any mistakes/inconsistencies.

---

Sylus *over the shoulder*

“My feet hurt,” you grumble.

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have worn such cheap shoes,” Sylus hums, voice bordering on between teasing and mocking.

You shoot the man a glare. He gives you a smug smile in return, arms crossing over his chest.

Of course he’s right. But you can’t admit that, not after you made such a fuss about ignoring his warning before the night began. You had been stubborn, maybe a little too stubborn. The restaurant you were going to was just so nice, how could you not wear heels? You wanted to look nice for your date, and they paired so well with your dark cocktail dress. Of course you’d forgotten about how much they hate your feet.

Every step feels like a bunch of nails digging into your feet. Why did you park so far away? Oh right, because you thought the night was so nice, you wanted to take a little walk before dinner…Not your best idea in retrospect.

Another step makes you wince.

Sylus suddenly stops. This forces you to pause as well, your arm curled around his elbow as you walk. You glance at him questioningly, trying to hide the pain, not wanting to bother him further by complaining. Or endure more of his teasing.

But his gaze burns over you intensely. You shift a little, heat climbing up your cheeks, but putting your weight on your other foot only makes that prickling pain shoot up your leg, and you can’t stop your lips from twisting into a light grimace.

For a brief moment, Sylus’ face softens. He lets out a sigh before removing his jacket. Your brow furrows as he slips it around your waist, the warmth of the fabric covering your bare legs.

“Sylus?”

“I’m not so cruel as to make a woman suffer, kitten,” he hums, securing the coat by tying the sleeves. He then leans up to your face, lips quirking up into a smirk. “Especially when she got all dolled up and pretty just for me.”

Before you can blush even darker, you’re suddenly being thrown over his broad shoulder. You let out an undignified squeak, instinctively squirming to try and get out of his grip. You kick your legs, hands scrambling against his back.

“Sylus!”

“Careful, kitten, otherwise I might drop you,” Sylus warns, voice dancing with amusement. His hand slips below the hem of his jacket to curl over the back of your thighs, locking them to his chest. You freeze, heart fluttering wildly. 

What a brute.

Though, there’s really nothing you can do to escape this man. Not that you really want to.

“Sylus, seriously, this isn’t funny,” you still whine, trying to keep face.

“Would you rather walk barefoot?”

Your nose scrunches at the thought. While you are in a nicer part of the city, it still sounds gross. You guess this is the lesser of two evils. Letting out a defeated sigh, you prop your elbows against his back to try to get comfortable. Also trying to ignore how defined his muscles feel against you.

Sylus hums approvingly, “There you go, kitten. Just relax.” 

His hand tenderly squeezes your thigh and you’re actually thankful he can’t see just how red your face is. Probably as red as the wine you had with dinner.

It’s definitely embarrassing. Especially when you pass by a few people, catching their odd stares. But it’s hard to care when Sylus starts massaging your legs, his touch overwhelmingly gentle in contrast to his previous actions. His thumb presses firm circles into your ankle, drawing a breathy sigh from you.

“Feel better, sweetie?” He murmurs, and you can feel his voice rumble through your body.

“Definitely helps,” you breathe, “Though you could have just carried me in a more comfortable way, Sy.”

“Now, where’s the fun in that?”

“This isn’t fun for me,” you grumble petulantly.

Sylus shifts, suddenly putting you down. You blink in surprise when you find yourself sitting on the hood of a familiar car, your lover leaning over you. His fingers trace your leg, grazing up your arm, until he can cup your cheek, bringing your faces so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips.

“And how can I make it up to you, my dear?” He purrs lowly, lips grazing yours teasingly.

“Well-” Letting out a shaky breath, you reach up and slip your arms around his neck. A blush still coats your cheeks, but you give him your best innocent look, pouting your lips as you mess with the silver strands at the nape of his neck. “I think a full massage at home might make up for the discomfort. The last one you gave me was pretty nice.”

Sylus quirks a brow in amusement, “Is that all?”

“Nope. I also want you to watch a sappy romcom with me. Then I’ll forgive your brutish ways.”

That breaks the intense air between you. Sylus chuckles, the sound deep and fond, making you smile. He leans down to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

“I accept your terms, kitten.”

“Good. Now chop chop, mister! Let’s get home!”

---

Zayne *koala style*

“Darling.”

Your eyes flicker open, eyelids heavy. Letting out a sleepy hum, you drag your blurry gaze to meet a pair of warm, hazel eyes. Zayne kneels beside the car, thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek to keep you from falling back asleep. You lean into his touch with a content sound, making him smile.

“We’ve arrived home,” he murmurs, voice quiet, “Would you like me to carry you inside?”

You nod, head still fuzzy with sleep. All you can really focus on is that you don’t want his touch to go away. It feels so nice.

“Alright. Can you wrap your arms around my neck for me, darling?”

You reach out blearily, your fingers blindly finding their way into the soft strands of hair at his nape. Zayne carefully turns you until your legs dangle out of the car, giving him a better angle to slip an arm under you. He picks you up like you weigh nothing, drawing you flush against his chest.

You instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, letting out another happy hum as he readjusts you so you can tuck your face into his neck. One of his hands stays secured under you, the other sliding up to hold the back of your neck tenderly.

It’s almost impossible to not fall back asleep like this. Surrounded by his warmth, his fingers massaging your neck so lovingly, the gentle sway of his body as he walks. Your eyes flicker closed again as you nuzzle deeper into your lover.

You love when Zayne holds you like this. Not that bridal style isn’t nice, but this is just so much closer, so much easier for you to wrap yourself around him. Plus you like the feeling of his fingers gripping your thighs, reminding you of just how strong the doctor is. It just makes you feel…safe.

“Wish you’d carry me like this more,” you mumble thoughtlessly into his neck.

“Is that so?” Zayne hums, a small smile curling his lips.

“Mhm.” 

You press a sluggish kiss to his collarbone to show just how much you like it. Zayne’s steps falter imperceptibly. But you notice, a bubbly giggle escaping you.

“Don’t trip, Doctor Zayne,” you tease sleepily.

He pinches your thigh in warning. “Perhaps a certain hunter shouldn’t be so distracting.”

You squeak, pulling yourself further up by his shoulders. Zayne chuckles, palm smoothing over the spot, though he didn’t actually pinch you that hard. Still. You draw back a little to pout at him.

“So mean, Doctor Zayne. What if I bruise?”

“My apologies, darling,” he murmurs, not at all apologetic. You hold your pout, only weakening when he tilts his face up to brush your noses together. “I’ll be sure to treat it once we get inside. A kiss should do, hm?”

God, he’s so perfect. You’re not sure your heart can take it. The warmth behind his eyes, the small, rare show of affection. It leaves a lingering heat under your skin that turns your cheeks rosy pink, and you duck your face back into his shoulder to hide your blush.

“So, so mean,” you grumble.

A fond smile graces Zayne’s lips. If he’s being honest, he likes carrying you like this. He likes how you feel in his arms, your weight, your warmth, the rise and fall of your chest against his. It’s not often you let him take care of you without complaint, so he takes full advantage of when you do. It helps calm whatever deep-seated need he has to look after you.

The fact that you’re so easy to fluster is a mere bonus.

You settle back into a comfortable silence, barely paying attention as Zayne navigates through your apartment complex. You only notice when he shifts his arm further under you so he can fish his keys from his back pocket and unlock your shared apartment.

He doesn’t bother to turn on any lights as he carries you through your home, straight to your room. You grumble as he bends down to set you on the edge of the bed, your fingers tightening around his neck when he starts to draw back.

“Don’t go,” you plead softly.

“Wouldn’t you rather be in more comfortable clothes, sweetheart?”

“‘m already comfy,” you assure him, leaning against his chest, “Just take your pants off and cuddle with me.”

“What a bold patient I have,” he teases, though his voice dips into a low timber that makes you shiver.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, doctor,” you whisper, a little bashful, cheeks going warm again. “Just don’t want you to stop holding me.”

Zayne softens. His fingers trace along your heated cheek, drawing you back just enough so he can lean down and capture your lips in a lingering kiss. You press into him immediately, a delighted sigh passing your lips when he settles onto the bed beside you. When the kiss ends, you tuck yourself back into his side, content once again now that you get your way. A drawn-out yawn escapes you, and Zayne curls his arms around your waist, guiding you so your head can rest against his chest.

“Sleep now, I won’t go anywhere,” he promises softly into your hair.

“Mmm, love you, Zayne.”

“I love you too, my snowflake.

---

Rafayel *bridal style*

“Oh, “ you chirp, cool air washing over you as you step out of the venue, “it’s raining.”

The two of you were attending the opening night of Rafayel’s new exhibit. You’re surprised you didn’t even hear the rain, considering the streets look about flooded already. Puddles collect along the sidewalk, a small river running along the edge of the road. Paired with the rapidly setting sun, it leaves a chill in the air that makes you shiver slightly.

“I like it,” Rafayel hums and drapes an arm around your shoulders, drawing you into his side. You glance at him, biting back a smile when he playfully avoids your gaze, as if trying to keep your warm might hurt his “cool” factor. “The smell of the ocean is stronger when it rains, don’t you think? And the puddles look like tide pools.”

“They certainly do,” you giggle, “though neither of us are really prepared for the rain. Should we call a cab? I’d hate to ruin these shoes since you just got them for me.”

You look down at the kitten heels you’d worn for the event. They’re so cute, a soft baby blue color, decorated with little pearls. You remember pointing them out to Rafayel on one of your walks down the pier. They were just so pretty, and reminded you so much of him in a way, but the price was out of your range. Not that it deterred Rafayel, of course, who secretly went back the next day to get them for you.

A pair of shoes really shouldn’t mean that much to you, but every gift from Rafayel feels special. You can’t bear the thought of messing them up.

“Hmm, I think I have an easy solution.”

You let out a squeak when Rafayel suddenly ducks and sweeps you up into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, clinging to him for dear life at the sudden loss of balance. The sound of Rafayel’s laughter rings in the air, light and full of mirth, as he dashes into the rain with you.

“Rafayel!” You squawk and break into your own fit of laughter despite the icy cold rain immediately drenching your clothes. “Rafayel! Put me down!!”

“I’m already carrying you, putting you down would just be more work,” he teases, that infuriatingly charming smile pulling at his lips. “Now you don’t have to worry about the puddles, at least.”

“But we’re still getting soaked!” You squeal, trying to hide away from the rain by tucking your face into his neck. “Why didn’t we just call a cab?”

“A little rain won’t hurt us, yeah?”

“Says the merman. It’s freezing.”

Rafayel chuckles, the sound close to your ear. Warmth blooms across your cheeks when he presses a kiss to your temple, the touch lingering and soft with adoration, making everything slow down for just a moment.

“Then hold me tight.” he whispers, voice dipping to a low rumble that has your heart racing, “Take my warmth. It’s yours, my beloved bride.”

Any remaining complaints get lost somewhere in your throat. The heat under your skin rivals the cold. A dark blush coats your cheeks, and you try to bury yourself against his chest. You can’t hide from him though, your neck just as rosy, and you can practically feel Rafayel beaming with pride.

Stupid fish.

But he is warm.

You let out a wavering sigh, pressing the cold tip of your nose into the warm crook of his neck. Rafayel shivers, but his hold around you only tightens, as if he wants to envelop you in the heat of his body. It’s almost like being held by one of those heat up stuffies. It’s so comfortable, you can’t help but melt into him, fondness for the merman curling deep inside your bones.

“Do you always run this warm?” You murmur and rest your cheek against his shoulder so you can look at his face.

“Not always,” he hums. A stray drop of rain drips down his jaw and you reach to brush it away. Rafayel’s voice shakes almost imperceptibly at the touch, the tips of his ears going red, “For the most part, Lumerians endure harsh, cold temperatures, so we actually run colder than you humans.”

“Then why are you so warm?” You ask curiously.

His blush only spreads, until his cheeks match yours. The artist glances away, almost looking embarrassed to admit, “My fire evol is useful for more than just fighting wanderers, you know.”

Ah. So he can warm himself up with his evol. And he’s doing it to keep you warm.

The revelation fills your chest with a giddy kind of love. Like, a fuzzy, dizzy kind of love. You bite back the urge to keep teasing him, to see just how red he can get. God, how can you love this man so much? Every new thing you learn about him, every surprise he somehow pulls out of his sleeve, leaves you slipping further into the ocean of affection you’re already drowning in. The rain is nothing in comparison.

“I guess you’re my knight in shining armor, then,” you sigh wistfully, “Against the wanderers and the cold weather.”

“That’s right.” Rafayel puffs out his chest a little, almost like a preening bird. A giggle escapes your lips, and he gives you one of those heart-stopping smiles. “You should really thank your knight in shining armor, cutie. Otherwise I might not feel so inclined to swoop in to save you next time.”

“Well, thank you, Rafayel.” In the blink of an eye, you reach up and draw his face down to yours, capturing his lips in a chaste, yet searing kiss. The artist jumps back, eyes wide as he stares down at your mischievous grin. “Even though we could have just taken a cab and avoided all of this.”

His shock quickly turns into a pout.

“You’re no fun, cutie.”

---

Xavier *piggyback style*

“Really, I’m fine, Xav-”

You wince as Xavier gently flexes your foot, hot pain prickling up your leg. The hunter gives you a rather disapproving look.

“You do not have to lie to me,” he sighs and lowers your foot back down, “I will not think less of you for being injured.”

Heat creeps up your neck, and you have to tear your eyes away from his soft, unassuming gaze. It really wasn’t that bad. While fighting a wanderer, you had dodged an attack too quickly, somehow, twisting your ankle in the process. You couldn’t just stop fighting though, so you had grit your teeth through the pain until you finished the wanderer off, and then collapsed on a nearby rock. That’s when Xavier had rushed over to you, asking what was wrong.

You attribute your embarrassment to the stubborn bit of pride you carry as a hunter, so used to taking care of yourself that you don’t often let others do it for you.

“I’m really okay, it’s probably just a sprain,” you grumble, “I’ll ice it when I get home.”

“And how exactly do you plan to get home?”

Your nose crinkles. Right. Glancing back at Xavier, you find him looking at you with a small, rather amused smile, eyes sparkling with mirth. The little punk. He really can be mischievous when he wants to, huh?

But you do not have an answer to his question. So you just shrug, letting out a heavy sigh. You’ll just have to rely on him this time it seems.

“Would you like me to carry you?”

Immediately, your blush spreads up your neck, painting your cheeks rosy and warm. Eyes wide, you look at him incredulously.

“Xavier, that’s- I don’t- What?”

“I can carry you.” The hunter tilts his head, much like an adorable puppy. Your heart flutters at the sight. How are you supposed to resist that?

“I mean,” you hesitate, scratching the back of your neck, “if you think that’s the best solution…”

“It’s the simplest one,” Xavier hums, quickly standing up, pulling you carefully to your feet as well.

He turns around, ducking a little so you can get on his back. You hesitate again, though.

“Are you sure?” You ask, voice wavering.

“Positive.” Xavier looks at you over his shoulder. That gentle smile curls his lips again. “Who wouldn’t want to carry a pretty girl on their back?”

God, you hate him sometimes. Shaking your head, you gingerly step closer. You curl your arms tentatively around his shoulders, careful to avoid his neck so you don’t choke him. Then you jump. Xavier catches you with ease, fingers slipping under your thighs to hold you as he stands up straight again. It only takes a moment for him to find his balance as you get comfortable, your chin tucked over his shoulder.

He hardly seems affected by your weight. Like he’s carrying a light backpack. It eases your consciousness a little.

“I always forget just how strong you are,” you mumble.

Xavier holds back a shiver at the way your breath warms his ear. His fingers tighten around your thighs though, thumbs massaging circles into your skin. You hum softly, facing tucking into the collar of his uniform. This is nicer than you thought it’d be.

“You could take a nap until we reach our destination if you’d like.”

“No,” you sigh, though you do feel suddenly exhausted, “That wouldn’t be fair. I want to keep you company.”

“Mm, okay. Then what should we talk about?” Xavier peeks at you, amusement curling in his chest at the thoughtful pout you give.

“How about…what we’ll get for dinner tonight? We did complete the mission, afterall, we deserve a treat.”

A low chuckle escapes the hunter. Tilting his head, he presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

“Whatever you’d like, my star,” he hums, fondness warming his usually calm voice, “Is there something you have in mind?”

“That new diner opened down the block from us, we could try that!” You suggest, excitement lighting up your features, like a kid in front of a christmas tree. You look at him, smile brighter than any star he could compare you to. “What do you think?”

How could he ever resist you?

“Mmm, sounds delicious.”

“Perfect! We’ll go there then!”

You spend the rest of the walk back to the transit station talking about what dishes you might order, what movie to watch as you eat. Anything and everything. Neither of you notice the odd looks you get, too comfortable to care.

You all but forget about the pain in your ankle. Why focus on that when you can focus on the absolutely charming man willing to carry you all this way?

---

Can you tell which characters I main based on this? Just curious.

[osarina]

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

FEATURING: dazai osamu

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I love you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He does.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you ask: 

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dazai’s chest suddenly feels heavy again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You did,” you confirm.

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

“Truth,” he murmurs.

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

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

He voices his first lie, “No.”

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

He refrains, if only barely.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dazai barely withholds a frustrated sigh. 

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you enjoying yourself at the Agency?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Good,” you say quietly. “I’m glad.”

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

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

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

He knows his next question.

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

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

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

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

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

He halts.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We were never even dating, Daz-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He was,” you confirm.

Dazai’s glass of whiskey is empty. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dazai snorts.

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

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

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

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

No. Dazai refuses to believe it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you happy?” you ask quietly

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He forces it out anyway.

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

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

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

Your lashes flutter before you speak.

You lie for the first time that night.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No.

“Yes.”

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

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

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

You don’t.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was a very lonely four years without you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

12:35

He looks back at you, eyes swimming with desperation.

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

He doesn’t waste any time on that.

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

Then, he ruins the moment.

“Tell me how you fucked Chuuya.”

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

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

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

Dazai gags.

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

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

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

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

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

“It was,” you agree, too genuinely.

Dazai squints at you hard. 

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

“You don’t need to sound so wistful.”

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

“How-”

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

Okay. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unfair, he thinks mournfully. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A trick. 

Dazai knows it. 

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

He knows it.

He falls for it anyway.

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

“Yeah?” he says, voice rough. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The rest of our lives.

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

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

Of course, you know.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(I love you, he means)

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

(I love you too)

[delusionalwh6re]

࿐࿔ ⋆ ｡˚ taste

࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ lee myung-gi x fem!reader

warnings: 🔞smut, fem receiving!oral, squirting, fingering, language, dirty talk, and overstimulation

summary: your man loves being between your thighs

authore’s note: A LIL SUM WHILE I WRITE THIS LONG DETAILED ASS SMUT.. it’s taking me foreva im so maddd 💔

i tried so hard not to laugh while making this in PUBLIC.

Your mind was foggy. Head spinning as your mind raced with all types of feelings. The sensation between your legs becoming stronger as you started to shake.

A gasp left your mouth when Myung-gi placed yet another lick onto your slit. He firmly pressed his tongue on your flesh as he dragged it up to suck on your clit.

“Fuck” left your mouth as your back arched causing him to only suck harder as if you were floating away

Your moans only got louder as you grabbed onto his hair which turned him on through the roof. Lifting your hand up with what little strength you had left to try and pry his greedy mouth off of you.

Myung-gi had been doing this for hours. Not letting up until HE was ready to — which would probably be never.

If there was one thing about him it was that this man was a munch. He could spend the rest of his life smuggled between your thighs, hell maybe even a whole day if you let him.

Which there’s been a few times you have — how could you resist him?

“Pleasee” you whined gripping onto the fitted sheets next to you — a desperate plea for all of this to end

His mouth finally popped off of you with a ‘pwah’

“Use your words baby, please what?”

He knew exactly what he was doing. A smug grin forming on his face as he finally caught sight of you.

He did this teasing thing where he would let you cum, then drag another orgasm out of you just to deny you at the very last second, and finally let you gush all over him again. The process being repeated.

But at the end of the day, he always took care of you.

You were completely naked, laying bare in front of him — lips swollen, boobs bouncing with each heavy breath your took, eyes watering, skin sweaty, hair frizzy. The most beautiful sight he ever saw.

Now Myung-gi was a lot of things, a pussy pleaser being one of them. You could even say his greatest gift. No matter what he always put your pleasure first.

It didn’t take long for you to tell him what you wanted. Grabbing him by the back of his head to press him against your pussy. Moans started leaving your mouth as he instantly got to work.

“Yes, yes, yes!” you chanted throwing your head back as his lips sloppily kissed your lower ones — squelching noises being heard through the room.

He grunted, pausing for a second before throwing your shaky legs over his shoulders. Slightly lifting them up to get better access to your sweet center.

The sounds leaving your mouth completely pornagraphic at this point as the man under you devoured you like his last meal.

“Myung-gi” you whimpered feeling his plump lips leave hard suckles onto your swollen bud.

Tears forming in your eyes as the familiar ache in your core started to unravel. Lifting your head up to look at him — making you nearly gush at the sight.

His eyes were low as he never once took them off you, which only kept his motivation going. The fluffy hair he usually kept put together now messy, his face practically covered in your juices, his muscles flexing with each move he made on you.

You reached out for him. You needed something, anything to keep you from feeling like you were gonna explode. His hand met yours, intertwining them gently.

His tongues swirled in ways he knew you liked. Being used to his antics you could tell what he was up to, trying to bring you to your breaking point. Essentially trying to make you tap out.

“So, so good. Tastes so good my love” his voice muffled against your pussy.

He shook his head back and forth making you throb, feeling him get so desperate for you turned him on. The both of you really, bringing out a nasty side of each other nobody else could see.

“Like that” you moaned moving your hips up and down on his face.

“Yeah? You like that?” spelling out his name with his tongue, now using his finger to probe at your entrance.

“Mhm!” you nodded frantically crushing your thighs against his head slightly the closer you got.

A surprised scream leaving your throat when he slid his thick finger into your tight walls. Instantly curling it against your g-spot.

“Don’t stop” a tear flowing down your cheek, all of it being too much. The overstimulation catching up to you.

“You’re almost there” he praised gently. Inserting his middle finger inside of you before curling both of them up at the same time — just the way you liked it.

“I’m cumming!” you squealed closing your eyes as the ecstasy it all consumed you.

“There you go beautiful” he placed sloppy kisses at your center — licking up the cum that streamed out of you as you seized above him. Smirking at the sight of you letting his mouth pleasure you.

“Bae-babe, oh my gosh!” you squeezed his hand feeling a now different sensation.

“I gotchu” he rubbed your thigh up and down soothingly with his free hand “let go for me my love”

You weren’t able to speak before a loud splash was heard.

“Oh yeah, make that pussy squirt for me” Myung-gi sat up between your legs rubbing your clit back and forth — making sure you finished complete.

Once you broke out of your trance. You leaned up, a pout on your lips telling him all he needed to now — you were happy yet upset with him after all the torture he put you through.

“I love you too” he sarcastically smiled at you before leaning up to place a kiss on your stomach — that was covered in sweat.

“Ew get off of me” you whined trying to push him away as he now tried pressing a kiss against your lips.

“So I can’t have a kiss?” he tilted his head trying to hide his smirk.

“Boy bye, you seemed to be having the time of your life with my other lips. Go away” you faked an attitude knowing you wanted nothing more than him all over you

A gentle smack was laid onto your sensitive pussy causing you to hiss.

“And I enjoyed it” he smirked laying on you, with no care in the world as all his weight was against you.

“I can tell” you grumbled while your cheeks warmed up against your face

WHEWWW CHILE.. i had to take a couple breaks during this 😭 i was lowkey cringing but there was parts where i was like “hol on i nibbled a lil bit!” haha

don’t be afraid to sends reqs 😫 i would love to do more of these while writing longer more plot based smuts/fics! i find these a lot easier to do & they take me less than a day to do

[kurokawaia]

❛ GENTLE ❜

HImejima Gyomei x Fem!Wife!Reader

WC; 1.3k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: x fem reader, fem pronouns, fem bodied reader, oral -> female receiving, male giving, fingering, praise, slight overstimulation? implied size kink, reader is smaller than Gyomei + probably more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) could you write a Gyomei Himejima x reader smut. Because I think her would be SO gentle if her ate them out. And would constantly check in on her and maybe at the some after care. - ANON

A/NOTE :: This has been re uploaded bc it wasn't showing up in tags :(

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You were sprawled out beneath Gyomei, your legs over his beefy shoulders and your head thrown back against the plushy pillow beneath your head. There was also a smaller pillow propped underneath your hips, Gyomei said that it would make it more comfy for you and it did. He always worried about your pleasure and comfort.

"G-Gyo," you whimper out as his nose bumps against your clit.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried about how much your voice was whimpering at the small amount of contact with your most sensitive area.

You squirm under the hold Gyomei's hand on your thighs, back subtly arching into his face, wanting to indulge further in his touch. 

"Yeah," you say breathlessly.

"You'll be alright, my love," Gyomei reassures, placing soft and fluttery kisses on your stomach.

You shiver underneath the simple gestures, awaiting when he puts his tongue and fingers to use. 

"'M know, Gyo," you replied, your fingers interlacing with his short black strands. "You're jus' so big."

Gyomei lifts his head towards yours, wondering what you meant as his intent was to pleasure you on his tongue. However, he quickly realises that you were referring to how thick only one of his fingers was, and he would usually use two. A frown crosses onto his face, worried that through out all the times you tow have been intimate with each other, he had been causing you pain. 

"Have I been causing you pain, my love?" he asked worriedly.

"Wha-! No, Gyo," you replied. "It's just' you're so much sometimes, takes me so long to get used to and I finish so quick." 

You finish so quickly because of the sheer size of him.

Gyomei descends once more to your most sensitive area, your soaked cunt. "You need to tell me if I hurt you."

"You never hurt me, Gyo," you said while a shaky breath leaves your mouth.

A whimper leaves your mouth when he places a kiss on your clit and your thighs clench around his head. You attempt to arch away from the overwhelming sensation but Gyomei's grip keeps you in place. 

"G-Gyo," you moan out.

"I know, love," Gyomei reassures. "It's okay, I'm here, tell me if it's too much."

God, he was so gentle with you that it felt like you would break beneath his touch. His grasp on your thighs somewhat relaxed, giving you a tangible reassurance that you could pull away if necessary. However, he cherished it because you were so little in comparison to him and beneath him that he was afraid to shatter you.

Once more, Gyomei's nose brushes up against your delicate clit, and your grip on his hair tightened. A satisfied sigh seeps through him into your folds as a mewl from your full lips.

"Are you okay?" he asks before licking a long stripe up your folds and you moan, your back arching and your cunt pressing further into his face which he relished in. 

You whimpered before answering, trying to gather your scattered thoughts, "Yeah, 'm am, Gyo."

He loves you so intensely it hurts, and your response makes his heart sing. His tongue climbs up from your wet hole to your clit while you let out a moan. Your thighs tighten around his head as a result of his constriction, and as you grind down on his face, a moan echoes through your clit. Your lips were filled with chants of his name, and he relished every moment of it.

"Gyo, f-feels s' good," you moan, tears welling in your lash line, he was making you feel so good. 

"You're okay?" Gyomei asks.

When you feel a thick finger push past your closing walls, you furiously nod your head, your eyes expand, and you cry with delight. It felt so fantastic that you never want it to finish, even though you thought you would break because he was so huge.

His finger pressed up against that soft spot inside your walls. Gyomei was slow with his pace as he curled his fingers every time he entered your cunt, along with sucking and licking at your puffy, sensitive clit. 

"You're being so good, you're doing so well," Gyomei moans against you, refusing to rut his hips into the mattress, this was your pleasure, not his own. 

A moan arouses from you and your hips grind themselves onto his face. He let you for once have some sort of control over the situation, and he decided that if you came quicker he'll let you do it more often. "That's it," he praised.

His motions become more rapid and needy as you cry his name through broken letters, and the one hold he held on your leg tightens. Your stomach coil tightened, and your fingers wrapped around his locks to stop him from moving and make him sigh deeper into your folds.

The only thing the groans did was push you over the edge, and when he placed his tongue firmly against your clit, a quiet scream from your lips. Your stomach coil unwound, soaking his face completely.

He slowly removed his fingers from your drenched pussy, your cum spilling out from your puffy folds. Before rising his head, he places a kiss on your clit and your mewl softly in overstimulation.

"Are you alright, love?" he asks worried, kissing away the pleasure-caused tears streaming down your cheeks and the side of your face.

You hmm in peaceful contentment as he peppers gentle and soothing kisses to your face. "I am, dear," you reply.

"You did so well, you took me so well," Gyomei praises.

A mumbled thank you leaves your lips before you wrap your arms around Gyomei. "I'm s' tired," you slur out.

"I'll clean you up, don't worry," Gyomei says. "I'll wash you up."

Your eyes widen, "But what about you?"

"Giving you pleasure makes me feel more pleasured than anything," he reassures before adding, "Let's go clean up." And he picks you up to take you to the bath.

The warm steam rises from the bathwater as you and Gyomei settle into the large, wooden tub, its surface rippling gently with the movement of your bodies. The fragrant scent of lavender and eucalyptus fills the air.

Gyomei helps you ease into the bath, his strong hands guiding you gently. The water is pleasantly hot, enveloping you in a soothing embrace. As you both get comfortable, Gyomei sits behind you, his broad back against the tub’s edge, creating a space for you to lean back against him.

So warm.

He takes a soft washcloth and dips it into the warm water, wringing it out before gently placing it on your shoulders. His touch is careful, his movements deliberate as he begins to wash away any pain or soreness that you have gotten.

"You did so good for me," he murmurs, his voice a calming rumble against your ear. "I’m proud of you, you're so good."

You close your eyes, savouring the tenderness of his touch and the warmth of the water. Gyomei's hands move with care, his touch so gentle with your body, ensuring you feel safe and loved by him.

As he washes your back, he occasionally leans forward to press soft kisses to your neck and shoulders, each one causing butterflies to rise in your stomach. You can feel his breath on your skin, adding an extra layer of warmth.

After you’ve been thoroughly pampered, Gyomei carefully helps you rinse off, his hands guiding the water over your body with a steady, reassuring touch. He then takes a moment to gently brush your hair, running his fingers through it.

Once the washing is done, he wraps you in a large, fluffy towel, his movements slow as he dries you off with care. His touch is gentle, making sure every inch of your skin is dried and warm. His steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body against yours create a sense of profound peace, and you feel a deep connection with him.

"You’re my everything," he whispers, his voice filled to the brim with love. "I want to take care of you always."

You smile, resting your head on his chest, and let the soothing warmth body against you lull you to sleep in his hold, because you know that if you fall asleep, he will be there to dress you and take to to bed. And you will be safe in his arms. 

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | demon slayer m.list

[radishaur]

ʚɞ butterflies ʚɞ

Warnings: slight spoilers Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) Author's Note: I have like 2 other longer works I should be writing for but instead I'm doing this, so enjoy! Might do the other love languages/senses(?) later if people want. masterlist

Luffy loves physical touch with everyone. He also never asks permission first, just sends himself flying into people, so you would definitely have to be used to him just wrapping himself around you.

As a result, I think there are so many opportunities for him to accidentally realize his feelings through touch because he's just always touching. However, I think that when it comes to a partner, Luffy would really value making you feel safe. We've seen how devastated he was after he wasn't able to keep his crew safe in Saboady and even worse after Ace, so I think his first aha moment would have to revolve around that.

~

Luffy always wound up on some wild adventure no matter what island they visited. This time, the crew had planned for it and assigned you to go with him. The idea was that you would keep him out of trouble, but who were they kidding. It's Luffy.

He's walking around with you when all of a sudden he sees something further into town that he has to see right this second. He doesn't even think twice about grabbing you closer with one arm and beginning to slingshot his other one to propel the two of you up.

"Hold on tight!"

He's expecting you to protest, as most of the crew usually does when they're about to get flung to god knows where on his whim, but instead, you simply wrap your arms around his neck and get as close as you possibly can.

He lets go and hears you laughing, of all things, so he looks down and he could swear his heart stuttered.

You were looking right at him as you giggled, high on the excitement of your predicament. You don't look even slightly scared as your approach gets closer and closer, instead, you're looking at him with so much adoration that he feels like he can't breathe. He wraps his arm around you tighter and he's extra careful as he lands to cushion the impact for you.

"You didn't complain," he finds himself saying, arm still tight around you.

"What good would that do?" you ask, the last of your giggles subsiding. You turn to him then, your smile growing as you add, "Besides, I know you'd never let me get hurt."

All of the places where his skin meets yours feel like it's on fire and his heart aches all of a sudden in a way he's not used to.

He lets you go, his body tingling where your body no longer presses against his and the two of you go on with your day, but he can't help thinking about it. The way you had curled into him, put your trust in him to keep you safe, it fills his heart with a pleasure he hasn't felt before and he finds himself wanting to feel it again.

Over the day, he finds every excuse he can to keep touching you like that. He finds more faraway places that look interesting. He grabs your hand to show you something cool he saw. He even insists on climbing onto the rooftops and using that as an excuse to hold you close, just so you don't fall. His heart still races each time and it eats at him well into the night when he's back on the Sunny.

He knows even from the first touch that something is different. He doesn't feel like this with his other crewmembers, but it takes a discussion with Robin to finally realize that he likes you. When he does, he's quick to find you and pull you close again, reveling in the feeling now that it has a name. He almost shouts it out right then and there, but he decides to give it some time.

He still has to become the Pirate King after all.

Zoro is not a touchy person, but he's not opposed to it either. He's become more comfortable with it, you kind of have to if you're on Luffy's crew in my opinion, but he still doesn't seek it out himself.

You'd probably be the one to touch him more than the other way around, but I think the places he lets you touch and how long is what would set his realization moment apart.

~

Zoro can feel the sweat dripping down his back as the sun beats down on him. He'd been training for hours now on the deck of the Sunny as everyone had some time to relax.

He stops when Sanji comes out to announce that lunch is ready. He sets down the weights he's using and everyone starts to eat. He's quick to join in, hungry after a hard workout, but his back is aching. It's something he's used to, but it hurts a little extra today.

He rubs his back a few times and readjusts his sitting position and the rest of lunch is uneventful. He's about to continue his workout when he hears you call his name.

"Zoro!"

He turns and you're right in front of him.

"Before you start, I couldn't help but notice it looks like your back hurts. Do you want a massage?" you ask, motioning to your own back as you mimic the movements he had made during lunch.

"She's very good at them," Robin calls, observing from her favorite spot under the orange trees.

He hesitates. He trusts the crew, especially you, but the thought of someone touching his back makes him grit his teeth. Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame, after all. He's always been cautious of letting anyone near his back and today is no exception. Thankfully, you seem to sense his turmoil because you smile politely and say, "It's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know."

He goes back to training until dinner and he can definitely feel the ache in his back now, but he's still insistent that this is the burden of the best. Becoming the greatest swordsman requires discipline and sometimes pain. He won't let Luffy down, won't let him bear his pain alone, so he shrugs it off and goes to bed.

Or, he tries at least. After a few hours with no luck, he finally relents. He knows that tonight is your turn to be on watch and he hasn't heard you come back down to switch out, so begrudgingly he makes his way up to the crow's nest where he knows you'll be. If he was going to let anyone touch his back, he would prefer it be you out of anyone.

"Oh, hi Zoro," you say, surprised to see him up but seemingly not annoyed by his presence, "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," is all he says, closing the door behind him as he settles in next to you.

You smile, adjusting yourself so that you're facing him. "I've been there," you hum, letting your face rest on your knees as you look out the windows to the sea.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he works up the courage to say, "If the offer is still available, I wouldn't mind the massage."

He's surprised to see your face light up, grinning as you immediately agree and ask him to turn around. You tell him that you'll be careful and he tells you to do your worst.

The moment he feels your hands on his back, he begins to think that maybe he made a terrible mistake. It feels good and he can feel the ache in his back start to dissipate as you work out the stress in his muscles, but he also can't help the way his heart skips a beat and his mind starts to malfunction. He starts overthinking just why he felt so confident letting you touch him like this when he can't even imagine letting someone else touch his back for a fraction of the time you are. It stresses him out so much that he can feel his back tensing.

"Zoro, you're supposed to relax," you tease, and he can feel himself flush as he grumbles something under his breath about how it's not his fault that he's got so much stress worked up in him.

You laugh at him, which only makes his embarrassment worse, but you begin moving slower and taking more time to delicately work out the knots. You must think that you're helping but it only makes his heart flip more.

Eventually, he finds himself relaxing into your touch. Robin was right about your skill, your hands working out not only his physical stress but his mental stress as well.

He doesn't think he's ever felt so content.

You massage him for so long that he loses track of time. At some point, you begin making conversation with him and it helps him focus less on his erratic heartbeat and nerves. Eventually, there's a knock on the crow's nest door and Robin peeks her head in.

You stop at that point, smiling and greeting her warmly and Zoro is embarrassed at just how much he misses your hands on him. Robin looks over at him finally and he can feel his ears heat up as she smirks at him, as if she knows something he doesn't. You say goodbye to them both, telling Zoro that you hope he can get some sleep, and then he's alone with Robin.

"I see you changed your mind?" she mused, a tease in her voice that made him blush even harder.

When he was finally back in bed, his back was the loosest it had felt in a long time, but he still couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about your hands on his back, warm and gentle but firm, and he cursed silently into the room. He'd been in denial for too long and this had only opened the floodgates.

Law does not get touchy with his crew. Ever.

He loves his crew, don't get me wrong, but he keeps his cards close to his chest. The only time he would touch you or you him would be in some kind of emergency situation or something medically related. I think it would take a situation like that for Law to break his walls down a little bit and have to touch you, out of necessity, for him to realize his feelings.

~

Law is no stranger to late nights doing work and tonight is no exception. There are only so many hours in the day and it's his job as Captain of the Heart Pirates to be prepared for any situation, so if he has to sacrifice some sleep to do that, then so be it.

What he's not used to is other people being up when he does.

He had worked well into the night, until his eyes could barely stay open, and had finally decided to head back to his room instead of falling asleep at his office desk. On the way there, he noticed a light still on in the library.

Thinking that someone had left it on, he muttered under his breath about it but went in to turn it off. He was about to make a mental note to remind his crew to not waste energy when he heard something shuffle.

He made his way over to the couch where he heard the noise and was surprised to find you curled up asleep, except you looked miserable. He called your name out as he knelt down to inspect you closer.

"Captain?" you asked, eyes cracking open as if you had felt his presence.

"You look awful," he said, his voice dry as he asked, "Are you sick?"

You had the decency to look sheepish at his question, which confirmed what he already knew: you were definitely sick. "I came to see you, but you looked so hard at work, I didn't want to disturb you...," you explained, your voice hoarse.

"You should have just come in," he scolded, frowning as he asked, "Why are you here and not back in your room?"

You avoided his eyes, seemingly embarrassed as you answered, "I tried. Couldn't make it back."

He sighed, all his exhaustion having left upon finding you in this state. "Can you sit up?" he asked, already assessing your symptoms as he watched you comply with his request.

You were shivering and even from his spot kneeling next to you, he could feel the warmth you were emitting. It also seemed like you were sweating slightly, so the most likely culprit was a fever. Normally, he would have just used his devil fruit powers to get you back to your room, but judging by the wince you did as you sat up, you also had a headache. Using his room would only amplify that pressure, even if only for a moment, and he didn't want to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or pain, so the old-fashioned method it was.

"I'm assuming you can't walk since you couldn't make it back to your room yourself, so I'll have to carry you," he explained, twisting so his back was facing you as he said, "Get on my back."

There were a few moments of silence where he almost repeated himself, thinking maybe you hadn't heard him before he felt your weight on his back and your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. Your breath brushed against his ear and he almost shivered as he stood up, adjusting your body against himself so that you didn't have to hold yourself up.

"Sorry, Captain," you apologized, attempting to readjust some of your weight back to yourself. He easily shifted you back, his grip on your leg tightening slightly so you didn't fall. He didn't know why, but the adjustment made him all the more aware of just how much the two of you were touching. His face warmed just slightly as his heart skipped a fraction of a second.

"Just stay still," he scolded, but it didn't have anywhere near as much heat as he intended.

You didn't respond after that, seemingly content to let him carry you the rest of the way. At some point, you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your breath ghosted across his ear with each exhale and he couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

When he finally got you back to your room, he carefully dropped you off onto the bed with a promise that he would be right back. When he returned, he had his stethoscope, a thermometer, and some basic flu remedies.

"Take this," Law said, handing you some medicine and a glass of water to wash it down with. You sat up from your curled-up position in the bed and accepted it, swallowing the pill with only a little bit of a struggle.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"No, but I need to check your temperature and make sure there's no fluid in your lungs," he explained, holding up the thermometer first.

You leaned forward, letting him place the thermometer on your forehead. It blinked back at him and while you definitely were running a fever, it wasn't deadly. He told you as much and you smiled slightly at that.

"I need to check your lungs now, so I need to be able to access your chest," he said, doing his best to keep as professional as possible despite how irrationally his heart was beating.

You hummed, unbuttoning and unzipping your boiler suit just enough to expose the top of your chest to him. Law sat next to you on the bed, angling himself so that he was facing you, and began checking your chest for any odd breathing sounds.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt your fingers graze the skin just above his top where his tattoo peeks out.

He's not done checking your lungs yet, but he freezes. His first instinct is to pull away immediately but for some reason, he can't make himself move as he feels your fingers trace the top of his tattoo. He swallows thickly when your fingers drop down into your lap and you murmur, "They're so beautiful up close."

He knows that the fever is clouding your mind right now. He knows you're acting like this because you're sick and that you would never say that to him were you not, but his face goes so red he thinks he might have caught your fever and he can't seem to form the right words, so instead he just continues his check on your lungs.

There's nothing wrong with them and he finally finds the strength to move and stand up from the bed. His heart is still pumping a million miles a minute and he can feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he tells himself that he must be sick too. That's the only way to explain what he just felt.

As he's leaving you call out to him.

"Law?"

His heart stops again, hearing his name fall from your lips. He doesn't say anything, afraid he might not even be able to, but he stops and turns to look at you. You're still in your boiler suit, but you've curled back up into the bed. You're still looking at him though, and he can't seem to take his eyes off you as you smile at him and say, "Thank you. You're my hero."

He doesn't sleep at all that night. He checked periodically for any signs of a fever of his own and found nothing, even the next day. The feel of your fingers grazing his chest is still lingering even days later and he can't seem to meet your eyes the same way he used to. He realizes how absolutely fucked he was when he finds himself missing your breath on his neck and wanting your fingers to trace his other tattoos as well.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[izzyy-stuff]

𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 - 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈 𝐒𝐎𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐍

choi soobin x afab!reader

summary: After you found out the smarty-pants in your class was in love with you you thought it would be fun to play around with him a bit, but things take a wrong turn when he is the only one you can text when you are horny and he doesn't hesitate and runs to you, making you feel better than any of your ex boyfriends could.

words count: 3.9k

warnings: smut content, she/her pronouns used twice (in the texting part) sorry 🙏, oral, vaginal fingering, unprotected sex (don't!!), cum eating, gentle sex, squiting, idk tbh

You glanced to your side, watching the black-haired boy on the other side of the classroom as he wrote down some notes. If you were to be honest, you weren’t paying any attention to what the teacher was saying, so you had no idea what he was writing down either. But it didn't matter anyway, you knew he would let you copy his notes later. 

It was one of the perks of having the class’s smarty-pants be in love with you. You chuckled when you saw him look your way too, smiling at him before you turned away again. 

“What's going on there?” The black-haired girl next to you asked, her eyebrow raised as she pointed at the male on the other side of the class. “Why do you two keep stealing glances at each other?” 

“You know Yeonjun, right?” You asked, watching as the girl next to you nodded. “Who doesn't,” your best friend scoffed. “What does he have to do with anything?” 

“Well, he is the one that told me last week our little nerdy here has a crush on me. It all makes sense now if you think about it. I couldn't wrap my head around why he would always send me the lesson notes when I asked for them but not to others. I told Ryan he could ask Soob because I thought he wouldn't have any problems with it, but it turns out he only sent them to me to get me to like him, or something,” You explained, watching as your best friend laughed quietly. 

“It's kind of cute though that he does that.” 

“But I don't want ‘cute’ anymore,” you rolled your eyes. “I want someone who can actually make me cum and not just stare at me questioning why I wouldn't finish as if he even tried.” 

“Okay, I know the last boy was a fail as fuck, literally, but who knows,” the black-haired girl shrugged. “You want to tell me you think he of all people could make me cum?” You scoffed. “Please, he probably hasn't fucked a girl in his life.” 

You said that, but God, you had no idea what was coming your way. 

“Who are we gossiping about?” You turned as you heard the male’s voice, scoffing at how needy he was for the tea. “No one,” you shook your head. “Your rival,” your best friend grinned, answering instead when you didn’t do so. The blond boy scoffed, looking at the black-haired boy. “Oh yeah, I am so sure he didn’t fuck a girl - or anyone else - in his life,” he agreed. 

“I am pretty sure I’ve been with a girl more times than he has,” Ryan next to him nodded, joining their conversation. “Kinda crazy,” you commented, laughing. Before you could say anything else, you were stopped by the teacher hitting the board with his hand, making you look his way. “As I was saying,” he started his speech again, giving you a warning look before he turned around, facing the board again so he could write down a few things. 

Your head fell on the table soon after out of boredom, and before you could even start paying attention to what the teacher was talking about, the bell rang, announcing the end of the lesson. 

“Okay, guys, who is coming with me to grab lunch?” Your best friend turned towards you and the two boys behind you. “I am passing,” you mumbled immediately, not even fully sitting up and simply turning your head towards her. “I am going,” Ryan proclaimed, already standing up from his place, the blond following him right after. 

“Okay, I see you guys later, then,” you smiled at them, waving them off as they left the classroom. You knew you should get up too and move to your next class, but you were starting to feel unwell, and the thought of getting up sounded terrible. You sighed, closing your eyes for a few seconds. You knew this classroom was empty for another hour or so anyway. 

“Hey, are you alright?” You opened your eyes again upon hearing the soft voice and feeling the tap on your shoulder, blinking a few times to make your eyes focus again. “Mhm, sure I am,” you mumbled, sitting up straight as you looked around. The class was empty by now, only the two of you were left there. “Why? Were you worried about me?” You chuckled, teasing him. Suddenly, it was as if your headache completely disappeared when you saw the nervous look on his face. “Relax, I am joking,” you shook your head, but couldn’t hide your smile. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” you started, slowly packing your stuff as he stood beside you, waiting like a puppy. “But do you think you could give me today’s notes, Soob?” 

“You-” he gulped, trying to ignore the nickname. There was simply something about you calling him Soob. “I don’t want it for free though. You could consider it as me owing you one and helping you when you’d need it?” You suggested as you stood up, grabbing your now packed bag. “Uhm, sure,” he nodded, not even paying full attention to what you were saying. 

“I’ll text you tonight about the notes then,” you beamed happily, looking like a completely different person as you placed your hand on his arm as a sign of thank you. You were devastated minutes ago, but whoever would see you now wouldn’t believe him if he told them so. Soobin wasn’t sure why, but he was glad you looked fine again. 

Soobin threw his bag on the side of his room, jumping into his bed immediately after the long day. He laid down on his back, simply staring at the ceiling of his room. He reached into his pocket for his phone, seeing two unread messages from his best friend. He opened his phone, staring at the two texts. “Look at Instagram” “Thank me later” There wasn’t much for him to question. Even though to many it might seem confusing, he knew exactly whose Instagram he should check. There was only one person that the two of them talked about together after all. 

The black-haired male clicked on the icon, waiting for the story to load for a second. Then his eyes widened at the sight. It was a picture of you, but not just any picture. He sat up immediately, looking properly at your body. You were wearing a white top, cropped slightly above your waist. He couldn’t help but notice you weren't wearing a bra underneath, your nipples showing through the fabric. Then he saw the black miniskirt, that you definitely pulled higher than you should. He gulped, remembering how you touched his arm earlier today, your fingers brushing on his skin as your hair fell in front of your face. 

He whined silently as he felt his boxers becoming tighter the more he stared at the picture, your body curves exposed for anyone to see. He shared the story with Yeonjun, his best friend, and immediately texted him how good you looked. 

Only, did he not know it wasn’t Yeonjun he shared the story to.  

Soobin stared at the messages, screaming as he turned his phone off faster than ever before. He couldn’t believe it. He just told you he needed you. There wasn’t anything worse that could be happening at the moment. Not to mention the image of your body was still stuck in his head, making him hard. 

He stared at the messages again, his heart fighting with his brain at that moment. He didn’t want to make you do anything, he felt like it would be too forced, even though you were the one suggesting it. But a part of him knew this was his only chance. There was no way he could get you differently. He knew about your dating history, so he also knew you had never been with anyone like him. It was always the boys like Yeonjun, who just understood how to talk to girls properly, how to make them fall for them. But he wasn’t like that, he had no idea what he was doing. 

And just like that, he was in front of your place, rethinking his decisions as he knocked on the front door, trying his best to ignore the boner in his pants that still hadn’t gone down. How could it be when you shared a picture like that with him?

“You came,” you mumbled as you opened the door, looking up at him. Soobin looked down on you, noticing the same top you had in the Instagram picture. He gulped, his eyes then falling on the bottom part of your body and the white panties that were the only thing you were wearing. “How could I not?” He whispered, making sure this picture would stay in his mind. 

You grabbed his hand as you took him inside, closing the door behind you immediately. It was only now that you noticed how big his hands were against yours. You just hoped he could use them too. 

Soobin blindly followed you to your bedroom, his mind full of thoughts about how he should go about this, while his eyes were stuck on your ass, unable to look away as you walked in front of him. 

“Can I-” he started as his eyes followed you while you sat on your bed. “You can do absolutely anything, Soob,” you interrupted him, watching as his face turned red. “Soob? Soobie?” You smirked, noticing what the nicknames did to him. “Is that what turns you on?” 

“Everything about you turns me on,” he admitted, slowly getting closer to you while you moved back, not taking your eyes off him. You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. You simply bit your bottom lip as you found him above yourself, holding eye contact. This was becoming more intimate than you thought it would. 

“Is it okay for me to kiss you?” He wanted to assure himself one more time. You thought about it for a second, not wanting to give him any hope, but also desperately needing his lips on yours. You nodded to him in the end, grabbing the collar of his shirt and bringing him closer to yourself, pressing your lips on his, your mouth slightly opened which only made it easier for him. 

His right hand found its way to your boob, carefully sliding under your top, his cold fingers brushing over your nipple. You groaned into the kiss, clenching around nothing but thin air. It felt pathetic. He had barely touched you and you were already getting wet. 

Soobin left your mouth for a second, getting a disagreeing whine immediately that made him smile as he started placing wet kisses all over your neck, slowly moving down to your collarbone and then between your boobs. Your lips parted as you breathed out from the pleasure, raising your head to look at him. “Mhm, take it off,” you whispered, your hand reaching for his sleeve. He didn’t hesitate for a second and listened to you, taking his shirt off while you took down your own, exposing your breast to him completely. 

“Fuck,” he groaned at the sight, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his sweatpants. He ran his fingers through his hair, looking at your body one more time before his lips found their way to your breast again, his hand cupping one of them as he pressed kisses on your other boob, his tongue making wet circles around your nipple. 

“Fuck,” it was you groaning this time, quiet moans escaping your lips as your nipples became hard at his touch. “Soob, please,” you whined, throwing your head back into the pillow. “Please, what? Hm?” He asked, not even looking up and just continuing what he had been doing until now, his lips moving down again, leaving wet traces on your stomach now as his hands found their way to your waist. “I don’t know. Just- fuck,” you moaned out again when you felt his lips on your clit through your panties. 

“Just?” He asked again, looking up at you. You could swear you had never seen anything better in your life. The male was in between your legs, his breath landing right on your clit as he looked at you, absolute need in his eyes. 

“Just fuck me already,” you begged, watching as he took down your panties, his eyes fixated on your already leaking pussy. “I don’t think so,” he informed you, moving up again so he would face you. “I doubt you could take it just like that,” he whispered, moving his fingers to your lips. You didn’t need to hear anything else and immediately opened your mouth, sucking on his fingers. 

Before you could even register his actions you felt him slowly inserting his two fingers into you, carefully watching you. He did so to make sure he was doing everything right. You weren't completely wrong when you said he probably hasn’t been with a girl in his life. He couldn’t say he would have much experience, but all of his friends were sex addicts - and now he could finally see why - and they couldn’t keep their mouths shut every time the topic came up, so it was only natural for Soobin to catch on to a few things. 

You gasped, your eyes rolling back. You knew there was an obvious difference in your hand sizes but god, his fingers were bigger than you thought. “Fuck, curl them now,” you commanded, not daring to look down. He did as you said, feeling his precum on his boxers. He wanted nothing more but to fuck you right then and there, but he knew he had to wait. 

It didn’t take much longer for you to squirt on his fingers, especially after he added pressure to your clit too, his thumb making slow circles around while his fingers were stretching your inside. 

“Can I eat you out, please?” He asked, looking up at you again, his thumb still rubbing your clit slowly. “Please, y/n,” he begged, making you go crazy. You weren't sure if it was the way he begged you, the way he said your name, or because of his breath on your skin, but you couldn’t say no to him even if you wanted to. “God, please do,” you whined out and just like that, his tongue was pressed on your pussy right away, not wasting any second of the time he had with you. 

It had been months since you had cummed thanks to a boy, so you didn’t have any expectations for him when you invited him over. But you were wrong when you thought no boys knew how to take care of their girls anymore because he did exactly what he should, making you cum on his tongue a few minutes after he went down on you, not leaving your trembling cunt even then, letting you ride out your orgasm as his nose was pressed on your clit, his tongue carefully licking every last bit of your cum. 

“Soob,” you groaned, pulling his hair, making him finally raise his head and look at you. “Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he mumbled, going up again to kiss you. “And delicious,” he informed you, pressing his lips on yours. “Fuck, Soob, you’re too good,” you mumbled before you kissed him again, slowly sitting up. “Come closer,” you said, grabbing the hem of his pants, and pulling him closer at the same time. 

He groaned, his eyes shut tight, his lips unable to stay away from yours. You smirked into the kiss, your hand grabbing his trembling cock over his pants, making him moan. “I don’t usually do this but…” you started, breaking your kiss so you could look at his body properly. “You were so good earlier,” you praised him, not breaking your eye contact as you changed your position so you would be kneeling. “Pants off, baby,” 

That alone was enough to make him go crazy. You calling him baby just did something with his head. And with his dick. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out when you finally pulled down Soobin’s pants and boxers, your pussy clenching around nothing again. You knew he would be bigger because of his height, but this was more than you had expected. 

He cupped your cheeks, making you look up at him. “Are you sure?” You chuckled, simply nodding. “I can take good care of you too, you know,” you proclaimed, looking up at him as your right hand wrapped around his cock, not breaking your eye contact. You knew it must have been making him go insane. 

You started slowly, simply kissing his tip and licking off his precum. Then, you decided to try to take his full length into your mouth, but stopped shortly after getting to his half, already feeling like you were going to gag any second. There was no way you could do this. 

However, Soobin saw it differently. To him, it looked like you were playing with him, moving slowly and carefully on purpose to tease him. His hand found its way to your head, carefully tugging the hair that was getting in front of your face behind your ears before he held your chin up, making you look at him, his dick still in your mouth. “Think you can go faster, pretty? Please,” He asked, hoping maybe begging would help him. 

He groaned when he felt you suck harder, trying to go faster too but failing miserably. He chuckled at the sight, his hand in your hair so he could control the speed himself. “If you want to stop, just punch me, or something, okay? Try not to bite my dick off if you can’t take it anymore, though,” he told you, and before you could even look up at him again and question what he was talking about, he was moving with your head on his own as if you were just a toy to fulfill his needs. If you were honest, you were glad he did so. It was turning you on more. 

“Fuck, just a bit more,” he moaned out, thrusting his hips into your mouth as you sucked on him. He didn’t dare to look at you just yet, he felt like he would stop if he saw you in the moment, scared he might have been hurting you by determining his speed. 

When Soobin finally looked at you there were tears in your eyes, and his cum was all over your mouth. He cupped your cheeks, wiping the tears from your eyes with his thumbs. “Sorry,” he mumbled. You looked up at him, high on all the pleasure you felt until now thanks to him. God, you knew you needed to do this more often from now on. You licked the corner of your mouth, making sure not a single drop was wasted. 

“You’re not done yet, are you?” You asked, your puppy eyes almost making him cum again right away. “Fuck, no I am not,” he answered, leaning down to you to kiss you again. 

Soon after, Soobin found himself sitting on the edge of your bed, his back pressed against the white walls while you sat on him, your head on his shoulder, biting into his skin so you wouldn’t get too loud as he fucked you. Holding your ass, he was helping you remain at the same speed, moaning along with you. “So close, Soob,” you cried out. “Hold in a bit more,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he felt himself getting closer to finishing again, too. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, a mixture of your own and Soobin’s cum leaking from your pussy. You raised your head slowly, your cheeks completely red as you looked into his eyes, still sitting on his cock. “Soob, this was the best sex I’ve ever had. God, you were so good.” He bit onto his bottom lip, watching your fucked out face. “Oh, yeah?” He asked, even more embarrassed than you were. “Does that mean you’ll let me fuck you again next time?” 

“Soob…” you mumbled, just watching him for a second before you carefully got off him. He just shook his head before you could say anything else. “I know, I know, don’t worry,” he muttered. “I still needed to try it,” he smiled awkwardly, his dimples being the cutest thing you had ever seen. “Let me help you clean yourself up before I leave. It's the least I can do,” He suggested. You nodded to him, convinced this was the last time you were together like this. You couldn't be more wrong though. 

You knew you couldn’t stay away from him for too long when he helped you to get into your bathroom and his fingers found their way to your clit again, making you melt at his touch. Even worse was when he carried you to your bed after he switched your bedsheet for you, asking you to let him eat you out one more time before he would leave you alone for good. 

You just couldn’t let him get away. 

“Fuck, Soob,” you mumbled, sitting on the edge of your bed, watching him kneeling in front of you, begging to feel your cum on his tongue again. “You’re going to be the death of me, aren’t you?” His innocent eyes looked up at you, his hands rubbing your thighs. You sighed, “Just stay here.” 

You could swear you saw sparks in his eyes as the words left your mouth. “Really? Can I?” 

You nodded, agreeing. “Sleep here tonight, I’ll let you eat me out again next time.” 

Soobin smiled proudly, his hands squeezing your thighs. “Only next time?” 

“God, just come here,” you proclaimed, pulling him up from the floor into a warm kiss, feeling his hands roaming on your body again. The night was still nowhere to be done.

[nonsensology]

Later at the wish granting ceremony, CEO Magnifico announces he’s greenlit Ice Age 6 and five more live-action remakes.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _

There are so many cancelled and unrealized projects that Disney is sitting on, that they do not benefit from in any way by keeping them locked up tight. They really ought to just let them go if they don't have any intentions of doing anything with them.

Incidentally, I could never agree with the mentality of “Magnifico is actually the hero, and Asha is the TRUE villain” that a lot of people seem to have. I drew my comic based on this post. I feel like if more people had been aware of this possible interpretation, they wouldn’t have sympathized with Magnifico.

Does Wish have bad writing? Yes, it does. And it’s because of that bad writing that every single character suffers. What I think happened is that, as a result of said bad writing, Asha became a character that’s so uncompelling and lacks uniqueness that she ends up a blank slate for audiences to project their frustrations with the movie onto. King Magnifico on the other hand, is probably the most interesting and entertaining character, due in no small part to Chris Pine’s performance, and so the audience is much more sympathetic towards him and willing to ignore his flaws.

One of Asha’s problems as a character is that she doesn’t really contribute much to the story. By contrast, Magnifico’s downfall is brought about entirely as a result of his own actions. Magnifico is in fact not a good leader, because he gives in to paranoia and temptation, acts in a very unprofessional manner, and escalates the conflict to an absurd degree.

Please note, Asha does not get upset that Magnifico refuses to grant her grandfather’s wish, nor does she ever demand that Magnifico needs to grant every wish. She gets upset that he insinuates that her grandfather might have dangerous intentions, and because he does not have a convincing reason why he doesn’t return wishes that he won’t grant. Rather than calmly explaining his reasoning to her, Magnifico rudely dismisses Asha and then blows up at her.

If Magnifico were a good leader, he would have explained to each person WHY he won’t grant their wish, and given them advice on alternatives. As it stands, he knows full well that everyone expects their wish to be granted. It’s why they even came to Rosas in the first place, it is the literal reason he even built his kingdom. He clearly makes a big spectacle out of the wish granting ceremonies, which every citizen visibly goes wild for. He never elaborates to anyone his specific standards for the wishes he chooses to grant, other than a broad statement of "for the good of the kingdom". In his regard, Magnifico reminds me of bureaucratic systems that never provide every option or solution upfront, with their logic being "you didn't ask".

Not to mention, he literally tells Asha, "People think wishes are just ideas. But no, no, they are a part of your heart. The very best part." He knows, for a fact, how important wishes are to everyone. But the movie's awful writing makes him think the best solution to dealing with wishes that MIGHT have dangerous consequences, is to just hoard them. All that returning the ungranted wishes will accomplish is returning the memory of what the wish even is, that's literally it, and the people will be no better off than they were before they gave Magnifico their wish.

I dunno about you guys, but whenever I watched stories that preached “be careful what you wish for”, my takeaway was never “your desires could be dangerous and you should never pursue them for fear of disaster”, I always thought the stories were telling us, “beware of anything that promises instant gratification, because it’s usually too good to be true, and will cost you more than you will gain”. While the things you want in life may have disastrous consequences, you won’t really know until you try to pursue them through your own honest efforts, and not through “magical” shortcuts. That’s how we learn and grow, through trial and error. 

As it currently stands from my point of view, when people say "Magnifico has every right to keep ungranted wishes" it looks like they're unintentionally saying, “The Disney Corporation has every right to keep your work and ideas, because you willingly and legally handed them over. Tough luck if you regret the deal you were given. No takesies backsies!”

While I have found no evidence to confirm that the filmmakers intended for Magnifico to be a criticism of Corporate Disney, considering the inclusion of the animation sweatshop scene in Pixar's Inside Out 2, I think the probability is likely. (Not to mention, when Asha shows Magnifico her little flipbook animation, he dismissively remarks “Do we consider that a talent?”)

Please note, everyone is free to rewrite and reinterpret Magnifico however they want. He's just a fictional character after all, and fan content is supposed to be for fun. I just think it's funny how defensive people get over him a he appears in the final movie. They say he deserved better, and I agree, but we have very different ideas of what "better" means. In fact, I think every character in Wish deserved better, because again, they were all victims of bad writing. My problem isn't that they took a good man and made him arbitrarily "evil", it's that they didn't make him evil enough from the very beginning. Remember those deleted scenes featuring a villainous Magnifico with better writing, along with an evil Amaya that he can play off of? I'm fairly certain that everyone unanimously agreed these deleted scenes were much better than the final movie, and yet some still insist that Magnifico should have been a hero all along. I dunno, it's a funny dichotomy. 

EDIT: A few days after posting I came across this video essay supporting the interpretation of Magnifico as a critique of Corporate Disney and I loved it. Please go watch it!

[milliumizoomi]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 𝐇𝐄...

☆彡SUMMARY.; Things I believe he would do in a relationship that you’d (us.. all of us..😭) would find attractive

☆彡FEATURED.; ARMANDO ARETAS x READER

☆彡TROPE.; Established Relationship

☆彡FORMAT.; HEADCANON

☆彡GENRE.; FLUFF + SUGGESTION + A TINY BIT OF ANGST

☆彡WARNINGS.; mature language, mature actions, a lil bit of Armando’s toxicity shining thru, brief mentions of choking (not in like he’s gonna kill u type of way😭) brief mentions of violence, a little bit of spoilers ahead.

☆彡NOTES.; heyyyy thank u guys SAURRRR much for the love on the last Armando work I posted, I’m glad so many of yall liked it and I will continue to post and write about him 🫶🏽. (And yeah I took that picture on the middle so be free to save.. cause whew lord..). I hope you guys enjoy this one😛💕.

REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED🫶🏽.

[IN PUBLIC]

✬ Armando would keep an eye on you, especially since he’s not a very trusting person to most

✬ He’s like very aware of the space you’re both in so he’d keep you at least within arms reach of him if it’s just a regular kind of day

✬ And he’d also do that thing where if he wants you to move, he’ll grab your waist and either shift you to where he wants you to do, or he’ll do that just to pass behind you

✬ And he a quiet person so instead of using many words, he just stares and expects you to know what he’s thinking

✬ If a situation arises where you’re doing something that he thinks you shouldn’t be doing, he’ll simply clear his throat and stare and he knows you should know what he’s thinking

✬ also this man has no filter whatsoever, so if you’re talking, it doesn’t even have to be to him, you could be taking to his dad or something and he’ll just blurt out some of the most insane stuff in either Spanish or English

✬ (like he did to that girl when he called her fine)

✬ like if you say “im so hot” on a day when it’s scorching outside he’d def say stuff like “I definitely agree” or some shit like that just to embarrass you

✬ He’d also stare at your lips while you’re talking to him, especially if you’re mad at him

✬ and openly stare at your body too

[ON CASES || MISSIONS]

✬ you don’t even have to be in a relationship for this one but just watching him fight

✬ Each movement of his is so effortless and he just looks good each and every time

✬ He’d also probably see you staring and raise an eyebrow at you and tell you to pay attention

✬ would tease you on missions definitely

✬ especially if it’s a mission together

✬ only a bit tho cause he’s very focused on missions

✬ makes you be his backpack on his motorcycle

✬ he’d adjust your hand to where he wants it when riding the motorcycle

✬ drives it with one hand and occasionally taps at your leg with the other

✬ and if he has time, he’ll teach you to fight like he does

[IN PRIVATE]

✬ in private he’s definitely an attitude fixer

✬ if you do something to piss him off he’ll probably just stop talking all together until you apologize

✬ when that happens tho he furrows and raises his eyebrows a lot while clenching his jaw as a way to not get too annoyed with you

✬ curses in Spanish a lottttt

✬ and when you’re being bratty or rude to him, he’ll literally grab you by the neck and bring you real close to his face then say in your ear “arregla tu actitud antes de que yo la arregle por ti..” (fix your attitude before i fix it for you..)

✬ ofc he’d do that in public too

✬ I feel like he’d be a bit clingy when alone because he doesn’t like pda, so he waits until it’s private and will literally grab all over you

✬ he cooks shirtless (idc it’s true and yes he can cook🤚🏽)

✬ has told you the most mundane every day things in the sexiest voice ever

✬whistles when you walk in a room

✬ and slaps your butt regularly (sue me ik he does🤚🏽)

✬if you’re sleeping in the same bed there’s only two places he’ll sleep, on your butt or on your stomach (no in between 🤷🏽‍♀️)

✬ uses that same condescending voice on you to tell you what to do, when you’re wrong, or to stop acting up

eugh I love him sm🥹

[captainreecejames]

Can't Have a Good Thing || My ex is a footballer LS2 edition

[masterlist][my ex series masterlist]

summary you go from dating an american footballer to an american driver

pairings ex!christian pulisic x reader, logan sargeant x reader

warnings probably a little anti pulisic but i still love my baby

notes pictures are from pinterest so thank you to all those lovely users (as I wrote this my english teacher from 11th grade came into my job and it was not fun!)

May 2023 ynusername posted -------

liked by cmpulisic, reece and others

ynusername final chelsea game of the season, love you guys

chelseafc awww we love you too yn ❤️ by author

cmpulisic always love having you there ↳ ynusername wouldn't want to be anywhere else

username1 look at my girl dawg, chelsea is embarrassing her ↳ username2 please, christian didn't even play

reece once a blue always a blue ↳ username3 NAH WHY IS THIS SO CRYPTIC ↳ username4 you can't say shit like this then leave DUDE

username5 that chrisyn interaction screams for help ↳ username6 i wouldn't be surprised if they're not dating anymore but trying to keep up appearances ↳ username7 breakup statement incoming ↳ username8 can we get fabrizio to comment on wag breakups please!! ↳ username7 lol can you imagine a here we go! breakup is official! peak comedy

cesarazpilicueta 💙 ↳ ynusername love you too capitan!

July 2023 real life ---------

It’s been a rough few months in the house for the two of you. Christian’s time at Chelsea was most likely coming to an end, and you had just started a new project at work, so your time was filled with that. Nights spent making dinner and laughing together turned to plates left in the microwave and lights out early. Mornings started with short wake up kisses to hardly whispered goodbyes.

In fewer words, the relationship was falling apart. You barely knew what was going on in each others lives anymore, it’s no surprise when he tells you he’s leaving Chelsea.

Chris is still in Florida with his family, enjoying the last few days off before preseason. You had been with him for the 4th of July, but needed to fly back to London almost immediately for a new project and you’re exhausted. When he Facetimes you it’s almost 11:30 at night and your still sitting in your home office, but with how excited Chris is, he can’t tell that you’re operating on extremely low levels of energy. You want to be excited for him, but you can see the writing on the wall.

“Hey babe.” You know what’s coming, but it doesn’t make the shock any less. “I’ve got some big news.” He waits for you to say something, but all you do is blink and nod. “AC Milan are going to sign me.” He waits again for you to say something. “Did you hear me? I’m leaving Chelsea.”

“Yeah, I heard you.” Your lack of enthusiasm confuses Christian.

“Then why aren’t you excited?”

Your apathy turns to frustration quickly and you shift in the chair. “Because, Christian, I’m not just going to blow up my life in London to follow you to a new city. I’ve got a job here and it’s going well. I don’t want to have to start all over again. Not to mention learning a whole new language. Have you considered how isolating that would be for me?”

“So what, I just rot at Chelsea because you don’t want to move?” He is now just as defensive as you, words biting at the holes that have formed in your relationship, making them grow.

“I didn’t say that!” You sit up even straighter, putting your phone down against the computer so it stands on it’s own.

“Well it sounds like you don’t want to leave.”

“I don’t want to pack up my life and move to a new country where I don’t know anyone.”

You could see the fight leave his body as he came to the same realization you did. “What’s going to happen to us?”

“I think we’re done Chris.” You can feel your heart break that last little bit with the words you say. You love Christian, but with everything you’ve gone through, it’s not enough.

twitter ---------

September 2023 real life ------

In one hand you held your phone, looking down at the details of your train back to London, in the other a hot chocolate to warm you up in the brisk wind of Oxford. It’s how you missed the body in front of you and ended up falling straight on your ass because of it, hot chocolate splashing onto your shirt.

“Fucking hell,” you whispered, pulling your shirt away from your body so it didn’t burn.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” said an American accent. You groaned in your head, not wanting to deal with this. “I should’ve been looking where I was going.” They put a hand in your face, gesturing to help you up, which you took. 

“No, it was my fault, I was staring at my phone,” you told them as they pulled you up. He was strong, and also probably a little awkward as he was still holding your hand.

“Me too, so I really won’t let you take the blame.” His awkward smile was also cute, but you tried not to think that, it wouldn’t agree with your ‘no boys agenda.’ “Do you need another hot chocolate?” The cup was empty at your feet, making you wince. 

“Yeah, probably another shirt too.” It’s at that point that he realizes he’s still holding your hand, and he drops it.

“Let me get you one.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re still very early for the train, but travel anxiety is terrible and you want to leave soon.

“I insist.” Something about his smile and red cheeks makes you say yes to him, and you’re really not sure why. “I’m Logan, by the way.” He’s leading you back into the line of the cafe, smiling at you still.

“I’m YN,” you tell him.

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, benchilwell, and others

ynusername exploring oxford finally

bsfinstagram babe you run into any quidditch players ↳ ynusername bitch you know i'm swearing off athletes

username7 damn why are you so beautiful

samkerr 💞 ↳ ynusername ugh bestie i love you

pulisick10 'SWEARING OFF ATHLETES?' Christian mate pulisic what did you do!?! ↳ username8 that is so fucking harsh though like pulisic really did a number on our girl here ↳ pulisick10 ben chilwell still in the likes tho ↳ username8 nah her and ben are friends, like ben was always close with christian and just cause he left doesn't mean that she can't be friends still ↳ username8 also she's still good friends with the women's team ↳ pulisick10 well that's cause the women are better ❤️ by ynusername and bsfinstagram ↳ username8 NOT HER LIKING THAT but also won't argue with that

logansargeant at least the weather was good ↳ ynusername youre right, thank you english sun who comes out once in a blue moon ↳ bsfinstagram I'm questioning things ↳ ynusername well you shouldn't

username11 she's sworn off athletes but has a formula 1 driver in her comments... ↳ username12 fake bitch ↳ username13 two people can be friends right? ↳ username12 she breaks up with christian because of the distance but is talking a driver like he isn't gone more than half the year, she's definitely fake for that ↳ username13 how do you know that's why they broke up ↳ username14 she doesn't she's just being a hater ❤️ by ynusername ↳ username11 damn all this fighting on my comment thread?

username12 not yn liking so many comments, do you read them ↳ ynusername gotta appreciate a good laugh ↳ username13 yn stalks her comments like a real one should

twitter ---------

yn's messages -----------

November 2023 yn's messages ------------

real life --------

Your hotel room is kind of a mess, with clothes thrown around and various pieces of paper on the floor. It’s not really a surprise to Logan, even though he hasn’t known you very long.

After a long day exploring New York City in fairly okay weather, the two of you are relaxing in your hotel room before dinner. “Can I ask you something?” Logan asks. He’s currently sitting in the desk chair, feet propped up on the desk and head hung back. 

“Go ahead.” You’re on your bed, laying like a starfish.

“Would you say yes to going on a date with me?” You sit up straight, staring at him with wide eyes as he doesn’t move.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“No, I’m asking if you’d say yes to me asking you on a date.” His clarification makes you narrow your eyes, but he still doesn’t move. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea right now.”

That gets him moving, turning the chair to look at you. “So would you say yes or no?”

“I’d say no right now.”

“What about in a month?”

“In a month, when we’re both back in England, I’d probably say yes.”

“Cool,” he shrugs, going back to putting his feet on the desk. “Then I’ll ask you again in January.”

ynusername posted ---------

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon and others

ynusername look who came to visit

lilymhe booooo bring me next time ↳ ynusername you're welcome whenever, he invited himself ↳ logansargeant literally not true you asked me to come ↳ ynusername stop lying! i wanted thanksgiving but you have this job that makes you fly across the world to drive a stupid car or something

oscarpiastri look at him jumping for joy for you ↳ ynusername yeah well, what can i say, I'm a dream come true

bsfinstagram ahhhh just under 2 weeks until you come home!! ↳ ynusername I missed you so much ↳ bsfinstagram debrief over wine incoming!

username18 nope she is definitely dating this driver ↳ username19 it's so weird cause like if she really broke up with christian because of distance then isn't this just so much worse ↳ username20 i don't think they broke up just because of distance, things were probably weird for a couple of months before hand cause she wasn't going to as many mens games, she was definitely going to the women's games though.

timothyweah did you get a hotdog from the hotdog guy? ↳ ynusername yes... why? ↳ timothyweah cause they're good and i just want to make sure that you did ↳ ynusername okay timmy

chelseafcw don't stay too long we miss you ↳ ynusername aww, i miss you guys too

May 2024 ynusername posted--------

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

ynusername Miami you can be pretty but you're on my shit list

landonorris no whyyyyy ↳ ynusername idk might have something to do with my boyfriend dnfing at his home race. ↳ landonorris oh, okay ↳ ynusername but i guess congrats on your win ↳ landonorris thanks ynnnnn! ↳ oscarpiastri someone is still drunk

logansargeant ohhh he's handsome ↳ ynusername yeah and he's got a jealous ass girlfriend so beware ↳ logansargeant love you too babe

username23 finally confirmed that they're dating only seven months later